Opposite the rue de Helder are the Bains Chinoises, or the Boulevard Italien, where, when before at Paris, I usually breakfasted; the cutlets and coffee being excellent, and served with the greatest attention by a very pretty bar maid. I had now the curiosity to look in, and to my surprise found the identical damsel officiating exactly as I had seen her nine years before, and with much fewer marks of the all corroding power of time than I could have expected. She also immediately recognized me, and engaged me to pursue my former routine of tepid baths and breakfasts.
On my return to the hotel, I found several English gentlemen had called on me; by whose advice I proceeded to announce myself at the Etat Major of the Minister of War, and was introduced to Monsieur Plantin, the minister’s secretary, who received me politely, and gave me no reason to suppose I should meet with any désagrémens in remaining at Paris, though I had no permission for that purpose. Thus, thinking myself secure, I looked out for a good house where I could dine, and recollecting the Salon des Etrangers, rue de Richelieu, where I had formerly been member of a dinner club, I went thither: but soon discovered that it had much fallen off, the cookery being now entirely French. It had also become a regular gaming house, to which a certain number of members, all French, subscribed three louis a year; foreigners not being allowed to subscribe, though they might be introduced by one of the members. Every Saturday evening the proprietor, Monsieur Perrin, gives a splendid dinner to the subscribers and strangers, and there is besides a public supper every night. Two Commissaries do the honours of the table, and superintend the establishment. Amongst the constant frequenters pointed out to me was the Chevalier de Reul, a bon vivant et bel esprit of the old regime. Mons. Perrin is the farmer general of the gambling houses in France; and besides numerous establishments in Paris, there is no watering place or public situation of great resort in which he has not a salon de jeu. For this monopoly he pays government six millions of francs a year, and is said to be rapidly making a fortune.
April 4. This morning I visited the Thuilleries, and found no alteration in the gardens, but the front towards the Louvre has been greatly improved. The celebrated bronze horses, which formerly ornamented the Place St. Marc at Venice, each on a separate pedestal, are here seen drawing a car of victory at the entrance of a triumphal arch, erected to the grand army. The car being empty has given rise to a pun, for, supposing it to be waiting for Napoleon, the wits say, “le char l’attend!” *
* Le charlatan!––the mountebank.
The Thuilleries, which derives its name from occupying a spot where tiles were formerly made, was founded by Catherine de Medicis in 1564, for her own residence, the King then occupying the Louvre. The Thuilleries was finished by Louis XIV. in 1634. Though a very magnificent edifice, and worthy of any capital, it is not without its faults, of which the most prominent is its complete exposure on every side. The terrace, in particular, has the appearance of a stage, intended to spew the persons on it to public view.
From the Thuilleries I visited the Louvre, the name of which has given rise to many etymological conjectures; among others, that it is derived from Lupara, as being a spot formerly celebrated for wolf hunting. This it appears was its name under Philip Augustus, who added several towers, surrounded it by a wide ditch, and converted it into a fortress. Charles the Ninth began the grand gallery leading to the Thuilleries, and Henry the Fourth completed it. The external appearance is heavy and inelegant, but the alterations and additions that have been recently made evince taste and judgment, and have considerably improved it. The grand front is between eighty and ninety toises in length; along it is a range of columns of the Corinthian order, with a picture of Victory in a triumphal car, in bas relief; and another bas relief, representing Minerva placing the bust of Napoleon on a pedestal, on which the muse has just written, “Napoleon le Grand a achevé le Louvre.” Emblems of victory ornament other parts of the pedestal, and the Muses fill up the vacant spaces. The grand entrance is superb, and well worthy of the building. Along the gallery which leads to the Thuilleries are alternately placed an N and an eagle, as if Napoleon thought his subjects have not quite sufficient reasons to recollect him, without thus obtruding his initial on them in every corner.
I had only time to take a cursory view of the interior; but as far I could judge, the pictures and statues are extremely well arranged. To study them properly requires at least a month; and, had I remained at Paris, I should certainly have given a great, portion of my time to them, and particularly to the historical subjects, as one of the surest ways of impressing the facts they represent on the mind. The busts of La Fontaine, d’Aguesseau, Rollin, Sully, Molière, Corneille, Descartes, Montesquieu, Fénélon, and Racine, placed in this great national repository, prove at least that the age of reason has again given way to the age of taste and good sense.
Having several letters for the friends of officers whom I had met in Spain, I employed this morning in delivering them, and first waited on Madame de Coignée, mother-in-law of General Sebastiani, for whom I had one from her son, the General’s aide-de-camp. Formerly a stranger in Paris was obliged to hire a job carriage by the day, week, or month, with a valet de place to go behind it; for to be seen walking in the streets was considered as superlatively shocking. On the contrary, at present, it is the mode to walk to a stand, and call a fiacre or cabriolet. These vehicles are far superior to the London hackney coaches, being always clean, and the drivers never thinking of extorting more than their regulated fare. Splendid private equipages are now, indeed, very scarce in Paris, for the foreigners are few, and the chief officers with the army; and as to the resident Parisians, they do not now run into this line of extravagance. A fashionable female was formerly seen in a curricle in the morning, and in a diligence in the evening; she went to the country in a tap-cul, to the theatre in a berlin, to a route in a chariot, to her creditors in a demi-fortune, and to her husband in a dormeuse, while the élégante of the present day is content on all occasions with an humble fiacre.
Understanding that Madame de Coignée was at her sister’s, Madame de Conflans, faubourg St. Germain, I proceeded thither; but on my arrival, finding she had just quitted it, I drove back, and passing by the palace of the Luxembourg, observed little alteration in it, except that the magnificent buildings, which had formerly encroached on and disfigured it, had been removed. This palace was commenced by Mary de Medicis, widow of Henry the Fourth, in 1615; at present it is destined to the meeting of the Senate. The Salle des Savans and the staircase leading to it are admirable. On the latter are the statues of Generals Kleber, Hoche, and Dessaix, and of the legislators Beauharnois, Mirabeau, Thouret, Condorcet, &c. The gardens still preserve their antient strait alleys, jets d’eau, statues, &c.
On my second arrival at Madame de Coignée’s, my inquiry if she was at home was avowed in the negative by the servant in English. On asking him why he answered me in that language, he replied, “Lord, Sir, I knew you directly to be an Englishman; for let the French do what they will, they can never look like us! and though they try to ape us in everything, they can never succeed.” The repetition of, and emphasis he laid on, the word us, induced me to examine him a little closer, and I observed he was a good jolly English coachman, whose present service had not divested him of his national contempt for the French. He shewed me General Sebastiani’s hotel, where I found Madame de Coignée, and to whom I was introduced in the garden, where she was amusing herself with the General’s amiable little daughter, about eight years old. Nothing could be more polite than Madame de Coignée’s reception of me. She said her son had mentioned me so kindly in his letters, that she had longed to see me; “in short,” said she, “I was quite angry with him, for instead of informing me about himself and his proceedings in Spain, his last letter of four pages was taken up with you. I must, therefore, expect that you will compensate his neglect by giving me a faithful account of him.” She heard of his losses at play, and questioned me on the subject; but my answers were such as to quiet her fears, without committing myself or my friend. The house and gardens of General Sebastiani are amongst the most splendid in Paris; they have a fine view of the Champs Elisées, and a good deal of shade. On taking leave, I found the English coachman waiting to request me to visit the stables, with which I complied. Among the stud were four stallions, English, Arab, Spanish and Norman, each possessing the strongly marked character of his country. The groom was also English, and the appearance of the horses proved their superiority over the French. Indeed they were the only ones I had seen in real good order since my arrival in France.
I dined this day with an English party at Verres in the Thuilleries, where I unexpectedly met Mr. Patterson, an old acquaintance, and an American, with whom I had visited Cadiz, Seville, and other parts of Spain, during the peace of Amiens.
After dinner we went to the opera; the piece was Trajan, which was now in the height of its run. L’Ainé was first singer, and Vestris the first dancer: Mesdames Branchard and Gredall were also excellent. Paris reckons four regular theatres, besides a vast number of places of entertainment. The regular theatres have each their separate line of performances, and collection of stock pieces, which are said to amount to two thousand one hundred and forty-two in the whole.*
* The regular theatres may be thus classed: the Grand Opéra (Académie Royale de Musique); Théâtre François; Opéra Comique; Odéon. The minor theatres are, the Vaudeville; the Variétés; the Théâtre de la Gaiété; the Ambigu Comique; &c. &c. besides a variety of other exhibitions in almost every quarter of Paris.
The following morning I received an invitation from Messrs. Dennia, Pool, and others, to meet them at the Café Tortoni to breakfast. This coffee-house is the fashionable lounge of Paris, and is well situated for this purpose, being on the Boulevards, half way between the Rue de Helder and Rue de Richelieu, which is a much frequented promenade, where a good deal of amusement may be derived from observing the different characters walking there. Though, doubtless, no pains are ever spared with their toilettes, yet there is very seldom a well dressed man among these loungers. One is seen with an enormous gold buckle in the front of his hat; another, with white topped boots and black breeches: nor among the whole did I observe more than one figure who might have passed for an English blood, had it not been for an enormous embroidered neck handkerchief, which did not at all coincide with his boots.
After breakfast I returned to my hotel, having promised to meet M. de Harcourt, whom I had formerly known in Holland, where he had been aide de camp to his uncle the General, when commanding the English army in the absence of the Duke of York. On entering I was informed that the myrmidons of the police had been inquiring after me, owing, as it appeared, to the landlord not having properly given in my name, rank, condition, &c.
Accompanied by Monsieur de Harcourt I visited the Jardin des Plantes, founded by Louis XIII. at the suggestion of Guy de la Bronze, his physician. It received considerable additions from the ministers Richelieu, Mazarine, and Colbert; but it is to the celebrated Buffon that it owes its present perfection. It contains also a Menagerie, where every animal has a separate court to range in, and a house to retire to. We next visited the Cabinet d’Histoire Naturelle, the front of which looks into the Jardin des Plantes. The principal object that presents itself on entering is a marble statue of Buffon, to whom this collection, as well as the garden, is greatly indebted. The first range of apartments is occupied by the vegetable reign, and by the weapons, dresses, and utensils of the South Sea Islanders, Caraibs, and other savages. To these succeed the mineral reign, composed of ores of all kinds, &c. Then shells, corals, sponges, and other marine substances, and animals, amongst which is a fish, brought from Chandernagore, called rechardet, and esteemed a rarity. Foreign birds, with their eggs and nests, and insects, occupy other apartments. In a room, containing various animal monstrosities, is a child with two heads, four arms, four legs and thighs, which is said to have lived a week. The most interesting objects in this collection are the skeletons of every species of animal described by Buffon, arranged in a gallery. To the cabinet is attached an extensive library, open to the public on Tuesdays and Fridays.