The following day I advertised, by means of the town-crier, an auction at my house, and gave a grand account of every thing that was to be sold, and which I observed the purchasers were individually to take home. I also prepared a sumptuous breakfast, and notwithstanding all the exertions of the Baron to prevent attendance, there was an immense concourse of people from Gueret and various parts of the country, to visit my auction. They bid one against the other with great acrimony, for there were but few of them who had not some private dispute, and bore great animosity one towards another, which terminated the affair so much in my favour, that the furniture, and various articles of little or no value, sold to an amount greatly exceeding my expectations. Such articles as the Baron contrived to prevent being sold, and which he calculated would fall to his share, I made a bonfire of, according to promise. My landlord being now in despair, furnished me with a most exorbitant bill, in which, among other charges, he demanded forty francs for a pony I had turned out (from his being lame), three or four times on a goose common, where it is well known there is nothing for a horse to eat. I thought it, however, advisable to pay the money, and we parted. I met the Baron soon after at the curious old General’s at dinner, where, in my life, I never passed a more extraordinary day.

On the following morning, being the first of May, and Sunday, (a day which I prefer for commencing a journey, because I conceive it lucky, and you have moreover the additional advantage of having the prayers of the Church in your favour) I took my departure for Paris. The roads were so very bad by La Chatre, that I sent the servants and carriage by a more circuitous road, and rode myself across paths and bye-roads until I reached that place. I must here observe, that great part of this road was on the banks of the river Creuse, and the scenes were pleasing and fanciful in the extreme, and only to be equalled by some of the picturesque views in Switzerland. The banks of the river were most formidable and steep, being composed of rocky precipices, covered in most places with hanging woods, at the bottom of which the Creuse rolls with great rapidity, and frequently down steep rocks and precipices, which creates romantic and beautiful waterfalls, accompanied by an awful and murmuring noise. The fields were in the richest verdure, and as there were no inhabitants near, the tout ensemble had a solemn and imposing effect.

After leaving the town of Genouillat, I had to pass the same road I have already described. I conceived that the season of the year might have made a difference, and the road be better than when I last passed; but it was, if any thing, worse, being now of a sticky, glutinous nature, so that my horse found great difficulty in extricating his feet.

On my arrival at La Chatre the inhabitants were making great preparations to celebrate the Peace; and unfortunately for me there was a dance, which continued the whole night, next to my room. This town, however, was rather slow in bringing forward the festival; indeed, the inhabitants had the character of being more attached to Buonaparte than the Bourbons, and I have observed this to be the case in most small towns. They are, however, more than counterbalanced by Paris, Bourdeaux, Lyons, Marseilles, &c. being in their favour.

On leaving La Chatre I went to Chateauroux, and from thence in a direct line to Orleans, where the following day there was a pompous procession, an illumination, and a great fete, in honour of the Pucelle, which, in this instance, embraced two objects, including that in honour of peace.

On my arrival at Paris I found it so crowded, that it was with much difficulty accommodation could be procured, but which I at last obtained at my old quarters, Hôtel du Rhin, Rue du Helder. Russians, Austrians, Prussians, and Cossacks, were in all quarters of the town; as well as about fourteen thousand English, all of whom had an opportunity of beholding these novel and extraordinary scenes; for who could have imagined to see guards mounted at Paris by Russians, Cossacks parading in triumph through the streets, and nothing to be seen but foreign costume and the most extraordinary dresses? The playhouses were so crowded, there was no obtaining a place, and it was the same with respect to the coffee-houses; I therefore found Paris very disagreeable after the novelty was over. I chanced to make a dinner party one day with seven of my countrymen, not one of whom could muster French enough to call for a spoon, but came much under the description that Boniface describes his master: “he says little, thinks less, and does nothing at all; but then he’s a gentleman of large fortune, and cares for nobody.” Whenever I went to the Salon des Etrangers, or any place of public play, old Blucher was sure to be there. He had been fortunate in the commencement, but I cannot say how his luck terminated; for my own part, though I won at first, I left Paris a considerable loser. In the play-houses you heard of nothing but the bon Henri, vive Henri quatre, vivent les Bourbons.

Nothing can possibly be a stronger lesson to instruct us in the uncertainty of human events, than the character and the fate of the first (Henry IV.) and last of that family (Louis XVI.) previous to the revolution. Henry the Third having died without issue, the branch of Valois became extinct in his person, and the succession to the Crown was Henry de Bourbon, King of Navarre, and the first of the Bourbon race. This Prince was born at Pau, in Bearn, on the 13th of December, 1553, of Antoine de Bourbon, Duc de Vendome, and of Jean d’Albert, Queen of Navarre, which has since been the cause of the Kings of France being stiled “Roi de France et de Navarre.” He was descended in a right line from Robert de France, Comte de Clermont, and the sixth son of St. Louis. It was in the château of Coaroaze, situated in the middle of rocks, between Bijone and Bearn, that the young Henry received the first rudiments of his education, where he was sent by order of his grandfather, who died sixteen months after his birth. He was brought up to every hardship, fed on black bread and cheese, used to run across the Bearnois rocks bareheaded and barefooted, and from having acquired habits of regularity, moderation, and sobriety, added to this mode of education, became the ornament and the glory of France. He had a strength of mind likewise, and great foresight, which taught him to know that kings were mortal, and but men.

It was Henry the Fourth that inspired France with that gallantry and sentiment, for which she was so conspicuous previous to the Revolution. Henry had to combat against a powerful enemy, in those times of fanaticism, for he was a protestant. The Duc d’Epernon and many of the noblesse retired from the scene, under pretence that they could not serve under a heretic. Others remained faithful, but the Duc de Mayenne was his bitterest enemy; he proclaimed the Cardinal de Bourbon, who was then a prisoner, under the title of Charles the Tenth; though Henry IV. was then besieging Paris. At the commencement of the siege the army consisted of about thirty thousand men in number; they were reduced by sickness and other misfortunes to four or five thousand; so that Henry was forced to raise the siege and retire towards Dieppe. The Duke, and the army of the Ligue under his command, pressed him so close, that they said “the Bearnois (for that was his nickname), had no chance but to throw himself into the sea;” yet, after all their boasting, Henry at last gave them battle, which was called the battle of Arques, where he defeated an army eight times his force; and at the conclusion wrote to his friend the Duc de Crillon: “pends-toi, brave Crillon; nous avons combattus à Arques et tu n’y étois pas!” After this victory, having received a reinforcement of four thousand English, he spread terror at the gates of Paris, where they had falsely reported his defeat.

The Duc de Mayenne again attacked Henry, and was defeated at Ivry, in the year 1590, which action of itself was enough to immortalize Henry.

Henry the Fourth possessed the means of obtaining every person’s regard and respect. He was one of the most unassuming and pleasant companions in the world, full of wit, and fond of cheerful society; and although he might at times have given offence, he had the means of repairing that offence so as to convert it into friendship and esteem.

Schomberg, who commanded an auxiliary German force under Henry, desired to have the pay for his troops; the King, having no money, was vexed and irritated at this demand, and replied, “jamais homme de cour m’a demandé l’argent la veille d’une bataille.” Henry however, at the commencement of the battle, feeling that he had offended General Schomberg, addressed him as follows: “Monsieur de Schomberg, je vous ai offensé; cette journée sera peut-étre la dernière de ma vie; je ne veux point emporter l’honneur d’une gentilhomme; je connais votre mérite et votre valeur; je vous prie de me pardonner, et embrassez-moi.” Schomberg replied, “il est vrai que votre Majesté m’a blessé l’autre jour; aujourd’hui elle me tue, car l’honneur qu’elle m’a fait m’oblige de mourir en cette occasion pour son service.”

The brave German on that day signalized himself, and proved his attachment and his valour, for he was in two hours after killed close to the King. Such traits are those of chivalry, and such is the real character of Frenchmen. How different to that which they assumed during the Revolution! how aukward and unnatural was their grossièreté to minds possessed of such refined sentiments!

Henry was equally conspicuous for his gallantry and his amours, as for his courage and his conduct in the field. Among many other favourites, we may reckon the beautiful and accomplished Gabrielle d’Estrees, Duchess of Beaufort. Henry lived for a long time separate from Marguerite deValois; and his object was to obtain a divorce, and make Gabrielle his wife, which could not be accomplished. Gabrielle soon after dying, he became desperately enamoured with Henrietta, a daughter of the mistress of Charles the Ninth. She perfectly enslaved him, yet would not gratify him in any other manner but by a promise of marriage, to which he consented. The contract of marriage being signed, Henry spewed it to the great Sully, and asked his advice; when this courageous minister took the paper and tore it by way of reply. “What,” said the King in a rage, “are you mad?” –– “Il est vrai, Sire, je suis fou; je voudrois l’être si fort que je fusse le seul en France.” Sully had no expectation but of being immediately disgraced; the greatness of mind, however, of the King instantly promoted him to be grand master of the artillery. The Pope having, through Sully’s intrigue, granted Henry a divorce, he shortly after contracted a match more worthy, and married, it the year 1600, Marie de Medicis, by whom he had issue Louis XIII. This great, this generous, this accomplished character was, when arrived at the summit of his grandeur (and on the eve of an expedition against the House of Austria, being detained for the coronation of the Queen, in the year 1610), basely assassinated by a desperate fanatic named Ravaillac, who was instigated by the priests. Thus perished, in the fifty-seventh year of his age, the greatest prince Europe produced; and this was the fiftieth conspiracy formed against his life –– so little do we know how to estimate great qualities! To him France is indebted for the Louvre and Pont Neuf, with various ornaments at Paris; the canal of Briare, which, joins the Loire and the Seine, by this means opening the communication through France with the English Channel and the Atlantic Ocean. As Sully observed, “time, which is the grand estimator of the great qualities of this Prince, could only be the means of developing his grand projects and wonderful enterprises.”

At the Louvre there are some fine pictures of this great monarch worthy the attention of travellers.

As to Louis the Sixteenth, his misfortunes are recent on our minds; though some particulars relative to his outset in life may have escaped notice. At the time of his coming into the world the court was at Choisy, and the Dauphin was almost alone at Versailles; no splendour marked his birth, and the courier, who was commissioned to bear the news to the court, fell from his horse and died on the spot, without being able to discharge his office. Louis was immediately created Duc de Berri. When his father died in 1765, his grief was extreme; and when, in crossing the apartment, he heard for the first time, “way for the Dauphin!,” he burst into tears and fainted.

His marriage with Marie Antoinette of Austria, the daughter of Maria Theresa, was celebrated under fatal auspices; for in the festival which the city of Paris gave on the occasion, more than four thousand people perished in the Place de Louis XV, pressed to death and suffocated for want of precaution: –– the same place on which the unfortunate Louis was so foully murdered!

The Dauphin, greatly afflicted at this circumstance, for seven months sent part of his revenue to the lieutenant of police, for the relief of the victims of this unhappy affair. In 1774, when called to the throne by the death of his grandfather, he exclaimed, “oh, my God, what a misfortune!”

I shall here beg leave to give an extract from the journal of Monsieur de Malesherbes, concerning the latter end of that good but unfortunate monarch.

“As soon,” said he, “as I had permission to enter the King’s apartment, I hastened thither; and no sooner did he perceive me than he rose from a little table, on which a Tacitus lay before him open; clasping me in his arms, while his eyes were moistened with tears, he exclaimed, “your sacrifice is the more  generous, as you expose your own life, and cannot save mine!” I represented there would be no danger, either for him or me, so easy was it to defend him successfully; to which he replied, “I am well convinced they will condemn me; they have both the power and the will; but be that as it may, let us busy ourselves with the cause as if I was to gain it; and in fact I shall, for I shall leave behind me an unspotted memory. Every day he assisted in examining papers, explaining motives and refuting complaints, with a firmness of mind and a serenity which his defenders admired as much as I did. When Deseze had completed his defence, he read it to us, and never did I hear any thing more pathetic than a particular part of it; it affected us to tears. The King said to him, “this must be omitted, I will not work on their feelings.” When the time of trial drew near, he one morning said to me, “my sister has told me of a good priest who has not taken the oaths, and whom his obscurity may eventually save from persecution; this is his address; I request of you to go and speak to him, and to prepare him to come when I shall have obtained permission to see him;” he added, “it is a strange commission for a philosopher, and such I know you to be, but if you suffered as much as I do, and if you were going to die as I am, I should wish you the same religious sentiments, which would console you more than philosophy.”

“When I returned from the Assembly; where he had desired to appeal to the people, I informed him that on coming out I had been surrounded by a great number of persons, who had all assured me he should not perish, or at least not till after them and their friends. He changed colour, and said to me, do you know them? return to the Assembly, endeavour to discover some of them, declare to them I should never forgive them if one single drop of blood was shed for me; I would not suffer it to be shed when it might perhaps have preserved my crown and my life; I do not repent it.” –– It was I who first acquainted him that he was sentenced to die; he was in the dark, his back was turned towards a lamp that stood in the chimney, his elbows rested on a table, and his face was concealed in his hands; the noise I made awoke him, and, looking stedfastly at me, he rose and said, “I have been for two hours endeavouring to find out whether I have in the course of my life merited the slightest reproof from my subjects; now, Monsieur de Malesherbes, I swear to you in all the sincerity of my heart, as a man who is going to appear before God, that I have constantly desired the happiness of the people, and have never formed a wish contrary to it.” –– I saw this hapless monarch once more, and assured him the priest whom he desired to see was coming; he embraced me, and said, “death does not terrify me; I have the most complete confidence in the mercy of God.”

On the 20th January, 1793, Louis without murmuring heard his sentence read, and imparted it to his family himself, that he might teach them resignation. At midnight he heard mass, threw himself on his bed, where he slept peacefully till awakened in the morning by his valet de chambre Clery, who came to dress him for the last time. At eight o’clock those who were to conduct him to the scaffold entered the apartment, and with a firm step he descended the tower stairs, crossed the court, casting a last glance towards the prison that contained his family; he got into the carriage with the Abbé Edgeworth beside him, and in two hours arrived at the Place de Louis XV. He ascended the scaffold, his hair was then cut off; he was undressed; an attempt was made to tie his hands; he refused, saying, “I am sure of myself;” but on being again urged he mildly held out his hands, and then advancing to the left side of the platform, he cried out with a loud voice, “Frenchmen, I die innocent; I forgive my enemies, and wish my death may be useful to France.” Santerre then ordered a roll of the drums, which drowned his voice, and prevented him from finishing. “Go, Son of St. Louis, ascend to Heaven!” said his confessor with enthusiasm, and the unfortunate monarch presented his head to the executioner. His body was conveyed to the burying ground of St. Magdalen, and according to the decree of the Convention, consumed in unslacked lime.

Frenchmen! you have been acting a part for these last twenty-four years unnatural to your character; loyalty, honour, and attachment to your Sovereign, have ever been your leading features. Your legitimate monarch is now restored; the joy and enthusiasm expressed by all ranks and descriptions of people at Paris, and of which I was an eye-witness, convince me how sensible you are of this latter blessing. A due attention to morality, and to the education of youth, are the only means likely to efface the dangerous and pernicious example that your rulers had set for so long a period; and, by devoting yourselves to habits of industry and commerce, you may be the happiest and most enviable people on earth, I have slightly descanted on parts of the characters of Henry the Fourth and Louis the Sixteenth, from my knowledge of your attachment and devotion to the Bourbons; and if it should appear in this narrative that I have with too much severity spoke of France, you will please to consider that I wrote at a period when your country assumed a fierce, turbulent, and oppressive character. Although your soldiers have been led and worked upon by the very worst of men, yet they always retained their character for generosity and bravery as an enemy.