Before and after Waterloo Part 7

You will take for granted we have seen all the exhibitions, libraries, &c., of Paris; they will wait for more ample description--a glance on one or two will be sufficient.

L'Hopital des Invalides was, you know, famous for its magnificent dome, which was decorated with flags, standards, and trophies of the victorious arms of France; impatient to shew them to Edward, I hastened thither, but alas, not a pennant remains. On the near approach of the Allies they were taken down, and some say burnt, others buried, others removed to a distance. I asked one of the Invalides whether the Allies had not got possession of a few. With great indignation and animation he exclaimed, "Je suis aussi sur que je suis de mon existence qu'il n'out pas pris un _seul_ meme."

On Sunday last, after having hunted everywhere for a Protestant church, one of which we found at last by some blunder quite empty, we went with our landlord, a serjeant in the national guard, to inspect the heights of Chaumont, Belleville, and Mt. Martre.... We ascended from the town for about 3 miles to a sort of large rambling village, in situation and circ.u.mstances somewhat like Highgate. This was Belleville, whose heights run on receding from Paris a considerable distance, but terminate rather abruptly in the direction of Mont Martre, from which they are separated by a low, swampy valley containing all the dead horses, filth, and exuvious putrefactions of Paris.... Immediately below, extending for many miles, including St. Denis and other villages, are fine plains; upon which plains about 3 in the morning the Russians deployed, and the Spectacle must have been interesting beyond measure.... On the heights and towards the base were a.s.sembled part of Marmont's[45] army with their field pieces and some few heavier guns; there, too, were stationed the greater part of the students of l'Ecole Polytechnique, corresponding to our Woolwich cadets. Nothing could surpa.s.s their conduct when their brethren in arms fled; they clung to their guns and were nearly all annihilated. I was a.s.sured that their bodies were found in ma.s.ses on the spot where they were originally stationed; their number was about 300.... I met a few in the course of the day who were, like ourselves, contemplating the field of battle, and who spoke like the rest of their countrymen of the baseness of Marmont and treachery of the day. The cannonade must have been pretty sharp while it lasted, as about 5,000 Russians perished before they got possession of the heights--though the actual operation of storming did not occupy half an hour--but their lines were quite open to a severe fire of grape from eminences commanding every inch of the plain. Whilst this work was going on at Belleville, another Russian column performed a similar service at Mt.

Martre, which is nearer Paris--in fact, immediately above the Barriers.... Thither our guide next conducted us, and pointed out the particular spots where the a.s.sault and carnage were most desperate. A number of Parties were walking about and all talking of the battle or Bonaparte.... Till this day I had never heard him openly and honestly avowed, but here I had several opportunities of incorporating myself in groups in which his name was bandied about with every invective which French hatred and fluency could invent. Their tongues, like Baron Munchausen's horn, seemed to run with an acc.u.mulated rapidity from the long embargo laid upon them. "Sacre gueux, bete, voleur," &c., were the current coin in which they repaid his despotism, and I was happy to find that his conduct in Spain was by all held in utter detestation and considered as the ground work of his ruin.

I saw one party in such a state of bodily and mental agitation that I ran up expecting to see a battle, but the multiplicity of hands, arms, and legs which were rising, falling, wheeling, and kicking, were merely energetic additions to the general subject.... The National guard were not (with few exceptions) actually engaged. To the amount of 36,000 they occupied the towns and barriers, by all accounts guessing, or, as one intelligent conductor a.s.sured us, very certain that they would not be called upon to fight much for the defence of Paris.... Indeed, from all I have been able to learn, and from all I have been able to see, it appears pretty clear that no serious defence was intended--a little opposition was necessary for the look of the thing. And although Marmont might have done more, I feel convinced that had he exerted himself to the utmost, Paris must have perished.

The heights were defended in a very inadequate and unsoldierlike manner; not a single work was thrown up before the guns, no entrenchments, no bastions, and yet with three days' notice all this might have easily been done. The barriers all round Paris were, and still are, hemmed round with Palisades with loop holes, each of which might have been demolished by half a dozen rounds from a 6-pounder; the French, indeed, laugh at them and consider them as mere divertiss.e.m.e.nts of Bonaparte's, and feeble attempts to excite a spirit of defence amongst the people--a spirit which, fortunately for Europe, was never excited. The lads of Paris had determined to take their chance and not to do one atom more than they were called upon or compelled to do. These wooden barriers are made of le bois de tremble (aspen), and the pun was that the fortifications "tremblaient partout." You will like to hear something of Edgeworth's friend, St. Jean d'Angely;[46] he came up to the barrier where our landlord (who had been formerly an imperial guardsman and fought in the battle of Marengo) was posted; here he called loudly for some brandy, for which he got laughed at by the whole line of guard; he then sallied forth and proceeded a short distance, when his horse took fright, and as St. Jean was, as our landlord told us, "entierement du meme avis avec son cheval," they both set off as fast as they could, and were in a few minutes far beyond all danger, nor did they appear again amid the din of arms. The fate of Paris was decided with a rapidity and sang-froid quite astonis.h.i.+ng. By 5 o'clock in the Evening all was entirely at an end, and the national guard and allies incorporated and doing the usual duty of the town. They were, indeed, under arms a little longer than usual, and a few more sentries were placed and the theatre not open that Evening, but that single evening was the only exception, and the next day the Palais Royal was as brilliant and more cheerful than ever, with its motley groups of visitors. The Cossacks were not quartered in the Palais Royal, they were in the Ch. Elysees, the trees of which bear visible marks of their horses' teeth, but a good many came in from curiosity and hung their horses in the open s.p.a.ce of the Palais.... The Russian discipline was most severe, and not an article was taken from any individual with impunity, immediate death was the punishment. The field of battle bore few marks of the event--a few skeletons of horses and rags of uniforms; the more surprising thing is that, notwithstanding all the trampling of horse and foot on the plains below so late as the end of March, the corn has not suffered in the slightest degree. I wish the Alderley crops were as good.

You have no idea of the severity of the conscription. That men can be attached to a being who dragged them, with such violence to every feeling, from their homes would be astonis.h.i.+ng, but for the well-known force of the "selfish principle" which amalgamates their glory with his.

A friend of our landlord's paid at various times 18,000 fr., about 900; he thought himself safe, but Bonaparte wanted a Volunteer guard of honour; he was told it would be prudent to enroll himself, which in consideration of the great sums he had paid would be merely a nominal business, and that he would never be called upon. He did put his name down; was called out in a trice and shot in the next campaign. Our waiter at Rouen a.s.sured me his friends had bought him off by giving in the first instance 25 for a subst.i.tute, with an annuity to the said subst.i.tute of an equal sum--pretty well this, for a poor lad of about 16.

Thanks to our landlord and not to Sir Charles Stuart, we might have been introduced into the Thuilleries, but came too late. We lost nothing, as after Ma.s.s the King marched through a beautiful sort of Gla.s.s gallery facing the Thuilleries Gardens, and then came out into a Balcony to shew himself to the crowd there a.s.sembled! he was received with universal and loud applause. "Vive le Roi!" was heard as loud as heart could wish, hats, sticks and handkerchiefs were flying in all directions. When he entered Paris, in one of the Barriers a sort of Archway was made and so contrived that as the carriage pa.s.sed under a crown fell upon it, a band at the same time striking up "Ou peut on etre mieux que dans le sein de sa famille," which is, you know, one of their favourite airs.

Poor man, he has enough to do, and will, I fear, experience a turbulent reign. Bonaparte has left his troops 3 years in arrears, the treasury empty, two parties equally clamourous for places and pensions, both of which must be satisfied. Their taxes are heavier than I thought they were. Our landlord has an estate worth about 2,000 frcs., his father paid 200 fr. a year for it, and he is now under the necessity of paying 1,200, having only a clear surplus of 800, and the finances are at too low an ebb to allow of any immediate reduction in their taxes....

To take things in their course, I must now proceed to my dinner at Sir Charles Stuart's. I was shewn into a room where I found three or four Englishmen gaping at one another. Before many more had a.s.sembled, in came Sir C., and I _believe_, or rather I am willing to flatter myself, he made a sort of half bow towards us, and then we stood and gaped again; a few more words between him and one or two who were to go to Court the day after, but to me and some others not a syllable of any description was uttered, and when some more English were shewn in who were, I presume, as respectable as myself, his behaviour was quite boorish, he did not condescend to look towards the door. These things went on till a throng of Spaniards with Stars and orders came in; with these he appeared tolerably intimate, and also with three Englishmen who afterwards appeared. We were about 24 in number, and all I had to do in the half-hour preceding dinner was to look out for the most intelligent, gentleman-like-looking Englishman I could, to secure a place by him....

You will ask who I met. I protest to you that I went and returned without being able to learn more than that the secretary's name was Bidwell, and that one other person in company was a Mr. Martin, who had been agent for prisoners; of the rest I knew nothing, not even of my neighbour; birth, parentage, and education were alike involved in the cloud of diplomatic mystery which seemed to impend heavily over this mansion, and when my neighbour asked me, or I asked him, the names of any person present the answer was mutual--"I don't know." Sir Charles sat in the centre with a gold-coated Don on each side of him, with whom he might have whispered, for though I sat within two of his Excellency, I never heard the sound of his voice: however, my opinion may not coincide with all that pa.s.s from Calais to Dover, as I heard one man remark to another that his countenance was very pleasing, to which was added in reply, "and he is a very sensible man." These things may be, but I never met with one more perfect in the art of concealing his talents.

Now for the Jardin des Plantes and its lectures. This same Jardin is a large s.p.a.ce appropriated to Botanical pursuits, public walks, menageries, museums, &c. There you see Bears and Lions and, in fact, the finest collection of Birds and Beasts alive, some in little paddocks, others in clean and airy dens. But this is the least part of this delightful establishment; its museums and cabinets are like the Louvre, the finest collection in the world. Everything is arranged in such order that it is almost impossible to see it without feeling a love of science; here the mineralogist, geologist, naturalist, entomologist may each pursue his favourite studies unmolested. Here, as everywhere else, the utmost liberality is shewn to all, but to Englishmen particularly, your country is your pa.s.sport. Like the mysterious "Open Sesame" in the Arabian nights, you have only to say, "Je suis Anglais" and you go in and out at pleasure. I have seen Frenchmen begging in vain with ladies and officers of the party and turned away because they had happened on the wrong day or hour, and then we, without solicitation, have been desired to walk in. But all these museums and living animals, curious and interesting as they are, are surpa.s.sed by the still greater liberality shewn in the daily lectures given by the members of the Inst.i.tute or Professors of the several sciences. I have attended Haiiy,[47] Dumeril,[48] l'Ettorel, du Mare, and others upon Mineralogy, Nat. Hist., and Entomology, and Haiiy, you know, is the first mineralogist in Europe, and I never looked upon a more interesting being. When he entered the lecture room, every one rose out of respect, and well they might. He is 80 years of age apparently, with a most heavenly patriarchal countenance and silver hair; his teeth are gone, so that I could not understand a word he said, though, indeed, had he been possessed of all the teeth in Christendom I apprehend I should not have been much wiser, as he lectured on the angular forms of the Amphiboles.

He looked like a man picked out of a crystal, and when he dies he ought to be reincarnated and placed in his own museum.

Another Scene to which I found my way was equally interesting: I went to a lecture on Iconographic drawing, or Science, as it was called, of representing natural subjects. In other words, when I got there I found it was a professors.h.i.+p of drawing, everything connected with Nat. Hist., such as flowers, animals, insects; and the Professor lectures one day and practically instructs on another. I happened to be present at one of the latter. Conceive my surprise at finding myself in a large library filled with tables, drawing books, ladies and gentlemen all sketching either from nature or excellent copies here. As it was not a public day except to those who wished to attend for instruction, I ought not with propriety to have intruded, but "J'etais Anglois" and every attention was paid. You would have given a little finger to have seen the room; it was a hot summer's day, but there all was cool and fragrant; the windows opened on the gardens, the tables were covered with groupes of flowers in vases; the company, about 40, were seated up and down where ever they chose, each with a nice desk and drawing board--in short, it was a scene which excited feelings of respect for a nation which thus patronised everything which could add to the rational improvement of its members.

Were France the seat of religion and pure virtue it would be Utopia verified; but, alas! there are spots which stain the picture and cast a balance decidedly in favour of England: we are rough, we are narrow-minded, but he who travels is brought to confess and say "England! with all thy faults I love thee still." ...

LETTER V.

PARIS, _July 10th_.

Madame de Staels party formed a fine contrast to the gloom and ponderosity of Sir Charles Stuart's dinner the day before. We went a quarter before nine, thinking, as it was the nominal hour, it would be ill-bred to go too early, but the French are more punctual in these matters, for we found the good people all a.s.sembled and Marmont[49]

walked out not five minutes before we walked in.

In his stead we had General Lafayette,[50] the cornerstone of the Revolution. He is a tall, clumsy-made man, not much unlike Dr.

Nightingale, tho' rather thinner. His countenance discovers thought and sound judgment, but by no means quickness or brilliancy; his manners were quiet, una.s.suming, and gentleman-like. He spoke little, and then said nothing particularly worth notice.

The next lion announced was a lioness, the celebrated Madame Recamier,[51] and though she is not in her premiere jeunesse, I can easily conceive how she could once dazzle the world. It would be too much to give her credit for superior talents, but her manners were very agreeable tho' rather like all other belles of France who have fallen in my way, somewhat a la languissante. But I am all this while forgetting the star of the evening, the Baroness herself. She sat in a line with about six ladies, before whom were arranged as many gentlemen, all listening to the oracular tongue of their political Sybil.

She was in high spirits because she had been warmed up by the decision of the court and commons concerning the liberty of the press, which had received an effectual check by limiting all liberty of speech and opinion to works containing not less than 480 pages, thus excluding the papers and pamphlets. The moment we were announced, before she asked me how I did, she enquired whether I had heard this notable decision, and then demanded what I thought of it. Of course, I a.s.sured her how much I lamented the prospect of an inundation of dull, prolix books to which France was thus inevitably exposed. This, as we spoke in English, she immediately translated for the benefit of the company, adding "Ce Monsieur Anglois dit cela, et c'est bien vrai il a raison," and then she laughed and seemed to enjoy the catalogue of stupid books which might be antic.i.p.ated.

I must confess the party was a little formidable; in England I should have said formal, but there is something in French manners wholly foreign to any application of the word formal, and really after exchanging a few remarks I was glad to be introduced to her son[52] and daughter,[53] with both of whom I was much pleased. They are clever and agreeable. She is not above eighteen or twenty, and if her complexion was good would be very pretty. She was not shy, beginning conversation in a trice upon interesting subjects. She compared the English and French character, in which she (and I presume it was a maternal opinion) would not allow an atom of merit to the latter. On finding that I was a clergyman she immediately began upon Religion, talked of Hodgson,[54]

Andrews, Wilberforce,[55] and then in questioning me about the Methodists (about whom she seemed to have heard much and entertained confused notions) we slid into mysticism, which carried us, of course, into the third vol. of "Allemagne"; she spoke in raptures of the mystic school, said she was quite one in heart--"Cela se peut," thought I; but somehow or other "Je ne le crois pas," for I have heard some little anecdotes of her mother, in which, whatever may be her theoretical views of mysticism, her practical opinions are rather more lax than Fenelon's.

Much against my will I took my leave, willing to hope that Mme. S. spoke the truth when she said how glad she should be to see me if I visited Paris during the winter; she is off to Switzerland in a few days. The French say we have spoilt her--in fact, she occupies little of the public attention in Paris.

The next event most interesting was our visit to the Corps Legislatif, or House of Commons. We went to a certain door, to which we were refused admittance, and told it was too full or too late. But said I, "Nous sommes Anglois"; in an instant a man came up and placed us in an inner gallery in the body of the house. The House is something like the Royal Inst.i.tution--of course larger and beautifully fitted up. Considering it as the Royal Inst.i.tution for your better comprehension, the President sits on a tribunal throne in a recess corresponding to the fire-place; immediately below is a sort of Rostrum from whence the Members speak, in situation like the lecturer of the R.I. In point of decoration and external appearance both of house and members, it is far superior to our House of Commons, as all the members wear uniforms of blue and gold, but taking it all together I know not that anything can be more ill.u.s.trative of the French Character--externally all correct and delightful, but within "a sad rottenness of the state of Denmark."

The president began the proceedings by ringing a bell; a paper was then read detailing, I believe, the orders of the day. A member then arose and went to the Rostrum. In the middle of his speech he was called to order and told it was a very bad speech, so down he came and another mounted. He was equally disliked, for they told him he spoke too low and they could not hear him, so he disappeared; then half a dozen got up and were so impatient that they began speaking altogether before they reached the Tribune. In vain did the President ring his bell, and stand up and gesticulate. Silence, however, was at length obtained, and he addressed them, but with little better success than the rest. One man then stept forward and did obtain a hearing, for he had good lungs and a fair share of eloquence. His speech was short, but it was by far the best; his name was Dumolard.[56] Soon afterwards the sitting broke up; the whole took up little more than an hour. I know not whether the perfect want of order was more ridiculous or disgusting; the sittings of the Senate (Peers) are private....

We will now take you to Malmaison, the interesting retreat of the interesting Josephine. Her character was scarcely known in England. We hear little more of her than as a discarded Empress or Mistress of Buonaparte's, but she had much to recommend her to public as well as private notice. The French all speak highly of her, and it is impossible, on seeing Malmaison and hearing of her virtues, not to join in their opinion. To be sure, as a Frenchman told me in running through a list of virtues, "Elle avait ete un peu libertine, mais ce n'est rien cela," and, indeed, I could almost have added, "C'est bien vrai," for every allowance should be made; consider the situation in which she was placed, her education, her temptations; many a saint might have fallen from the eminence on which she stood; I never dwelt with more satisfaction or felt more inclined to coincide in that benevolent verdict of the best of judges of human nature and human frailty, "Neither do I condemn thee, go and sin no more," than in criticising the character of Josephine.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MALMAISON]

I am not sure whether you know exactly the history of Malmaison. The house and land attached to it were purchased by Buonaparte when First Consul, and given to Josephine, who made it what it is, and bought more land, so that it is now in fact a little Estate. On being divorced, she retired thither with Eugene Beauharnais, her son, and younger children.

Her pursuits and occupations will be best understood by describing what we saw. I should say, before I proceed, that it required some interest to get in, and that we went with the Hibberts, who knew the secretary of the Swedish Amba.s.sador, in whose suite we were incorporated for admission. The chief room in the house is what is called the Gallery A, planned and finished according to her own designs; the floor is a ma.s.s of dark inlaid marble, the ceiling arched and light admitted from it, the whole not much unlike the Gallery at Winnington on a much larger scale. It would be difficult to describe the fitting up of the interior.

The walls are hung with the most exquisite selections from ancient Masters, not stolen, but many given to her, and the rest purchased by herself; but I was more struck by the statues than with any thing else.

The dots represent them and their situations in the Gallery; they are chiefly by two modern artists, Canova and Boher, though I fear the reputation of my taste and judgment will suffer by the confession. I still must confess that I felt far more pleasure than in looking either upon Apollo or the Venus de Medicis. There was a Bust and Statue of herself, the latter particularly beautiful, and if accurate, which I was a.s.sured it was, the original must have been elegant and interesting to the last degree. It reminded me much of Lady Charlemont, with a stronger expression of sense. The rest of the room was furnished with tables inlaid with marble, upon which were a variety of bronzes, pieces of armour, &c., and her musical instruments were as she had left them, and everything wore an appearance of comfort which is seldom seen in the midst of such magnificence. Through folding doors you enter into a smaller room hung with pictures. C. was her chapel; before a little unostentatious altar, which had every appearance of having daily witnessed her devotions, was a beautiful Raphael; the walls were hung with seven small Scripture subjects by Poussin. I would have given a great deal to have been her invisible observer in this sacred retirement. She must have been alone, for it was scarcely large enough to admit priest or attendant.

D. was a room in which she breakfasted, during which time music was generally performed in B. From E. was a fine view of the Aqueduct of Marly, and E. was the way to the Garden, which she had fitted up in the English style. I have not time to enter into detail of these or her greenhouses. She was fond of Society and patronised the Arts. She allowed Artists to sit at leisure in her gallery to copy pictures, and conversed with them a great deal. She did an infinity of good to all within her reach and was beloved by all. Her death was very sudden; she had complained of a sore throat, but not sufficiently to confine her to her room. On a certain Wednesday or Thursday she was in her Park in high spirits, showing it to the Emperor Alexander and King of Prussia; being rather heated she drank some iced water; in the evening she was worse, on Sunday she was dead, sensible to the last; talked of death, seemed perfectly resigned--to use the words of a French lady, who told me many interesting particulars, "sa mort etait tres chretienne." They were busied in packing pictures and making catalogues, but I believe there is no fear of dismantling the house, as Eugene Beauharnais[57] and the children are to have it in conformity to her will.[58] I have seen few things since my departure from England which have interested me more than Malmaison, and I could almost fancy that her statue, which is that of a pensive female, with the chin resting on the hand, was her ghost ruminating over the extraordinary events which had recently occurred, and which she had quitted for ever. You will see Malmaison in my sketch-book, as well as the Castle of Vincennes, which is as picturesque and imposing as it is interesting, from the circ.u.mstances attending the Duke d'Enghien's[59] death. It seems this event was known at Paris the next day and spoken of with as much freedom as the despotic government of Paris would admit....

I went yesterday to see the house of Peers in the Luxembourg. The Hall of sittings is not unlike that of the Corps Legislatif, but the decorations are more interesting, each niche being filled with Austrian standards and a few others. Under a gilt dome, supported by similar pillars, was the spot where Napoleon's throne was _not_. The remnants I saw lying in one of the Ante-rooms, all of which were ornamented with immense pictures of the princ.i.p.al battles, but these, out of compliment to the Emperor, &c., had been covered over with green baize, even the very standards had been removed during the stay of the Emperor of Austria in Paris. There is a sitting on Tuesday, and if I stand at the door I may see the Marshals alight, but my curiosity would not be satisfied, as no persons seem to know them; even the man who shewed us the hall, who actually keeps the door thro' which they enter and sees them all constantly, a.s.sured me he did not know one from the other. He did not even know whether Marmont[60] had one arm or two.

LETTER VI.

PARIS, _July 11th_.

Thanks to our Landlord, and not to Sir Charles Stuart, we have just been elbowing the Marshals, as a serjeant of the National Guard offered to take us into the Thuilleries, and in we went with him in full uniform, on the very best day we could have selected since our arrival in Paris, as a corps of about 10 or 15,000 men were to be reviewed by the King "en ma.s.se" in the Place de Carousel, immediately in front of the Thuilleries.

We were stationed in a room of which I had heard much and wished above all things to see--"la Salle des Marechaux," so called from the full-length portraits of 18 of these gentlemen with which it is hung; the upper part of the room is surrounded by a gallery decorated with pictures of the chief battles--Lodi, Pa.s.sage of the Po, and one sea piece descriptive of the capture of our Frigate, the _Ambuscade_, by a smaller vessel. It is so good a picture that for the sake of the painting I never thought of lamenting the subject.

After standing in this Hall for a few minutes in the midst of Generals without number in full uniform, I had the satisfaction of being almost knocked over by Marshal Jourdan,[61] a sharp, queer-looking fellow not at all stamped with the features of a hero. I eyed him well, and had scarcely satiated my curiosity when half a dozen more came by, walking about without peculiar honors or attention, and only to be distinguished from the Generals by a broad red ribbon, worn like those of our Knights of the Bath.

I looked at each and all, but as few could tell their names I was at a loss to distinguish one from another; my head and eyes were in a perfect fidget, flying from Marshal to Marshal and from Picture to Picture.

Of the Ducs de Treviso,[62] de Conegliano,[63] Serurier,[64] and Perignan[65] I had no doubt, as I saw them again several times, but I am not sure that I should know the others except from a recollection of their pictures.

I will describe a few while their countenances are fresh upon my memory.

Ney[66] is a fine, handsome man, but remarkably fair with light curling hair, and struck us very like Mrs. Parker, of Astle.

Duc d'Istria[67] was reckoned by Robert Hibbert like me--that is to say, he had dark arched eyebrows, a fox-like sort of countenance, very dark, almost swarthy, and from his extreme bilious appearance, I should imagine might be troubled, like myself, with bad headaches.

Davoust![68] I can scarcely recall his portrait without shuddering. If ever an evil spirit peeped thro' the visage of a human being, it was in Davoust. Every bad pa.s.sion seemed to have set its mark on his face: nothing grand, warlike, or dignified. It was all dark, cruel, cunning, and malevolent. His body, too, seemed to partake of his character. I should fancy he was rather deformed. I never saw so good a Richard III.

Let him pa.s.s and make way for one of a different description, Victor,[69] a fine, open, gentlemanly countenance, tho' not like a military hero. Marmont, a dark haired, sharp-looking man of military stature. Duc de Dantzig,[70] very ugly and squinting. Berthier,[71]

remarkably quiet and intelligent. Murat,[72] an effeminate c.o.xcomb with no characteristic but that of self-satisfaction. Moncey, a respectable veteran. Ma.s.sena,[73] the most military of all, dark hair and countenance, fine figure. Soult,[74] a stern soldier, vulgar but energetic; his mouth and lower part of his face like Edridge,[75] though not so large a man.

The King was to me a very secondary person; however, I was close to him as he tottered, like a good old well-meaning man, to Ma.s.s. On his return he appeared, as I described last Sunday, in the balcony facing the gardens for a few minutes and was loudly cheered, and then he came back to the Salle des Marechaux and sat down in a fine chair of Bonaparte's, covered all over with his Bees, in a Balcony facing the Place de Carousel, from whence he looked down on the 10,000 troops who were there a.s.sembled. The shouts here were not what they ought to have been.

Comparatively few cried "G.o.d bless him!" and I much fear the number who thought it was still less. The Duc de Berri,[76] on horseback with Marshal Moncey on one side and Du Pont[77] on the other, reviewed the troops, who pa.s.sed in companies and troops before them. As each company pa.s.sed the officer held up his sword and cried "Vive le Roi!" and some of the soldiers did the same, but not more than one out of ten.

I heard an anecdote of the Duc de Berri which is, I hope, true. A few days ago in reviewing some troops on the Champs Elysees an officer in pa.s.sing chose to cry out, "Vive Napoleon!" upon which the Duc rode up to him, tore his Epaulette from his shoulder and order from his breast, threw them on the ground, and instantly dismissed him the service; this spirit pleased the soldiers, and they all shouted "Vive le Roi!"

On Sat.u.r.day we went to St. Cloud, Versailles, and the great and little Trianon. St. Cloud and the great Trianon were the especial residences of Buonaparte, and I looked at his bed and tables and chairs with some curiosity. I have not time to describe all these. I saw one public place yesterday which should be mentioned, a museum of models in every department of art and science, with all the machines, &c., connected with them. I would willingly conclude my observations on Paris with some remarks on its manners, principles, &c., and I would begin with Religion first if I could, but the fact is there appears to be none. If any does exist it must approximate to Mysticism and lie concealed in the recesses of the heart, for truly "the right hand knoweth not what the left hand doeth." But with all this non-appearance I should be cautious in pa.s.sing too severe a censure. It must be remembered that the nation is military, that from the earliest years they "sing of arms," and Buonaparte carried this to such a degree that even children not much older than Owen[78]

are to be seen in full Uniforms. He wished to incorporate the two terms of man and soldier. We laughed, you remember, at the account of the little King of Rome appearing in Uniform; in Paris this would not appear ridiculous. He had uniforms of all the favourite regiments horse and foot....

[Ill.u.s.tration: PARISIAN AMUs.e.m.e.nTS.

_to face p. 141._]