A rough sketch of modern Paris

by J. G. Lemaistre

Indeed, it is not without some reason that this prejudice is entertained by the public, and that Bonaparte has, on more occasions than one, appealed to his good fortune. Great and transcendant as are the talents of that extraordinary man, they are not more remarkable than the singular concatenation of fortunate circumstances, which have uniformly attended his progress through life. Possessed of the former, unaccompanied by the latter, he would have probably become a distinguished character, but he never could have reached that summit of grandeur, where he is at present so securely seated.

I return to my subject. The signal for the commencement of the fête was the departure of a balloon, in which monsieur and madame Garnerin ascended, at half past four o’clock, through a clear sky, which no longer bore any marks of the tempestuous weather of the morning. After the balloon had attained a certain height, a parachute was sent down, and the live animal which it contained reached the ground in safety. I was fortunate enough to dine this day with a family[12] who reside in what was first called “la Garde-meuble,” then “la place de Louis XV,” for some time the seat of so many legal murders, under the appellation of “de la Revolution,” and now styled, in honour of the present government, “de la Concorde.” As the principal rejoicings were to take place in this spot, I could not have been better situate. We dined in a back room; and during the short time which we passed at table (for a french dinner seldom exceeds an hour), the lamps had been lighted. Never shall I forget the splendid sight, which appeared to have been almost produced by magic, and which burst on us in returning to the salon (or drawing room), the windows of which command an extensive view of the place de la Concorde, of the bridge of Louis XVI, of the palace or hospital of les Invalides, of the Thuilleries, of the palace of the Corps Législatif, formerly called “de Bourbon,” of the river, and of several buildings in the Fauxbourg St. Germain. All these striking objects were now one blaze of light. My eyes were so dazzled with the scene which presented itself, that it was some time before I could take a distinct view of each particular beauty. The public edifices I have named, all of which are of the finest architecture, covered with innumerable lamps, arranged with the greatest taste, and which being of different heights, seemed to rise the one above the other; and the majestic domes splendidly illuminated, and extending the blaze of light as far as the eye could reach, formed altogether a coup d’œil, which may be conceived, but which cannot be described. I had scarcely recovered from the surprise and admiration, which this sight produced, when the pantomime, intended to represent the horrors of war, and the happiness of peace, began under the colonnade where it was my good fortune to be seated.

I must confess, that this farce appeared to me ridiculous, and equally unworthy the great nation which gave the fête, and the important event which it was intended to celebrate. Sham combats, falling towers, wounded heroes, devils with torches, allegorical emblems of Discord, &c., followed by cornucopias, dancing peasants, cars of triumph, and lastly, by an illuminated temple of peace, which rose on the ruins of that of war, formed the principal entertainment. I think you will agree with me, that such a spectacle was better calculated for the stage of Sadler’s Wells in London, or the Ambigu-comique at Paris, than for the principal object of a great and national festival. Simple and plain as is this reflection, it did not seem to strike any of the french spectators, and the wisest of them looked on without disgust, and almost with admiration, on that which, instead of commemorating the most important event which Europe has seen for many years, appeared to the eye of reason only suited to entertain the dotage of age, or the simplicity of infancy.

If the pantomime were not very deserving of praise, it forms a single exception; and I can assure you, with great truth, that every other part of the fête was truly magnificent. As no carriage was allowed to roll that evening (a laudable precaution, taken on all such occasions at Paris), and as the fireworks were to take place on the river, at some distance from the house where I dined, it was necessary to pass on foot, through the vast crowd which filled la place de la Concorde, the walks of the Thuilleries, the bridges, the streets, &c. Yet such was the order that was preserved, and such the tranquillity of the people, that, accompanied by my wife and one gentleman, I made my way, I suppose, through nearly a million of people, without the least accident, and with certainly not more crowding than is daily experienced at a private fashionable ball in London. What astonished me most, indeed, the whole day, was the dead calm which prevailed among the spectators. They looked on, walked about, and seemed entertained with the shows which were exhibited; yet no cries of triumph, no shouts of joy, expressed the public satisfaction. The apathy which prevails in this country on all public events, and which has succeeded to the fever of popular violence, is strikingly apparent on all occasions, but on none more than this.

During my walk, I passed through the garden of the Thuilleries. The alleys were brilliantly decorated with rows of lamps, suspended on frames constructed for the purpose; and the palace was itself, if possible, still more resplendent. The whole had the appearance of an enchanted castle. From a house on the quai Voltaire, I saw the fireworks to great advantage; and they appeared to me, accustomed only to such as are exhibited in England, extremely beautiful. What pleased me most in the display, was a contrivance, by which the fire seemed to rise from the water; an ingenious and elegant idea, by which the inventor probably meant to represent allegorically, by the union of opposing elements, the reconciliation of two nations, always the rivals, and so long the enemies, of each other. There was a temple of commerce on the river, and little boats, with pendants of different nations. All this I consider as forming a second act to the pantomime exhibited on the place de la Concorde, and which I have already ventured to condemn. Both appeared, to an english eye, insignificant, if not ridiculous.

The fireworks appeared to me as perfect as possible; but there was some discontent expressed by the persons near me, that what is called a bouquet, with which they were to have concluded, was not displayed. This disappointment was attributed by some to a want of skill in the manager, and by others to an order of government, arising from a fear of danger to the adjoining buildings.

I cannot pretend to determine this important question; but I must be permitted to say, that if the parisians were not satisfied with this day’s amusement, they must be very unreasonable indeed in their pursuit of spectacles.

I returned home about eleven at night, much delighted with what I had seen; and though Mrs. ⸺ and myself were again obliged to pass through this mighty crowd, we neither of us experienced the slightest hurt, or the least incivility.