FOOTNOTES
[1] Three horses and a post boy cost six livres, or five shillings per post. The post is two leagues, or five miles english.
[2] The room in question has, since this was written, been limited to a better use. Vide [letter xx].
[3] Maria Cosway. Her plan is to follow the arrangement of the gallery, and to devote one copper-plate to each of the fifty-seven grand divisions or compartments, of which it at present consists, engaging to continue her work, as the collection shall be increased. The size of the copper-plate is to be twenty-one inches high, and seventeen wide. The numbers are to appear monthly, and each is to contain two engravings, with an historical description of the subjects, and the artists, by J. Griffiths. Didot the elder, in the Palais royal, receives her subscriptions. Coloured proofs cost thirty-six livres, and plain ones twenty-four.
[4] I ought perhaps to mention, that judges of painting have frequently, in my hearing, complained of the double light in which the pictures are seen in this gallery. Individually speaking, I was always during the very many times when I visited this museum so amused, and so delighted, that I had no inclination to criticise; but it is certainly true, that on some days the pictures were seen to greater advantage than on others. The windows of the gallery are directly opposite to one another, and the paintings are hung on the piers between them. The glare which this circumstance produces, is the cause of the objection I have named.
[5] Next to the Apollo and the Laocoon, the most celebrated statue is the Dying Gladiator, the copies of which are dispersed over almost every country in Europe.
[6] Spectacle.—This is so important a word, and of such general use in french conversation, that I cannot too soon introduce it to the notice of my english reader. It means, first, all the theatres, puppet-shows, pantomimes, horse exercises, and other motley amusements of this gay capital.
It is also perpetually in the mouths both of gentlemen and ladies. If you ask one of the former, whether he were pleased with the opera, he replies, “Oui, enchanté; le spectacle étoit magnifique.” (Yes, delighted; the spectacle was magnificent.) And if you put a similar question about a ball to one of the latter, you receive a similar answer.
If you speak with enthusiasm of the picture gallery, a parisian coldly observes, “C’est bien vrai, c’est un très beau spectacle.” (Yes, it is a very fine spectacle, or sight.)
If a stranger inquire, whether the monthly parade of Bonaparte’s troops deserve its celebrity, he is told, “Oui, c’est un très beau spectacle.” (Yes, it is a fine spectacle.)
It is also the favourite theme of conversation; and a parisian compelled to talk with a foreigner, is sure to begin with the following words: “Allez vous souvent, monsieur, au spectacle? Ne sont ils pas bien beaux nos spectacles?” (Do you often go to the spectacles? Are not our spectacles very fine?)
A similar observation forms likewise the hospitable kind of consolation which an englishman sometimes receives, if he complain, that he has not seen much of french society. “Mais cependant, vous ne pouvez pas manquer d’amusement; à Paris les spectacles sont si beaux.” (You cannot want amusement, however; the spectacles at Paris are so fine.)
In consequence of the general application of this word in France to every thing relating to the stage, a parisian, on his arrival in London, wishing to go to the play, supposed that he had only to look for the word spectacle in a french and english dictionary; and, having found that the literal translation gave him the same word, with perfect confidence directed his hackney coachman to drive to the spectacle. The fellow, supposing that he wanted to purchase a pair of spectacles, conducted him to the celebrated shop at Charing-cross. The frenchman flew into a passion, and by his gestures conveyed, that this was not the place where he desired to go. The coachman, imagining that this was not the optician’s, to which he wished to be taken, carried him to several others in different parts of the town. After a long round, during which the favourite oaths of the two countries were mutually exchanged between monsieur and his charioteer, the former was compelled to pass his evening in the hackney coach instead of the play-house, and thus learnt the difference between french spectacles and english spectacles.
[7] Mademoiselle Beauharnois is since married to Louis Bonaparte, one of the brothers of the first consul; to whom she has become, therefore, both daughter and sister.
[8] Married to General le Clerc, who commanded the expedition to St. Domingo. She accompanied him to that island, and incurred all the dangers of climate and of war. She did so in obedience to Bonaparte’s particular orders; with whom it is an undeviating principle, that a wife should always follow the steps and fortunes of her husband.
[9] As we should say in english, “a lost thing.” The french expression is more commonly used, and is infinitely stronger in its meaning. It is adopted on all occasions of misfortune; such as to deplore the death of a friend, or the loss of a “spectacle.” A general was lately killed in a duel. A fair parisian of high fashion, to whom he was much attached, on hearing of the accident, exclaimed, with an accent of deep despair, “Que je suis à plaindre! il devoit m’avoir amenée au bal de l’opéra demain. Voilà une affaire bien manquée.” (How am I to be pitied! he was to have taken me to the ball at the opera to-morrow. Here is a lost thing, or a party completely deranged.)
[10] What bad weather! what a misfortune! really it is terrible! it is shocking! The fête would have been so fine, if this devilish rain had not fallen!
[11] By the good fortune of Bonaparte.
[12] At the house of the respectable M. de la T⸺, whose niece is the lady of the celebrated P⸺t, some time president of the convention, and afterwards banished, with many other worthy men, at the revolution of the 18th of Fructidor. M. P⸺t is a distinguished writer; and, as a politician, was much esteemed for the moderation of his principles, and the integrity of his conduct. Madame P⸺t is a woman of very superiour talents and great acquirements. She is likewise justly admired for the humanity which has induced her to devote her hours to that excellent institution, la Société Maternelle, of which she is the president. The object of this society is, to afford deserted orphans that comfort, of which they have been deprived by the death or the fault of their parents.
[13] “De mauvaise compagnie”—“of bad company, unfit for good company.” The terms, “bonne compagnie,” and “mauvaise compagnie,” are for ever in the mouths of coquettes and petits-maîtres. It is difficult to define what, I believe, is meant to be indefinable.
[14] L’ancienne noblesse, literally translated, “the ancient nobility.” I use the expression in french, because the word “nobility,” in our language, expresses a very different thing.—The nobility of England are a small, respectable, and wealthy body, exercising a great and important part of the constitution, and possessed of powers highly important to the state. The french “noblesse” consisted of sixty or seventy thousand families, every individual of which would have thought himself disgraced by engaging in any branch of trade, or useful industry; enjoying many privileges personally advantageous, but discharging no public functions, as nobles, at all connected with the government.
[15] “Contractors.”
[16] Every landholder in France, in consequence of a law passed in one of the most violent moments of the revolution, and which is still continued, pays one fourth of his real revenue to the state; and as, in particular parts of the country, the rate has been unfairly made, it happens, in some cases, that even a half is paid, instead of a fourth. The latter is the minimum of the present taxation.
[17] I am very sorry, but to tell you the truth.
[18] At their house—I am really quite distressed.
[19] “New Comers,” upstarts.
[20] Eating room.
[21] Silence guards the slumbers and the loves of this bed.
[22] President’s chair.
[23] To the Legislative Body, to the first Consul, and to madame Bonaparte.
[24] Yes, yes, that tall man is lord Cornwallis. He has a fine figure. He looks like a military man. He has served in the army. Is it not true, sir? Look at that little man near him, what a difference! what a mean appearance!
[25] “They do right,” said one, “to wear boots—it is a travelling dress. They will not stay here long.”
[26] We pay them ten thousand francs for doing nothing. I am astonished Bonaparte does not get rid of these fellows.
[27] I believe that your ambassador has an income of his own, larger than that of all these fellows together. Without their salary of legislators, they would die of hunger.
[28] The sovereign people.
[29] The abbé Sicard, in the course of this lecture, took occasion to remark, that of all languages, the english was the most simple, the most reasonable, and the most natural, in its instruction. As a proof of the truth of his assertion, he informed us, that his pupils, as they began to learn the means of conveying their thoughts by writing, were constantly guilty of anglicisms. He added, that it was difficult to make them lay aside idioms purely english, and still more so, to teach them those which are peculiar to the french language.
[30] I hear only silence and see only night.
[31] Your droll Shakspeare.
[32] By way of an unanswerable argument, said, “It is Mr. Pitt who understands reasoning; but as to Mr. Fox, he can declaim prettily: all his talent consists in this. You will allow me to know, for it was I,” assuming a look of great dignity, “who translated his speeches.”
[33] General Dessaix, by whose valour the battle of Marengo, in which he fell, was principally gained.
[34] To take advantage of the discoveries of the present age, but not to run before them.
[35] To love the world at large, it may be truly said, that we ought first to love our own country; but he who begins with loving the world at large, will probably end in not loving any country whatever. Philosophy has done its duty; it is for you, citizen legislators, to discharge yours. Philosophy begins the happiness of men; but it is legislation which completes it, &c.
[36] “La loi d’aubaine,” by which foreigners were prevented from inheriting or purchasing lands in France.
[37] Boissy d’Anglass. This worthy man was president of the national assembly on one of those occasions, when the mob burst into the hall, and attempted to dictate to the members.
With heroic courage, he refused to put any question, while the rabble remained in the assembly; and persevered in his resolution, notwithstanding the poignards which were raised against him, and the dreadful example of one of his colleagues, who was murdered by his side.
[38] That dark and wet climate.
[39] Believe me, sir, our young men see all this with the most perfect indifference.
[40] Coffeehouses.—The number of coffeehouses (properly so called, as coffee and liqueurs are the only articles which they supply) is very great at Paris, and they are constantly crowded. Swarms of idle persons spend their lives at these places, playing chess, talking politics, reading the journals, or sitting still. I have often counted more than one hundred individuals in a coffeeroom of a moderate size; and there is no hour of the day when the same scene does not present itself. Paris, under every government, and at all periods, will bear the same appearance as to amusements. Montesquieu, in his Persian Letters, gives the following description of the coffeehouses of his time, which applies exactly to those of the day:
“Le café est très en usage à Paris, il y a un grand nombre de maisons publiques, où on le distribue. Dans quelques unes de ces maisons on dit des nouvelles, dans d’autres on joue aux échecs. Il y en a une où l’on apprête le café, de telle manière qu’il donne de l’esprit à ceux qui en prennent; au moins, de tous ceux qui en sortent, il n’y a personne que ne croie qu’il en a quatre fois plus que lorsqu’il est entré.”
“Coffee is much in use in Paris. There are a great many public houses where it is distributed. In some of these houses the news of the day is reported, and in others chess is played. There is one, in which coffee is prepared, in such an extraordinary manner, that it improves the intellects of those who take it: at least, of those who come from this house, there is not one who does not think himself four times as wise as when he went in.”
[41] The establishment for the employment of the blind.
[42] In spite of myself.
[43] As our Saviour did of old.
[44] It is the art of writing as quick as speech. Stenography moves like the deer or the horse, but common writing like the ox.
[45] You speak of Molière! Oh! his reign is past; our age is much more refined in its ideas; our stage, cleared of such trash, is at last adorned with the really beautiful, which was so long sought for in vain.
[46] “Tom, my dear Tom.”
[47] Every large house in France is approached by a court yard, the gate of which is called “la porte cochére.”
[48] I speak only of the superiour orders. Among the common people, I have remarked some of that liveliness so vaunted, as forming a material ingredient in the french character.
[49] Edward in Scotland.
[50] Provision for the convent.
[51] I am delighted to see here so many english. I hope our union may be of long continuance. We are the two most powerful and most civilized nations of Europe. We should unite to cultivate the arts, the sciences, and letters; in short, to improve the happiness of human nature.
[52] When the present worthy and respectable minister from the United States of America Mr. Livingston was presented, Bonaparte said to him, “Vous venez d’une république libre et vertueuse dans un monde de corruption.”—(You come from a free and virtuous republic into a world of corruption.)—Mr. Livingston, who is rather deaf, and does not perfectly understand french, did not immediately hear him. Bonaparte instantly called to M. Talleyrand, and desired him to explain, in english, what he had said.
[53] Thus, thanks to the genius of Victory, the public will soon have the pleasure of seeing these four magnificent compositions united in the Musée Central, or Central Museum.
[54] “The gratitude of the country dedicates this building to the memory of great men.”
[55] You must ask that question of the government. The church will probably be finished, when the government has so much money, as not to know what to do with it otherwise.
[56] Here reposes the man of nature and of truth.
[57] He enlightens the world even from the tomb.
[58] To the manes of Voltaire, the national assembly passed a decree, on the 30th of may, 1791, declaring, that he deserved the honours due to the memory of great men.
[59] Poet, historian, philosopher, he enlarged the human mind and taught it, that it ought to be free.
[60] He defended Calas, Serven, de la Barre, and Mont Bally.
[61] He combated atheists and fanatics. He preached tolerance. He vindicated the rights of man against the monster Feudality.
[62] The return of Zephyr.
[63] Orangerie.—The following description, given by la Fontaine of the same place in his time, is exactly descriptive of its present situation:
“Comme nos gens avoient encore de loisir ils firent un tour à l’orangerie. La beauté et le nombre des orangers et des autres plantes qu’on y conserve on ne sauroit exprimer. Il y a tel de ces arbres qui a resisté aux attaques de cent hivers.”
“As our friends had still some time to spare, they took a turn in the orangerie, or green house. The beauty and number of orange and other plants here preserved, cannot be described. There are, among these trees, some which have resisted the attacks of a hundred winters.”
La Fontaine, Amours de Psyche & de Cupidon.
[64] The distance is great from the hand of an assassin to the heart of an honest man.
[65] The king’s apartment.
[66] Lodging account at the Little Trianon.
| Francs. | |
| Three masters’ rooms | 36 |
| Wax lights | 6 |
| Wood | 9 |
| Four servants’ beds | 12 |
| Total | 63 |
N. B. Sixty-three francs of french money make exactly two guineas and a half english; and this sum was asked for one night’s lodging (without eating or wine) for three masters’ beds and four servants’.
[67] To the nation.
[68] The ambassador of the emperor of Russia.
[69] To fleece strangers.
[70] “Ladies of good company,” or, as we should say in english, women of character.
[71] Carriages in the english fashion, or carriages really english.
[72] What a fine sight! what pretty carriages! what beautiful horses! what elegant dresses! Really it is charming!
How I pity the frenchman, whose gayety’s lost;
The creature’s a wretch, from his element toss’d.
[74] Official defenders.
[75] Hackney coach.
[76] That all the good company of Paris went there.
[77] Surveillance—Watch, or special care.
[78] Formerly a convent.
[79] Molière and Thalia rest in this grave.
[80] Nicholas Boileau is in this tomb.
[81] My cares, as well as my happy days, are past. I feel no longer the indignation of my youthful anger, and leave an open course to the tribe of dull and cold versificators.
[82] French Parnassus.
[83] The following is nearly the exact translation:
“My dear heart, we have just dined, and are very drunk. I will see you before I set out from Paris, and will caress you not as you deserve, but as I can. The bearer hurries me so much, that I can only say this one word—good night, my dear heart, I kiss you a million of times.
| 8 | |||
| This XIIIIIth october, | 8 | H | 8 |
| 8 | |||
| HENRY.” | |||
[84] The national garden of plants.
[85] Among the curious quadrupeds here preserved is the Camelopardalis. Vide Vaillant’s Travels in Africa.
[86] I do not mention l’École Polytechnique, that admirable institution, in which eight hundred young men, named by the government (principally as a reward for the services of their fathers), are liberally educated, because it forms part of the system of public instruction, which, being of a political nature, is foreign to my object. In this letter I only mean to point out those establishments, from which foreigners can derive either information or pleasure.
[87] The boiled beef, which, after making the soup, is always served at a trench table. “Le vin ordinaire,” or common wine, is a weak, sour beverage, which costs about sixpence english per bottle, and is not, either in taste or strength, superiour to our small beer.
[88] The boxes “au baignoir” are on the level with the pit, under the first tier, and are in the shape of a bath, from which they take their name.
[89] Persons going to France ought to know, that, the exchange being at present against England, we regularly lose from five to seven per cent on the money drawn from the latter country. This loss must of course be added to the calculation of expenses on the continent.
[90] I have heard, since I left Paris, that a very fine house, formerly belonging to a nobleman, and known by the name of “l’Hôtel de Beauveau,” has lately been opened as an “hôtel garni,” and assumed the title of “Hôtel de Prince de Galle.” It stands in “la Rue Fauxbourg St. Honoré,” nearly fronting one of the avenues to the Champs Elisées. In spring the situation must be very pleasant. It is at a considerable distance from the theatres, but in a most respectable part of the town.
[91] “Restaurateurs” are tavern keepers, where dinners are served.
[92] Visits.—It is the custom, in all parts of France, and particularly at Paris, to receive and pay perpetual visits. The whole of every evening is passed in a routine of this kind (when the spectacle offers no irresistible temptation); and a parisian belle was, the other day, quite astonished and disgusted, when I told her, that in England ladies seldom received the visits of young men.—“Qu’elle vie ennuyeuse que votre vie de Londres!” exclaimed the fair one; “qu’on doit passer des tristes journées! Que peut elle faire, une malheureuse anglaise, après diner?”
“Elle va aux assemblées ou à l’opera—Mais si elle est malade?
“Elle reste chez elle.”
“Quoi toute seule! que vos dames sont à plaindre! Que je me félicite d’être françoise! Sans les visites de quelques amis choisis, je mourrois d’ennui.”
What a dull life must your english manners afford! What dismal days must one pass in such a country! What can a poor english lady do after dinner?
She goes to assemblies, or to the opera.
But if she is ill—
She stays at home.
What quite alone? Oh, how I pity your poor english ladies! Oh, how I rejoice at being born a frenchwoman! without the visits of a few well chosen friends I should die of ennui.
Notwithstanding this passion for receiving and returning visits among one another, the french are frequently negligent in this respect towards the foreigners who are recommended to them. I have heard english ladies at Paris complain, that their visits were often not returned at all, and that that early attention was rarely shown as to this little etiquette, which well bred persons in England are so careful to observe.
[93] Boulotte is a gambling game much played at Paris, and said to be the support of several families.
[94] This was, of course, written before the late changes in the government, which appear to provide against this event. I leave the remark unaltered, as, in the first place, this provision comes not from the people, but from the first consul himself. Secondly, this arrangement is only on paper, and if it last the life of Bonaparte, will scarcely be respected after his death.
[95] It is Bonaparte who does every thing—every thing is submitted to him—every thing is possible for him.
[96] Among the old friends of my family, from whom we received particular kindness, I shall be pardoned for naming madame (la ci-devant comtesse) d’H—t, so frequently mentioned in the confessions of Jean Jacques, and the real model on which he formed his imaginary Heloise. We had the pleasure of passing some days at her country seat, in the valley of Montmorency, and several evenings at her hotel at Paris. This accomplished woman, who at the age of thirty, had the talent to attract, and the virtue to resist the affection of Rousseau, has still at seventy, that amiability of manner, that suavity of disposition, and that fund of enlightened conversation, which, notwithstanding the disadvantages of a person far from handsome, gained her the love of that extraordinary man. The latter has been very unjust in the character which he has drawn of the husband of this lady. He is still living, and is a respectable man of ancient family, independent fortune, and irreproachable reputation. St. Lambert, the Thomson of France, resides with Mr. and madame d’H—t, and his extreme old age receives from their attention the comforts and kindness of unvarying friendship.
[97] There are innumerable houses at Paris in which, with every appearance of respectability, and often with the assistance of some lofty sounding title, the unwary stranger often finds his ruin. Amidst the smiles of beauty, the splendour of foreign orders, the jollity of wine, and the gaiety of dancing, youth loses its prudence, and one evening’s entertainment is paid by the loss of that fortune, on which a man’s happiness, and perhaps that of many dear relatives depended.