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Paris As It Was and As It Is

F >> Francis W. Blagdon >> Paris As It Was and As It Is




It is in every person's recollection that, in consequence of the
National Convention having decreed the abolition of royalty in
France, it was proposed to annihilate every vestige of it throughout
the country. But, probably, you are not aware of the thorough sweep
that was made among the sepultures in this abbey of _St. Denis_.

The bodies of the kings, queens, princes, princesses, and celebrated
personages, who had been interred here for nearly fifteen hundred
years, were taken up, and literally reduced to ashes. Not a wreck was
left behind to make a relic.

The remains of TURENNE alone were respected. All the other bodies,
together with the entrails or hearts, enclosed in separate urns, were
thrown into large pits, lined with a coat of quick lime: they were
then covered with the same substance; and the pits were afterwards
filled up with earth. Most of them, as may be supposed, were in a
state of complete putrescency; of some, the bones only remained,
though a few were in good preservation.

The bodies of the consort of Charles I. Henrietta Maria of France,
daughter of Henry IV, who died in 1669, aged 60, and of their
daughter Henrietta Stuart, first wife of Monsieur, only brother to
Lewis XIV, who died in 1670, aged 26, both interred in the vault of
the Bourbons, were consumed in the general destruction.

The execution of this decree was begun at _St. Denis_ on Saturday the
12th of October 1793, and completed on the 25th of the same month, in
presence of the municipality and several other persons.

On the 12th of November following, all the treasure of _St. Denis_,
(shrines, relics, &c.) was removed: the whole was put into large
wooden chests, together with all the rich ornaments of the church,
consisting of chalices, pyxes, cups, copes, &c. The same day these
valuable articles were sent off, in great state, in waggons,
decorated for the purpose, to the National Convention.

We left _St. Denis_ after a hasty breakfast; and, on reaching Paris,
I determined to drive to the residence of a man whom I had never
seen; but from whom I had little doubt of a welcome reception. I
accordingly alighted in the _Rue neuve St. Roch_, where I found
B----a, who perfectly answered the character given me of him by
M. S----i.

You already know that, through the interest of my friend, Captain
O----y, I was so fortunate as to procure the exchange of B----a's
only son, a deserving youth, who had been taken prisoner at sea, and
languished two years in confinement in Portchester-Castle.

Before I could introduce myself, one of young B----a's sisters
proclaimed my name, as if by inspiration; and I was instantly greeted
with the cordial embraces of the whole family. This scene made me at
once forget the fatigues of my journey; and, though I had not been in
bed for three successive nights, the agreeable sensations excited in
my mind, by the unaffected expression of gratitude, banished every
inclination to sleep. If honest B----a and his family felt themselves
obliged to me, I felt myself doubly and trebly obliged to Captain
O----y; for, to his kind exertion, was I indebted for the secret
enjoyment arising from the performance of a disinterested action.

S----i was no sooner informed of my arrival, than he hastened to obey
the invitation to meet me at dinner, and, by his presence, enlivened
the family party. After spending a most agreeable day, I retired to a
temporary lodging, which B----a had procured me in the neighbourhood.
I shall remain in it no longer than till I can suit myself with
apartments in a private house, where I can be more retired, or at
least subject to less noise, than in a public hotel.

Of the fifty-eight hours which I employed in performing my journey
hither from London, forty-four were spent on my way between Calais
and Paris; a distance that I have often travelled with ease in
thirty-six, when the roads were in tolerable repair. Considerable
delay too is at present occasioned by the erection of _barrières_, or
turnpike-bars, which did not exist before the revolution. At this
day, they are established throughout all the departments, and are an
insuperable impediment to expedition; for, at night, the
toll-gatherers are fast asleep, and the bars being secured, you are
obliged to wait patiently till these good citizens choose to rise
from their pillow.

To counterbalance this inconvenience, you are not now plagued, as
formerly, by custom-house officers on the frontiers of _every_
department. My baggage being once searched at _Calais_, experienced
no other visit; but, at the upper town of _Boulogne_, a sight of my
travelling passport was required; by mistake in the dark, I gave the
_commis_ a scrawl, put into my hands by Ducrocq, containing an
account of the best inns on the road. Would you believe that this
inadvertency detained us a considerable time, so extremely
inquisitive are they, at the present moment, respecting all papers?
At _Calais_, the custom-house officers even examined every piece of
paper used in the packing of my baggage. This scrutiny is not
particularly adopted towards Englishmen; but must, I understand, be
undergone by travellers of every country, on entering the territory
of the Republic.

_P. S._ Lord Cornwallis is expected with impatience; and, at _St.
Denis_, an escort of dragoons of the 19th demi-brigade is in waiting
to attend him into Paris.



LETTER III.

_Paris, October 21, 1801._

On approaching this capital, my curiosity was excited in the highest
degree; and, as the carriage passed rapidly along from the
_Barrière_, through the _Porte St. Denis_, to the _Rue neuve St.
Roch_, my eyes wandered in all directions, anxiously seeking every
shade of distinction between _monarchical_ and _republican_ Paris.

The first thing that attracted my attention, on entering the
_faubourg_, was the vast number of inscriptions placed, during the
revolution, on many of the principal houses; but more especially on
public buildings of every description. They are painted in large,
conspicuous letters; and the following is the most general style in
which they have been originally worded:

"RÉPUBLIQUE FRANÇAISE, UNE ET INDIVISIBLE."
"LIBERTÉ, ÉGALITÉ, FRATERNITÉ, OU LA MORT."

Since the exit of the French Nero, the last three words "_ou la
mort_" have been obliterated, but in few places are so completely
effaced as not to be still legible. In front of all the public
offices and national establishments, the tri-coloured flag is
triumphantly displayed; and almost every person you meet wears in his
hat the national cockade.

The tumult which, ten or twelve years ago, rendered the streets of
Paris so noisy, so dirty, and at the same time so dangerous, is now
most sensibly diminished. Boileau's picture of them is no longer
just. No longer are seen those scenes of confusion occasioned by the
frequent stoppages of coaches and carts, and the contentions of the
vociferating drivers. You may now pass the longest and most crowded
thoroughfares, either on foot or otherwise, without obstacle or
inconvenience. The contrast is striking.

Indeed, from what I have observed, I should presume that there is
not, at the present day, one tenth part of the number of carriages
which were in use here in 1780-90. Except on the domestics of foreign
ambassadors and foreigners, I have as yet noticed nothing like a
livery; and, in lieu of armorial bearings, every carriage, without
distinction, has a number painted on the pannel. However, if private
equipages are scarce, thence ensues more than one advantage; the
public are indemnified by an increased number of good hackney
coaches, chariots, and cabriolets; and, besides, as I have just
hinted, pedestrians are not only far less exposed to being
bespattered, but also to having their limbs fractured.

Formerly, a _seigneur de la cour_ conceived himself justified in
suffering his coachman to drive at a mischievous rate; and in narrow,
crowded streets, where there is no foot-pavement, it was extremely
difficult for persons walking to escape the wheels of a great number
of carriages rattling along in this shameful manner. But he who
guided the chariot of a _ministre d'état_, considered it as a
necessary and distinctive mark of his master's pre-eminence to
_brûler le pavé_. This is so strictly true, that, before the
revolution, I have here witnessed repeated accidents of the most
serious nature, resulting from the exercise of this sort of
ministerial privilege: on one occasion particularly, I myself
narrowly escaped unhurt, when a decent, elderly woman was thrown
down, close by my feet, and had both her thighs broken through the
unfeeling wantonness of the coachman of the Baron de Breteuil, at
that time minister for the department of Paris.

Owing to the salutary regulations of the police, the recurrence of
these accidents is now, in a great measure, prevented; and, as the
empirics say in their hand-bills: "_Prevention is better than cure._"

But for these differences, a person who had not seen Paris for some
years, might, unless he were to direct his visits to particular
quarters, cross it from one extremity to the other, without remarking
any change to inform his mind, that here had been a revolution, or
rather that, for the last ten years, this city had been almost one
continual scene of revolutions.

Bossnet, once preaching before Lewis XIV, exclaimed: "Kings die, and
so do kingdoms!" Could that great preacher rise from his grave into
the pulpit, and behold France without a king, and that kingdom, not
crumbled away, but enlarged, almost with the rapid accumulation of a
snow-ball, into an enormous mass of territory, under the title of
French Republic, what would he not have to say in a sermon? _Rien de
nouveau sous le ciel_, though an old proverb, would not now suit as a
maxim. This, in fact, seems the age of wonders. The league of
monarchs has ended by producing republics; while a republic has
raised a dukedom into a monarchy, and, by its vast preponderance,
completely overturned the balance of power.

Not knowing when I may have an opportunity of sending this letter, I
shall defer to close it for the present, as I may possibly lengthen
it. But you must not expect much order in my narrations. I throw my
thoughts on paper just as they happen to present themselves, without
any studied arrangement.

_October 21, in continuation_.

When we have been for some time in the habit of corresponding with
strangers, we are apt to draw such inferences from their language and
style, as furnish us with the means of sketching an ideal portrait of
their person. This was the case with myself.

Through the concurrence of the two governments, I had, as you know,
participated, in common with others, in the indulgence of being
permitted to correspond, occasionally, on subjects of literature with
several of the _savans_ and literati of France. Indeed, the principal
motive of my journey to Paris was to improve that sort of
acquaintance, by personal intercourse, so as to render it more
interesting to both parties. In my imagination, I had drawn a
full-length picture of most of my literary correspondents. I was now
anxious to see the originals, and compare the resemblance.

Yesterday, having first paid my respects to Mr. M----y, the successor
to Captain C----s, as commissary for the maintenance and exchange of
British prisoners of war, and at present _Chargé d'affaires_ from our
court to the French Republic, I called on M. F----u, formerly
minister of the naval department, and at present counsellor of state,
and member of the National Institute, as well as of the board of
longitude. I then visited M. O----r, and afterwards M.
L------re, also members of the Institute, and both well known to our
proficients in natural history, by the works which each has published
in the different branches of that interesting science.

In one only of my ideal portraits had I been very wide of the
likeness. However, without pretending to be a Lavater, I may affirm
that I should not have risked falling into a mistake like that
committed, on a somewhat similar occasion, by Voltaire.

This colossus of French literature, having been for a long time in
correspondence with the great Frederic, became particularly anxious
to see that monarch. On his arrival in a village where the
head-quarters of the Prussian army were then established, Voltaire
inquired for the king's lodging: thither he paced with redoubled
speed; and, being directed to the upper part of the house, he hastily
crossed a large garret; he then found himself in a second, and was
just on the point of entering the third, when, on turning round, he
perceived in one of the comers of the room, a soldier, not overclean
in appearance, lying on a sorry bedstead. He went up and said to him
with eagerness: "Where's the king?"--"I am Frederic," replied the
soldier; and, sure enough, it was the monarch himself.

I am now settled in my new apartments, which are situated in the most
centrical part of Paris. When you visit this capital, I would by all
means, recommend to you, should you intend to remain here a few
weeks, to get into private lodgings.

I know of no article here so much augmented in price, within the last
ten years, as the apartments in all the hotels. After looking at
several of them in the _Rue de la Loi_, accompanied by a French
friend, who was so obliging as to take on himself all the trouble of
inquiry, while I remained a silent bystander, I had the curiosity to
go to the _Hôtel d'Angleterre_, in the _Rue des Filles St. Thomas_,
hot far from the _ci-devant Palais Royal_. The same apartments on the
first floor of this hotel which I occupied in 1789, happened to be
vacant. At that time I paid for them twelve louis d'or a month; the
furniture was then new; it is now much the worse for nearly eleven
years' wear; and the present landlord asked twenty-five louis a
month, and even refused twenty-two, if taken for three months
certain. The fact is, that all the landlords of ready-furnished
hotels in Paris seem to be buoyed up with an idea that, on the peace,
the English and foreigners of other nations will flock hither in such
numbers as to enable them to reap a certain and plentiful harvest.
Not but all lodgings are considerably increased in price, which is
ascribed to the increase of taxes.

To find private lodgings, you have only to cast your eye on the daily
advertiser of Paris, called _Les Petites Affiches_. There I read a
description of my present quarters, which are newly fitted up in
every particular, and, I assure you, with no small degree of tasteful
fancy. My landlady, who is a milliner, and, for aught I know, a very
fashionable one, left not the smallest convenience to my conjecture,
but explained the particular use of every hole and corner in the most
significant manner, not even excepting the _boudoir_.

This would be a most excellent situation for any one whose principal
object was to practise speaking French; for, on the right hand of the
_porte-cochère_ or gateway, (which, by the bye, is here reckoned an
indispensable appendage to a proper lodging), is the _magazin des
modes_, where my landlady presides over twenty damsels, many of whom,
though assiduously occupied in making caps and bonnets, would, I am
persuaded, find repartee for the most witty gallant.



LETTER IV.

_Paris, October 23, 1801._

Since my arrival, I have been so much engaged in paying and receiving
visits, that I really have not yet been able to take even a hasty
view of any of the grand sights introduced here since the revolution,

On Wednesday I dined with M. S----i, whose new 8vo edition of Buffon
proceeds, I find, with becoming spirit. It is quite a journey to his
residence; for he lives in one of the most retired quarters of Paris,
However, I had no reason to repine at the distance, as the party was
exceedingly cheerful. Naturalists and literati were not wanting.

Egypt was a subject that engrossed much of the conversation: it was
mentioned as a matter of regret that, during the dominion of the
French in that country, curiosity had not prompted the Institute,
established at Cairo, to open one of the pyramids, with a view of
ascertaining the object of the erection of those vast masses. At the
desert, we had luscious grapes as large as damsons, in bunches of
from three to five pounds in weight. They were of the species of the
famous _chasselas de Fontainebleau_, which are said to have sprung
from a stock of vine-plants, imported by Francis I. from the island
of Cyprus. These did not come from that town, but grew against the
naked wall in S----i's garden. From this you may form a judgment of
the climate of Paris.

The persons with whom I have had any correspondence, respecting
literature, vie with each other in shewing me every mark of cordial
hospitality; and those to whom I have been introduced, are by no
means backward in friendly attention. All the lovers of science here
seem to rejoice that the communication, which has been so long
interrupted between the two countries, promises to be shortly
re-opened.

After dining yesterday with Mr. M----y, the British minister, in
company with Mr. D----n, the member for Ilchester, we all three went
to an exhibition almost facing Mr. M----y's residence in the _Rue
St. Dominique_. This was the third time of its being open to the
public. As it is of a novel kind, some account of it may not be
uninteresting. In French, it is denominated

THERMOLAMPES,
_or stoves which afford heat and light on an economical plan_.

The author of this invention, for which a patent has been obtained,
is M. LEBON, an engineer of bridges and highways. The place of
exhibition was the ground floor of one of the large hotels in the
_Faubourg St. Germain_, on which was a suite of rooms, extremely
favourable for displaying the effect of this new method of lighting
and warming apartments.

In lieu of fire or candle, on the chimney stood a large crystal
globe, in which appeared a bright and clear flame diffusing a very
agreeable heat; and on different pieces of furniture were placed
candlesticks with metal candles, from the top of each of which issued
a steady light, like that of a lamp burning with spirits of wine.
These different receptacles were supplied with inflammable gas by
means of tubes communicating with an apparatus underneath. By this
contrivance, in short, all the apartments were warmed very
comfortably, and illuminated in a brilliant manner.

On consulting M. LEBON, he communicated to me the following
observations: "You may have remarked," said he, "in sitting before a
fire, that wood sometimes burns without flame, but with much smoke,
and then you experience little heat, sometimes with flame, but with
little smoke, and then you find much warmth. You may have remarked
too, that ill-made charcoal emits smoke; it is, on that account,
susceptible of flaming again; and the characteristic difference
between wood and charcoal is, that the latter has lost, together with
its smoke, the principle and aliment of flame, without which you
obtain but little heat. Experience next informs us, that this portion
of smoke, the aliment of flame, is not an oily vapour condensable by
cooling, but a gas, a permanent air, which may be washed, purified,
conducted, distributed, and afterwards turned into flame at any
distance from the hearth.

"It is almost needless," continued he, "to point out the formation of
verdigrise, white lead, and a quantity of other operations, in which
acetous acid is employed. I shall only remark that it is this
pyroligneous acid which penetrates smoked meat and fish, that it has
an effect on leather which it hardens, and that _thermolampes_ are
likely to render tanning-mills unnecessary, by furnishing the tan
without further trouble. But to return to the aëriform principle.

"This aliment of flame is deprived of those humid vapours, so
perceptible and so disagreeable to the organs of sight and smell.
Purified to a perfect transparency, it floats in the state of cold
air, and suffers itself to be directed by the smallest and most
fragil pipes. Chimnies of an inch square, made in the thickness of
the plaster of ceilings or walls, tubes even of gummed silk would
answer this purpose. The end alone of the tube, which, by bringing
the inflammable gas into contact with the atmospheric air, allows it
to catch fire, and on which the flame reposes, ought to be of metal.

"By a distribution so easy to be established, a single stove may
supply the place of all the chimnies of a house. Every where
inflammable air is ready to diffuse immediately heat and light of the
most glowing or most mild nature, simultaneously or separately,
according to your wishes. In the twinkling of an eye, you may conduct
the flame from one room to another; an advantage equally convenient
and economical, and which can never be obtained with our common
stoves and chimnies. No sparks, no charcoal, no soot, to trouble you;
no ashes, no wood, to soil your apartments. By night, as well as by
day, you can have a fire in your room, without a servant being
obliged to look after it. Nothing in the _thermolampes_, not even the
smallest portion of inflammable air, can escape combustion; while in
our chimnies, torrents evaporate, and even carry off with them the
greater part of the heat produced.

"The advantage of being able to purify and proportion, in some
measure, the principles of the gas which feeds the flame is," said M.
LEBON, "set forth in the clearest manner. But this flame is so
subjected to our caprice, that even to tranquilize the imagination,
it suffers itself to be confined in a crystal globe, which is never
tarnished, and thus presents a filter pervious to light and heat. A
part of the tube that conducts the inflammable air, carries off, out
of doors, the produce of this combustion, which, nevertheless,
according to the experiments of modern chymists, can scarcely be any
thing more than an aqueous vapour.

"Who cannot but be fond of having recourse to a flame so subservient?
It will dress your victuals, which, as well as your cooks, will not
be exposed to the vapour of charcoal; it will warm again those dishes
on your table; dry your linen; heat your oven, and the water for your
baths or your washing, with every economical advantage that can be
wished. No moist or black vapours; no ashes, no breaze, to make a
dirt, or oppose the communication of heat; no useless loss of
caloric; you may, by shutting an opening, which is no longer
necessary for placing the wood in your oven, compress and coerce the
torrents of heat that were escaping from it.

"It may easily be conceived, that an inflammable principle so docile
and so active may be made to yield the most magnificent
illuminations. Streams of fire finely drawn out, the duration,
colour, and form of which may be varied at pleasure, the motion of
suns and turning-columns, must produce an effect no less agreeable
than brilliant." Indeed, this effect was exhibited on the garden
façade of M. LEBON'S residence.

"Wood," concluded he, "yields in condensable vapours two thirds of
its weight; those vapours may therefore be employed to produce the
effects of our steam-engines, and it is needless to borrow this
succour from foreign water."

_P. S._. On the 1st of last Vendémiaire, (23rd of September), the
government presented to the Chief Consul a sword, whose hilt was
adorned with fourteen diamonds, the largest of which, called the
_Regent_, from its having been purchased by the Duke of Orleans, when
Regent, weighs 184 carats. This is the celebrated _Pitt_ diamond, of
which we have heard so much: but its weight is exceeded by that of
the diamond purchased by the late empress of Russia, which weighs 194
carats; not to speak of the more famous diamond, in possession of the
Great Mogul, which is said to weigh 280 carats.



LETTER V.

_Paris, October 24, 1801._

Last night I received yours of the 20th ult. and as Mr. M----y
purposes to send off a dispatch this morning, and will do me the
favour to forward this, with my former letters, I hasten to write you
a few lines.

I scarcely need assure you, my dear friend, that I will, with
pleasure, communicate to you my remarks on this great city and its
inhabitants, and describe to you, as far as I am able, the principal
curiosities which it contains, particularizing, as you desire, those
recently placed here by the chance of war; and giving you a succinct,
historical account of the most remarkable national establishments and
public buildings. But to pass in review the present state of the
_arts, sciences, literature, manners, &c. &c._ in this capital, and
contrast it with that which existed before the revolution, is a task
indeed; and far more, I fear, than it will be in my power to
accomplish.

However, if you will be content to gather my observations as they
occur; to listen to my reflections, while the impression of the
different scenes which produced them, is still warm in my mind; in
short, to take a faithful sketch, in lieu of a finished picture, I
will do the best I can for your satisfaction.

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