In the evening, the palace was splendidly illuminated. Every division of the arches forming the front towards the garden was covered with lamps, and a lustre of lights was suspended from each. The garden itself was prettily, but less brilliantly, decorated, than on the fête in honour of the preliminaries.
All the public buildings and offices were also lighted; but the only illumination at all remarkable, beside those which I have named, was that of Mr. Jackson, his majesty’s envoy extraordinary. The gates of “l’hôtel de Caramon,” where he lodges, were entirely covered with lamps of different colours; the effect of which was much admired, as at Paris that mode of decorating their rejoicings is unknown. On the right hand were the letters R. F. (République Française); and on the left, G. R. (Georgius Rex).
I forgot to mention that Bonaparte was much applauded by the populace, in going to Notre Dame; and that madame received the same compliment, though she went there without any parade, in a plain handsome carriage, and seemed to decline, rather than to court, the notice of the public.
During the illuminations there was no noise, and, indeed, no expression of joy. Very few people were seen in the Thuilleries, though the weather was fine, and the day sunday. The more I see of the french, the more am I astonished and disgusted at the indifference which they have contracted. Their dullness is the more disagreeable, from it’s being unnatural; and I cannot help exclaiming, every hour, with Voltaire,
Que je plains un françois, quand il est sans gaieté;
Loin de son élément le pauvre homme est jetté[73].
Adieu.