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Paris As It Was and As It Is

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The present government of France seems to have taken the hint from
St. Foix, who expresses his astonishment that Lewis XIV never
conceived the idea of erecting, in the _Hôtel des Invalides_,
mausolea, with the statues of the generals who had led with the
greatest glory the armies of the nation. "Where could they be more
honourably interred," says he, "than amidst those old soldiers, the
companions of their fatigues, who, like themselves, had lavished
their blood for their country?"[1]

At the age of sixty-four, TURENNE was killed by a cannon-ball, while
reconnoitring the enemy's batteries near the village of Salzbach in
Germany, on the 27th of July, 1675. No less esteemed for his virtues
as a man, than honoured for his talents as a general, he at last fell
a victim to his courage. His soldiers looked up to him as to a
father, and in his life-time always gave him that title. After his
death, when they saw the embarrassment in which it left the generals
who succeeded him in the command of the army: "_Let loose old
Piebald_," said they, "_he will guide us_."[2] The same ball which
(to borrow a line from Pope) laid

"The _god-like_ TURENNE prostrate in the dust,"

likewise took off the arm of ST. HILAIRE, Lieutenant-general of
artillery: his son, who was beside him at the moment, uttered a cry
of grief. "_'Tis not me, my son, that you must bewail_," said ST.
HILAIRE; "_'tis that great man._"

The Marshal was as much lamented by the enemy as he was by his own
countrymen; and MONTECUCULLI, the general opposed to him, when he
learned the loss which France had sustained in the person of TURENNE,
exclaimed: "Then a man is dead who was an honour to human nature!"

The Germans, for several years, left untilled the field where he was
killed; and the inhabitants shewed it as a sacred spot. They
respected the old tree under which, he reposed a little time before
his death, and would not suffer it to be cut down. The tree perished
only, because soldiers of all nations carried away pieces of it out
of respect to his memory.

TURENNE had been interred in the abbey of St. Denis, and at the time
of the royal vaults being opened in 1793, by order of the National
Convention, the remains of that great captain were respected amid the
general destruction which ensued. From the eagerness of the workmen
to behold them, his tomb was the very first that was opened. When the
lid of the coffin was removed, the Marshal was found in such a state
of preservation that he was not at all disfigured: the features of
his face, far from being changed, were perfectly conformable to the
portraits and medallions of TURENNE in our possession.

This monument, now placed in the _Temple of Mars_, had been erected
to that warrior in the abbey of St. Denis, and was preserved through
the care of M. LENOIR; after being seen for five years in the MUSEUM
OF FRENCH MONUMENTS, of which he is the director, it was removed
hither by the before-mentioned decree of the Consuls. LE BRUN
furnished the designs from which it was executed. The group, composed
of TURENNE in the arms of Immortality, is by TUBY; the accessory
figures, the one representing Wisdom, and the other, Valour, are by
MARSY. The bas-relief in bronze in the middle of the cenotaph is
likewise by TURY, and represents TURENNE charging the enemy at the
battle of Turckheim, in 1675.

The dome forms a second church behind the large one, to which it
communicates. Its exterior, entirely covered with lead, is surrounded
by forty pillars of the Composite order, and ornamented with twelve
large gilt coats of mail, crowned with helmets, which serve as
skylights, and with a small lantern with pillars which support a
pyramid, surmounted by a large ball and a cross.

All the architecture of the dome, which is called the new church, is
from the design of MANSARD. Its elevation, from the ground-floor, is
three hundred feet; and its diameter, fifty. It has the character of
elegance. The beauty of its proportion, its decoration, and
especially all the parts which concur in forming the pyramid, render
it a master-piece of architecture. But nothing commands admiration
like the interior, though it may be said to be three-fourths damaged.
The twelve windows, by which it is lighted, but which the observer
below cannot perceive, are ornamented with coupled piasters, resting
on a continued pedestal. On the broad band, which was formerly
adorned with flower-de-luces, and at this day with emblems of
liberty, were the medallions of twelve of the most famous kings of
France: namely, Clovis, Dagobert, Childebert, Charlemagne, Lewis the
Debonair, Charles the Bald, Philip Augustus, St. Lewis, Lewis XII,
Henry IV, Lewis XIII, and Lewis XIV. The first arch, distributed into
twelve equal parts, presented the twelve apostles, painted in fresco
by JOUVENET. The second arch, painted by LA FOSSE, represented the
apotheosis of St. Lewis, offering to God his sword and crown. The
pavement, which alone has not suffered, is in compartments of
different marbles of great value.

The portal, which looks towards the country, is thirty toises in
extent. Of all the figures which decorated this façade, those of the
Four Virtues; namely, Justice, Temperance, Fortitude, and Prudence,
are the only ones that have been suffered to remain in their places.
They are by COYZEVOX.

The other objects most worthy of notice in this spacious, building,
which, together with its precincts, occupies seventeen _arpens_, are
the refectories and kitchens, which are very extensive. Formerly,
neither of these were kept in such high order as they are at present.
The tables of the private soldiers are now better supplied; sirloins
of beef and legs of mutton being no longer roasted for the officers
only. In the four refectories, where the soldiers dine, twelve in a
mess, they are regularly served with soup, bouilli, a plate of
vegetables, and a pint of unadulterated wine. When Peter the Great
visited this establishment, the Invalids happened to be at dinner,
the czar, on entering the first refectory, poured out a bumper of
wine, and drank it off in a military style to the health of the
veterans, whom he termed his comrades.

The halls are ornamented with paintings representing the conquests of
Lewis XIV. During the reign of terror the features of the _Grand
Monarque_, who made a conspicuous figure in these pictures, were
concealed by a coat of dark paint, which answered the purpose of a
mask. BONAPARTE has ordered this mask to be removed, so that the
ambitious monarch now reappears in all his former glory.

Whatever may be said in praise of establishments of this description,
for my part, I see nothing in them but the gratification of national
pride. The old soldiers, are, in a manner, without a comrade, though
living in the midst of their brother warriors. The good fellowship
which they have witnessed in camps no longer subsists. The danger of
battles, the weight of fatigues, and the participation of privations
and hardships, no longer form the tie of common interest, by which
they were once united. This, being dissolved, they seek in vain that
reciprocity of little kindnesses which they used to find in their own
regiments and armies. All hope of promotion or change being at an
end, their only consolation is to enjoy the present by indulging in
reveries concerning the past.

Instead of being doomed to end their days in this sort of stately
confinement, subject to restrictions which render life so dull and
monotonous, how different would these veterans feel, could they
retire to the bosom of their families and friends! Then, indeed,
would they dwell with delight on the battles and sieges in which they
had served, enumerating their many hair-breadth escapes, and
detailing the particulars of the fight in which they lost their
deficient leg or arm. After a pause, the sense of their country's
gratitude operating powerfully on their mind, would soothe every
painful recollection. Their auditors, impressed with admiration,
would listen in silence to the recital of the well-fought day, and,
roused by the call of national honour, cheerfully step forth to
emulate these mutilated heroes, provided they were sure of a _free_
asylum, when reduced to their helpless condition.

Whether I enter the _Hôtel des Invalides_, or _Chelsea Hospital_,
such are the reflections which never fail to occur to me, when I
visit either of those establishments, and contemplate the dejected
countenances of the maimed beings that inhabit them.

Experience tells us that men dislike enjoyments, regularly prepared
for them, if under restraint, and prefer smaller gratifications, of
which they can partake without control. Policy, as well as prudence,
therefore dictates a departure from the present system of providing
for those maimed in fighting the battles of their nation.

In a word, I am fully persuaded that the sums expended in the
purchase of the ground and construction of this magnificent edifice,
together with the charges of maintaining the establishment, would
have formed a fund that might have enabled the government to allow
every wounded soldier a competent pension for life, in proportion to
the length of his services, and the injuries which he might have
suffered in defence of his country.

From the _Hôtel des Invalides_ are avenues, planted with trees,
which, on one side, communicate to the _New Boulevards_, and, on the
other, to the

CHAMP DE MARS.

This extensive inclosure was originally intended for the exercises of
the _École Militaire_, in front of which it is situated, as you will
perceive by referring to the Plan of Paris. Its form is a
parallelogram of four hundred and fifty toises in length by one
hundred and fifty in breadth. It is surrounded by ditches, faced with
masonry, which are bordered on each side by a double row of trees,
extending from the façade of the _ci-devant École Militaire_ to the
banks of the Seine. That building, I shall observe _en passant_, was
founded in 1751, by Lewis XV, for the military education of five
hundred young gentlemen, destitute of fortune, whose fathers had died
in the service. It stands on the south side of the _Champ de Mars_,
and serves at present as barracks for the horse-grenadiers of the
consular guard. On the third story of one of the wings is a national
observatory, which was constructed at the instigation of Lalande, the
celebrated astronomer.

The various scenes of which the _Champ de Mars_ has successively been
the theatre, are too interesting to be passed over in silence.
Indeed, they exhibit the character of the nation in such striking
colours, that to omit them, would be like omitting some of the
principal features in the drawing of a portrait. Often have they been
mentioned, it is true; but subsequent events have so weakened the
remembrance of them, that they now present themselves to the mind
more like dreams than realities. However, I shall touch on the most
remarkable only.

In 1790, a spacious arena, encompassed by a mound of earth, divided
into seats so as to accommodate three hundred thousand spectators,
was formed within this inclosure. To complete it speedily for the
ceremony of the first federation, required immense labour. The slow
progress of twenty-five thousand hired workmen could not keep pace
with the ardent wishes of the friends of liberty. But those were the
days of enthusiasm: concord and harmony then subsisted among the
great majority of the French people. What other sentiments, in fact,
could daily bring together, in the _Champ de Mars_, two hundred and
fifty thousand persons of every class, without distinction of age or
sex, to work at the necessary excavation? Thus, at the end of a week,
the amphitheatre was completed as if by enchantment.

Never, perhaps, since the time of the Spartans, was seen among any
people such an example of cordial union. It would be difficult for
the warmest imagination to conceive a picture so varied, so original,
so animated. Every corporation, every society was ambitious of the
honour of assisting in the erection of the altar of the country: all
wished to contribute, by individual labour, to the arrangement of the
place where they were to swear to defend the constitution. Not a man,
woman, or child remained an idle spectator. On this occasion, the
aged seemed to have recovered the vigour of youth, and women and
children to have acquired the strength of manhood. In a word, men of
all trades and professions were confounded, and cheerfully handled
the pickaxe and shovel: delicate females, sprucely dressed, were seen
here and there wheeling along barrows filled with earth; while long
strings of stout fellows dragged heavy loads in carts and waggons. As
the electric matter runs along the several links of an extensive
chain, so patriotism seemed to have electrified this whole mass of
people. The shock was universal, and every heart vibrated in unison.

The general good order which prevailed among this vast assemblage,
composed indiscriminately of persons of every rank and condition, was
truly surprising. No sort of improper discourse, no dispute of any
kind occurred. But what is still more singular and more worthy of
remark is, that the mutual confidence shewn by so many people,
strangers to each other, was in no one instance abused. Those who
threw off their coats and waistcoats, leaving them to the fate of
chance, during the time they were at work elsewhere, on their return
to the same spot found them untouched. Hence, as Paris is known to
abound with _filoux_, it may be inferred that the _amor patriæ_ had
deadened in them the impulse of their ordinary vocation.

Franklin, when promoting the emancipation of America, during his
residence in Paris, probably did not foresee that the French would
soon borrow his favourite expression, and that it would become the
burden of a popular air. Yet so it happened; and even Lewis XVI
himself participated in the patriotic labours of the _Champ de Mars_,
while different bands of military music made the whole inclosure
resound with _ça ira_.

To these exhilarating scenes succeeded others of the most opposite
nature. Hither the guillotine was transported for the execution of
the greatest astronomer of the age, and this with no other view than
to prolong his punishment. Bailly, as every one knows, was the first
mayor of Paris after the revolution. Launched into the vortex of
politics, he became involved in the proscriptions which ensued during
the reign of terror, and was dragged from prison to the _Champ de
Mars_, where, though exposed to the most trying insults, he died,
like a philosopher, with Socratic calmness.

In no one of the numerous victims of the revolution was the
instability of popular favour more fully exemplified than in Bailly.
In this _Champ de Mars_, where he had published martial law in
consequence of a decree of the Convention, in the very place where he
had been directed by the representatives of the people to repel the
factions, he expired under the guillotine, loaded with the execration
of that same people of whom he had been the most venerated idol.

Since those sanguinary times, the _Champ de Mars_ has chiefly been
the site chosen for the celebration of national fêtes, which, within
these few years, have assumed a character more distinguished than any
ever seen under the old _régime_. These modern Olympics consist of
chariot-races and wrestling, horse and foot races, ascensions of
balloons, carrying three or four persons, descents from them by means
of a parachute, mock-fights and aquatic tilting. After the sports of
the day, come splendid illuminations, grand fire-works, pantomimes
represented by two or three hundred performers, and concerts, which,
aided by splendid decorations, are not deficient in point of effect:
the evening concludes with dancing.

During the existence of the directorial government, the number of
national fêtes had been considerably increased by the celebration of
party triumphs. They are at present reduced to the two great epochs
of the revolution, the taking of the Bastille on the 14th of July,
1789, and the foundation of the Republic on the 23d of September,
1792. On the anniversary of those days, the variety of the
exhibitions always attracted an immense concourse. The whole of this
mound, whose greatest diameter is upwards of eight hundred yards, was
then covered with spectators; but were the _Champ de Mars_ now used
on such occasions, they would be compelled to stand, there being no
longer any seats for their accommodation.

The subject of national fêtes has, in this country, employed many
pens, and excited much discussion. Some say that they might be
rendered more interesting from the general arrangement; while others
affirm that they might be made to harmonize more with the affections
and habits of the people. In truth, this modern imitation of the
Greek festivals has fallen far short of those animating,
mirth-inspiring scenes, so ably described by the learned author of
Anacharsis, where, to use his own words, "every heart, eagerly bent
on pleasure, endeavoured to expand itself in a thousand different
ways, and communicated to others the impression which rendered it
happy." Whatever exertions have hitherto been made to augment the
splendour of these days of festivity, it seems not to admit of a
doubt that they are still susceptible of great improvement. If the
French have not the wine of _Naxos_, their goblets may at least
sparkle with _vin de Surenne_; the _Champs Elysées_ may supply the
place of the shady bowers of _Delos_; and, in lieu of the name of the
ill-fated NICIAS, the first promoter of the sports formerly
celebrated in that once-happy island, the air may be made to ring
with the name of the more fortunate BONAPARTE.

[Footnote 1: _Essais historiques sur Paris_.]

[Footnote 2: This was the name given by the soldiers to the Marshal's
favourite charger.]



LETTER XLV.

_Paris, January 6, 1802._

In speaking of the interior of the _Louvre_, in one of my former
letters, I think I mentioned the various learned and scientific
societies, which, under the name of Academies, formerly held their
sittings in that palace. For the sake of facilitating a comparison
between the past and the present, it may be necessary to state the
professed object of those different institutions.

_French Academy_. The preservation of the purity of the French
language, its embellishment and augmentation.

_Academy of Sciences_. The progress of the sciences, the
encouragement of researches and discoveries, as well in physics,
geometry, and astronomy, as in those sciences which are applicable to
the daily wants of society.

_Academy of Inscriptions and Belles-Lettres_. The composition of
inscriptions, of the subjects of medals, and their mottos, the
research of the manners, habits, customs, and monuments of antiquity,
as well as all literature relating to history.

_Academy of Painting and Sculpture_.
_Academy of Architecture_.
The titles of these are a sufficient explanation.

All these academies were founded by Lewis XIV, at the instigation of
his minister Colbert; with the exception of the French Academy, which
owed its origin to Cardinal Richelieu. This was a misfortune for that
society; for custom had established it as a law that every new
member, on the day of his reception, should not only pronounce a
panegyric on him whom he succeeded, but also on the founder of the
institution. It certainly was not very philosophical for men of
enlightened understanding, and possessing even a common portion of
sensibility, to make an eulogium on a minister so cruel, a man of a
spirit so diabolically vindictive, that he even punished the innocent
to revenge himself on the guilty. De Thou, the celebrated author of
the _History of his own time_, had told some truths not very
favourable to the memory of the Cardinal's great uncle. In
consequence, the implacable minister, under false pretences, caused
the philosophic historian's eldest son to be condemned and
decapitated, saying: "De Thou, the father, has put my name into his
history, I will put the son into mine."

It is well known, from their memoirs, that these academies included
among their members men of eminent talents. The Academy of Sciences,
in particular, could boast of several first-rate geniuses in the
different branches which they respectively cultivated, and the
unremitting labours of some of them have, no doubt, greatly
contributed to enlarge the sphere of human knowledge. During the
early part of the revolution, all these monarchical institutions were
overthrown, and on their ruins rose the

NATIONAL INSTITUTE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES.[1]

This establishment was formed, agreeably to a decree of the National
Assembly passed on the 3d of Brumaire, year IV (25th of October,
1796). By that decree, it appears that the Institute belongs to the
whole Republic, though its point of union is fixed in Paris. Its
object is to extend the limits of the arts and sciences in general,
by an uninterrupted series of researches, by the publication of
discoveries, by a correspondence with the learned societies of
foreign countries, and by such scientific and literary labours as
tend to general utility and the glory of the Republic.

It is composed of one hundred and forty-four members, resident in
Paris, and of an equal number scattered over the departments. The
number of its foreign associates is twenty-four. It is divided into
three classes, and each class into several sections, namely:

Mathematical and Physical Sciences.
Moral and Political Sciences.
Literature and the Fine Arts.
The Mathematical Class is divided into ten sections; each of which
consists of six members. Of this class, there are sixty members in
Paris, and as many in the departments, where they are divided, in the
same manner, into ten sections, each of six members.

The first section comprehends Mathematics.
The second, Mechanical Arts.
The third, Astronomy.
The fourth, Experimental Physics.
The fifth, Chemistry.
The sixth, Natural History and Mineralogy.
The seventh, Botany and vegetable Physics.
The eighth, Anatomy and Zoology.
The ninth, Medicine and Surgery.
The tenth, Rural Economy and the Veterinary Art.

The Moral and Political Class is divided into six sections, each
consisting of six members, making in all thirty-six members in Paris,
and an equal number in the departments.

The first section comprises the Analysis of Sensations and Ideas.
The second, Morals.
The third, Social Science and Legislation.
The fourth, Political Economy.
The fifth, History.
The sixth, Geography.

The Class of Literature and Fine Arts is divided into eight sections,
each of six members, forty-eight of whom reside in Paris, and as many
in the departments.

The first section includes Grammar.
The second, Ancient Languages.
The third, Poetry.
The fourth, Antiquities and Monuments.
The fifth, Painting.
The sixth, Sculpture.
The seventh, Architecture.
The eighth, Music and Declamation.

Twice in every decade, each class holds a meeting: that of the first
class takes place on the first and sixth days; that of the second, on
the second and seventh days; and that of the third, on the third and
eighth days. Every six months each class elects its president and two
secretaries, who continue in office during that interval.

On the fifth day of the first decade of every month is held a general
meeting of the three classes, the purpose of which is to deliberate
on affairs, relating to the general interests of the Institute. The
chair is then taken by the oldest of the three presidents, who, at
these meetings, presides over the whole society.

The National Institute has four public quarterly meetings, on the
15th of the months of Vendémiaire, Nivôse, Germinal, and Messidor.
Each class annually proposes two prize questions, and in the general
meetings, the answers are made public, and the premiums distributed.
The united sections of Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture nominate
the pupils who are to visit Rome, and reside there in the national
palace, at the expense of the Republic, in order to study the Fine
Arts. Conformably to the decree by which the Institute was organised,
six of its members were to travel at the public charge, with a view
of collecting information, and acquiring experience in the different
sciences; and twenty young men too were to visit foreign countries
for the purpose of studying rural economy: but the expenses of the
war and other matters have occasioned such a scarcity of money as,
hitherto, to impede these undertakings.

The apartments of the Institute are on the first floor of the
_Louvre_, or, as it is now styled, the _Palais Nationial des Sciences
et des Arts_. These apartments, which were once inhabited by Henry
IV, are situated on the west side of that building. Before you arrive
at the hall of the Institute, you pass through a handsome
antichamber, in which are the statues of Molière, Racine, Corneille,
La Fontaine, and Montesquieu. This hall, which is oblong and
spacious, formerly served for the meetings of the Academy of
Sciences. Its sides are adorned with colonnades, and the ceiling is
richly painted and decorated. In the intercolumniations are fourteen
marble statues (seven on each side) of some of the most celebrated
men that France has produced: namely, Condé, Tourville, Descartes,
Bayard, Sully, Turenne, Daguessau, Luxembourg, L'Hôpital, Bossuet,
Duquesne, Catinat, Vauban, and Fenelon. Parallel to the walls, tables
are set, covered with green cloth, at which the members take their
places.

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