How to Enjoy Paris in 1842 / Intended to Serve as a Companion and Monitor, Containing / Historical, Political, Commercial, Artistical, Theatrical / And Statistical Information

by Francis Hervé

Church of the Madeleine. Published by F. Sinnett, 15, Grande rue Verte.

I know no better means of obtaining a first general view of Paris and its inmates, than by taking a walk upon the Boulevards, I therefore will invite the reader to imagine himself promenading with me, we will begin at the Madeleine, and occupy a short time in surveying that noble and majestic building; it greatly reminds me of the Temple of Theseus, at Athens; it is perhaps one of the most perfect monuments, as regards its exterior, in Europe, the statues and sculpture are fine as to their general effect, but the lofty handsome pillars lose much of their beauty from the joins of the stones being too conspicuous, and having become black, the fine broad mass is cut up, and gives one an idea of so many cheeses placed one upon another, or rather they resemble the joints of a caterpillar: the interior is certainly most gorgeous, and at first strikes the beholder as a most splendid display of rich magnificence; but a moment's reflection, and instantly he feels how inconsistent is all that gilded mass and profusion of ornament with the beautiful and chaste simplicity of the exterior. I never can conceive that all that glitter of gold is in good keeping with the calm repose and dignity which ought to reign throughout a church. The Madeleine was begun in the reign of Louis the Fifteenth, and was intended for different purposes as it slowly progressed through the different reigns which have since occurred. Louis Philippe at length decided upon completing it with the energy that had ever before been wanting. Several public monuments had been suffered to remain dormant during the two preceding reigns, or their operations were carried on with so sparing a hand, that whilst a few workmen were employed at one end of a building, weeds and moss began to grow on the other. This pigmy style of proceeding was well-satirised during the reign of Charles X in one of the papers, which announced in large letters, "the workmen at the Madeleine have been doubled! where there was one, there are now two!" But soon after the present King came to the throne, capital was found, and the industrious employed. Thus much for this splendid work of art; let us turn round and look about us: Ah! see, there are the works of nature, how gay and cheerful those flowers appear so tastefully arranged in Madame Adde's shop, whilst she herself looks as fresh and healthy as her plants which are blooming around her; yet with that robust and country air she is a Parisian, but, as she justly remarked to me, she was always brought up to work hard, and as her labours have been well rewarded, health and content have followed. She and her flowers have already been noticed in Mrs. Gore's Season in Paris, who used to pay her frequent visits, for who indeed would go anywhere else who had once dealt with her, for what more can one desire than civility, good nature, reasonable charges, and a constant variety of the choicest articles; I therefore can conscientiously recommend all my readers who come to Paris, and are amateurs of Flora, to call now and then on Madame Adde, No. 6, Place de la Madeleine.

Now having contemplated the beauties of art and of nature, let us observe some animated specimens of her works: what a moving mass is before us, 'tis a merry scene, the laughing children running after, and dodging each other, rolling on the ground with the plenitude of their mirth, the neat looking bonnes (nursery maids) still smiling while they chide, the jovial coachmen wrestling on their stands and playing like boys together, but all in good humour, and content seems to sit on every brow, and even the aged as they meet, greet each other with a smile. How infectious is cheerfulness, when I have the blue devils I always go and take a walk on the Boulevards; and what makes these people so happy? is the natural question; because they are content with a little, and pleased with a trifle; then they are a trifling people is the reply. What boots it I would ask? happiness is all that we desire, and I persist that those are the best philosophers who can obtain happiness with the least means. But how the green trees, the white stone houses, the gay looking shops, the broad road with the equipages rolling along all contribute to heighten the animation of the scene. We are now at the Rue de la Paix; it is certainly a noble street, and we will turn down it to look at the statue of Napoleon on the column in the Place Vendôme; the pillar, which was cast from the cannon taken from the enemies of France, is decidedly a work of extraordinary merit and beauty, and requires a good deal of study to appreciate the exquisite workmanship displayed in its execution. But if it were not for the reminiscences associated with the character of Napoleon, who could ever admire his statue on the top of the column, in a costume so contrary to all that is graceful and dignified; a little cocked hat with its horrid stiff angles, a great coat with another angle sticking out, the tout ensemble presenting a deformity rather than an ornament: however there he stands on the pinnacle of what he and men in general would call the monument of his glory, a memento of blood, of tears of widows and orphans. Could the names of those ruined and heart broken beings be inscribed upon it, whose misery was wrought by his triumphs, it would indeed tell a tale of woe. The Place Vendôme, in which the column stands, has a very noble appearance, being a fine specimen of the style of building of Louis the Fourteenth, in whose reign it was erected; and he too fed his ambition with wholesale flow of blood, and with treasure wreaked from the hard earned labour of his subjects, and the abridgments of their comforts, but both were ultimately destined to chew the bitter cud of mortification, and however bright the sun by which they rose to imaginary glory, they were doomed to set in a starless night. But let us turn from these lugubrious images of war, and regain the Boulevards and enjoy the pleasure of beholding a peaceful people. Do not let us fail to observe that beautiful mansion at the corner of the rue Lafitte; it is called the Cité Italienne, and can only be compared to a palace, the richness of the carve-work surpassing any thing of the description throughout the whole capital; although it has recently become so much the mode to adorn their houses with sculpture, yet none have arrived at the same degree of perfection displayed in the Maison d'or: carved out on the solid stone is a boar hunt, which is really executed with considerable talent; to give an accurate description of all its beauties would much exceed the space I could afford it in justice to other objects; it is very extensive, and is I believe three houses united in one. I have understood that the sum total expended upon it was 1,600,000 francs, or 64,000l. But that my readers may form some idea of the interior, I recommend them to enter the Ancien Café Hardy, which is established as a Restaurant within this beautiful building, and however interested my countrymen may feel in all that is intellectual, yet at the same time they possess that much of the sensual, as to have a very strong predilection for a good dinner, of the quality of which few are better judges; but with them it is not only as regards the excellence of the viands, but also they have their peculiar tastes as to how and where it is served; knowing so well their ideas in this respect, I can recommend them with confidence to Messieurs Verdier and Dauzier, convinced that all their different fancies will be gratified. If they wish to be exclusive, to enjoy their meal tête-a-tête with their friend, they will find an elegant little apartment suited to their wishes; if they be three or four or more persons, they will still find they can be accommodated in such a manner that they may always imagine themselves at home; in fact there are about twenty apartments of different sizes, which are decorated in the most handsome style, yet all varying with regard to the pattern of the furniture, and all uniting an appearance of comfort and elegance, the sofa, chairs, and curtains of each little cabinet being of the richest silk, and the other decorations are consistently luxurious. The view from the windows presents all that can be imagined that is amusing and animating, overlooking the most agreeable part of the Boulevards, being that which is designated the Boulevard Italien, and is the most fashionable resort in Paris. By the aid of a calorifère, the whole establishment is heated to an agreeable degree of warmth, but for those who like to see a cheering blaze there are chimneys which afford them the means of having that indulgence. If they prefer dining in the public saloon, for the sake of seeing the variety of visiters by which it is frequented, they will find a most splendid apartment brilliantly fitted up, being entirely of white and gold, where every thing that is useful will be found, but always so arranged as to be rendered ornamental; in the elegant chandeliers by which the apartment is adorned, oil on a purified principle is burned; no attention in short has been omitted which could tend towards rendering the establishment an attraction for the English. I happened to be there when an apartment was arranged for a wedding party, and nothing could exceed the taste and elegance with which the table was disposed, presenting a perfect picture, where splendour and luxury abounded, but yet where a certain degree of consistency was preserved. With regard to the superior quality of the different delicacies which are provided, and the culinary talent displayed in their preparation, even Vatel himself might be more than satisfied. I have visited all the most celebrated Restaurants in Paris, and should certainly say, that for the good quality of the articles of the table, for the comfortable arrangements of the apartments, and attentive civility of the attendants, there is not any that can surpass the Café Hardy, although many there are which are infinitely more expensive. Continuing our walk upon the Boulevards, it is worthy of remark how richly some of the new houses in and about the Rue Richelieu are sculptured, so as to present the appearance of a succession of palaces, we next arrive at the Boulevard Montmartre, where the influx of people is the greatest: we pass by the Passage des Panoramas but do not enter it just now, although it contains some of the handsomest shops in Paris, but it is too crowded, we prefer keeping our course on the Boulevards where we can look about us at our ease and contemplate the physiognomies of the varied groups before us; let us halt a while at the Theatre des Variétés and remark with what eagerness numbers stop to scan the programme of the entertainments for the evening, amongst them are all ages, all classes, the common soldier, porter, and servant girl, all possessing a high idea of their judgment in theatrical affairs; passing on a little further the Theatre du Gymnase arrests the observer's notice, where Bouffé has so long displayed his comic powers, which certainly in my recollection have never been surpassed, and I doubt if they ever have been equalled; there is ever a chasteness in his acting, from which he never departs, and keeps the audience in a roar of laughter without ever having recourse to grimace or buffoonery.

The stupendous Porte (gate) St Denis next strikes the eye, and has a most imposing effect; it was built by Louis XIV in commemoration of his victories, as I have before stated; the bas-reliefs with which it is adorned represent pyramids, and colossal allegorical figures of Holland and the Rhine, the capture of Maestricht, the passage of the Rhine at Tolhuys, which with two lions are its most conspicuous ornaments. Whilst the mind is still occupied in reflecting upon this noble monument, another awakens attention at a short distance from the last; it is the Porte St-Martin, Boulevard St-Martin, which has been represented as a copy of that of St-Severus at Rome; it owes its erection to the same founder and was raised for the same purpose, that of publishing to posterity the fame of his victories; he is allegorically represented as Hercules defeating the Germans, the taking of Limburg, Besançon, etc. I shall not attempt to enter into a minute detail of these objects, it would only tire me to do so, and perhaps fatigue my reader still more; I shall therefore content myself by stating that, taken as a whole, it has an extremely fine effect. A few paces farther is the Theatre of the Porte St-Martin, which was never a fashionable resort, but has often produced me much entertainment, particularly when the celebrated Mademoiselle George afforded it the benefits of her talents; proceeding a few hundred yards distance, the Theatre of the Ambigu-Comique presents itself as worthy of remark; although of a minor rank, I remember being much amused at the long trains of persons waiting, according to the custom in France, at the doors of this Theatre for admission when a popular piece was played, called Nostradamus; as two persons can only pay at once no more are suffered to enter at a time; hence they form in pairs behind each other until they extend sometimes, the length of a furlong; they remain very quiet occasionally for hours, the first comers standing close to the doors, and as others arrive they regularly take their station behind the last persons of the queue, as it is styled. I remember an Englishman coming up when the tail had attained rather an inconvenient length, and he did not relish placing himself at the end of it, and endeavoured to slip into one of the joints as it was much nearer the door; but a gendarme, perceiving his drift, very unceremoniously marched him to the end of the queue, as precedence is allotted to persons in proportion as they arrive earlier or later and the most perfect order is by that means preserved; how much better is such an arrangement than that which prevails in England at the entering of the theatres, where physical strength alone gives priority, and the bigger the brute the sooner he enters, whilst screams and murmurs attest the treading upon toes, squeezing of ribs, etc.

The fountain of St-Martin in front of the Ambigu-Comique is one of the most beautiful objects in Paris; a handsome font rises in the middle from which the water falls in sheets of silvery profusion, whilst around, lions disgorge liquid streams which all unite in the grand basin; this sight is most beautiful to behold by the light of the moon. We next enter the Boulevard du Temple, where there is such a number of theatres and coffee-houses all joining each other, that there is really some difficulty of ascertaining which is the one or the other. The Theatre de la Gaieté, the resort principally of the middle or lower classes, is one of the most conspicuous, as also the Cirque Olympique, or Franconi's Theatre, where the performances resemble those at Astley's. There is always an immense crowd on these Boulevards amusing themselves around a number of shows; or playing or looking at various games which are constantly going forward, singers, musicians, conjurors, merry andrews, fortune tellers, orators, dancers, tumblers, etc., are all exerting their powers, to gain a little coin from the easily pleased multitude; these boulevards have in fact the appearance of a perpetual fête or fair, but the curious ideas that appear to me to have entered the heads of these people in the nature of their performances, are such as I should imagine none would ever have thought of but the French; nor any lower orders but of that nation could have been found to appreciate such singular exhibitions. One of this description particularly excited my notice; a man came up with another man in his arms and popped him down just as if he was a block; he had no sooner deposited his burden than he began a long harangue upon the talents of the individual whom he had just deposited before us, in acting a machine or automaton, he then to prove his assertion gave him a knock on the back of the head, when it fell forward just as if it had belonged to a figure made with joints; he then gave it a chuck of the chin so violent that it sent the head back so as to lean on the coat collar; at last he put it in its proper position, he then operated upon the arms and legs of the image actor in the same manner, and so perfectly lifeless did he appear, that many new comers who had not heard the introductory speech of the showman, absolutely thought that it was on inanimate figure made to imitate a man that was before them, as the orator always designated his piece of still life his mécanique, which means machine; in order to afford every one the benefit of a close examination, he lifted up his automaton, then flumped him directly opposite and close to the persons who formed part of the circle and whom he judged were most likely to throw a sou, bidding us observe that even the eye never winked and that there was not the slightest breathing perceptible, and in justice I must say I never saw an actor better play his part, for watch him as closely as you would there never was the least symptom of life visible. I had often before seen images made to imitate men, but never had till then seen a man imitate an image: a few paces farther was a man acting a variety of parts with extraordinary humour, an old nurse out of place, then a young lover entreating his mistress to have pity on him, next a man in a violent passion, presently, an epicure eating bonbons on the verge of the grave; the inexhaustible force of lungs, the incessant supply of words and ideas that many of them appeared to possess, to me was quite a matter of wonderment. At a short distance is a fort with cannon, whilst persons take a cross-bow and shoot at it; if they can hit one of the guns it naturally goes off; for the privilege of having a shot, a sou is paid if he do not hit the, cannon, but if he succeed in so doing, he receives a sou; the reader may suppose that a miss takes place at the rate of about seven times to a hit; and after several young countrymen had been trying in vain, and had lost a good many pence, they began to grumble and declare that it was next to impossible to hit the cannon more than once in a hundred times, upon which the proprietor himself took the cross-bow and at the same distance as the others stood, hit the cannon five times running with the most perfect apparent ease, which certainly silenced the grumblers, but convinced them of their own awkwardness. My attention was next attracted by a pretty little building surrounded by moss and trees, at the top of a large glass globe which contained water with several gold and silver fish swimming in it, while some canary birds, who were sometimes perching on the house, the moss, or the trees, ever and anon flew to the bottom of the globe and were seen fluttering about amongst the fish, then ascend to their little building without having wetted a feather; the effect is very pretty and the deception is pleasing, inasmuch as the birds require no torturing tuition to perform their little parts; the secret consists in one globe being placed in another considerably larger, the outer being filled with water in which are the fish, whilst the inner wherein the birds are seen is dry and empty. A fortress where canary birds are again the performers is a sight which is extremely curious, as a proof of what these little creatures are capable of executing under the management of a master, where I fear gentleness has not only been exercised; a number of little cannon are placed to which the birds apply a substance at the end of a little stick which causes them to go off, when some fall and pretend to die and the victors advance with their muskets, and strutting about give you to understand that the fort is taken and that they are conquerors.

To recapitulate all the curious manœuvres which are constantly going forward on the Boulevards would swell a volume, we will therefore pass on to the more retired parts, where the fine vistas of high trees have been spared the havoc of the Three Days; these once extended throughout the whole course of the Boulevards, but so many trees were cut down to form barricades, that those beautiful arches formed by rows of lofty elms, which were merely trained on the inner side, the outer being suffered to grow in the wild luxuriance of nature, are only now to be met with "few and far between." Near the spot where formerly stood the much dreaded Bastille, now rises to the view the column erected to commemorate the Revolution of 1830; inclining to the right, the Boulevards then lead to the Seine. In many parts of these delightful promenades, double rows of chairs are placed, and persons of the highest respectability come from different quarters and sit for hours in them, amused with observing the happy moving scene around them; the seats on the Boulevard Italien are often occupied by persons of fashion, who arrive in their equipages, then take chairs for an hour or two, whilst their carriages wait for them; the charge for each chair is one sou, but every one takes two, one for the purpose of resting the feet, and generally takes ices which are served from Tortoni's, long celebrated for the supply of that cooling refreshment. It is by night that the Boulevards are seen to the greatest advantage, the innumerable lights blazing from the different theatres, the lamps placed before the coffee-houses, the brilliant shops, the trees, the equipages, the sound of music and singing, the houses, which resemble palaces, the gilded cafés all united has the air of a fairy scene to any one brought suddenly upon them.

Some of the handsomest shops and coffee-houses are to be found on the Boulevards, and dwellings where many of the most respectable persons reside. There is always an humble traffic going on from an immense number of stalls, in which various commodities are sold, and although the assortment consists of a hundred different descriptions of articles, yet all are at one price, consisting of everything that can well be imagined, from a comb to a pair of bellows, the vender singing out the price with stentorian lungs, perhaps twenty-five sous, more or less, and as there is a great deal of opposition with these itinerant merchants, they often try who can cry out the loudest, and succeed in raising a terrific din, which amuses the mob, who consider that all is life and spirit as long as there is noise and fun going forward; these Boulevards, therefore, are just such as suit the Parisian lower classes. Those on the south side of the Seine are an exact contrast, most of them being so deserted, that in viewing the long lines of tall arched elms, with scarcely an individual moving beneath them, one could imagine that they were a hundred miles from any capital; but there is something pleasing in retiring to these lone green shades, when fatigued with the bustle and rattling noises of the city. The only individuals usually to be met with in these quiet Boulevards are now and then a nursery-maid with a child, an old lady of the gone-by school, and her female servant of the same era, who jog on at a slow and solemn pace as they moan over the good old times that are passed, and sympathise in expressions of horror at the vices of the present day; a tall thin battered looking beau, whose youth was passed in the last century, meets the antiquated pair, mutual salutations take place, the gentleman doffs his hat, and with a graceful sort of turn and wave of the hand, at the same time bows his body full half way to the ground, which, although rather stiffened with age, still retains a shadow of the elegance of former times. Madame makes a very pretty reverence, somewhat ceremonious, according to the flippant ideas of the present day, entreats Monsieur would put on his hat, would be in despair if he should catch cold; he obeys, is enchanted to see her look so well, but desolated to hear she has a little cold, and after expressing the most fervent hopes for her getting better, he takes his leave, having too good a notion of propriety to join the lady in her walk lest a liaison between them might be suspected. How different this worn-out remnant of the days of Louis the Sixteenth from la jeune France of the present day, when the usual greeting between the young men would be a nod of the head, "Bon jour, ca va bien?" adieu, and away, which is tantamount to "How do, quite well, good bye," and off; with a lady the abruptness would be a little softened, but any politeness that gives much trouble is quite at a discount with such young men of the present day in France. A solitary workman, a sentinel, and an old soldier, if near the Hospital of the Invalids, are probably the only persons you will usually meet on the southern Boulevards, except now and then I have seen a ladies' boarding-school thread its course beneath the thick foliage, whose mistress perchance selects a retired spot for giving her pupils a little air and exercise, removed from the gaze of the city throng.

Whatever pleasing impressions these shady retreats may have made upon the mind, on re-entering Paris they are soon dissipated; if by the public streets, the variety of noises which assail the ear, and the confusion of so many people bustling along upon a little bit of pavement not two feet wide, gives you plenty of occupation both to make your way, and get out of the way; when, compelled to give place to some lady, you descend from the narrow flags into the road, and whilst you are manœuvring to escape a cart you see coming towards you, "Gare" is bawled out with stunning roar; you look round and find the pole of a coach within an inch of your shoulder, you scramble out of the way as fast as you can through mud and puddle, and are glad to clap your back against a house to make room for some lumbering vehicle, where the naves of the wheels stick out with menacing effect, happy to congratulate yourself that there is just room enough for it to pass without jamming you quite flat, and that you are quit of the danger at the expense of being smeared with a little mud from the wheel; this is the case in many of the streets in that part of Paris called the Cité, and others which cross from the Rue Saint-Denis to the Rue Saint-Martin and du Temple etc. Happily for my readers, it is not very probable that many of them will ever be called into those neighbourhoods, or if they be, it will probably be in a carriage, when they will not stand near the same chance of being crushed to death; but as I explore all parts and am thereby the better enabled to give a faithful picture of Paris, I consider it incumbent on me to inform my country people that there are such streets that they may better know how to enjoy Paris by keeping out of the way of them. To see Paris to the best advantage it is requisite to get up early, that is about three o'clock in the morning in the months of June or July, before any one is stirring; this indeed is pretty much the case with all cities, but particularly the French capital, because the streets being very narrow and crowded, you have not room to look up and look about. Paris in the old quarters at that hour, or in a bright moonlight when all are at rest, has the effect of a city composed of chateaux or castles joined together, the height of the houses, the great heavy porte cochères, the castellated style of the attic windows and often projecting turrets, with the profusion of iron work, combine in giving a degree of gloom that appears to tell a tale of olden time, and many of the houses date as far back as Charles the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh, which is coeval with our Henry the Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth. There is one house of which the ancient staircase still remaining is as old as the year 1220; it is situated in the Rue du Four, near the Rue de la Harpe, and called the Maison Blanche, having been inhabited by the mother of Saint-Louis, but there is no doubt that the only part now standing that could have been built at that period is the staircase; in the same neighbourhood are many objects that would interest the antiquary, to which I shall hereafter allude. Paris is encircled by a double row of Boulevards, the north inner circle is that which is the most frequented; the outer circle runs all along the walls which encompass Paris, where the barriers are situated, of which there are fifty-six, all rather handsome buildings than otherwise, and no two of them quite alike. Many of the streets as you approach the farthest Boulevards of Paris have a very dull appearance, consisting in many instances of high walls and habitations separated from each other, with market gardens behind, but which cannot be seen from the street as they are all enclosed, and grass growing here and there in patches give them more the appearance of roads which have been abandoned than of inhabited streets. Some of the modern parts of Paris are extremely handsome and indeed all which has been built within the last five-and-twenty years. The Chaussée-d'Antin is the favourite quarter; there the streets are of a fair width and are well paved, and some very recently built are really beautiful, especially one just finished called the Rue Tronchet, just behind the Madeleine. The quarter round the Place Vendôme is certainly one of the finest in Paris, and most decidedly the dearest. I know persons who pay fourteen thousand francs a year for unfurnished lodgings in the Place Vendôme, that is 600l. a year; a whole house in a fashionable quarter of London may be had for the same money; indeed on the Boulevards, in some of the Passages and the most fashionable streets in Paris, shops let for more money than in any part of London; there is an instance of a single shop letting for 600l. per annum, and not one of particularly extensive dimensions, but situated on the Boulevard Montmartre, which is perhaps the best position in Paris. One of the greatest attractions is the Passages, something in the style of the Burlington Arcade but mostly superior; of these there are from twenty to thirty, so that in wet weather you may walk a considerable distance under cover.

The Palais-Royal, the favourite resort of foreigners and provincials, also affords that convenience. Although Paris on the whole is not so regularly built as London, yet there is a sombre grandeur about it which has a fine effect, owing in some degree to the large lofty houses of which it is composed; the straightness, width, and neatness of the streets of London form its beauty, but it is astonishing how foreigners when they first behold it, are struck with the small size of the houses. I remember entering London with an Italian gentleman who had ever before been accustomed to the large massive palaces of Genoa, Florence, etc., and the first remark he made upon our grand metropolis was that it looked like a city of baby houses; another feature in our dwellings does not please the foreign eye, and that is the dingy colour of our bricks, which certainly has not so light an appearance as stone, of which the houses on the Continent are generally built. The irremediable defect in Paris is certainly the narrowness of the streets, although every opportunity is turned to advantage by the government when houses are taken down to compel the proprietors to rebuild them in such a manner as to afford a yard more width to the public, whilst those streets that are at present constructing are on a magnificent plan. The great beauty of Paris consists in its public monuments, which certainly are not only very numerous, but some upon the grandest scale, independent of those which are generally conspicuous in a city; the Barriers and Fountains form a considerable feature in Paris amongst its ornaments.

The Parisians generally are a remarkably persevering and industrious people, amongst the trading classes, particularly the women, who often take as ostensible a part in business as their husbands; except that it is an establishment upon a very large scale, the wife is usually the cashier, and you will find her as stationary at the counter almost as the counter itself. The idea that exists in England with respect to married women in France is quite erroneous, for more domestic and stay at home is impossible to be, that is amongst the middle classes; the same remark applies to the lower orders. As to the higher classes they never can be cited as forming a characteristic in any country; receiving a highly finished education, they are all brought to the same degree of polish, and the primitive features are entirely effaced. Good nature is a very conspicuous trait in the French character, and that is continually displayed towards any foreigner; ask your way in the street in a polite manner, and generally the persons become interested in your finding the place you want, and if they do not know themselves, they will go into a shop and enquire for you, and not feel easy until they have ascertained it for you, but it depends much upon the manner in which you address them. A Doctor Smith related to me a circumstance which proves how different is the effect of a courteous and an uncourteous mode of speaking to a Frenchman; the Doctor had with him a friend who was a regular John Bull, and they wishing to know their way to some place, the latter stepped up to a butcher who was standing at his door and asked him in a very rough manner, and received an evasive reply; the Doctor then put the same question to the man but in a more polite form, the butcher replied, "If you will wait a minute, Sir, I will put on my coat and show you the way," which he did in the most good humoured manner, but remarked to the Doctor that every one in France liked to be treated as a fellow man, and not to be spoken to as if they were brutes. Thus it appears that even butchers in France expect to be treated with some degree of politeness.

The women are still more tenacious in that respect than the men; they consider, even down to a housemaid, that their sex demands a certain tone of deference, however humble their position, and if a nobleman did not touch his hat to them when they open or shut the door for them, with the usual salutation of good day or good morning, they would pronounce his manners brutal, and say, that although he was a man of title he was not a gentleman; hence the very unceremonious manner that an Englishman has of addressing servants, whether male or female, has kept them very much out of favour with that class of the French community. A scullion, or what may be termed a girl of all work, that has not met with that degree of respect from some of our countrymen to which she considered herself entitled, will remark, that the English may be very rich, but they certainly are not enlightened as we are, with a little drawing up of the head, implying their consciousness of superiority over us semi-barbarians; your charwoman, your washerwoman's drudge, fishwoman, or girl that cries turf about the streets, are all Madame and Mademoiselle when they speak of each other, and with them there is no such word as woman; if a female, she must be a lady, even if her occupation be to pick up rags in the street. The French women certainly excel in the art of dress and everything which appertains to the decoration of the person, but the devotion which exists amongst them to that passion tends greatly towards frivolising the mind; hence I find their inferiority, generally speaking, to English women; in the latter you will often meet, even amongst the middle classes, with a girl who has received a good education; forming her pleasures from pursuits which are purely intellectual, she will not only find enjoyment in that light reading merely calculated to amuse, or that kind of music which consists of pretty quadrilles, a few trifling songs, and two or three lessons adapted for the display of execution, or that style of poetry and of painting which is something of the same nature, just fit to please the fancy without touching the heart; no, you will find that she enters into the very soul of those mental recreations, nor does that interfere with her domestic virtues; she is equally capable of performing every social duty, but she devotes not so considerable a portion of her time and thoughts to dress, nor is she so totally absorbed in the anticipation and retrospection of balls and soirées, to the exclusion of every other feeling, as long as the season for parties continues, which is but too much the case with females in Paris, except with those whose business or occupations prevent them from participating otherwise than very sparingly in the gaieties of that description; but the class I allude to in France, is that which consists of persons of independent fortune, who have never been connected with anything in the shape of trade or even professions, except army or navy, yet whose property is too small to estimate them as belonging to the higher classes, whilst they would consider themselves as degraded by an association with even the richer tradespeople, generally coming under the denomination of middle classes. This grade, immediately below the highest classes and above the middle, is very numerous in Paris, their incomes varying from four hundred to a thousand a-year; with the females in this class there is an exact resemblance to those of the class above, only the sphere is more confined; their education finished, they retain but little of what they have learned, except dancing, singing, and music, because they are calculated for display, and tell in society; drawing is laid aside, even after much proficiency had been acquired, reading confined to the reviews of the popular works of the day, the inexhaustible subjects of conversation are the toilet, which is pre-eminent, balls, soirées, and public places; if literature be introduced, you will find their knowledge of it sufficient to escape the charge of ignorance, particularly in history, as great pains are now taken with their education, and which certainly is of the best description, whilst there is a grace and sweetness of manner which is highly captivating; yet when you become well acquainted with these ladies, whose surface was enchanting, you find at last a want of soul. As a proof how seldom I have found French females express any delight in beholding all the phenomena of an extensive and beautiful country, and if the mind be dead to that charm, how must it be lost to the enjoyments of descriptive poetry and painting, as if the reality afford not pleasure how little can be derived from the representation; I have found in France many exceptions to this rule, women, in fact, whose society afforded a highly intellectual treat. But they are rare, and when one speaks of a people generally, the mass must be stated and not the exceptions. In England, even amongst the classes of the highest fashion, many women are to be met with, who, notwithstanding that they are whirled about in London for months together to parties every night, sometimes to three or four in an evening, to hear and say the nothings that pass current in assemblages of that description, both deteriorating to health and mind, yet on returning to their seats in the country, whilst the husband is following the sports of the field, the females will have recourse to intellectual occupations, and cultivate those seeds of knowledge which had been instilled into their minds during their early youth, thus conferring upon them those companionable powers, which are the great charm of life; the rural scenes around them call their pencils into practice, whilst the true spirit of poetry constantly appears to their feelings in the forms of those beauties of nature which in fact are its life and soul. Embosomed in the calm retirement found in such retreats, the various objects in view engender the love of reading; hence the Englishwoman recruits her mental powers after the frivolizing effects of a season in town. The Frenchwoman goes into the country for the purpose of enjoying the fresh air, she reads a little to kill time, and occupies much of it with her embroidery and other fancy works, and after a short period passed amongst the vine-clad hills, sighs once more to return to her dear Paris, complains of ennui, wonders what the fashions will be at the next Longchamp, and whether they will be such as become her or not, but feeling herself bound to wear whatever may be pronounced the modes, and trusts to her taste to arrange it in such a manner as to set her off to the best advantage.

My countrywomen are not so much slaves to fashion and do not care to put on every thing that comes out, if they think it does not suit them, but it must be admitted that they have not the same taste as the French in regard to costume; it is a quality that is peculiar to them, and acknowledged by all the civilised world; in England, Russia, even Greece, ladies of the high ton must send to Paris for their hats and bonnets, and have them from Madame de Barennes, in the Place Vendôme, which is not merely an idea, but a fact that they really are replete with that exquisite taste for which they are so justly famed; even the manner in which her lofty and noble saloons are arranged display an elegance of conception, there is a chasteness which pervades the whole, the furniture as Well as the decorations of the room are either of white or ebony and gold, preserving that degree of keeping which is inseparable from a truly classical taste.

I must confess that the most refined, the most charming and fascinating women that I ever met with, were some English and Irish ladies who had been some years in France, still retaining all those intellectual qualities which are the brightest gems of the British female character, united with that quiet grace which has so much of dignity and ease, and that pleasing affability appearing but as nature in a truly elegant Frenchwoman; at the same time I think my fair countrywomen are also much improved when they have acquired the same degree of taste in the arrangement of their costume for which the Parisian females have so well merited a reputation. Of course in this comparison I am speaking of the most well-bred females of both countries. Although I do not find the French ladies possessing those high intellectual qualities, which are in a great degree engendered and fostered by certain habits and early associations, I do not conceive that the germs of talent are in the least deficient, but on the contrary, we find them excelling in literature and the arts, in ingenuity, and where exertion is required in trying circumstances, that they are capable of heroism, but there is a natural life and vivacity in the French character that inclines not to study, nor strict application, unless the position in life renders it necessary. The English very frequently are by nature disposed to reflection and even like often to be alone, consequently are undoubtedly a more thinking nation, although not so brilliant, but experience has proved that patient and undeviating perseverance, ultimately, outsteps the more showy and sparkling quality of genius. For the sympathies of the heart I have found the French females most keenly alive, no mothers can be more devotedly attached to their children than they are, and it is repaid to them with interest by their offspring, as a devotional affection towards parents is carried to an extreme; in some instances I should say to a fault, as a daughter in general looks up entirely to them, in regard to the man that they may choose with whom she is to pass the rest of her life, without presuming that she ought to make a selection for herself, considering that her marriage is the affair of her parents, and that she has but to obey their wishes in that, as well as in all other cases; hence it is rarely found that a French young lady has aught of romance in her composition, but is on the contrary the mild, docile, obedient, and affectionate pupil, and often imitator of her mother. The English young lady is a little more rebellious; possessing a more independent spirit, she very soon takes the liberty of thinking for herself, particularly on that subject; and could she totally have her will would act for herself also. Families are much more united in France than in England, and agree together in a most astonishing manner; thus when a daughter marries, instead of quitting her home, the husband arranges his affairs so as to go and live with her parents, and in many cases several families live together and form one little community, which spares the pain of separation of parent and child. The numerous offspring of the celebrated Marquis de Lafayette was a remarkable instance of how whole families can live and agree under the same roof; at his seat called La Grange, his married children and their children and grandchildren were all residing together, whilst he, like one of the ancient patriarchs, was the revered head of his people. I know a case at Boulogne, where in one house there are living together, two great grandfathers, one grandfather and grandmother, two fathers and two mothers and their four children, and what renders it more curious is that they are half English and half French, but all connected by their sons and daughters intermarrying; but strange to say that the English could not agree to live together in that manner, and it is a most extraordinary circumstance much remarked by the French, that wherever the English are settled in any town in France, they always contrive to quarrel with each other, and find employment for the French lawyers; at Boulogne they have at least twice as much practice for the English as for the natives.

With regard to the conduct of the French towards foreigners, speaking from the long experience which I have had, I should certainly state that it was kind and attentive when brought into contact in travelling or from any other circumstances, provided that a person does not attempt to support a haughty or supercilious air. I do not consider that, generally speaking, the French are so hospitable as the English, not only as regards foreigners but even amongst themselves; it is not so much their habit. In many houses you may pass an hour or two of an evening, and there will never be any question regarding refreshments; not having the custom of taking tea of an evening, that social bond which unites the family together at a certain hour in England not existing in France, little domestic evening parties seldom occur. I have been to a few amongst what I call the very quiet families of Paris, which are styled the demi fortunes, and cakes, beer, wine, sugar and water, etc., were given; in the high fashionable parties tea now is always introduced at about twelve. To ask a friend to a family dinner is not so much the practice in France as in England, as the custom existing in the former of having so many dishes with such a trifle in each, the platters are often pretty well cleared by the usual inmates of the establishment, and they are not prepared for an additional person. With the English who are accustomed to large joints, if two or three additional guests suddenly enter, they are still prepared. The French have also an idea that if they ask you to dinner that they must provide so great a variety, which entails infinitely more trouble than the more simple and more wholesome repast, I should say, of the English.

There is a great sympathy in France towards each other in their respective classes; if a quarrel take place in the street between one of the lower and one of the middle class, all that pass by of the former description will take the part of the individual of his own level; the same will be the case with the other classes, often without inquiring into the merits of the case. The impulse of feeling exists to a great degree amongst the French, which is instantly displayed if a person falls or is taken ill in the street, and much feeling is developed if any little accident or misfortune occurs to a poor person passing by. I remember an instance of a woman who was trudging away with a basket of crockery and some eggs at the top, a poor man who was carrying a load slipped, and in his fall upset the woman and broke the greater part of her brittle goods; in this case both being poor persons, it became a knotty point for the French to decide; very long and very warm were the arguments adduced on both sides by the mob which had assembled, the man declared he was too poor to have it in his power to pay for the damage which he had caused, that he had hurt himself very much in the fall and found that quite misfortune enough for him. The woman cried and vowed she could not afford to lose the value of the articles broken, and the eggs belonged to another person who had given her the money to buy them, and persisted that the man ought to pay for what he had broken, although she admitted it was a very hard case for him; what was to be done? a subscription it was decided was the only means of settling the affair, and one person giving half a franc by way of example, engaged to be collector, and from the different bystanders, each giving a few sous, the sum required was soon produced, and all parties departed with the conviction that the affair had been equitably arranged.

The French are in the habit of rising extremely early, especially the lower classes, and even amongst the middle and higher ranks they are rarely so late in all their operations as the English. Persons in easy circumstances amongst the French generally take coffee, with a piece of bread, as soon as they are up, and then breakfast à la fourchette about twelve, which consists of soup, meat, vegetables, fruit, and wine; they dine about six or seven, which is a repetition of the breakfast, with greater variety and more abundance. Wine is drank throughout the dinner, and never after; but light as their vin ordinaire generally is, they always dilute it with water. Immediately after dinner, coffee, without milk or cream, is taken, and lastly a glass of liqueur; no other repast is thought of until the following day, as they neither take tea nor supper, in their usual family habits. But in cases of invitation it is quite another affair, several different wines of superior quality are handed about at dinner, with which they do not mix water, and always Champagne of course is drank without being diluted. When they give a soirée, a variety of refreshments are produced, as different descriptions of cakes, ices, orgeat and water, punch, warm wine, limonade, etc., according to the season of the year; and often a supper is given on a very liberal scale. Dancing, music, singing, and cards form the amusements of the evening; the games which are played are generally écarté and whist.

The passion for dancing pervades all classes, and even amongst the lowest orders they always find the means of gratifying themselves with that pleasure, but in all their enjoyments down to the public-houses in the worst quarters of Paris, there is a degree of decorum which surprises an Englishman accustomed to the extreme grossness of similar classes in our own country. Determined to see as much of life as I could in all its stages during a carnival, accompanied by a countryman I visited many of the lowest order of wine houses where balls were going forward; the only payment required for entrance was the purchase of a bottle of wine, costing six sous. We expected to see a good deal of uproarious mirth and all kinds of pranks going forward, but were quite astonished to find the order that prevailed; the men appeared as if they were in such a hurry for a dance that they had not waited until they washed their hands and faces, but had just come directly from their work, although several of them had slipped on masquerade dresses; the women were cleaner (I suspect they were not of the most immaculate description), and were amusing themselves with quadrilles and waltzes alternately. Being of course very differently attired from the rest of the assemblage, we were very conspicuous, but they took no notice of us whatever; if they happened to run against us whilst waltzing and whirling about, they always said "Je vous 'mande pardon, Monsieur," and nothing farther. We observed that the men paid for the musicians two sous each dance and the women one, and we came away rather disappointed at finding things so much more insipid than we expected; we visited several houses of the same description and found the same sort of scene going forward in them all. The working people in Paris are extremely frugal in their mode of living; bread being full seven-eighths of their food, what they eat with it varies according to the season; if in summer, mostly such fruit as happens to be ripe, and perhaps once in the day they take a bit of soft white-looking cheese with their bread. In winter they often add instead, a little morsel of pork or bacon, but more frequently stewed pears or roasted apples. On Sundays they always put the pot-au-feu, as they call it, which means that they make soup, or literally translated, that they put the pot on the fire. Henry IV declared that he should not feel satisfied until he had so ameliorated the condition of the poor, that every peasant should be able to have a fowl in his pot every Sunday; had he not suddenly been cut off by assassination, he might have lived to have seen his benevolent wish accomplished. Many of the wives of the working people contrive to muster some soup for their husbands when they get home at night, and almost all manage to have a little wine in the course of the day. On the Sunday in the summer time they contrive to have a degree of pleasure, and go to one of the houses round Paris called guinguettes, something in the nature of the tea-gardens about London, but in Paris and most parts of France the husband takes his wife and even his children with him if they are old enough; indeed, you generally see the whole train together. At these houses they mostly take beer which is not very strong, but they make it less so by mixing it with water, as they do almost every beverage; sometimes they have wine, lemonade, or currant juice, which is called groseille, and that from the black currant cassis; there they will sit looking at the dances, in which they sometimes join, and return home about ten o'clock. This is pretty much the routine of a regularly conducted working-man in Paris, and it must be admitted that they form by far the greater number, particularly those who are married.

Amongst the middle-classes, both husband and wife keep very steadily to business, particularly the latter, and as they live frugally, they generally calculate upon retiring from business in ten or twelve years, and mostly effect their object, as they are perfectly contented when they have amassed enough capital to produce three or four hundred a year, which is the case with the major part of them; many are not satisfied until four or five times that sum; but they are seldom ambitious, nor care to get out of their class, as the persons with whom they associate and are intimate, are mostly relations and connexions to whom they are attached, and do not seem to fancy any pleasure in extending their acquaintances. But before they retire from business they have their occasional recreations; in fine weather they are very fond of spending their Sundays in the country; in the winter they frequently visit the theatres, but very rarely have company at home or pay visits, except on the New Year, and in the Carnival they give one ball, and go to several others given by their relations; this description alludes to what may be termed the respectable class of shopkeepers. They have one means of communication with each other, of which they avail themselves for the advantages of business or for the purpose of recreation, if they choose, which consists of what they term Cercles, much the same as we should call clubs; they are establishments composed of perhaps 150 members, more or less, who meet in a suite of apartments fitted up for the purpose, and certainly most elegantly, both as regards the decoration of the rooms and the furniture they contain. A clerk is employed, whose business it is to collect information as to the different merchants who arrive at Paris from the various parts of France and other countries; they find out the particular branch in which he deals, and that member whose business it is to vend the commodity likely to be demanded, sends him a programme of his goods and his terms. If any one receive a commission from any country which is not in his department, he proclaims it to the Cercle, and gives a fellow-member the benefit of the order; thus they play into each other's hands and greatly promote their mutual interests. Billiard-tables are fitted up for the amusement of the members, who also occupy themselves with other games, whilst refreshments are to be had the same as in a coffee-house. There are many of these establishments in Paris, which afford great facilities for the promotion of business. Although the extraordinary increase of trade in Paris is almost incredible, yet the bankrupts are more numerous than they were formerly; one reason is, on account of the number of persons in each business having so much increased, and the immense expenses which they incur in the embellishment of their shops to try and outvie each other. A person taking a place in the Palais Royal about three years since, first gave the occupier 40,000 francs (1,600 l.) to quit, and then expended 110,000 francs (4,400 l.) in fitting it up as a restaurateur's; the rent being high in proportion, the success was not commensurate with the expenditure and the speculation failed. This is one of the many instances which have recently occurred at Paris, causing bankruptcy; yet some persons have laid out more than double the amount in the decorations for restaurateurs and coffee-houses, and yet have succeeded.

The occupations of the higher classes in Paris are much the same as they are in other capitals; both sexes are more fond of taking baths than they are in London, and even when they have that convenience in their own houses, the men often prefer lounging to the most fashionable public baths. The young sparks of fashion are very fond of sumptuous breakfasts at the most stylish coffee-houses in Paris, and often begin by taking a few dozen of oysters by way of giving them an appetite; beefsteaks dressed in the English style, a few choice French dishes, two or three sorts of wine, desert, and coffee, generally compose the repast until the dinner hour. The time is filled up with walking, riding, driving, practising gymnastic exercises, pistol-shooting, fencing, etc. After dinner, which usually terminates about eight, and is in fact the same thing as the breakfast on a more extensive scale, they proceed to the theatres; those most in vogue with the beau monde are the Italian Opera, the French Opera or Académie de Musique, the Comic Opera, and the Théâtre Français. After the performances are over, they generally lounge into some favourite coffee-house, and then close the day to recommence another, following much the same course, with some trifling variation. But now the favourite pursuit amongst young men of fashion, is that of riding and every thing which is connected with horses, such as racing, leaping, steeple chasing, and discussing their different qualities and the various modes of breaking them in, in England and in France.

But there is no subject upon which there is so much difference of opinion between the two nations as upon that of equestrian exercises and the management and training of horses. Our bold fox-hunters and daring steeple chasers, I am aware, will not for an instant imagine that there are any riders to be found equal to Englishmen, whilst the French, although they give us credit for doing many things better than themselves, do not at all admire our horsemanship. They admit that our good riders are not easily thrown, and keep their seat under many difficult and dangerous circumstances, but they contend that the English generally have not sufficient command over their horses in making them obey every wish of the rider, whilst the accomplished French cavalier will make his horse go backwards, sideways, right, or left, in a direct line, will cause him to stop in an instant whilst at full speed, will make him bear on his near or off leg just as he chooses, or make him place either foot on a five franc piece, and in fact have the same command over his horse as if it were his child. There are many riding-masters now in Paris of superior talent, but for rendering his pupils dauntless horsemen, capable of mounting any animal however restive, I do not think that any can be found to surpass M. de Fitte. I have seen him place his best pupils upon a horse, which upon signals given, will rear upon his hind or his forelegs, changing from one to the other with such rapidity and in such constant succession that the rider cannot the least foresee what prank the horse is about to play, and therefore cannot be prepared for what he has to encounter, whilst he is seated on a saddle without stirrups or bridle, as with folded arms he defies every manœuvre his steed essays to throw him. The riding-school of Mr. Fitte is at No. 113, rue Montmartre, next to the great establishment of the Messageries royales, from whence depart the diligences for all parts of France. He has always about forty horses of different countries and descriptions; amongst them are some especially trained for ladies, and such as will be found well adapted to the most bold and the most timid rider, which he lets out at very moderate terms.

Any person must feel gratified at being present when he gives his evening lessons to his pupils, as amongst other exercises he practises them in what is called the jeu de bague, which consists of rings loosely suspended from a post, whilst the rider carries a lance, and in passing by at full gallop endeavours to run it through the ring, which is about two inches in diameter, and is hung in such a manner that it yields to the lance and remains upon it whilst the rider, without stopping, proceeds at full speed and takes off the next. Two persons are generally exercised together at this game, and he who takes off the most rings wins. It is a useful practice now adopted in almost all the riding-schools in Paris, as it teaches the pupil to forget his seat, giving him another object to occupy his mind, till at last the young pupil feels as easy upon a horse at full gallop as seated in his chair, his whole attention being directed towards taking off more rings with his lance than his competitor. Mr. Fitte during the lesson also himself displays what can be done with different horses, in giving them that sort of motion which he thinks proper, which is principally produced by operating upon the animal with the muscles of the calves of the legs, of which the French avail themselves much more in the management of a horse than the English.

It appears quite a new era in the annals of horsemanship that an approved English riding-master should come over to France to place himself for two years under a French riding-master, yet such I know to be the case. Mr. F.W., the person to whom I allude, had long been accustomed to mount horses of all descriptions, with the full confidence of always being able to keep his seat; but when at Paris he met with a master who could not only defy any horse to throw him, but under all circumstances could always preserve a graceful position, even while baffling every attempt of a horse to floor him. In order to try the capabilities of Mr. W., the French master placed him on all kinds of horses, and amongst the rest those which had been taught all sorts of tricks to fling their riders, but W. resisted all their attempts, but it was by keeping his seat in his own way, which he knew had an awkward air, when compared to the graceful mien the Frenchman preserved throughout the same evolutions.

Another art he strove also to acquire from his master, that of dominating the most vicious horse to a degree that shall render it so docile that any moderate horseman may mount it in safety. This was effected by the French riding-master (with whom W. placed himself), under the most extraordinary circumstances; a horse was offered him of extreme beauty, but so totally unmanageable that it had been given up by three rough riders of regiments in England, and was almost considered as worthless, as no one could be found to ride it; the Frenchman undertook in one year so to tame its restive spirit as to render it a valuable horse for any rider. The owner quitted France, but agreed to return in a twelvemonth, when they were to divide the amount of what the horse might sell for; but it so happened that the owner did not return for eighteen months, and when the twelvemonth had expired the riding-master considered the horse his own and sold it to Franconi for 20,000 francs (800 l.), having so completely taught the horse to obey its master, as to make it dance to music, to bear upon which leg he chose to dictate, and in fact to do more than I shall venture to state, as were I to give an accurate description it must appear an exaggeration, having met with several Englishmen who with myself have declared they never could have believed, had they not had ocular demonstration, that a horse could have been taught to do that which the animal in question has nightly exhibited at Franconi's. When the owner did return, he claimed the half of the value the horse had fetched, but the riding-master pleaded that the contract was annulled by his not making his claim at the time agreed upon between them; the other persisting in his demand, the affair was referred to a Court of Justice, and decided in favour of the riding-master, and it is said that Franconi has since refused 40,000 francs for the horse.

There is one peculiarity in the English style of riding which is remarked all over the Continent, and that is, the rising in the saddle, or what is termed, adopting one's own motion, instead of that of the horse, which is certainly much rougher and not so agreeable, and for my own part I have found it a great relief when upon a long journey; of course it is never adopted by our cavalry, and the French contend that to sit as close as possible, partaking of the motion of the horse, as soon as the rider is accustomed to it he will travel farther, and with less fatigue than by what is termed the English method. M. de Fitte however thinks differently from his countrymen in that respect. It is also considered that in both our riding and driving we rein in our horses far too much, the consequence being that the animal, accustomed to be held up by the rider or driver, depends upon it, as what is called his fifth leg, and if there be any negligence in thus sustaining him, he immediately trips and often comes to the ground; whereas the horse who is habituated to a looser rein goes more boldly, depending on the powers nature has given him, and carries his head lower, and of course sees his ground better, avoiding that which might occasion a false step; and certainly the horses in France very seldom fall, except in frost or snow, when strange to say the French have never had the wit to have them rough-shod.

Notwithstanding all that is said upon the subject I have found the advantage of keeping a tighter rein upon my horse than they are in the habit of practising in Turkey, as although in a journey which I had of seven hundred miles on horseback in that country they found great fault with my riding, yet I kept my seat, and my horse upon his legs, without once coming to the ground, when the Tatar, the Surdjee, and my travelling companion were alternately prostrated from the falling of their horses, which I attribute to their not being able to check them in time when they tripped, to prevent their totally sprawling; it is true that some parts of the road could only be compared to a street having been unpaved and all the stones left loose upon the ground over which we had to ride, consequently I took the greatest care, never for an instant neglecting any precaution to keep my hack from stumbling. But where a horse is liable to come upon his knees, certainly the system of rising in the saddle is most unsafe, and I never met with any one who could better teach his pupils to sit close and firm even with the roughest trot than M. de Fitte, who, not content with precept, himself furnishes the example. Amongst his pupils, are many of the fair sex as the French ladies are now beginning to imitate the gentlemen in their passion for equestrian exercises, and frequently in the Champs-Élysées and Bois de Boulogne display the progress they have made in the art.

Although their pursuits are not so numerous nor so various as those of the men, yet their opportunities of killing time are greater; as shopping alone employs often some hours of the day, the importance attached to a bonnet, a cap, a turban and above all to a dress, causes many and long dissertations. Exhibitions and morning concerts frequently occupy also much of the ladies' leisure, a little walking in the Tuileries gardens at a certain hour and in a certain part whilst their carriage waits for them, an airing in it, or a turn on horseback, fill up the rest of the day, and after dinner, if not at the theatre, they either receive or pay visits, as it is the fashion to do so of an evening in Paris.

I must not quit this sketch of the Parisians and their occupations without giving my readers some idea of what is called La Jeune France, which consists of a number of young men, who wear comical shaped hats, their hair very long hanging below their ears, and let the greater part of their beards grow; they also have their throats bare and their shirt collars turned down; they have rather a wild look, and their political theories are somewhat wilder than their looks; they are republican in principle, and in manner, adopting a sort of rough abrupt style, as far from courteous as can well be imagined. They amount to perhaps a few thousands in Paris, comprising a number of the students in law and medicine, many of the painters, musical professors, and at least half the literary characters in Paris; some of them are either the editors their subs or the communicators to two-thirds of the newspapers at Paris. I must do them the justice to say that I believe they mean well, and that they are actuated by pure principles of patriotism, full of candour and of courage, but mistaken in their views, led away by false notions imbibed from an enthusiastic admiration of the deeds of heroes, recorded in the histories of Rome and Greece, until they imagine that they are bound in modern days to re-enact the glorious examples of their progenitors in their self devotion for their country; hence the wonderful resistance that they made in 1832, which although in a bad cause, proved their contempt for life, and how ready they were to risk it in what they falsely thought their country's cause.

But as they get older and reflect more, they become more temperate in their mode of reasoning, at present, and indeed for some time past, they have been more calm and one hears less of them.

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CHAPTER V.

Anecdotes illustrative of the ideas, feelings, and characters of the Parisians, also narrating some of their most striking national peculiarities.

The French generally have been celebrated for possessing no inconsiderable share of conceit, but in regard to a most exalted respect for themselves, the Parisians far surpass all their provincial brethren; the very circumstance of their happening in Paris, they imagine at once confers upon them a diploma of the very highest acme of civilisation, causing them to feel a sort of pity for a person who is born elsewhere; however, as one of these enlightened spirits once observed to me, that a person might by coming to live at Paris in the course of time imbibe the same tone of refinement. Now this was said in all the true spirit of human kindness; he knew that I was not born in Paris, and conceiving that I might feel the bitterness of that misfortune, though it might afford me a degree of consolation to be assured, that there were some means of repairing the disadvantages under which I laboured, from not having made my entrance to the world in the grand metropolis of France.

It matters not how low may be the calling of a Parisian, he will still flatter himself that the manner in which he acquits himself in the department in which he is placed, evinces a degree of superiority over his fellow labourer, and gratifies his amour propre with the thought. Even a scavenger would endeavour to persuade you that he has a peculiar manner of sweeping the streets exclusively his own, and that his method of shovelling up the mud and pitching it into the cart is quite unique, and in fact that his innate talent is such that, it has eventually placed him at the summit of his profession. This may appear, perhaps, to some of my readers rather overdrawn, but the following instance which came under my own observation is not much less extravagant.

A man who was in the habit of cleaning my boots, had a most incorrigible propensity for garrulity, and as I like in a foreign country to obtain some insight into the ideas and feelings of all classes, I did not care to check the poor fellow in the indulgence of his favourite penchant, particularly as his remarks were always proffered with a tone of the most profound respect for my august person. Finding one morning that my boots had not been polished quite so well as usual, the next time I saw the shoeblack I mentioned the circumstance to him. "Ah! Sir," he exclaimed with a deep sigh, "that is one of the many instances of the ingratitude of human nature; I confided those boots to the boy whom you must have seen come with me to fetch yours and the other gentlemen's shoes or clothes for brushing, etc. Well, sir, that young urchin is a protégé of mine; I took him, sir, from the lowest obscurity and made him what he is; I taught him my profession, I endowed him with all the benefit of my experience, and with respect to blacking shoes, I have initiated him into all the little mysteries of the art, and can declare that there is not one in the business throughout all Paris that can surpass him, when he chooses to exert his talents; and therefore it renders it the more unpardonable that he should slight one of my best customers." Judging, I suppose, from the expression of my countenance that I did not appear to be deeply infused with a very exalted idea of what he termed the mysteries of his art, he continued, "You may think as you please, sir, but there is much more ability required in blacking shoes than you may imagine, and that boy is well aware of it; he knows how I began by first instructing him in all the fundamental principles of the art; and gradually led him on until I accomplished him in giving the last polish, and can now proudly say he is a true artist in the profession."

On entering a diligence once at Lyons, I found two persons in it, of very decent aspect; the one a middle aged man, the other a youth of about eighteen or nineteen; the former soon found an opportunity of informing me that he was a Parisian, but lest that should not adequately impress me with a sufficiently high idea of his importance, he added that he was chef de cuisine to the Duke of ——, and that Monsieur, pointing to the youth opposite, was an aspirant, who had been placed under his auspices. The young man bowed assent, and appeared most sensibly to feel the vast magnitude of the honours to which he was aspiring; but the whole was announced with such an air of solemnity and consequence, that a minister of state with his secretary would never have attempted to assume. An Englishman under the same circumstances would have merely said, "I am head cook to the Duke of —— and that young man is my 'prentice." However, my travelling companions were overpoweringly civil, and I of course was deeply awed by finding myself in company with such elevated personages, of which they no doubt were sensible, and where we stopped for dinner they gave us the benefit of their professional talent, by entering the kitchen, giving the inmates to understand who they were, and the advantage of advice gratis, as to the arrangement of such dishes for which they were still in time to superintend; and when we sat down at the table d'hôte, the chef de cuisine did not fail to inform me that he had done as much as laid in his power to ensure our having a good dinner, as my being a foreigner he was particularly anxious that France should sustain her high reputation for the culinary art in my estimation; but regretted that in the first place he arrived too late to effect much good, and indeed, had he come before it would have been but of little avail; for the provincials were such complete barbarians, that it was difficult for an enlightened person to commune with them: that absolutely he and they appeared to be quite of another species.

It is a happy circumstance for the French, that their pride does not consist in a desire to get out of their station, but an extreme anxiety to exaggerate the importance of the station in which they are placed; a cook, for example, has the most exalted idea of the art of cookery, and wishes to impress everyone with the same idea of its high importance, and all his ambition is to be considered a cook of the first-rate talent. In England it is different, one of the great objects with a tradesman is the hope, that by making his fortune he shall be enabled to get out of his class and take a higher walk in society. For this purpose they bring their sons up to the liberal professions, and often retire into the country at a distance from London, where they flatter themselves that the circumstance of their having been in business may not travel; their plan seldom succeeds, but has in several instances when they have come over to France, as being rich, appearing respectable, and their children highly educated, they have obtained the entrée to French society, which has ultimately led to that of the English. I remember one instance of a hatter marrying his five daughters to persons of the higher classes, three to English and two to French, who now with their father have that position in society, into which at one period he never could have dreamed of entering; had they remained in England, they would have had but little chance of emerging from their original station, even with the aid of all their wealth.

Street scenes often afford amusing exhibitions of natural characteristics; I remember one which I witnessed, which developed a feeling truly French; two common-looking men had been disputing for some time, when one upbraided the other with want of delicacy and not having a nice sense of honour, but finding his reproaches made but little impression upon the accused, at last said, "As I see you are destitute of any mental susceptibility, I must try if you have any bodily feeling, and thrash you as I would a dog or any other brute." So saying, he advanced to put his threat into execution, but the assailed proving far the strongest, soon overcame the assailant and laid him prostrate; rising from the ground, he regarded the conqueror with a dignified air, and said, "Yes! you have the physical force, but I have the force of reason," and with a flourish of the head he strutted off with as triumphant a demeanour as if he had vanquished a host of enemies.

The French are exceedingly fond of moralizing; a few days before the Revolution occurred, whilst a man was driving me through the Place de la Concorde, I observed a scaffolding in the middle, and asked what it was for, and having informed me that it was for the purpose of erecting a statue of Louis the Sixteenth, being the spot in which he was beheaded, he exclaimed, "What an absurdity! but those Bourbons are incorrigible; would it not be much better to let such events as those sink as much as possible into oblivion, instead of endeavouring to perpetuate them. One would have thought," continued he, "that the adversity and exile which that besotted family had endured would have operated upon them as a lesson, but they will never benefit from any lessons; one, however, will be tried upon them very soon, if they do not mind what they are about, and we shall see what impression that will make." The man's words came to pass, they did indeed receive a severe lesson, which involved them in ruin and disgrace.

Having observed a number of persons assembled on the Boulevards, I asked the cause, and was told that some cavalry was expected to pass in a few minutes, for which the people were waiting. I took my station amongst them, which happened to be next to two bakers' boys, who were in earnest conversation, when I was edified by the following observations. "Do you know why Alphonse left his place?" "Yes," replied the other, "because his master gave him a cuff on the head." "That certainly was a very great indignity;" observed the younger; "to receive a blow is very humiliating." "That is true," replied the other, "but figure to yourself the folly of a lad, for the sake of a paltry thump, to sacrifice all his future prospects; in a few years, had he put up with the insult, he might have been head man in a bakehouse in the Rue St. Denis, which is one of the most populous quarters in Paris." "True," said the younger, "it would have been wiser to have sayed; but when excited, reason does not always come to one's aid."

I have translated the discourse as literally as I could, that I might preserve as nearly as possible the expressions which the boys used, as it has often struck me how much more refined they are, than those to which lads of the same age and class would have had recourse in England.

Some of the scenes at the tribunals are very amusing; I remember a very rough ferocious-looking man having been brought up for returning to Paris, from which he had been sent away on account of some offences which he had committed, and was ordered to some small obscure town in the provinces, under surveillance. Finding his banishment very irksome, an irresistible impulse brought him back to Paris, and repairing to his old haunts, he sought the Rue de la Mortellerie, which had in part been pulled down, on account of some improvements which were going forward; whilst he was gaping about, looking in vain for his dear Rue de la Mortellerie, he was recognised by a Serjeant of police and very unwillingly lodged in the Corps de Garde (guard-house), and brought before the Tribunal of Correction; he was interrogated as to his having dared, in defiance of the law, to return to Paris. He replied, "indeed, Monsieur le President, I was so overcome with ennui, that I found it impossible to exist there any longer; now, only imagine for an instant, M. le President, the idea of a Parisian, as I am, to be sent to a little bit of a place where there was no theatre, no promenade, not even a public monument."

He was interrupted by the President telling him, that whatever the place might have been, there he should have staid to the end of his time, and must be punished for returning to Paris. "But," continued the delinquent, "the vile little hole to which I was exiled contained no society whatever, the inhabitants were merely a set of illiterate beings, and how could any enlightened person vegetate amongst such a mic-mac of semi-barbarians; but tell me, M. le President, what has become of the Rue de la Mortellerie?"

Without deigning to answer, the President was proceeding to condemn the prisoner, when interrupted by his exclaiming, "Now I intreat, M. le President, that you who are no doubt a very enlightened personage, would only place yourself in my position, and conceive how it was possible to exist buried alive as it were among such a set of Goths, and above all do tell me what has become of my Rue de la Mortellerie?"

The President, out of all patience, sentenced him to imprisonment in one of the goals of Paris for three years.

"Well," said the garrulous and incorrigible offender, "I shall have one satisfaction, that of knowing that I am still in Paris, that seat of the arts, that centre of civilisation, and terrestrial paradise; but pray tell me, M. le President, before we part, do tell me what have they done with my dear Rue de la Mortellerie?" Without affording him time to occupy the court any longer with his irrelevant questions and explanations, they hurried him away, whilst he continued to murmur what could possibly have gone with his dear Rue de la Mortellerie which was no other than a little narrow filthy street which it would be difficult to match in the worst neighbourhoods in London.

I also recollect an instance of the deliberate coolness of a man who was tried and found guilty of the robbery and murder of a farmer; being asked if he knew his accomplice, he observed "As to knowing him, M. le President, that is more than I can say; you must be aware that it is extremely difficult to know a person, you may have seen a person often, and even conversed with him for years, and yet never know him."

"Are you acquainted with him," was the next question.

"As to that," continued the prisoner, "I am a man who has very few acquaintances, being naturally of a reserved character and rather diffident in my nature, I shrink from entering much into society; being of a reflecting habit, I like often to pass my hours alone, having rather an indifferent opinion of human nature."

How long he would have gone on in the same strain, it is impossible to say, when he was imperatively demanded if he knew him by name, by sight, and had talked, or walked, or ate, or drank with him.

"Really you put so many questions to me at once that you tax my memory beyond its means; I never was celebrated for having a very retentive memory, my mother used to say."

The court out of patience again interrupted him, but with all their efforts could never elicit from him a direct answer; but the circumstantial and testimonial evidence being perfectly convincing, he and his accomplice were condemned to death. When he heard the sentence he very coolly asked which would be guillotined first; he was answered that the other would, and that it was to be hoped that the sight of his companion's fate might bring him to some sense of his awful situation. When the time arrived for their execution, he displayed the same imperturbable audacity; as his accomplice was about to suffer, he elbowed the person who was standing next to him, and pointing to his fellow criminal, he smiled and said, "Look, poor wretch, he is afraid, I declare he even trembles." When it came to his turn he mounted the ladder with as cheerful an air as if he was merely going to his breakfast, and to the last moment preserved the same sang-froid.

A brutal sort of fellow, who was once condemned for an assault, in an instant snatched off his wooden shoes and threw them at the head of the President, who it appears had a good eye for avoiding a shot, and managed to escape the missiles.

Sometimes the avocats (barristers) avail themselves of causes in which they are engaged, so as to render them vehicles for displaying their wit or humour, and afford much amusement to the court; a case some time since occurred which excited much interest and some mirth and entertainment; the parties concerned were a Madame Dumoulin who had invented stays of a peculiar nature. Another person who was English styling herself the inventor, and making them in the same manner, notwithstanding the former had been granted a patent, an action was the consequence. It was observed that the hostile parties in this instance, although French and English, were neither decked with helmets nor armed with pistols, swords, nor muskets, but entered the scene of combat in long shawls and velvet bonnets, announcing themselves without the aid of heralds, the one representing the French army the other the English host. The champion on the side of the former being a Monsieur Ch. Ledru, against whom Monsieur Ducluseau entered the lists on the British side of the question; what made it more remarkable, was, that the belligerents resided in the same street, the residence of M. Ducluseau, the advocate for the English defendant, merely separating the mansions of the two combatants.

Victory declared for Madame Dumoulin after many subtle and learned arguments were adduced on both sides, and an English lady, the mother of several daughters, tells me if I have any regard for my fair countrywomen I must recommend to their notice the stays of Madame Dumoulin, truly observing that as the object of my work was to render every possible service to all my readers, certainly the ladies must have a pre-eminent claim, and although there are certain articles of the toilet with which it might be observed man should never meddle, as he could not be any judge of such habiliments as ought only to be worn by the ladies, and a few dandies who are neither one thing nor the other, yet when three scientific societies condescend to award medals to the inventor and patentee of the articles alluded to, I trust I shall be pardoned if with an intention to serve the fair sex I trench upon their privilege in calling their attention to the useful and ornamental corsets, which have caused so much controversy.

These stays are so contrived as to be totally without gussets, and adapt themselves to the form with such perfect facility, that there is not that restraint which, instead of bestowing grace to the female figure, is rather calculated to deform, that, which, if left in a degree to nature, would have displayed both elegance and ease. As an artist accustomed to contemplate the beauty of feature and of form, I have often regretted that common error into which such numbers of females fall, by torturing themselves in tightening the waist to such an unnatural degree, confining the person as it were in a vice, and totally preventing that movement in the person, which is indispensable in giving that elasticity in walking which alone can produce a graceful carriage, devoid of that stiffness which is ever occasioned by too great a restraint. The stays invented by Madame Dumoulin are universally admired as aiding nature, in affording the utmost freedom to the wearer, at the same time that they improve the figure.

These stays, have not only received the approbation of the scientific world by the presentation of three medals, but have also been recommended by several distinguished members of the faculty, who consider they are calculated rather to improve than deteriorate the health of those who wear them. The action which Madame Dumoulin was obliged to bring against her competitor has been of the utmost service to her, not only by the triumph she has received and the confirmation of her patent, but in giving her that vogue that not only the influential Parisian ladies, but Russian, German and Spanish princesses have patronised her ingenuity; her residence is Rue du 29 Juillet, no 5.

In the Courts of Justice in France and particularly in Paris, I have found that both the prisoners and the witnesses have far more self possession than in the tribunals in England; they are not so soon embarrassed by the brow-beating and examination of the counsel, and sometimes give such replies as turn the sting upon their examiners; having like the Irish a sort of tact for repartee, they are not often to be taken aback; the lower classes in Paris are naturally extremely shrewd and penetrating, they recognise a foreigner instantly, before he speaks, as a friend of mine found to his cost, who although an Englishman would anywhere in his own country be set down for a Frenchman from his external appearance. On the Saturday following the three glorious days, he was standing amongst one of the groups near the Hôtel-de-Ville, when a man of a very rough appearance with his arms bare and besmeared with proofs that he had been in the strife, turned to him and asked what he thought of the Revolution. My friend, who was in feeling a thorough bred John Bull, neither liking France, the French, nor any of their proceedings, did not think it was exactly the moment to give vent to all his feelings, answered that it was very fine.

"Oh!" said the Frenchman, "you find it very fine, do you, you're a foreigner, what countryman are you?"

"I am an Englishman," was the reply.

"An Englishman! eh!" muttered the Frenchman scanning him with a very scrutinising eye, "and you find our Revolutionary fine, eh! well," added he! "will you come and take a glass of wine with me?"

The invitation was declined on the plea of business.

"Business," repeated the Frenchman, "there can be no business to-day, it is a day of fête;" upon which the Englishman, not seeing any means by which he could well get off of it, said he would be happy to take wine with him and should also have great pleasure in paying for it.

"Pay for it," sternly said the Frenchman, "what do you talk of paying for it, when you are invited, follow me;" the Englishman obeyed, but wished himself well out of the scrape; his conductor took him to one of the lowest sort of wine-houses and they entered a large room where there were above twenty seated, drinking round a table. His new acquaintance introduced him in due form, saying, I have brought you an Englishman who finds our Revolution very fine; there was a degree of order amongst them and they had a president and vice president, but were very much such rough looking fellows as the one who announced him; as a stranger, he was awarded the seat of honour to the right of the president, but had no sooner been seated, than one man addressed him, saying,

"I have been in England, I was a prisoner and very ill treated."

"I am sorry for that," replied the Englishman.

"I was almost starved," added the other.

"That was not the fault of the people or the intention of the government," observed my friend, "but was caused by a few rascally contractors who received a handsome sum for the supply of the prisoners, and to make the greater profit they provided bad articles."

"Well," said another, "I have seen extracts from the English papers and they speak very highly of our revolution, particularly the Times."

They next proceeded to give accounts of the share they had taken in the struggle which had just terminated, and some began to state the number that they killed, all of which was far from edifying to my friend, who sat upon thorns notwithstanding they all drank his health, hitting the glasses together according to the custom of olden time. At several periods he made an effort to go, but they assured him that they could not part with him so soon, called him a bon anglais, now and then giving him a smack on the shoulder as a proof of their friendly feeling towards him. The Englishman began at last to wish himself anywhere but where he was, and in that manner they kept him for three hours in durance vile; at last he made a bold push for a retreat, declaring he could not stay a minute longer.

"Then," said his conductor, "I shall see you safe home to your door;" now that was the very thing that my friend did not want, as he was particularly desirous of dropping the acquaintance as soon as possible, therefore did not wish him to know where he lived; so at last he thought of a person with whom he dealt, and said he must go, and see a friend there with whom he had an appointment; and the Frenchman accompanied him to the door, always carrying his drawn sword with him, and when taking leave asked the Englishman when and where he should see him again; my friend answered he was going to England.

"Going to England," repeated the other, "what are you going to England for, if you find our Revolution so very fine, what do you want to go away from it for, not to abuse it to your country people, I hope?"

"Oh no," replied the Englishman, "I am only going to England for a little while, on business, and shall be back soon, and shall have it in my power to tell my countrymen all about the Revolution, and what an heroic struggle it was."

"Ah!" said the Frenchman; then holding out his great rough hand, bade the Englishman "bon soir," and "bon voyage."

My friend declared that it was impossible for him to describe to what a degree he was rejoiced at seeing his new acquaintance depart, although, however rough his appearance, the man might have been perfectly harmless, except when called upon to fight for what he considered his country's cause.

I was myself living in Paris during the struggle of the Three Days, and can bear witness to the humanity and moderation of the people during the contest, and of their forbearance after their victory; they came to the house at which I was living and asked for wine; but they brought with them pails of water into which they threw what was given them, thereby proving their extreme temperance and forbearance, but certainly a band of a more ruffianlike looking set of fellows, it would be difficult to imagine, and the manner in which they were at first armed, had something in it of the horrible, and at the same time of the ludicrous; iron bars, pokers, pitchforks, and in fact anything that could be converted into a weapon was taken possession of by the unwashed horde, who swarmed towards the centre of Paris from the manufacturing suburbs; soon, however, the public armouries, and the gunsmiths' shops, the musquetry, and other arms taken from the soldiers during the battle, contributed to arm them more formidably.

But in justice to the Parisians I must cite two circumstances; the one is, that whatever they seized upon in the public institutions, as instruments of offence and defence, were restored when the contest was over; the librarian at the Royal Library told me that they took all the ancient and modern arms from their establishment, but with the exception of seven they were all brought back, and most likely the bearers of those which were missing had been killed.

The other instance which does high credit to the Parisian mob, is that they would not permit of any robbing or pillage in any house or building which they might enter, but, as might be expected, some of the regular thieves of Paris mixed amongst the people; one at length being caught purloining an image in the palace of the Tuileries, they formed a circle round the thief, tried him in an instant, and shot him; this was summary justice with a vengeance, and certainly not exactly what ought to have been done, but it showed the principle which existed. In fact honesty is undoubtedly a quality existing in France to a most extraordinary degree, a greater proof of it cannot be adduced than the fact that when any person quits a theatre with the idea of returning in a few minutes they leave their handkerchiefs on their seats by way of retaining their places, which custom is even practised at the lowest theatres, where the admittance is only half a franc.

Ingenuity and a tact for invention are certainly features peculiar to the French character, but they are far behind the English in their methods of transacting business; this remark is applicable even to most of the public offices; that France is extremely flourishing, and Paris more particularly so, cannot be denied, but were it in the hands of the English there is no doubt their produce, manufactures, and commerce, both home and foreign, would be considerably greater than it now is. France has been most peculiarly favoured by nature, her soil produces everything that can be grown in England, and besides three commodities which are not genial to our climate, and are of immense value, oil, silk and wine; hence the products of the soil of France amount annually to the immense sum of 240,000,000l, or 6,000,000,000 francs; having such a basis, or one may even say such a capital to work upon, to what an incalculable extent might business be carried on, with the amazing industry that exists in France, as in the first place their population exceeds ours by nearly six millions; then their general temperance is such, there is not so much time nor labour lost as there is in England, consequently there are more hands available, and those generally for a longer period of time, as every one who is familiar with many manufacturing and even agricultural districts in England must be aware that there are numbers of workmen who never appear on the Monday, vulgarly called St. Monday, but spend it at the public houses.

I myself have had farming men whom I hired by the day in Kent, who did not appear until Wednesday morning, but that, however, is some years since, and the evil is now correcting. The great deficiency in France is not only want of great capitalists, but men of enterprise, who are not afraid to enter upon colossal undertakings; and now, looking at the speculative works of the greatest magnitude which exist in France, it will be found that Englishmen are concerned in them, either as partners in a firm, or the principal shareholders in any company or association. The promptness of the English for adventuring their funds in all sorts of schemes is the wonderment of all Europe; whenever there is any discovery which may be rendered available for trade, an Englishman is on the spot with his capital in his hand and his calculation in his head. Recently a vein of coal was found near the coast of Brittany, three Englishmen were there as if they had dropped from the clouds, quite prepared to enter into all the arrangements requisite for working the mine and rendering it productive of profit.

But although the French are deficient in those qualities requisite for commencing and conducting gigantic enterprises, yet they are rapidly improving in every point that is necessary for the management of business and augmenting their foreign commerce to a great extent, particularly with America; from the town of New Orleans alone, last summer, there were eighty merchants in Paris at one time, and the amount from all the United States was estimated at two thousand; in fact if France remain at peace, the increase of her prosperity in every branch of industry must be certain, as if she obtain English machinery, which she must ultimately, with those who know how to set it in motion also, as provisions are cheaper, and always will be than with us, because she needs not so much taxation, her debt being so much smaller than that of England, labour must be lower, therefore she will have an advantage over us which it will be impossible for England, with all her talents, to circumvent. Already the Americans purchase, not only silks and fancy articles in France, but also even cotton goods of the superior qualities; the only obstacle which prevents the French from making still more rapid advancement than is at present the case, is first timidity of capitalists, deficiency of knowledge of the higher order of business, and extreme slowness in proceeding with any grand national operation, as for instance, her railroads, in which she has not only seen England surpass her tenfold, but other neighbouring countries; but as there is a sort of system of centralization in favour of the metropolis, Paris improves more rapidly in proportion than the rest of France.

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CHAPTER VI.

The monuments of Paris, the gardens, promenades, markets, libraries, etc.

In order to facilitate the progress of the reader in viewing the monuments and different objects of interest in Paris, I shall classify them within certain limits, so that they may be viewed in the shortest possible time, stating those which are contiguous to each other, so that a greater number may be visited in a day, than if the traveller went from one distant quarter of Paris to the other promiscuously, as he happened to hear of any building or monument he wished to see, and thus have to return perhaps two or three times to the same neighbourhood instead of finishing with one district first, then taking the others in rotation; as I shall suppose that some of my readers can only afford ten days or a fortnight to view Paris, I shall be as chary of their time as possible; having been accustomed to show the lions to many different friends or acquaintances from England, I trust I am tolerably au fait at that operation. I shall begin with that part of Paris denominated La Cité, because it is the most central and the most ancient; we will therefore proceed to it by the Pont-Neuf, which as I have already stated was built by Henry III about 1580. There are several shops upon it contained within small stone buildings, which, when viewing the bridge at a short distance, have rather a picturesque effect; it is ornamented with a number of heads according to the taste of that day, and which now give it rather an antique appearance. When well upon the bridge which rises as it approaches the centre, I would advise the spectator to look around him, as the view well repays the trouble, the quays having a most noble appearance, adorned by the Louvre, the Tuileries, the Institute, and other public buildings.

Now let us look about us at more immediate objects; what a noisy bustling scene it is at present, and has been for centuries past, as in the reign of Henry IV it is described as absolutely stunning; now you are assailed by the hissing of fried potatoes, fish, and fritters, which are bought up as fast as they are supplied, women and men are seated with their little apparatus for shearing cats and dogs, and clipping their tails and ears if required, which is a calling that appears to be followed by numbers in Paris who all seem to take their stations on the bridges; situated amongst them are several shoeblacks, who appear to take their posts in uniform array with the trimmers of cats and dogs; they operate upon your boots and shoes as you stand, therefore if you wish to patronise them you may take that opportunity of looking about and getting disburthened of some of the Paris mud, quite certain if it be wet weather that you will soon get more. Fruit in all its variety, books, prints, blacking, and nick-knacks of every description offer themselves to your notice. But let us direct our attention to a more interesting object; the fine bronze equestrian statue of Henry IV: one could almost think the good and merry monarch was going to utter some of his witty sallies. Now let us turn round and behold those antique looking houses which face us and were built in his reign, at a distance they have a sort of castellated appearance: before we quit the bridge let us look down on the Baths Vigier with their pretty garden; we will enter the place Dauphine, and then take one look at the bust of Desaix, the victim of the battle of Marengo, and next we will turn on to the Quai de l'Horloge and view the north side of the Palais de Justice; it presents two round towers, which have the appearance of being very old, and I was assured by an architect who employed much of his time in poking about after such morsels of antiquity as he could find, that they were built by the Romans, but I doubt it.

We must not miss the Tour de l'Horloge, which is certainly of the middle ages, and the clock is I believe considered the oldest in Paris; turning to the right we view the grand front of the Palais de Justice, a very handsome iron grating in part gilded, decorates the entrance to the front court, and you ascend a bold flight of steps to the principal door; four doric pillars with figures representing Justice, Fortitude, Plenty, and Prudence, adorn the grand façade of the building; an immense hall to the right, in which is a noble statue of the good and venerable Malesherbes, well worth attention, and is the apartment where formerly ambassadors were received and the nuptial ceremonies of princes were celebrated, but now the rendez-vous of lawyers, barristers, and their clients.

Several other halls, chambers, galleries, corridors, etc, are worth notice, and that which is beneath them, has a shuddering kind of interest; it is called the Conciergerie, and if its victims were there consigned by the harsh decree of rigid justice, surely mercy and charity were not allowed to enter, whilst it formed the prison of the hapless Marie Antoinette and the brave Pichegru, but we will draw a veil over those scenes which are but fraught with sad reminiscences. Many of these dark covered alleys, belonging to this extraordinary building, have been long occupied by venders of shoes, slippers and a variety of articles which remind one of the old Exeter Change.

This singular edifice which almost resembles a town is considered to have been founded by Eudes, count of Paris, about the year 890, but the most ancient part now standing, was built by Saint Louis who founded the chapel, which is considered to be a complete type of the pure gothic architecture, and which in that respect is not exceeded by any other in Europe; it has the most decided air of antiquity, with a richness and elegance which certainly characterise it as the beau ideal of that period. It is termed the Holy Chapel and now appropriated to the conservation of ancient records. From this interesting monument we turn with regret, but a new scene bursts upon us; it is the flower market, which is held under trees and furnished with large bassins constantly supplied with water; the numerous display of flowers mostly in pots done up in such a manner with white paper so that it forms the background, gives much light and life to the colours, buds, and blossoms, which bloom on this enlivening spot. Wednesdays and Saturdays are the market days, and I recommend the reader not to miss so pleasing a spectacle. On the Quai du Marché-Neuf, on the southern bank of the island, a very opposite sight may be seen, being the Morgue, a little building for receiving all dead bodies found, and not owned.

We now proceed to Notre-Dame, which is in the form of a cross; it was began about the year 1150, in the reign of Louis the Seventh, but continued in that of Philippe-Auguste, and completed under Saint-Louis in 1257, which date, as I have already stated, it now distinctly bears. Its magnitude and extent surpasses every other church in Paris, it is in the arabic style, and being now totally detached from any other building has a most grand effect; it is only in the present reign that this great improvement has been effected, as it was formerly joined on one side to the archiepiscopal palace. The immense number of grotesque figures which surround and surmount the doorway, give it a most rich appearance, although they are in the rudest style of barbarism; above is a large window called the rose, which is a most beautiful and curious object. The interior at the first view has a most striking effect; one hundred and twenty pillars supporting a range of arches afford a most splendid coup d'œil, the middle aisle presenting an uninterrupted view of the whole church, which being very lofty has a most majestic appearance; the sumptuous altar, the fine gloom pervading the pictures, the curious Gobelin tapestry which decorate the sides, combine in affording a rich effect which is still heightened by the chapels which are perceptible between the columns. Although it might be urged that there is rather a profusion of decoration with the bas-reliefs, and other ornaments, yet the edifice is on so colossal a scale that it still presents so broad a mass, that a tone of simplicity pervades the whole. The beautiful choir is after a design by De Goste, the altar and sanctuary are of marble and porphyry, whilst tesselated pavements and variegated shrines adorn the numerous chapels. The pictures are good in general; as to the tapestry, I think it had better be removed, which I dare say it will be as taste refines. It is to be regretted that the towers of Notre-Dame have so heavy and black appearance, which is increased by a parcel of dark unseemly shutters. On the outside towards the north, there are some pieces of sculpture well worth examination; they are beautifully executed although much deteriorated by time, and appear to be works of about the thirteenth century. There are some curious brasses which would be very interesting to persons capable of decyphering them, one in particular to the left on entering, but so much in the dark that it is difficult to make it out, especially as the characters at best are not easy to understand, but I recommend them to the inspection of those persons who have time and inclination to study such subjects. The view of the city from the towers affords an ample panorama, and displays the positions of the principal monuments.

The Hôtel Dieu is one of the finest establishments of the kind in Europe, it is an hospital for the sick, in which they can make up 1,500 beds, but there is nothing in its external appearance that is very striking. The Archiepiscopal Palace had not a very attractive exterior, but now, as they are partly demolishing and rebuilding it all, remarks must be suspended until it be finished. No other object presents itself particularly worth notice on this island, once the celebrated Lutetia, but many of the houses have a very old appearance, and are some of them probably of three or four hundred years standing; the curious observer inspecting them will here and there find indications of the middle ages. If the reader like to pass over to the Isle St. Louis, it will but take him a few minutes, which is about as much as it is worth; the only object exciting attention is the Hôtel Chamisot, No. 45, Rue St. Louis, and the church of St. Louis, built in 1664. In this edifice there are some pictures worthy remark and a curious spire. The Hôtel Lambert, No. 2, Rue St. Louis, also merits attention, being most richly adorned with paintings, gilded mouldings, frescos, etc. Voltaire lived in it, and Napoleon had a long conversation in the gallery in 1815 with his minister, Montalivet, when he found all was lost.

I shall now conduct my reader from the little Isle St. Louis by the Pont de Tournelle to the Quay de Tournelle, from which we proceed to that of St. Bernard, where every one must be struck with the Halles aux Vins, or Wine Halls; they are all arranged with extreme regularity, and forming altogether a whole, have a most singular effect; the neatness of the appearance is remarkable; and the extent is such that they might contain sufficient inhabitants to people a small town. As we proceed along the quay, we have a good view of the Pont d'Austerlitz, it is quite flat, built of iron, and is extremely light and handsome.

Upon our right is the great attraction, so interesting to all nations, the Garden of Plants; the first view of it through the iron railing is most striking, rows of sable looking trees, forming a fine contrast to the broad expansive beds of flowers, their gay colours blooming forth so thickly as to resemble at some distance the brightest and richest carpet; broad walks are between these brilliant masses; at the end of which is the building which contains the Museum of natural History; to give the reader anything like an accurate idea of this establishment, it is necessary to exercise one's ability in condensing to the utmost degree, as to furnish a comprehensive analysis of the wonders of this institution would require a folio volume. I knew an English couple who took lodgings in the immediate neighbourhood for three months that they might go every day and study the numberless interesting objects this establishment contains. The long promenades are formed by picturesque trees and shrubs which have been collected from every clime; the immense number of labels, as one approaches more closely, rather disfigure the display of flowers, but as usefulness is the object, it is impossible otherwise than to approve the extreme order and regularity with which every plant, according to its genus, is classified, affording a most delectable treat to a regular botanist. This arrangement has been effected under the superintendence of Monsieur du Jussieu himself, no doubt one of the most scientific botanists thatever has appeared; his residence and that of his family was in the gardens, when I was in Paris twenty years back, and I believe some of them still are concerned in the botanical arrangements of the institution.

The tremendous vocabulary of long latin names inscribed on the labels is really enough to appal the most retentive memory that ever existed, and to a person who has never dipped at all into the mysteries of botany I can imagine the terms are rather alarming, words with nineteen letters in them are but trifles compared to others, and a regular John Bull who was scanning them very justly remarked, pointing to the flowers, that it was certainly a favoured spot of Flora, and then alluding to the fruits observed the same of Pomona, but added, he should like very much to know who was the goddess of hard words as he would recommend her to descend upon the same beds, as she would there find a more numerous progeny than either of her rival goddesses. I believe that there are now nearly 10,000 plants arranged according to the system of De Jussieu, in the most simple and perfect manner, so that the student is enabled at once to comprehend the plan, and numbers of both sexes attend even as early as six in the morning copying the names of plants and studying their classification. Although this establishment is called the Garden of Plants, it has many other objects of the highest interest besides what its name indicates. It is at the same time a most extensive menagerie, which first gave the idea that has since been adopted of the Zoological Gardens in Regent's Park; formerly the arrangement exceedingly interested and delighted the English visiter, but now that he has the same thing at home, it has ceased to be a novelty. Each animal having plenty of room to walk about in, was certainly a beautiful thought, and great improvement on confining them in cages, which is now only found necessary with ferocious animals. The bears form a great source of amusement to the people, they are in large square pits about ten or twelve feet below the level of the promenades, and each has a large pole in the middle, with several branches upon which they climb, whilst the visiters throwing bread to them are exceedingly diverted at their successful or unsuccessful attempts to catch it. It would be superfluous to enter upon a description of the great variety of animals assembled in this collection, suffice it to say that I believe there is no living animal who can exist in a Parisian climate, that is not to be found in this garden; generally there are several of a kind, and in case one dies it is immediately replaced by another. The monkeys are the principal objects of attraction, and as soon as they are let out into their little paddock in front of their dwellings, which is only when the day is considered sufficiently warm, crowds of people assemble to witness their grimaces and gambols; they and the bears may be considered as the principal dramatis personæ of the menagerie, and who certainly perform their parts most admirably, never failing to afford the utmost entertainment to the audience: and it is indeed a sort of rivalry between Jocko and Bruin which should play their rôle the best; for my own part I really think I give the preference to the latter, there is something at once so comic and so good natured-looking in the bears, that I feel almost inclined to descend into their pits and caress and pet them as I would a favourite dog, but am only deterred by fearing they would give me a reception rather too warm, and their friendly hug be too overpowering for me to sustain.

There are several buildings in this garden which are applied to various purposes, amongst the rest an Amphitheatre where lectures on all the branches of natural history are delivered. A Cabinet of Anatomy most richly stored occupies one mansion; dissections of the human form, as well as those of almost every animal are here found, besides numerous other curiosities. Amongst other things the progress of a chicken in the egg is exemplified, from its first speck until it has life, which is imitated with the most extraordinary exactness in wax, as also are several fishes which cannot be preserved, besides a numerous collection of fœti and monsters. To see these things properly; would require to pass several days in these rooms; but a week would not suffice to do justice to the grand Museum, every description of bird and beast that has been known to exist in our days may be found here stuffed, and preserved in glass cases with the nicest care; it appears strange to see an enormous elephant and a tall ostrich within a glass case. Here also are to be found every species of fungus, chrysalis, sea-weed, eggs, and nests. But the shells, minerals, and fossils, form so extraordinary and numerous a collection that they are the subject of admiration of every beholder; the polish of the shells, the brilliance of the colours of the plumage of the birds, and the glossy smoothness of the skins of the beasts are as perfect as if they were living, but the same cannot exactly be said of the fishes. The marbles, porphyry, and granite, the lava, basaltes, barks of trees, bones of animals known and unknown, some within stones, are arranged by the celebrated Cuvier, whilst the ores, crystals, jaspers, and extraordinary varieties of ornamental articles formed of these materials occupy several apartments.

In addition to all these objects of high interest, there is a most excellent library, giving every possible information regarding the contents of this delightful establishment; a statue of the great illustrator of the wonders of nature, Buffon, is here most appropriately placed, as also some paintings of plants and animals. Hence it may be easily imagined that persons who have much leisure, and are fond of the study of natural history, may well choose to take up their abode in the neighbourhood, for the convenience of long poring over the beauties of this wonderful Museum. From hence other schools of botany are supplied with seeds, cuttings, suckers, etc., whilst the hospitals of Paris are gratuitously furnished with whatever is requisite for the purposes of medicine; nor must I omit to state that there is a most beautiful aviary, the birds of which are choice selections of the finest of their species, and for those of an aquatic nature, there is a basin of water from the Seine. Even specimens of soils, manures, ditches, ha-has, palisades, frames, and every thing necessary for forming fences are to be found here in every variety. Even to persons who have no scientific information nor desire to obtain knowledge, to walk in the Jardin-des-Plantes (Garden of Plants) affords delight, the number of attractions are such, and of so varied a description that even the dullest mind must be awakened to a sense of pleasure, yet some persons I have seen who regarded all the phenomena collected here with the most stoical indifference; the fact is, that a number of people will not take the trouble to think, and lose the enjoyment they might receive from the wonders of nature; how different if they would but devote to them a little reflexion.

With our minds still deeply impregnated with the impression of the objects we have just contemplated, we will leave the garden, and turning round to the right, we find ourselves upon the Boulevard de l'Hôpital, just facing the Hôpital de la Salpêtrière, which makes up 500 beds for females, who are lunatics, idiots, otherwise diseased, or 70 years of age; it is of immense extent, and conducted with so much order, and such cleanliness prevails both with regard to the inmates and the establishment itself, that it may be considered one of the most gratifying sights in Paris; in fact I have heard many English ladies, much to their credit, declare that not any of the interesting objects which they had seen in the French capital, afforded them more pleasure and satisfaction. Just near it is the terminus for the Orleans railway, which is worthy of observation, and then we will cross over to the horse and dog market and observe the regular system with regard to the stalls and other arrangements which are adopted; it is principally for draught-horses, Wednesdays and Saturdays are the market days, and Sundays for dogs. We must next glance at the Hôpital de la Pitié, founded in 1612 for paupers, it has been since annexed to the Hôtel-Dieu, and contains 600 beds; it is situated No. 1, rue Copeau. Sainte-Pélagie being just by in the Rue de la Clef, we ought to afford it a half hour; it was formerly a convent of nuns, political prisoners are now here confined when committed for trial, or if sentenced to but short terms of imprisonment; it is also appropriated for other offenders whose sentence of confinement is of brief duration, but the military surveillance within and around it is very strict.

The Fountain Cuvier, at the corner of the street of that name, and the Rue St. Victor, must claim a few minutes' attention; it is certainly one amongst those of modern erection possessing great merit. In the Rue Scipion we will cast one look at the great bakehouse for all the hospitals in Paris, to which I have before alluded. The Amphitheatre of Anatomy must occupy some attention, being a suite of anatomical schools only recently built, on a most commodious scale; it forms a corner of the Rues du Fer and Fossés St. Marcel. One thought in passing the ancient Cimetière de Ste. Catherine, closed in 1815, must be devoted to Pichegru, who lies buried there; we then hurry on without loss of time to the manufacture of the Gobelin tapestry. As the little river Bièvre is considered to be peculiarly adapted for dyeing, that process has been carried on from a very remote period on the spot where the present establishment now stands, which owes its foundation to Jean Gobelin in 1450, and under Louis the Fourteenth it was formed into a royal manufactory. To me this is indeed one of the greatest wonders of Paris, how such beautiful specimens of art can be produced when the work is all done behind the frame, so that the artist cannot see the effect of what he is doing, is to me most miraculous; the material used is woollen and silken threads, so woven together, that a perfectly smooth surface is produced, having all the softness and gradation of tints to be found in the finest oil painting, without that glare which varnish produces; the execution of these works is attended by a most tedious application, requiring sometimes six years to complete one piece, which, at 18,000 francs, about seven hundred pounds, is not adequate to recompensing the workmen equal to their merit and perseverance; about 120 men are constantly employed, principally for the Government or the Royal Family.

Attached to this establishment is the Royal Carpet Manufactory; such as are here produced are considered superior to those of Persia, with regard to the evenness of the surface, the strength, durability, and fineness of the workmanship, the beauty of the designs, and the brilliance of the colours, which are such as can never be surpassed, but if they were ever allowed to be sold, the price would be so enormous that some would amount to 150,000 francs (6000l.) The accuracy with which the pictures of Rubens have been copied is most extraordinary, as it may be said that the operative works in the dark. One carpet has been produced for the Gallery of the Louvre, consisting of seventy-two pieces, forming a total exceeding 1,300 feet which is supposed to be the largest carpet ever made. The same facility exists for foreigners seeing this exhibition, as with all others, the passport being presented, Wednesdays and Saturdays, from one to three in winter, and from two to four in the summer.

A curious old house, termed the Maison de St. Louis or de la Reine Blanche, is worth notice, in the Rue des Marmouzets; it may have been inhabited by a queen of that name, but certainly not the mother of St. Louis, as it is not sufficiently ancient, being of about the time of Charles the Seventh, when it was the rage to build houses in that style of architecture, about the period of from 1440 to 1460. The church of St. Medard, in the Rue Mouffetard, offers nothing remarkable, but a mixture of different styles of architecture, according to the epochs at which it was repaired and embellished; in 1561 a tremendous attack was made upon it by the Calvinists, when several of the congregation were killed, and the Abbé Paris, having been buried in the cemetery attached in 1727, his tomb, it is pretended, had certain convulsions in 1730, and was the origin of the sect called convulsionists, and the scenes which occurred caused the cemetery to be closed in 1732. A picture of St. Genenieve, by Watteau, in the chapel of that saint, must be admired, having much merit. In the Rue de l'Oursine, No. 95, is an hospital which is a refuge for sinning and afflicted females (something in the nature of the Magdalen, in London), containing 300 beds. To the fountain of Bacchus, at the corner of the Rue Censier, we will give a look en passant, as also to the School of Pharmacy, formerly a convent, in the garden of which was formed the first botanical garden, in 1580; there is here a cabinet of specimens of drugs and a collection of mineralogy worthy of examination; it is situated in the Rue de l'Arbalète, No. 13.

The Hôpital Militaire and Church of the Val de Grâce is in the Rue St. Jacques (vide page 96) and is one which particularly merits attention of the visiter; the vault of the dome is painted upon the stone by Mignard, and is justly celebrated as one of the most splendid frescos in France; the heart of Anne of Austria, the foundress of it, was sent here, as also those of many succeeding members of the Royal Family. The interior of the church is much admired for the richness of its architecture. At No. 3, Rue de la Bourbe, is the Lying-in Hospital, formerly the Abbey of Port Royal, containing 445 beds; any woman, eight months advanced in pregnancy, is admitted, if there be room to receive her, without an inquiry, if she be in distress; she enters into an engagement to support the child, and if she cannot fulfil it, she must make a declaration and it is sent to the Foundling Hospital, but if she retain it, clothing and a small sum of money is given her on quitting the hospital. A school for midwifery is established here, the practitioners being females, who, when considered competent, receive a diploma from the physicians who are appointed judges.

Just by this establishment is the Observatory, erected in the reign of Louis XV; it is a most curious piece of architecture, having in it neither wood nor iron; it is not a large building, but has a fine appearance, and Perrault was the architect; it is vaulted throughout, and a geometrical staircase, having a vacuity of 170 feet deep, merits particular notice. There is a circular universal chart upon the pavement of one of the apartments. By means of mechanical arrangements the roof and cupola open, and every night, the weather permitting, astronomical observations are taken. M. Arago, the most celebrated astronomer of France, lectures here, where there is every facility, and every instrument to be found requisite for the promotion of the science of astronomy; there are two pluvia-meters, for ascertaining the quantity of rain that falls in Paris during a year. There is a general map of France, called the Carte de Cassini, containing 182 sheets, a marble statue of Cassini (the author of the work) attests the high estimation in which he was held; he died in 1712, aged eighty-seven. This institution is the just admiration of all scientific men from every civilized part of the world, but it is an astronomer alone who can thoroughly appreciate its merits.

The little hospital, founded by M. Cochin, in 1780, being just by No. 45, Rue du Faubourg St. Jacques, may claim our hasty look, it contains 114 beds, and the patients receive the attendance of the Sœurs de St. Marthe. At No. 9, Rue des Capucins, Faubourg St. Jacques, is an hospital for men and youths above fifteen, whose excesses have brought on disease; it is styled Hôpital des Vénériens, and contains 300 beds; the attendants are all males.

Near to the Barrière d'Enfer is the entrance to the Catacombs, containing the bones of 3,000,000 persons which are all systematically arranged so as to have the most extraordinary effect; they are formed into galleries of an immense length, and occupy a considerable space of ground under a great portion of Paris, on the south side of the Seine; but now they cease to be such objects of interest as they formerly were, as the public are not now permitted to visit them; they were formerly large quarries from which the stone was drawn for building most part of ancient Paris, and when it was decided to clear many of the cemeteries within the capital, the bones were placed in these quarries in 1784, and the operation of piling them as they now are was effected in 1810. In the Rue d'Enfer, No. 86, is the Infirmary of Marie Thérèse, founded by Madame la Vicomtesse de Chateaubriand, in 1819, named after the Duchess d'Angoulême, its protectress; it is destined for females who have moved in respectable society, the accommodations and food being far better than are found in the generality of hospitals; the establishment consists of fifty beds. At the Barrière of St. Jacques, the guillotine is erected when criminals are to be executed. Beyond the Barrière d'Enfer, on the Orleans road, No. 15, is the Hôpital de la Rochefoucauld; it is devoted to the reception of old servants of hospitals, and other aged persons, it also receives poor persons on their paying, according to circumstances, 200 francs a-year, or upwards, or on paying a sum on entering varying from 700 to 3000 francs. The number of beds is 213.

As we descend the Rue d'Enfer, we find, at No. 74, the Foundling Hospital, founded by the good and celebrated St. Vincent de Paule, in 1632. Any child is received at this institution on the mother making a declaration that she has not the means of supporting it, when she receives a certificate signed by a commissary of police; the average number admitted in the last two or three years is rather over three thousand; they are attended by the Sœurs de Charité (Sisters of Charity) in the most praiseworthy manner; in the same building is the Orphans' Hospital, where the children are placed when two years of age, and of poor persons who fall ill and are obliged to go to an hospital, the children may be sent here until the parents are cured. The children are all taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, and are placed to various trades at the proper ages; they are treated with the greatest care and kindness, it is open to visiters, and the sight of it produces the most heartfelt gratification; many of the most respectable members of society have come from this institution. Turning into the Rue de Faubourg St. Jacques, at the corner of the Rue des Deux Eglises, is the institution for the Deaf and Dumb, founded by the benevolent Abbé de l'Epée, who, with only 500l. a-year, took the charge of maintaining and educating forty deaf and dumb pupils, whom he taught to write and read, even on the most abstruse subjects.

The Abbé Sicard followed up the plan to the highest perfection; 80 pupils are now admitted gratis and are brought up to different trades, others pay according to their means; the Chambers grant generally 4,000l. a year to this institution. At No. 67, Rue d'Enfer, is the Convent of the Carmelites, where Mademoiselle de La Vallière, the beautiful favourite of Louis XIV, took the veil. The church of St. Jacques-du-Haut-Pas, which is at the opposite corner, offers nothing very remarkable, the first stone was laid in 1630, by Gaston of Orleans, brother to Louis XIII. Four fine paintings of Saints however are worthy of notice.

The Pantheon, formerly the church of Sainte Genevieve, stands to the left as we descend the rue St. Jacques, and strikes upon the eye as a most noble and imposing building; it was Louis XV who laid the first stone in 1764, near the spot where stood the ancient but ruined church of St. Genevieve. It is affirmed that he was persuaded by Madame de Pompadour to erect this monument as a thanksgiving after his having had a severe illness. The architect was Soufflot, the style is purely Grecian. Twenty-two fluted Corinthian columns, 60 feet in height and 6 in diameter, sustain the portico, and 32 the great dome, above which is a lantern terminated by a figure in bronze 17 feet high. There is a great deal of sculpture about the building, some allegorical, others portraiture; its total height is 282 feet. The exterior is in the form of a Grecian cross. The paintings are by the Barons Gros, and Gerard; although a most noble structure, yet it is not consistently grand in all its bearings. Monuments of the great men of France are now erected here; and amongst the rest the immortal Lafayette. The stranger is recommended to ascend the dome, from which a most amusing view is afforded. The vaults beneath are extremely curious and interesting; whatever the faults of this edifice may be, there is a solemnity about it which takes great possession of the mind, particularly when there is a funeral and the light of the torches are seen glimmering amongst the priests in the "long drawn aisle," as they slowly and solemnly wend their way.

In the Rue des Postes, No. 26, is the seminary for young men destined for missionaries to the colonies; a bas relief representing a missionary preaching, above the pediment of the church, is the only striking object. At No. 3, Rue de Fourcy, is the Irish college, rather a handsome building, with some trees about it which add to the effect. Many Irish of distinction are buried here and it is still kept up, there being about 100 students; the regulations are the same as in the English Universities, about 25 priests are sent out from here to their own country every year. In the rue des Fossés St. Victor is the Scotch College (vide page 78), it is now a sort of school, but the tablet over the door with Collége des Ecossais inscribed still remains, and there are many interesting monuments of Scotch nobility. Next door is the Convent of English Augustin Nuns, the only religious house never molested during the Revolution; it contains a small chapel with some English tombs, the inmates now occupy themselves with the education of their young countrywomen. At the back of the Pantheon, rather to the south-east, is the very curious and interesting church of St. Etienne-du-Mont; it is an odd mixture of styles of architecture, a tower and circular turret which are detached from the church, are supposed to be of the date 1222; a staircase of most singular construction and of peculiar lightness is the first object which strikes the spectator on entering; there is a great deal of richness and scroll work, with some Arabic, Greek and Gothic styles intermingled. Some of the pictures in this church are exceedingly good, and are by Lebrun and Lesueur. The pulpit is supported by Sampson, and there are other smaller figures, the whole having a beautiful effect; the design is by La Hire, and executed by Lestocard, it is altogether a church of high interest, often the subject of the modern artists' pencils. There is a tomb which was found in the vaults beneath, which is said to be that of St. Genevieve, and bears the date of 511.

The library of St. Genevieve is close by, and besides containing 200,000 volumes, and 2,500 manuscripts, it possesses other objects of interest, being a series of portraits from Philippe the Bold to Louis the XV, and one of Mary Queen of Scots. This library belongs to the Collége Henry IV, which on the side towards the Rue Clovis is very modern, but the lower part of the curious old tower is supposed to have been built in the reign of Clovis. The young princes of the reigning family in France were educated at this College, there are 907 pupils, of whom 500 are boarders. The École de Droit which stands in front of the Pantheon was also erected in the reign of Louis XV, and Souflot, the architect. At No. 123, is the Collége de Louis-le-Grand, formerly the Collége de Clermont, founded in 1560, but the present building was erected in 1618; it contains 1,180 pupils, of whom 520 are boarders. It possesses a large library, and a good collection of philosophical instruments. Behind this College, in the Rue de Rheims, at the corner of the Rue des Chollets, a gateway and building of the time of Francis I. is worth attention, supposed to belong to the old Collége des Chollets. The Royal College of France, situated No. 1, Place Cambrai, was founded in 1529, by Francis I, but the present edifice was erected in 1774. It is a spacious building and very commodious, 23 professors attend and give gratuitous lectures upon almost every subject, whether scientific or literary, and particularly upon languages, both ancient and modern, Oriental and European. In a court opposite the college is a very curious square tower of the 12th century, called la Tour Bichat, or la Tour de St. Jean-de-Latran; it is all that is remaining of the Hall of Knights Hospitaliers, established in 1171, afterwards called Chevaliers de Malte.

The remains of a chapel of very ancient date will be found in the adjoining Cour de la Vacherie, in the far corner to the right, now occupied as a charcoal depot. We will next proceed to the rue de la Montagne St. Genevieve, and view the Polytechnic School, formerly the Collége de Navarre, and where still remain a hall and chapel of the 14th century; a new façade much less interesting has been recently added, and the establishment is altogether badly situated. There are many emblematical bas-reliefs which possess no extraordinary merit. But the institution itself is one that deserves the highest encomiums, the young men are received at from 17 to 20, after they have passed the ordeal of a very severe examination in Paris or their respective departments. They are instructed in every branch of education connected with military science, and are afterwards admissible in the engineers, artillery, pontooners, miners, inspectors of highways, public works, etc; they pay 1,000 francs a year, find their own uniforms, and whatever may be requisite for their studies; they remain two or three years, as circumstances may demand. Strangers wishing to view this establishment must have a permission from the Minister of War.

The Rue des Carmes has an interesting appearance as containing some of the old colleges, now otherwise appropriated. One was the College de Lisieux; the buildings remain with a curious chapel, which fronts the Marché des Carmes, but its entrance is at No. 5, Rue St. Jean-de-Beauvais. In the Market there is a fountain in the middle built in 1818; this Market is now designated la Place Maubert, and occupies the site of the Convent des Carmes. Mounting a few steps in the Rue St. Victor, we arrive at the church of St. Nicholas-du-Chardonnet; the body of the building was completed in 1709, but the lower is of the 16th century. The general effect of the interior is fine, but the paintings in different chapels, on either side, are highly interesting; some of them are extremely good, of the schools of Lesueur, Moise Valentin, and Mignard, the ceiling of the chapel of St. Charles is painted by Lebrun; there is also a monument of himself and his mother. At No. 68, Rue St-Victor is the Royal Institution for the juvenile Blind, founded by M. Haüy in 1791. There are here maintained 60 boys and 30 girls, at the expense of the State, and as boarders, any blind children may be admitted, either French or foreign; they are taught reading, music, arithmetic, and writing, by means of characters raised in relief. Admittance is freely accorded to strangers, but the establishment is about to be removed to the corner of the Rue de Sèvres, on the Boulevard des Invalides, where 250 pupils will be accommodated. At No. 18, Rue de Pontoise, is the seminary of St. Nicholas du Chardonnet, and at No. 76, the ancient College of Cardinal Lemoine, founded in 1300; some parts of the original building exist, and on the doors are still seen a cardinal's hat and arms, and numerous iron spear-heads. Close by, in the Marché aux Veaux, is still one of the dormitories of the Convent of the Bernardins, which must be of the 13th century, as also some remains of their chapel, in a house adjoining the Market. On the Quai de la Tournelle, No. 35, is the Hôtel de Nesmond, of the reign of Henry IV, and at No. 5, the Pharmacie Centrale, for keeping all the drugs and chemical preparations for the hospitals of Paris.

The Rue de Fouarre, by which we will pass, is one of the meanest and filthiest in Paris, but has been cited by Petrarch, Dante and Rabelais, as in it were several of the schools where public disputations were held; the Rue Galande, the Rue des Rats, and many other dirty streets of the same description is the quarter where existed the old University, and still known by the name of the Quartier Latin.

Thus having completed our survey, which I shall call the south-east division, we will proceed to the south-west, and begin by the church of St. Severin at No. 3, in the street of the same name, called after a hermit who died in the year 530, but had on this spot an oratory and cells, where he conferred the monastic habit on St. Cloud. The present building was erected in 1210, in the reign of Philippe Auguste, has been repaired and enlarged at several different periods, which is perceptible by the different styles displayed in the architecture; there is a great deal of elaborate workmanship about this church that is exceedingly beautiful and interesting, the lower part of the tower is coeval with its first erection; a few good pictures of the old French school are amongst the attractive objects contained within this edifice.

Ascending the little unseemly streets des Prétres and Boutebrie, we find ourselves in the Rue du Foin, No. 18, being called the Hôtel de la Reine Blanche; she was living about the year 1210, when the church of St. Severin close by was founded in the reign of her father-in-law, and very probably resided in the neighbourhood, perhaps on the very spot where the house stands which is now called after her, but evidently not in the same building which is now shown as such, although the staircase is of a very ancient appearance.

In the same street, at the corner of the Rue Boutebrie, is the old Collége de Maître Gervais, founded in 1370, at present appropriated as a barrack for infantry. The visiter now must prepare for a grand treat, as we turn round into the Rue de la Harpe, and at No. 63, we find the venerable and crumbling remains of the Palais des Thermes (vide page 55). Julian, who was born in 332, inhabited it for some time, and many imagine it was built by his grandfather, but others state that it was alluded to at a still earlier period. Of what now remains there is principally a large hall and a smaller, forming together one room; the architecture is simple but noble, the walls are adorned by three grand arcades, the middle being the loftiest. The vaulting of the roof rests upon supports, representing the sterns of ships; human figures may be distinguished in one of them. Beneath the hall are vaulted apartments extending under most of the neighbouring houses. An aqueduct is traced as having been brought from some leagues, for the purpose it is supposed principally of supplying the baths. The masonry is alternately of stone and brick, in parts covered with a thick stucco. It seems almost incredible that a monument so ancient, and of such high interest should have been for so long a period totally disregarded by the government, and suffered to be occupied by a printer, a traiteur, and a cooper. The Municipality of Paris have now however purchased it, and intend to convert it into a museum for the reception of antiquities that can be collected of the ancient Gauls. After the overthrow of the Roman yoke, the Palais des Thermes was inhabited by the earliest kings of France. To view these ruins the stranger must apply to the concierge, No. 68, Rue de la Harpe, directly opposite, and a trifle should be given to the party showing them.

The Hôtel de Cluny which is almost adjoining, is also an object highly meriting the attention of the observer. It is one of those edifices of the middle ages, of which there are so few remaining. In 1505, in the reign of Louis the Twelfth, this curious building was erected by Jacques d'Amboise, Abbot of Cluny, on the site and with a part of the ruins of the Palais des Thermes. There is a richness about the architecture and the ornaments around the windows, that is particularly striking; the chapel is most highly interesting, and in it was married Princess Mary, the widow of Louis the Twelfth, and sister of Henry VIII, to the duke of Suffolk, as also James V of Scotland to Magdalen, daughter of Francis I. Having at length become the property of M. Sommérard, all the value of his acquisition is duly appreciated, and he has formed within this curious and beautiful edifice, a collection of specimens of the middle ages, which are arranged chronologically; he is the author of a most interesting work on the subject which may be procured upon the premises. The stranger will find a visit to the Hôtel de Cluny one of the most gratifying of any he can bestow, and on writing to M. Sommérard, he may be certain of procuring admission. Following the Rue St. Benoît, we arrive at the Theatre du Pantheon, Rue St. Jacques, opened in 1832; it is partly formed by the church St. Benoît anciently that of St. Benedict built in 1517, much famed during the ligue, where the assassination of Henri III was applauded by Jean Boucher in his sermons. The performances are vaudevilles and melodramas. Highest price two shillings, lowest six-pence.

We now re-enter the Rue de la Harpe, and notice the Royal College St. Louis, originally founded by Raoul Harcourt in 1280; the present building was erected in 1675, but part of the ancient edifice exists, the greater portion of the structure was built in 1814; and the college opened in 1820. There is a chapel attached, and at the lower end a gateway, formerly the entrance to the Collége de Bayeux, founded in 1308, which bears an inscription to that effect, and probably of the same date. A very few steps bring us to the Collége de la Sorbonne, built on the site of a school founded by Robert Sorbon in 1253; it is filled with historical associations, the church and all about it has a very gloomy appearance, it is cruciform and of the corinthian order, surmounted by a dome the interior of which is painted by Philippe de Champagne. The tomb of Cardinal de Richelieu, in the southern transept, is the chef-d'œuvre of Gérardon. The college is a plain building of sombre aspect, but the accommodation for the professors is on a handsome scale; the lectures delivered are all gratuitous.

We will now proceed to the School of Medicine in the street bearing the same name. The first stone was laid by Louis XV, in 1769, it is a truly elegant building, a peristyle of the ionic order with a quadruple range of columns unite the two wings and support the library, and a fine cabinet of anatomy. The grand court is 66 feet in length by 96 in breadth, the amphitheatre which is opposite the entrance is capable of containing 1,400 people; there are several allegorical and emblematical bas-reliefs, and on the whole it is a building which excites much admiration both in an ornamental and in a useful point of view, there not being a single object that can in any manner facilitate the study of medicine that is not to be found within this institution. At No. 5, in the same street, is a gratuitous school of drawing, established in the ancient amphitheatre of surgery, chiefly intended for artisans, to instruct them in the principles of drawings and architecture, and lectures are given on geometry, mensuration, etc. Opposite to the École de Médecine, is the Hôpital clinique de la Faculté de Médecine, established in the cloister of the Cordeliers, of which there are some remains still visible; it is rather a handsome building and contains 140 beds. The body of the building is in the Rue de l'Observance. In the same street as the École de Médecine; is the Musée Dupuytren, being the valuable pathological collection of that celebrated anatomist, bought by the University of his heirs, and placed in the refectory of the Cordeliers which has been fitted up in the style of the 15th century, the date of its erection.

Adjoining to this Museum is the School of practical Anatomy, being a set of dissecting rooms for the use of the students. As we are so near I must conduct the visiter to the Rue Hautefeuille; on the west side is a house of the 16th century, which once belonged to a society of Premonstratensian monks. In the same street, Nos. 23, 13, 9 and 5, and at the corner of the Rue du Paon and Rue de l'École de Médecine, the houses have ancient turrets, and are stated to have been built in the reign of Charles VII. In the house, No. 18, of the latter street, in a dirty backroom, Charlotte Corday stabbed that beau idéal of monsters, Marat. We will now make our way to the Rue d'Enfer, and at No. 34 is the Hôtel de Vendôme, at present the royal School of Mines; this noble mansion was erected in 1707 by the Carthusian monks, but being purchased by the Duchess of Vendôme was called after her. Every description of tool or instrument used in mining will here be found, and perhaps the extensive mineralogical collection is unrivalled anywhere in Europe, and arranged in the most scientific manner by M. Haüy, with a ticket attached to each explanatory of their quality and locality. The geological specimens have been collected by Messrs. Cuvier and Bronguiart; weeks might be passed in this museum by those partial to studying mineralogy, geology, and conchology, and subjects for examination and meditation would still not be exhausted. We will now turn into the gardens of the Luxembourg Palace; they are in the true French stiff style, but look at them in a slanting direction and all the formality is lost; the statues are seen intermingled with the trees, shrubs, flowers, parterres, walks, vases, fountains, etc. and the coup-d'œil has a most beautiful effect, and some of the retired walks amongst the high trees have a very inviting though solitary appearance.

The Palace (vide page 98) was erected by Marie de Medicis, and is now with the recent additions a very extensive building, and taken in a general sense is decidedly a very fine monument, but I certainly think the pillars being in such bad taste with large square knobs sticking out all the way up the columns, in a degree spoil the effect of the whole edifice, still there is a heavy grandeur in the ensemble which has an imposing appearance. After having been occupied by various royal personages, it was given by Louis the Sixteenth to his brother afterwards Louis XVIII, who resided in it until he quitted France in 1791; it has since been appropriated to many different purposes, and is now used as the Chamber of Peers; for their discussions a new apartment has been constructed 92 feet in diameter, the form is semi-circular. In the middle of the axis is a recess in which the president's and secretaries' seats are placed; above are a range of statues in recesses, the chairs of the peers are arranged in an amphitheatrical manner and occupy the space in front of the president; the peer who speaks takes his place below the president's desk.

There are altogether in this palace so many statues, apartments, sculpture and galleries to describe, that it would monopolise far too much space in my little volume if I were to attempt to do it justice. I must therefore content myself with advising the reader to take the first opportunity of viewing it with its beautiful gallery of pictures, many of which are the chefs-d'œuvre of the best living French artists. In the new divisions which have been lately constructed there are some fine specimens of painting from the pencils of Messrs. Delaroche, Scheffer, Boulanger, Roqueplan, etc., and the chambers voted 800,000 fr. (32,000 l.) for the artistical decorations of the recent erections added to the original building.

Le Petit Luxembourg is a large hotel contiguous and may be considered as a dependency of the great palace, it was built by Cardinal Richelieu who made it his residence whilst the Palais Royal was building, when he afterwards gave it to his niece the Duchess d'Aiguillon. It is now occupied by the Chancellor of France, as President of the House of Peers; it also contains a small prison for persons committed for political offences, and tried by the Court of Peers: the ministers of Charles X were here confined in 1830. In the same street, No. 70, is the Convent of the Carmelite Sisters, already mentioned, a portion of the building is still devoted to sacred purposes, the chapel is dedicated to St. Joseph, and of the Tuscan order, it was founded by Marie de Medicis. Here first began the massacres in Paris of the 2nd of September, 1792, when a number of priests here imprisoned were murdered. This is the convent which has long been famed for the Eau de Mélisse and Blanc des Carmes, which are still sold here.

At the southern gate of the Garden of the Luxembourg is the Jardin botanique de l'École de Médecine, where every medicinal plant agreeing with the climate is raised, and ticketed as classified by Jussieu.

The Odéon Theatre which is near the Luxembourg has been twice burnt down, but was finally restored in 1820; it is situated fronting the street, and in the place of the same name; it is certainly a very handsome building both as to the exterior and the interior, which is fitted up in a most superior style, but all exertions to render it successful seem in vain, although the present director has it rent free from the government; dramatic pieces in general are here represented, but its situation prevents its ever being much frequented; the principal front having a portico of eight doric columns ascended by nine steps has a fine effect; it is capable of containing 1,600 persons.

A very few steps bring us to the magnificent church of St. Sulpice. Although the first stone was laid by Anne of Austria, in 1655, it was not totally finished until 1777. The portico, by Servadoni, is splendid; the two towers not being similar, rather spoil the effect, but the interior baffles all description to do it justice; a simplicity and grandeur pervades the whole, which is heightened by a soft light thrown upon the Virgin directly behind the altar, who appears to be descending midst the lightest clouds upon the earth, to which she presents her son. The corinthian order prevails throughout the interior, the statues are bold and finely conceived, some of the paintings are exquisite, that of the ceiling, particularly. Two immense shells, placed within the entrance, for containing holy water, resting on rocks of marble, were presented to Francis I, by the Republic of Venice. The pulpit is supported by two flights of steps, with the figures of Faith, Hope, and Charity, producing a most splendid appearance. The organ is ornamented with no less than seventeen figures playing on musical instruments, or sustaining cornucopies carved in the most perfect manner. The pillars on the different sides of this edifice comprise the four orders of doric, ionic, corinthian, and composite. I cannot conceive a more sublime and delightful sensation than that which is caused when the first low notes of the organ begin to swell; the aisles being extremely lofty and vaulted, the sound appears gradually to peal through the building with a degree of softness which seems as if it came from a considerable distance, and has a most extraordinary and enchanting effect. We will now quit this noble edifice by the grand front, and looking to the left cast an instant's glance upon a large plain building, which is the Seminary of St. Sulpice, and has 210 students.

Descending the Rue Mabillon a few paces, we come to the Market St. Germains, where formerly flourished the great fair under the same name. It was built in 1811 on a most commodious plan, and has every requisite that can be thought of for the convenience of a market, with an extremely handsome fountain in the middle, which the visiter should not omit to observe. Quitting the Market by the Rue Montfaucon brings us in front of the prison of the Abbaye, in the Rue St. Marguerite, now only used for confining military offenders; here it was that some of the greatest horrors were committed during the Revolution, it has a small turret at each corner, and seems to be a building of about two hundred years standing. Not many yards off is the very ancient church of St. Germain des Près (vide page 61), which has often been pillaged, burnt, and otherwise injured, but the lower part of the tower is coeval with the foundation, 558. The document relative to the establishment of the monastery and church is still preserved amongst the archives of the kingdom, and bears the date 561. The nave is simple and of the time of Abbot Modardus, in the year 900; additions and repairs have been made at different periods, but in many instances the style of architecture displays its early date, the capitals of the pillars are remarkable for the grotesqueness of the devices. There are some pictures of merit, and many interesting tombs, one of Casimir, the King of Poland, who abdicated his throne in 1668, and died abbot of the monastery attached to the church in 1672, also of the Duke and Earls of Douglas and Angus. The Abbot's palace still stands at the east of the church, in the Rue de l'Abbaye, directly facing the Rue Furstemberg; it was built in the year 1586 by Cardinal Bourbon. It is a large heavy-looking red brick building faced with stone, with a large garden behind; it is at present let out to different tenants.

We shall now descend the Rue Furstemberg, and taking the Rue Jacob, to the right shall get into the Rue de Seine, and mounting the little Passage du Pont-Neuf, one of the oldest in Paris, we find ourselves opposite the Rue Guénégaud cited by Sterne, as also the Quai Conti, on which stands the Mint or Hôtel des Monnaies, a very extensive building and rather handsome; it was built in the reign of Louis XV in 1771, after designs furnished by M. Antoine; an entablature supported by ionic columns forms the principal front, with six statues of Peace, Commerce, Prudence, Fortitude, Plenty and Law. On the right is a noble staircase ascending to apartments fitted up with the splendour of a palace. The collection of coins and medals here are extremely interesting, the first are two of Childebert, the dates being 511-568, and they are nearly complete of the respective kings up to the present day, amongst others are some of the gold pieces of 10 louis, each of the reign of Louis XIII, very large and beautiful. A medal of Charlemagne of most exquisite execution, and others of almost every country or celebrated monarch or chief, with a collection of the ores in their mineral state, every instrument used for coining and in fact every object appertaining to such an establishment, which would demand much space and time to describe, and a work is written solely on the subject. This interesting museum is open to foreigners with their passports on Mondays and Thursdays, from twelve till three.

Contiguous and on the western side stands the Palais of the Institute, or as we should call it the Royal Academy. It was founded by Cardinal Mazarin in 1661, from designs by Levau. The segment of a circle describes the front, whilst pavillions upon open arcades terminate the extremities, a portico in the centre with corinthian colums surmounted by a pediment, whilst a dome crowns the summit, and vases upon the entablature combine to give it a fine effect. In the great hall of this building the members of the Academy hold their sittings; the vestibules are adorned by marble statues of men whose intellectual powers have rendered their names renowned throughout the world, as Montesquieu, Molière, Corneille, Racine, Sully, etc., etc. The Mazarine library is attached to this institution and contains 120,000 printed volumes besides 4,500 manuscripts. There is also under the same establishment the library of the Institute, which includes 115,000 volumes; in the gallery in which they are contained is a marble statue of Voltaire, by Pigale, highly celebrated for its execution. This building was for some time called the Palais des Quatre-Nations, as the founder at first designed it for natives of Roussillon, Pignerol, Alsace, and Flanders. The subjects discussed within the halls of this institution are the Belles-Lettres, the fine Arts, moral and political Sciences, etc. Persons desiring tickets for the meetings of the members must inscribe their names at the office of the secretary of the Institute. Directly opposite is a light elegant bridge, called the Pont-des-Arts, it is constructed of iron and is merely for foot passengers.

Passing to the Quai Voltaire we turn into the Rue des Petits-Augustins, and stop before the front of the Palais and École des Beaux-Arts, or School of fine Arts; this is one of the many institutions which exist in Paris requiring a volume to describe all its beauties and utility, there are a great number of professors belonging to the establishment which is divided into two sections, the one for sculpture and painting, the other for architecture, both of which the pupils are taught, and when they excel, receive annual prizes. The present building was erected upon the garden of the Convent of the Petits Augustins, but there are still some remains of antiquity, which are rather strangely intermingled with the modern erection, as the front of a château at Gaillon built in 1,500 and transported here by M. Lenoir, who collected together on this spot relicks of the middle ages, which are now again dispersed to the great regret of every resident or visiter in Paris. There is also the portal of the Château-d'Anet built by Henri II for Diana of Poitiers, with many other objects extremely curious; amongst the rest a large stone basin from the Abbey of St. Denis, 12 feet in diameter, ornamented with grotesque heads, said to be a single piece of stone, some letters upon it prove that it must be of the 13th century, and many other fragments over which the antiquary likes to pore. Here every aid is given to the young artist, that can facilitate his progress in his art, and he who is adjudged to have painted the best piece upon a subject given, is sent to Rome to study three years, at the expense of the government. The visiter will here find paintings, sculpture, models, and in fact, every thing connected with the fine arts. He must also visit the ancient chapel of the convent, containing a most beautiful screen of stone and marble, and on the walls are some very good paintings: Mr. Ingres, perhaps the most celebrated draftsman now existing, made a present to this institution of fifty pictures, copies he had executed at his expense in the Vatican, from Raphael. Foreigners must apply with their passports for admission at the office to the right on entering.

We return on the Quay and remark the Pont du Carousel, an iron bridge of three arches of an elegant construction, it was built by a company, who have laid a toll both on foot and carriage passengers. No. 1, Rue de Beaune, on the same quay, is the hôtel where Voltaire resided, and died in 1788. His nephew, M. de Villette, and afterwards Madame de Montmorenci, kept his apartments closed for forty-seven years. We must now ascend the Rue des Saints Pères, and in passing by, notice the Hôpital de la Charité, at the corner of the Rue Jacob, which has such a dismal appearance outside, that it almost makes one ill to look at it; indeed, to pass it often, one would soon be in a fit state to become one of its inmates; it was founded by Marie de Medicis, as a religious community, called Brothers of Charity, who were all surgeons and apothecaries, administering relief both for body and soul; it contains 426 beds. Besides those belonging to the medical and chemical school attached to it, there are several gardens in which the patients are allowed to walk; the same diseases are here treated as at the Hôtel Dieu, de la Pitié, etc. Turning to the right into the Rue St. Dominique, at the end of the second street on the north we shall see the church of St. Thomas d'Aquin; it was formerly a convent of Jacobins, founded by Cardinal Richelieu. The present front was built in 1787, by Brother Claude, one of the monks; it has two ranges of columns, doric and ionic, surmounted by a pediment with a bas-relief representing Religion, terminating with a cross. The interior is decorated with corinthian pilasters, the effect is altogether fine, the high altar is of white marble, and some of the pictures are extremely good; the nobility attend much at this church, and it is rather famed for its preachers. The Musée d'Artillerie is adjoining, and contains the armour worn from the earliest ages, as also the weapons which have been used, and those of different countries. Here will be found the armour of many heroes famed in the annals of chivalry, as Bayard, Dunois, Duguesclin, etc., and an equestrian figure of Francis I. There is also the helmet of Attila, who was slain by Clovis, in 453; another, on which are some verses from the Koran, of Abderama, killed by Charles Martel. The dagger with which Ravillac assassinated Henri IV, having a black crape round it. There are, besides, models of all kinds of machines connected with war; the armour of Joan of Arc will be regarded with interest, as also of many others whose names have been celebrated in history; a catalogue descriptive of every object is to be had at the door for one franc. There is a military library attached to the establishment, with naval charts, etc. Strangers are admitted on Thursdays and Saturdays, from twelve till four, with their passports.

A few steps take us into the Rue du Bac, which we will ascend to the Rue de Grenelle, and observe one of the finest fountains in Paris, erected after the designs of Bouchardon, in the reign of Louis XV, began 1739 and finished in 1745; it is most richly adorned by statues and allegorical subjects. At No. 120, Rue du Bac, is the church of St. Francois Xavier, or of Foreign Missionaries, it was built in 1683, consisting of two parts, one on the ground floor, and the other above, the lower is perfectly plain, the upper is of the ionic order; there are some good paintings of the French school of the period. Behind is the seminary for the instruction of young men intended as missionaries in the requisite sciences and languages. The worthy Abbé Edgeworth, the attendant of Louis XVI in his last moments, was one of the members of this institution.

Just by in the Rue de Babylone is a barrack for infantry, famed for the attack and defence carried on in the Revolution of the three days. In the rue Vanneau is a recently built house, a complete type of the style of Francis I. In the Rue de Varennes are several grand hôtels of the nobility of France, with their family names inscribed over the immense gateways; it is in fact one of the most interesting streets in Paris; amongst others, at No. 23, is the hôtel of the late Duchess de Bourbon, now belonging to Mme Adélaïde d'Orléans. No. 35, is the hôtel d'Orsay, recently restored and embellished, and several others of the same description. At the north-west corner of the street stands the hôtel de Biron, now converted into the celebrated convent and seminary of the Sacré Cœur (Sacred Heart), where so many daughters of the French, English and Irish catholic nobility have been brought up. No. 16, the offices of the Minister of Commerce, and No. 10, Rue Hillerin-Bertin, is the École royale des Ponts-et-Chaussées, established in 1747. The pupils, who are all taken from the Polytechnique, are instructed in every thing connected with the projection and construction of bridges, canals, ports and public works. Their collection of plans, maps, and models relative to these operations is very rich. But a few paces southward bring us facing the ancient convent of Panthémont, now used as a barrack for cavalry, forming the corner of the Rue de Belle-Chasse and that of the Rue de Grenelle; the chapel, which has a dome, is an interesting architectural object.

This is one of the aristocratic streets of Paris, where the most ancient families of France have their town residences; the Rue St. Dominique is of the same description, and many others in this neighbourhood, but in too many cases immense gateways and high walls are all that are to be seen in the streets, as the hotels are situated behind them at the end of large court-yards, similar to several houses in Piccadilly the most of which are now pulled down: on the west side of Cavendish square one is still standing (I believe Lord Harcourt's), and several others in different parts of the west end of the town. The most conspicuous hotels in the Rue St. Dominique, are those of the Duke de Lynes, No. 33, the hotel of the late Duchess Dowager of Orléans, No. 58, formerly inhabited by Cambacérès. The Hôtel de Grammont, No. 103, and the Hôtel de Périgord, No. 105. At 82 and 86, are the residence and offices of the Minister of War, where there is a very valuable library, with a most interesting collection of plans, maps, and drawings. We will now return to the Rue du Bac, and at No. 132, we shall notice the Hôtel Châtillon, now occupied by the sisters of St. Vincent de Paule, better known as the Sisters of Charity.

At the top of the street we find the Rue de Sèvres, and turning to the left we shall view, at the corner of the Rue de la Chaise, the old Hospital entitled Hospices des Ménages; it was built in 1554 on the site of an old establishment for afflicted children, and is now appropriated to the reception of the aged, whether married couples or single; there are 264 beds, and an extensive garden attached to the establishment. Strangers may visit this hospital every day, and will find the detail of the regulations very interesting. A few yards eastward bring us to the Abbaye-aux-Bois, so called when it was founded in 1202 from being in the midst of the woods; this church possesses a few good pictures, amongst which are a Virgin and dead Christ, by Lebrun, and a portrait of Mlle de la Vallière. Opposite is the Maison du Noviciat des Religieuses Hospitalières de St. Thomas de Villeneuve. Still continuing in the Rue de Sèvres, at No. 54, is the hospital for women who are incurable; it was founded in 1634 by Cardinal de la Rochefoucault, which is indicated by an inscription over the door; it contains 600 beds. There is a large chapel attached, in which there are some pictures, and one bearing the date of 1404 with a handsome monument of the founder.

The Egyptian fountain in this street is well worth attention, it was built in 1806, and is a very handsome monument. At No. 104, corner of the Boulevards, is the convent of the Dames de St. Thomas de Villeneuve, with a very pretty little gothic chapel. At No. 95 is that of the Lazarists, with a small chapel fronting the street. At the corner of the Boulevard on the north side are new buildings, erected for the reception of the juvenile blind. No. 149 is the Hôpital des Enfants malades; it is wholly appropriated to the reception of sick children, who are admitted from 2 to 15 years of age; it contains 500 beds, which number is to be considerably increased. Next door is an hospital founded by Madame Necker in a building which formerly was a convent of Benedictine nuns; it is for the reception of the sick in general, and contains 300 beds; the chapel attached has two fine statues of Aaron and Melchizedek, in marble, discovered in digging the foundations of a house; a short distance farther on, is an Artesian well, which after many long, expensive, and most laborious attempts, at last emits water from the enormous depth of nearly 1800 feet; it rises to the height of 65 feet, and falls into the respective conduits destined to receive it. It is situated at the entrance of the Abattoir de Grenelle which is one of the extensive slaughter-houses at the outskirts of Paris, all of which are justly celebrated for the regularity of the buildings, the order with which every thing is conducted, and the great convenience of their being situated where they cannot be any source of annoyance to the inhabitants of the interior of the capital.

The École Militaire stands at the end of an avenue of trees, just before us; it was founded by Louis XV, in 1751, for educating gratuitously 500 young gentlemen, the sons of poor nobility, but it is now converted into barracks for 4,000 men, either cavalry, artillery, or infantry. One front, looking to the Champ de Mars, is adorned with ten corinthian pillars, sustaining a pediment decorated with bas-reliefs, whilst a quadrangular dome, rises from behind, with figures of Time and Astronomy; there are besides in other parts of the edifice, rows of tuscan, doric, and ionic pillars, the buildings surround two spacious court-yards; on the first floor is the Salle de Conseil, embellished with pictures and military emblems. The chapel attached to the establishment is most splendid, the roof is supported by thirty fluted corinthian columns: the entrance to the École Militaire is by the Place de Fontenoy.

The Champ-de-Mars is a most extensive oblong piece of ground, in which has been celebrated many extraordinary epochs in the history of France; the sloping embankments on each side were formed by the people of Paris; as many as 60,000 persons of both sexes kept working at them until they were finished, when the fête de la Fédération took place on the 14th July, 1790. It was also the scene of several other public demonstrations, and in 1837, on the 14th of June, during the rejoicings for the celebration of the marriage of the Duke of Orléans, 24 persons lost their lives by being either suffocated or trodden to death in passing through the gates. The Paris races are held here in May and September, as also the military reviews, inspections, manœuvres, etc. Proceeding by an avenue from the north-cast corner of the Champ-de-Mars we arrive at the Hôtel des Invalides, which is certainly the grandest monument that exists of the reign of Louis XIV. It is a most delightful asylum for crippled or worn-out old soldiers, it was built after the designs of Bruant, begun in 1671, and completed in 1700. The façade towards the Seine, though heavy, is grand and imposing, adorned by the statue of Louis the XIV, and colossal figures of Mars, Minerva, Justice and Prudence, in bas-relief, and at the sides by emblematical representations of the four nations conquered by the founder.

The first court has the most pleasing appearance, the arcades render it light and elegant, and although ornamented with figures, arms, horses, and trophies, they are not exuberant, and its simplicity is not deteriorated. The church is a most magnificent structure, presenting an extraordinary mixture of military and religious decorations. The dome, which has an effect truly noble, is adorned by paintings of the twelve Apostles by Jouvenet, surmounted by a glory from the pencil of Lafosse, with a beautiful tesselated pavement beneath; there are some other good paintings, but many very bad. The gilding, although extremely gorgeous, harmonises well with the varied colouring which prevails throughout this beautiful edifice, and has not a gaudy appearance. There are monuments of several of the governors of the hospital; numbers of portraits, and banners taken from different countries, which amounted to as many as 3,000, but on the evening prior to the allies entering Paris, Joseph Bonaparte ordered them to be burnt. To give any thing like a comprehensive idea of this wonderful building, would require many pages, there is such an immense number of interesting objects, the description of which would compel the omission of other matter equally important; but, whether taken for its exterior or its interior, it certainly is one of the grandest monuments extant. The approaches to it are particularly fine, being by long vistas of high trees, with a most noble esplanade in front. A library belongs to the establishment which was founded by Napoleon; it consists of 30,000 volumes, and his portrait by Ingres is one of its valuable ornaments. It is gratifying to see so many of the Invalids constantly in the library, amusing themselves with reading; it is a pleasing sight to be there at meal-time to witness the cleanliness and comfort which prevails. Besides board and lodging, every soldier receives 2 francs a month, and officers and non-commissioned officers in proportion; 5,000 is the number the establishment can contain.

In quitting this extraordinary building, the visiter must notice the Hôtel du Châtelet at the corner of the Rue de Grenelle, now occupied by the Austrian ambassador, being a fine specimen of the days of Louis XIV. We then pass into the Rue St. Dominique, and at No. 185 find the Hospice Leprince, so called after the founder, erected in 1819; it contains 10 beds for men and 10 for women; almost opposite is the church of St. Pierre-du-Gros-Caillou, which was built in 1822, and is much admired for its beautiful symmetry; the whole is consistently of the tuscan order. Farther to the west is the military hospital founded by the Duke de Biron for the French guards, containing 700 beds and erections for 500 more are to be added shortly. Directly opposite is the Fountain of Mars built in 1813, a monument very well worth the visiter's attention. Continuing a few yards farther to the west, we enter the Avenue de la Bourdonnaye, and turning to the right we come to the Atteliers de Sculpture, consisting of two handsome buildings where sculptors employed by government on public monuments may proceed with their operations; stone-yards, sheds, a house for the director, and the whole arrangement is most complete for the attainment of the object; visiters may obtain tickets from the Director of public Monuments, Palais du Quai d'Orsay.

The royal Manufactory of Tobacco, Snuff, and Cigars is at a short distance eastward, No. 57, Quai d'Orsay, an extensive establishment for the preparation of the articles, with a handsome modern house for the offices, and residence for the director. The profits of this establishment in 1839 to the government were 66,001,841 francs, upwards of 2,500,000£. We will now proceed along the quai, and notice the bridges; first the Pont de Iena, terminated in 1813, it is completely in a horizontal line, and is certainly a perfect structure, uniting elegance, beauty, and simplicity.

The Pont des Invalides is a handsome suspension bridge for carriages as well as foot passengers; a toll is paid in passing over it. Pursuing our course eastward we arrive at the Palais Bourbon, and Chamber of Deputies, which was erected by the dowager Duchess of Bourbon, in 1722, begun by the Italian architect Girardini, and continued by Mansard. It was afterwards much enlarged when possessed by the Prince de Condé, but not completed when the Revolution of 1789 occurred. In 1795 it was appropriated as the Chamber for the sittings of the Council of Five Hundred, and next occupied by the Corps Legislatif. At the Restoration in 1814 the Prince de Condé retook possession, but so arranged that the portion which had been converted into a locality for the sittings of the Legislative Assembly, and which had been partly rebuilt, should be appropriated to the use of the Deputies, and finally was bought by government for 5,500,000 francs. At the death of the Duke de Bourbon this palace devolved upon the Duke d'Aumale, and is leased to the Chamber of Deputies for the residence of the President, but will soon become the property of the country by a negociation at present pending. The entrance of the Palais Bourbon is by the Rue de l'Université, and being approached by a long avenue of trees has the air of a country seat; formerly the apartments were gorgeously furnished, now simple beauty and utility alone prevail; there are a few good pictures, and one room decorated with bucks' horns, and different emblems of the chase; there is a large garden laid out in the English style. The grand front of the portion styled the Chamber of Deputies is exactly opposite the handsome bridge called the Pont de la Concorde, and is from thence seen to the best advantage; it is a noble massive building with colossal statues of Sully, Colbert, l'Hôpital, and d'Aguesseau, there are besides several allegorical figures, and 12 noble corinthian columns, supporting a fine bas-relief recently completed, approached by a flight of 29 steps; for so much weight as there appears in this building, I should say there was not sufficient height, and the breadth is immense, still the effect is dignified and imposing.

The Chamber itself is a semi-circular hall with 24 white marble ionic columns and bronze capitals gilt. The president's chair and the tribune form the centre of the axis of the semi-circle, from whence the seats rise of the 459 deputies, in the shape of an amphitheatre. A spacious double gallery capable of containing 700 persons surrounds the semi-circular part of the Chamber, arranged with tribunes for the royal family, the corps diplomatique, officers of state and the public. There are a number of very fine statues, as well as some extremely clever pictures by the first French artists, and there, is a library of 50,000 volumes. Anyone with a passport may visit the Chamber, but for the debates a letter post-paid must be addressed to M. le Questeur de la Chambre des Députés, who will send a ticket of admission. A short distance to the east is the Palace of the Legion of Honour, erected in 1786 after designs by Rousseau for the Prince de Salm, after whom it was called. The entrance is by a triumphal arch, and a colonnade of the ionic order with two pavillions. At the end of a court yard is the principal front consisting of a fine portico, adorned with large corinthian pillars. The side which fronts the Seine is particularly light and graceful, having a circular projection adorned with columns supporting a balustrade with six statues. When the Prince de Salm was beheaded in 1793, the hôtel was put up to lottery, and won by a journey man hairdresser, and in 1803 it was appropriated to its present object; strangers are admitted without any difficulty.

The Palais du Quai D'Orsay is almost adjoining, and although one of the most magnificent, yet one of the most chaste edifices in Paris; it has never received any decided name. It was begun under Napoleon, and then remained dormant until 1830, and in the present reign has been finished in the most perfect style. The grand front which faces the river presents a long series of windows formed by arches beneath a tuscan colonnade on the ground-floor; the one above is similar, except being of the ionic order, surmounted by a sort of corinthian attic; the court is surrounded by a double series of Italian arcades, there are four staircases, placed at each corner, one styled the escalier d'honneur, is absolutely splendid, both as regards the construction and the richness of its ornaments. The chief entrance is in the Rue de Lille, and there are side gateways into other streets. The ground-floor is appropriated to the Council of State and the offices attached, the first floor to the Cour des Comptes, and the third to the conservation of the Archives of these two public bodies. This noble structure has cost upwards of twelve million francs.

We will now cast one glance at the Hôtel Praslin, which also has its entrance in the Rue de Lille, No. 54; its terrace is perceptible from the quay, it is one of the most extensive and grandest mansions of the old nobility. The next building is a barrack for cavalry, which is totally devoid of any ornament or beauty. We now arrive at the Pont Royal, an old but substantial bridge, built by a Dominican friar in 1684. The river here was formerly crossed by a ferry (bac), which gave the name to the Rue du Bac.

I shall now advise that we take a boat and see how Paris looks from the water, affording us a good view of the quays as we pass between them; we also get an excellent sight of the Point Neuf already described, and which has a very fine effect as we approach it. We next come to the Pont au Change, formerly a wooden bridge; in 1141 Louis VII fixed the residence of the money changers upon it, hence it derived its name; the present structure was built in 1639. The Pont Notre Dame soon after arrests the eye (vide page 87), it was begun 1499 and finished in 1507, after the designs of Jean Joconde; on the western side is an engine called Pompe du Pont Notre Dame, consisting of a square tower erected upon piles, having a reservoir into which water is elevated, by machinery impelled by the current of the water. We next pass under the Pont d'Arcole, built in 1828; it is a suspension bridge, and there is a toll upon it. The circumstances from which it derives its name are very singular. A young man, in 1830, during the murderous conflict which here took place between the royal guard and the people, rushed on the bridge with a flag in his hand, heading the patriots, and was killed under the archway in the middle; his name was Arcole, and the same trait of courage was displayed by Napoleon on the bridge of Arcola; hence its present designation.

A little farther on we pass close to the house where it is pretended lived Fulbert, uncle of Heloise; the outward part of the building does not bear the impression of being as old as the period when Abelard lived, as he was born in 1080, and died in 1142; the cellars, however, have a very ancient appearance; visiters are admitted, on applying to the owner of the dwelling, which is situated No. 1, Rue des Chantres, on the north-eastern side of the Isle de Paris, not far from Notre Dame.

Paris in the 19^th Century. Published by F. Sinnett, 15, Grande rue Verte.

Resuming our course upon the water we come to the Pont Louis-Philippe, a fine suspension bridge constructed in 1834, of iron wire, with two bold arches of stone. The next bridge is called the Pont Marie, and was built in 1641, but had two arches; and 22 houses, out of 50, which stood upon it, were carried away by a flood in 1648. We now arrive at the Pont de Damiette, another suspension bridge connecting the north and southern quays of the Seine with the Ile Louviers, until very recently an immense dépôt for fire wood, but now many handsome residences are being erected, with which the whole of the little island will soon be covered. We shall now land on the Quay des Célestins, and explore the north-east quarter of Paris, beginning with the Arsenal which contains a library of 200,000 printed volumes, and 6,000 manuscripts, amongst which are some beautiful missals. Henri IV having appointed Sully grand-master of the artillery, he resided in the buildings constructed on this spot purposely for him, and they now show a bed-room and a cabinet in which he used to receive his royal visiter; they are richly gilt according to the style of that period, and may be seen with passport by applying to the Director. Close to the Arsenal on the Quai des Célestins are the remains of the once celebrated Convent of the Célestins, and of their small church which after that of St. Denis contained more tombs of illustrious individuals than any in Paris. It was particularly remarked for the chapel d'Orléans, which enclosed the remains of the brother of Charles VI and his descendants. The architecture is interesting as being a specimen of the pointed style prevailing in Paris in the 14th century, a part of the convent buildings are converted into cavalry barracks, and the rest are in a state of dilapidation. Facing the Arsenal is the Grenier de Reserve, on the Boulevard Bourdon, which is an immense storehouse for corn, grain and flour requisite for the consumption of Paris for four months.

It was began by Napoleon in 1807, it is 2,160 feet in length and 64 in breath. Every baker in Paris is obliged to have constantly deposited here 20 full sacks of flour, and as many more as he pleases by paying a trifle for warehouse room. Just a few steps northward is the Government Dépôt of powder and saltpetre.

At a short distance in the Rue St. Antoine, No. 216, is the small church of the Visitation built by Mansard in 1632, for the Sisters of the Visitation. It has a dome supported by Corinthian pillars, and the interior is richly ornamented with scroll work, wreaths of flowers, etc. It is now appropriated to the protestant worship, and there is service on Sundays, and festivals at half past 12. On the southern side of the Boulevard St. Antoine is the Theatre St. Antoine, erected in 1836; the performances are vaudevilles, little melodrama, and farces. The admission is from 6d to 2s. 6d. It contains 1,226 places. The Place de la Bastille is now before us, and still may be seen the desolate remains of the great plaster cast of the enormous elephant, intended by Napoleon to have been placed on this spot, which is now decorated with what is called the Column of July. The capital is said to be the largest piece of bronze ever cast, the height is 163 feet, and it is surmounted by an orb on which is placed the figure of Liberty; and is ornamented with lions, heads, cocks, children bearing garlands and other emblematical objects, but the effect of the whole is not happy, there is a sort of indescribable deficiency, although the cost was 1,200,000f., besides an immense outlay, years before, for the foundation. The ceremony of its inauguration took place on the 28th of July, 1840, when fifty coffins, each containing twelve patriots, were placed in the vaults for them underneath. Many persons descend to view the arrangements where the sarcophagi are stationed, which are 14 feet in length, and the trouble is well repaid; as also for ascending to the summit of the monument, but the staircase is not considered to be as solid and secure as could be wished.

At No. 38, Rue de Charenton, will be found the Hôpital Royal des Quinze Vingts, devoted to the reception of the blind. This establishment was originally founded by St. Louis, at the corner of the Rue St. Nicaise, in the Rue St. Honoré, and ultimately removed to the present building. There are as many as 300 families living in this Hospital, as the blind are suffered to bring with them their wives and children, and encouraged to marry, if single; there are besides 600 out-door pensioners. There is a chapel attached to the institution, which was built in 1701, but possesses no particular interest. At No. 128, Rue Faubourg St. Antoine, is a building founded in 1660 by M. Aligre and his lady, for orphans, but the children having been sent to another establishment, it is intended to be formed into a Hospice for 400 old men. Just by, is the Marché Beauveau, built in 1799,and is a sort of rag fair, well appropriated to the neighbourhood in which it stands. At no 206, Rue Faubourg St. Antoine, is the Hôpital St. Antoine, formerly the Abbey of St. Antoine; the present building was erected in 1770, the number of beds is 270, it is appropriated for the reception of the sick in general, and may be visited by strangers upon any day. Some little distance to the north, in the Rue St. Bernard, is the Church of St. Marguerite, erected in 1625; it has no other attractions than that of its pictures, which are numerous and some of them beautiful, and would well repay the visiter for turning out of his way to view them, they are principally of the old French school, but there are no records to state how they ever came there. A few streets to the south-west, lead to the Rue de Reuilly, where some barracks will be found in a large pile of buildings, established by Colbert, for the Royal Glass Manufactory of Mirrors (removed to 313, Rue St. Denis); a little further on, at the south-eastern corner of the Rue Faubourg St. Antoine and that of Picpus, is a great market for forage, and at No. 8 in the latter street, is the Maison d'Enghien, founded by the mother of the unfortunate Duke of that name, the Duchess of Bourbon, in 1819, and now supported by Madame Adélaïde d'Orléans; it contains fifty beds, of which eighteen are for women, and the utmost cleanliness and order prevail.

At No. 18 is the Hôpital Militaire de Picpus. Somewhat farther on, at No. 16, was once a Convent of the Order of St. Augustin, now a boarding-school, but the chapel still remains; attached to it is a cemetery, where rest the remains of some of the noblest families of France, as de Grammont, de Montaigu, de Noailles, and that purest and most perfect of private and public characters, Lafayette, in a spot hardly known, in a quiet corner, beneath a very simple tomb, beside his wife, and in the midst of his relations. We shall now return westward, and view the Barrière du Trône, which is still unfinished, but consisting of two noble lofty columns; very conspicuous from their height, with a fine open circular space, on which festivals are celebrated on public days, and plans are now pursuing for finishing and embellishing this spot. A pleasant walk along the Boulevards will bring us to the celebrated cemetery of Père-La-Chaise, on which there has been so much written by tourists, poets, and even novelists; thus I fear all I can state upon the subject will appear but tame, after such choice spirits have favoured the public with their inspirations on so interesting a retreat, I shall, therefore, only attempt to give a few matter of fact indications.

It consists of a large tract of ground on the slope of a hill, was celebrated for the beauty of its situation in the fourteenth century, and under Louis the XIV as the abode of Père-La-Chaise, having for 150 years been the favourite country house of the Jesuits, and at present the favourite burying place of the Parisians. In the 14th century a house was erected on the spot by a rich grocer, named Regnault, and was by the people named La Folie Regnault; after belonging to different parties, it was purchased for 160,000 francs, for its present purpose. Its extent is nearly 100 acres; all that trees, shrubs, plants, and flowers can avail towards embellishing a spot, has been effected; the sculptor's hand has also been contributed in a most eminent degree, and fancy seems to have exhausted her caprices in conceptions of forms and fashions with regard to the monuments here assembled, and some are as highly picturesque as can be well imagined; others are grand and imposing, whilst a few there are, whose simplicity render them the most interesting, so much is there in association that perhaps none is more touching than that of Abelard and Heloïse; it is formed of stones gathered from the ruins of the Abbey of Paraclete, founded by Abelard, of which Heloïse was the first abbess. Amongst the number of monuments here assembled, there will be found those whose names have lived and will live in history: marshals, admirals, generals, authors, travellers, senators, and celebrated characters of all nations, in fact what with the extreme beauty of the scene, the splendid view that expands before one, and the tone of reflexions that are engendered by the many affecting appeals there are to the heart, upon the different monuments, I know of no spot that one can visit, calculated to excite deeper impressions. We have imitated near London the same description of cemetery, but they will be long before they can arrive at the same beauty; it has been observed, that Père-La-Chaise is not kept in such nice order as those in England, and the remark is just, but I am not quite sure but that I prefer the degree of wildness which there is in the former, and although it may not be so neat and trim as the latter, yet on the whole there is infinitely more of the sublime, aided no doubt from the extreme beauty of the position, and the greater number of splendid monuments, than an infant establishment can be expected to possess.

On quitting this delightful spot, we must pass by the Prison de la Roquette, destined for the reception of prisoners condemned to the galleys or to death; the excellent system that is here followed with regard to the airiness, cleanliness, and strict order, is such that it is styled the model prison; 318 is the number of prisoners that it can contain. Just opposite to it is the Prison pour les jeunes Détenus, or for juvenile offenders, and is a most extraordinary establishment; its exterior has the air of a baronial castle, and the interior is so arranged that it might answer the purpose of an hospital, as well as that of correction; it has circular turrets at the angles, and the central building is isolated from the others, and only approachable by iron bridges; the whole of the upper part of the building is a chapel, so contrived, that when the prisoners enter it from the different divisions, although they are all together, they can only see the individuals composing their own section, and the pulpit and altar; the prisoners are arranged in the different wings, according to their ages, and the degree of morality; there are about 500, and the different regulations are so meritorious, and the plan of the building so curious and ingenious, that the stranger will derive much pleasure from visiting this singular establishment. Just by, is the Abattoir de Popincourt, or de Ménilmontant, which is considered to be the largest and finest of all the five immense slaughter-houses round Paris, and for those who are curious of regarding such buildings, this should be the one they ought to visit. At a few steps from the Abattoir, in the Rue Popincourt, is the church of St. Ambroise, which was built for a convent of nuns called the Annonciades in 1639; some tolerable pictures are the only attractions it possesses for a stranger; a few doors from it is a large barrack, and an ornamented Fountain. We must now descend the Rue du Chemin-Vert, until we come to the Canal St. Martin, and just pause a minute and notice its neat quays, and the good order in which its locks are kept, and all arrangements connected with it, and then proceed to the Boulevards: a short street, called Rue de la Mule, will take us into the Place Royale, which stands upon the site of the celebrated Palais de Tournelle, the court and offices of which extended to the Rue St. Antoine, and over several of the neighbouring streets, but was pulled down by order of Catherine de Medicis in 1565, on account of her husband Henry II having been killed in one of the courts in a tournament.

The Place Royale, as it now stands, was built in 1604, under Henri IV (vide page 92), it is now inhabited by persons of small incomes who like to have spacious and lofty apartments without incurring the expence of such; in the more fashionable quarters, the arcades all round the square, the fountains, the trees, and the handsome railing, give it a very fine though curious appearance, and the houses have a most venerable aspect. We will now leave the Place Royale by the southern gateway, and enter the Rue St. Antoine, and nearly opposite to No. 143, is the Hôtel de Sully; being the work of the celebrated architect Ducerceau, and the residence of the noble character whose name it bears. It is well preserved, and its court is richly adorned with sculpture. At No. 120, in the same street, is the Collége de Charlemagne, formerly a college of the Jesuits, founded in 1582, the buildings are only remarkable for their extent. The Passage Charlemagne, No. 102, leads through the court of the Hôtel de Jassau, or d'Aguesseau, 22, Rue des Prêtres St. Paul, said to be the site of a palace, and a turret of the time of Francis I still remains at the corner of the court, as also some ornaments and figures. At the corner of the Rue St. Paul, and the Rue des Lions, is a small square turret of the time of Henri IV, and a little eastward, part of the church of St. Paul embodied in the house, No. 29, Rue St. Paul. By the side of the College of Charlemagne is the church of St. Paul and St. Louis, it was began in 1627, and finished in 1641, and within it Cardinal Richelieu performed the first mass in the presence of Louis XIII and his court. The noble front rising from a flight of steps, is adorned with three ranges of corinthian and composite columns, and the interior is decorated with ornaments even to profusion; a fine dome with figures of the Evangelists and four kings of France give it altogether a very handsome appearance. Opposite the College of Charlemagne, is the Fontaine de Birague; consisting of a pentagonal tower, with a dome and lantern. Above a pediment supported by doric pilasters is an attic with a naiad. At the corner of the Rue Culture Ste. Catherine, is the Hôtel de Carnavalet, where resided Madame de Sévigné and her daughter, a fine mansion of the 16th century, having been erected in 1544; most of the sculpture is from the chisel of the celebrated Jean Goujon, and is of a most interesting description; the cabinet in which the letters of that highly gifted woman were written is still shown, also a marble table upon which she and her daughter used to dine under the sycamores in the garden, two of which remain. M. Viardot occupies this Hôtel, and with pleasure shows it to strangers; he keeps an academy and has written a history of the edifice, which may be had of the porter. It was at the corner of this street that the Constable de Clisson was assailed and severely wounded by 20 ruffians, headed by Pierre de Graon, Chamberlain of the Duke of Orleans, who was murdered by the Duke of Burgundy.

In the Rue du Roi de Sicile is the prison of La Force, containing 700 prisoners, and excellent regulations, but another, in a more retired part of Paris, is soon to be constructed. This building was formerly the Hôtel of the Duc de la Force, hence the origin of its name. In the Rue Pavée, which is on one side of the prison, will be found, at No. 3, the Hôtel de la Houze, and in the same street stood the Hôtels de Gaucher, de Châtillon, and d'Herbouville, or de Savoisi. We will now go a little out of our way to see the fine long and broad street of St. Louis, which we shall soon reach by keeping straight on along the Rue Payenne, and then turning to the east by the Rue Parc Royal, shall proceed to one of the ornaments of the Rue St. Louis, the Church of St. Denis du Sacrement; it is quite modern, but is conceived according to good taste; the order is ionic, which is consistently preserved both throughout the exterior and the interior, much chasteness of design, in fact has been observed in the construction of this simple but elegant edifice. The Fountain of St. Louis is worthy of attention en passant. Formerly this street was filled with nobility, as even so late as the beginning of the reign of Louis XV it was rather a fashionable quarter, at present it is the cheapest in Paris.

We must now retrace our steps, which will bring us to the Rue Francs Bourgeois; No. 25 is an hôtel of the time of Henri IV, No. 7, Hôtel de Jeanne d'Abret, of Louis XV's days, and No. 12, the former residence of the Dukes de Roquelaure, and at the corner will be observed a little turret belonging to a house, one side of which is in the Vieille Rue du Temple; there is some curious work upon it, and it is supposed to have been standing at the time the Duke of Orleans was murdered by order of the Duke of Burgundy, which was just about this spot, in 1407. At No. 51, Rue Franc Bourgeois, is the Hôtel de Hollande, so called from its having belonged to the Dutch Ambassador, in the reign of Louis XIV; amongst the sculpture is perceived the date of 1660; this handsome hôtel was once the residence of Beaumarchais. At the corner of the Rue Pavée is the Hôtel de Lamoignon, one of the handsomest mansions of the ancient nobility. It is of the sixteenth century, some of the carved work is most curious, and merits attentive examination; a picturesque turret and balcony must excite the attention of every observer. A few steps further is the large central establishment of the Mont de Pieté, No. 18, Rue des Blancs Manteaux, lending money on pledges, much the same as our pawnbrokers, only on more advantageous terms for the borrowers. In the same street is Notre Dame des Blancs Manteaux, once the chapel of a religious house, so called from their dress consisting of white garments; there was formerly a monastery here, of which there may be discovered some remains to the east, and evidently in the left wing of a house at No. 25; the chapel remaining has a plain exterior, but the corinthian style of the interior is handsome, and worth attention; there is also a very admired picture of the Burial of St. Petronilla, which is eighteen feet by eight, it is of the school of Guercini, but it is not known by what means it came to be placed in this church. Facing this street is the Market des Blancs Manteaux.

At the corner of the Rue Vieille du Temple, and that of the Rue de Quatre Fils, is the Palais Cardinal, now the Imprimerie Royale; it was erected in 1712, and is named after its owner, the Cardinal de Rohan, whose intriguing spirit so much involved Marie Antoinette; in this hôtel the scenes occurred concerning that extraordinary affair; the front of the building is quite plain, towards the garden it is ornamented by columns, and as a mansion, is one of the largest in Paris. It is now occupied as the Royal Printing Establishment, and it is impossible to surpass the order and regularity with which it is conducted; 750 men, women, and children, are employed in it. It is considered to possess the richest collection in the world of matrices and fonts of types, having them in every written language, and when Pope Pius VII visited the establishment, he was presented the Lord's Prayer in 150 languages. A library with specimens of typography, executed on the premises, is an object of the highest gratification to every visiter, even if they be not connaisseurs in the art. For admission to this establishment, application must be made a few days beforehand to M. le Directeur de l'Imprimerie Royale, who appoints a fixed hour on Thursdays. Almost facing one part of the Imprimerie Royale, in the Rue d'Orléans, is the Church of St. François d'Assise. Neither the exterior nor the interior possess any striking beauty; it was founded and erected in 1623. It contains some very good paintings, and the kneeling figure of the saint of the church in his monastic dress; the hands and head are of white marble, and it is supposed to be Egyptian; one of St. Denis is opposite to it.

Adjoining to the Imprimerie Royale, is the Hôtel des Archives du Royaume, which is entered by the Rue du Chaume, No. 12. It was formerly a palace of the Prince de Soubise and the family of the Rohans. The south and western part of the edifice is of the 15th century, the turret is probably what belonged to the gatehouse. The decorations of the apartments are extremely rich with gilt cornices and paintings, some of them possessing great merit. In the petits appartements is a boudoir which belonged to the Duchess de Guise, with a window looking into the Rue du Chaume, from whence it is asserted that her lover precipitated himself at the approach of the Duke. A new building has been added, the first stone having been laid in 1838, which has cost a million of francs. Under Napoleon the whole edifice was appropriated to the preservation of the national archives. Amongst them are documents of diplomas granted to different monastic institutions, by Childebert, Dagobert, Clothaire and Clovis II. The collections of the different acts, deeds, charters, administrative, domanial, historical, judicial, legislative, etc., fill 60,000 portfolios. There is besides a library of 14,000 volumes, amongst which are the Records Commission of England, presented by the British Government. There are also in an iron chest, the golden bulls and papal decrees, most of the keys of the Bastille, the wills of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI, with his journal, autograph letters of Napoleon, one written by him to Louis XVIII, with a variety of other most interesting objects. For admission apply (post paid) to M. le Garde General des Archives du Royaume, No. 12, Rue du Chaume.

The Fontaine de la Naiade in the same street, has a clever bas-relief by Mignot. By the Rue des Vieilles-Haudriettes we pass into the Rue Ste-Avoye; No. 63 is worth notice, several of the houses here having been the hôtels of nobility. No. 57 is the Hôtel St. Aignan, built by Le Muet; on its site stood the Hôtel de Montmorency, it is an extensive noble building, but has been spoiled by having had two stories added. Henry II often resided in it when it was called Hôtel de Montmorency.

Taking the Rue Ste. Croix de la Bretonnerie, we shall find that the first turning in it is the Rue des Billettes, where stand the Lutheran Church; it was built in 1745, and belonged to the Carmelite Friars. In 1808, it was bought by the city of Paris, and given about four years after to the Protestants of the Augsburgh confession. It is a plain neat building. The Duchess of Orléans attends service here when in Paris, which is in German at 2 and in French at 12. From hence we cross the Rue de la Verrerie, and proceeding by the Rue des Mauvais Garçons, we arrive at the Church St. Gervais; an inscription under the first arch of the northern aisle of the choir, states the church to have been dedicated in 1420, although other parts of the building would indicate a more recent construction, but with all its incongruities, from its having been built at various periods, it excites a deep interest; the light gleaming through the painted glass gives a rich though rather sombre effect, the windows behind the altar have a most imposing appearance. The western front was began in 1616, Louis the XIII laying the first stone, and is not equal to other parts of the building; some of the chapels of this church are particularly fine. Amongst the pictures, of which there are many very good, is one by Albert Durer, with the date upon it of 1500. Scarron, the husband of Mme. de Maintenon, lies buried here, as also the celebrated painter Philippe de Champagne, and one of his performances is amongst the pictures which decorate the church, being that of Jesus with Martha and Mary in the chapel of Ste. Geneviève; there are several other objects in this noble edifice so interesting, that no person who visits Paris should omit seeing it. We may now take the Rue de la Tixéranderie where at the corner of the Rue du Coq is a house and turret of the 15th and 16th century, most probably the former, according to the statements of M. Dulaure.