At the extreme end of the palace are two elegant statues of Cicero and Demosthenes. The whole of this fine building is surrounded by a corinthian colonnade, with shops of all kinds, coffee-houses, traiteurs and restaurateurs, on the ground floor. The first story is composed of gambling rooms, and other places of dissipation. In the centre of the circle are tents or booths, with fanciful little gardens, where ices, lemonade, and other refreshments, according to the season, are sold.
From the Palais Royal I visited the Place Vendôme, in which is
the Column of the Grand Army, erected in memory of the Austrian campaign
of 1805. It is in imitation of Trajan’s Pillar, one hundred and thirty-three
feet high, including the
pedestal and the statue of Napoleon which crowns it: the latter is
ten feet high, and weighs five thousand one hundred and twelve pounds.
This monument is of cut stone, entirely covered with plates of bronze,
representing in bas relief and in chronological order, the principal events
of the campaign, from the departure of the troops from Boulogne to the
battle of Austerlitz. The bronze is intirely the produce of the cannon
taken from the Austrians. A staircase within the column leads up to a gallery,
from which rises a little dome, surmounted by the statue of the Emperor.
On one side of the pedestal is the following inscription:
* Napoleon, the August Emperor, has consecrated to the glory of the grand army, this column, composed of the cannon taken from the enemy, during the war in Germany, in 1805. A war, which, under his command, was terminated in three months.Napolio Imp. Aug. Monumentum belli Germanici,
anno M.DCCC.V. trimestri spatio, ducto, suo,
profligati, ex aere, capto, glorie exercitus,
maximi dicavit. *
It is not difficult to perceive in the inscription, that the monument has been rather erected to the ostentation of the general than to the courage of the army. I dined this day at a restaurateur’s, and had an excellent dinner. The plan of these houses is certainly far preferable to those of the generality of English eating-houses. On entering, a card is presented to you, on which are marked the various dishes with their prices, as well as those of the wines; so that every person may suit his own convenience, and know to a fraction what the expense of his dinner will be. The dinner hour is six o’clock, and though the room was crowded with parties, before seven it was again completely empty; so short is the time that the French usually remain at table. As I had no appointment for the evening, I passed away a couple of hours at a puppetshew, and must do the French justice in avowing, that in this branch of the dramatic art they far excel us. The subject of the piece brought on this small theatre was the intrigues of a married couple, in the class of citizens; and from the pleasure the audience seemed to receive, I could have no doubt of the scenes being taken from real life. The general frailty of French women, indeed, justifies the satire of Pope,
“That every woman is at heart a rake.”
Chastity, though it may be considered a desirable marriage portion among the higher orders in France, is by no means deemed indispensable to the happiness of wedlock; thus, the husband is generally pretty well satisfied that he is the father of his wife’s first child, but has often too much reason to doubt his share in the rest; and even when he can have no doubt on the subject, he makes no complaint, but seems to reflect, that,
A recent French writer, who acknowledges that the conduct of many wives is very mysterious, apologizes for them, by laying the blame on their husbands, who confide too implicitly in the male friends they permit to escort them to the promenade and to public places; the contradiction which the wife sometimes meets from her husband in the article of toilet expenses, he also considers as a sufficient excuse for her aberrations. “Nevertheless,” continues he, “to persecute a wife is always odious, and whatever may be the private conduct of either party, they should never forget that they owe each other a mutual forbearance. It often happens that a couple, after having each led a most libertine life, reform and renew their first ties towards the end of the career, mutually forgetting and forgiving their past errors. A sweet friendship then forms the charm of their declining age, and they enjoy (though rather late) that domestic happiness, the want of which nothing can compensate. Such persons would have loved each other all their lives, had they not sworn to do so at the altar.”La plainte est pour le fat; le bruit pour le sot;
L’honnête homme trompé s’éloigne et ne dit mot.
One may safely presume this is a kind of domestic happiness, which few British husbands will envy, notwithstanding its sweet friendship!
It must not however be supposed that French women, above the common class, give themselves up to that degrading libertinism that confers favours on a multiplicity of lovers. Gallantry is in France a word of very different import from prostitution, signifying the tender preference of one amiable being at a time, besides the husband, and whatever lengths this attachment leads to, they are excused as the amiable weaknesses of sentiment and sensibility:–– “thus,” according to an eloquent and moral writer, “shame is mutually communicated, and mutually pardoned, and levity joined to excess, forms a corruption at the same time deep and frivolous, which laughs at every thing that it may blush at nothing.” *
* Essai sur les Caractères des Femmes.
Indeed the mere absence of chastity does not in France, even among the middle class, carry with it that stigma which attaches to the want of it in England. A husband, for instance, of the respectable class of citizens (bourgeois) feels no repugnance at lodging in the same house with a notoriously kept mistress, nor does his wife see any indecorum in conversing with her familiarly when they happen to meet. The same disregard to the virtue of their female servant is observed in the bourgeois mistresses. If a maid spews by outward and visible signs that she has no longer a right to that honourable title, her mistress, instead of turning her out of doors for a “strumpet as she is,” consoles, encourages, and instructs her in making the necessary preparations for the event. A few days before she expects its arrival, she procures a substitute to do her work, retires to the house of a sage femme, and in thirty-six hours after the delivery of her burden returns to her place, and is as well received as if she were as chaste as Diana. The child is either put into the asylum of les Enfans trouvés, or sent out to nurse with a peasant.
Next morning I rode in the Champs-Elisées, Bois de Boulogne, and the Place d’Etoile. In the latter a triumphal arch has been lately erected on the marriage of the Emperor. Indeed these kind of temporary monuments strike the eye in every quarter of Paris and its environs; and though in general they are very trifling things, yet they are supposed to prove la bonne volonté de la bonne ville de Paris, and at least gratify the vanity of Napoleon.
Having accepted an invitation to dine at the Salon des Etrangers, I met there several of the ministers of state, and a number of members of the higher classes of the Legion of Honour. The dinner was in the first stile, and among the luxuries were pâtés de foie gras, a dish fit for Heliogabalus himself. It is composed of the livers of geese, and truffles. In order to prepare the liver, the poor goose is crammed for a certain time until it becomes immensely fat; its feet are then fastened to the ground, close to a very hot stove, which produces a violent thirst, and it is supplied with as much water as it will drink; the effect of this cruel treatment is, that the whole fat of the body concentrates in the liver, which swells to an enormous size, while the body is emaciated to a skeleton. Lest the bird should die before the completion of the business, it is said that a physician is employed, and allowed a handsome salary to attend these operations. Although I must acknowledge that these pâtés are exquisite, I should have no objection to see the inventors and manufacturers of them brought under the lash of those worthy members of society whose study is the prevention of cruelty to animals.
After dinner the company retired up stairs to coffee and liqueur, from which I went into the Salon de Jeu, where in a very short time I lost three hundred louis at Rouge et Noir. The Chevalier de Reul, whom I have before mentioned as one of the constant frequenters of the house, then called me aside, and advised me to risk no more, but to accompany him to the Comédie Françoise, where he promised to introduce me to the first performers; with all of whom he was intimate, and particularly the females, among whom it is a kind of prescriptive necessity to pay the Chevalier a visit previous to their début, in order to secure his powerful aid towards their success, as well as to get into society. I gladly accept ed the gallant Chevalier’s offer; but in passing through the hazard room I could not resist temptation, particularly as the manner of playing was novel to me. The bank covers any sum the caster lays down, and mostly in silver, while the players usually stake gold, being less cumbersome. The difference, which is seven sous in the single, and sixteen in the double louis, forms no small portion of the gain of the bank. I was here more fortunate than at Rouge et Noir, winning two hundred louis in a few minutes, with which I contented myself, and accompanied the Chevalier in his carriage to the theatre, where, according to his promise, he introduced me behind the scenes to several of the performers. One of the females, conspicuous for her beauty, and well known in the annals of gallantry, accompanied me into the stage box, on which she drew the eyes of the whole audience. After the performance, the Chevalier conducted me to a restaurateur’s, where he had invited this actress and two others to partake of an elegant supper, with which, accompanied by delightful singing and sprightly conversation, the night insensibly glided away, and we did not separate till three o’clock.
The pleasures of the day were of a nature to make me wish for their repetition, and I promised myself to dine every day at the Salon des Etrangers; to go to the Comédie Françoise every evening; and to sup with agreeable actresses every night. But all these charming prospects vanished in a moment, “like the baseless fabric of a vision.” I had not even time to dream of them, when a violent knocking at my door announced a most unwelcome visitor from the Adjutant de Place, with a guard to arrest and conduct me before the General commanding in Paris. The Adjutant entered my room with two of his myrmidons, and demanded, with all the insolent airs of office, “what brought me to, and what detained me at Paris?” adding, “that if I could not give a good account of myself to the General I must expect the most serious consequences.” While I was huddling on my clothes, he exclaimed every moment, “Allons, f––, ce n’est pas le temps de faire la toilette!” I was therefore obliged to march off with my coat and waistcoat on my arm, and to tie my neckcloth in the street, through which I was hurried by these ruffians as if I had been a criminal. They first conducted me to the hotel of Comte Hulin, the Governor of Paris, who ordered me to be transferred to the office of his Etat Major, there to be strictly examined, and a report made to him. The questions put to me were of such a nature, that it might have appeared they suspected me of some heinous plot against the State. At first their language was most menacing and imperious; but finding I would confess nothing, having indeed nothing to confess, their tone softened particularly when I told them that, though a stranger, I was not without friends of the first respectability at Paris, and mentioned among others Madame de Coignée. These names caused the Adjutant de Place, who was my principal examiner, to reflect how he treated me; and as he gave me the materials for writing, with permission to address whom I chose, I sent a note to Madame de Coignée and some other friends. I soon after received a visit from Sir John Coghill, who immediately went to speak to the Duke de Rovigo, Minister of Police. While I was in momentary expectation of being ordered to occupy an apartment in the Temple, I was visited by Lieutenant Owen, of the Royal Navy, who had also called on me twice the preceding day. This gentleman had been arrested at one of the depots of prisoners on a charge of having been engaged in a plot with some Swiss officers, to corrupt the Swiss garrison of Belle-Isle, to give up that island to the English; a plot certainly as ridiculous in all its parts as ever entered into the head of Don Quixote. Mr. Owen was now under the close inspection of the Police, being permitted to absent himself from his lodgings only a couple of hours in the day. His visits to me were to ask my advice how he was to act in these circumstances; but I declined entering at all into the subject, and moreover begged him to discontinue his visits, which, without being of any utility to him, might have very unpleasant consequences to me. On his retiring, I asked the Adjutant if he knew him, to which he answered, “Oh qu’oui! et vous le connoissez aussi, parbleu!” It now struck me that his visits were the cause of my being arrested, and I observed to the Adjutant that surely it could not for a moment be supposed that I had any thing to do with the absurd plot of which Mr. Owen was suspected; adding, that the French government lowered itself in paying attention to so ridiculous a story. “Perhaps, Sir,” I added, you do not recollect, that in 1761 the capture of Belle-Isle by the English was only effected by a large fleet and army, commanded by three admirals and several generals; and you fear that it may now be taken by such a detachment as is usually commanded by a lieutenant; for, if I have been correctly informed, it appears that Mr. Owen proposed himself to command the expedition.” These observations seemed to make some impression, and the Adjutant became more civil, informing me that I ought not to consider him as the cause of my arrest, for that my name had been some time in the books of the police, and that I had left Spain with a recommendation to be well looked after. I immediately recollected General Beliard’s letter to General Sols at Bayonne, and had no doubt but he had sent a similar one to Paris. But though the Adjutant became more civil in his manner, he could not help expressing his fears of my attempting to escape even from this place; and when I once, in walking up and down the room, approached the door, he cried out, “gardez bien ce Mionsieur-là;" and I was prevented from again going near the door. While I remained in this state of suspense, I was not long without finding something to amuse and interest me, in the various persons who, like myself, were brought hither malgré eux. Among them was a refractory conscript, accompanied by his disconsolate parents, who threw themselves at the feet of the Adjutant, imploring for their son. The unfeeling brute first grossly abused them, as the instigators of their son’s crime, and assured them that he would either be shot, or inevitably sent to the galleys for life, and that he had only to thank their evil councils for his fate. It appeared that this lad was an only son, who had learned a trade, and having escaped the first drawing of the conscription, had set up in business, and with the produce of his industry supported his aged parents. A supplementary conscription being called for the same year, he hoped to escape the drawing by concealing himself till it was over; but he was discovered in his place of refuge, and now brought before the military authority, for having endeavoured to evade the conscription laws. The Adjutant, however, seemed to be softened by the tears of the parents, and concluded by ordering the lad out with one of his myrmidons, most probably to receive all the money the poor people could raise, as the price of not bringing him to punishment, while the lad himself was as certainly sent off instantly to join a regiment.
To these poor people succeeded a decent looking woman, inquiring after her husband, who, according to her story, belonged to the national guard, and had gone out the evening before, and had not been heard of since. The only answer she received was desiring her to go to the Place de Grêve, where she would probably find him; and with this consolatory advice she retired in tears. The Place de Grêve, the place of public execution, is near la Morgue, where all the dead bodies, picked up in the streets during the night, or taken out of the river, are exposed to be recognized by their friends. The number of violent deaths in Paris is very great, and increases daily, from the increased frequency of suicides and murders.
Although I assumed an air of indifference, I could not help being disturbed at my situation; nor was I quite at ease with respect to the result, having no sort of wish to occupy poor Captain Wright’s apartment in the Temple. Madame de Coignée, and some other friends, having interested themselves for me, the affair terminated with ordering me to be escorted to Verdun by a gend’arme. One being immediately appointed for this service, he first conducted me to the Temple, whose gates I did not enter without a kind of chill, from reflecting on the horrors that had been committed within them. The purpose of bringing me here was, however, only to arrange with the colonel of gend’armerie the sum I was to pay to my guard, which he fixed at twelve francs a day, with the obligation that he was to dine and sleep in the same room with me.
The corps of gend’armerie, composing the civil and military police of France, is nearly on the footing of the ancient maréchaussée. It consists chiefly of cavalry, though a small number are infantry; and the men are all picked from different regiments of the line, being such as can read and write, as that is required. Their duty is to patrole the country, either on horseback or on foot; to arrest deserters from the army, refractory conscripts, and all persons not having regular passports; and to assist the civil magistrates in the execution of their warrants, in all cases of correctional or criminal police.
From the idea I had received of the police of Paris, I expected to have found it crowded with gend’armes; and was, therefore, not a little surprised to learn that there were only fifteen cavalry and twenty-five infantry constantly stationed there. In all the surrounding villages are brigades of five, who keep up a daily correspondence with the colonel in chief in the capital. In the same manner detachments are stationed in every town of any consideration through out the empire.