A rough sketch of modern Paris

by J. G. Lemaistre

The manufactory of Gobelins deserves all its celebrity. The colours, the design, and the execution of the tapestry made here, are equal to the productions of the finest painting. I was shown some specimens, which were uncommonly beautiful, particularly two pieces, one of which represented the assassination of the admiral Coligni, and the other the heroic conduct of the président Molé, copied from the picture at Versailles, an account of which I have already given.

There are ninety persons now employed, of whom I saw several at work. It is astonishing with what facility they seem to perform the most difficult tasks, but I am told that the art is not learnt without much time and considerable attention. The apprenticeship requires six years, and at least eighteen are necessary to make a proficient. The workmen are not locked up within the walls of the manufactory, as was the case during the monarchy, but they are kept under the constant “surveillance[77] of the police.” Most of the pieces now in hand have been ordered by the first consul, and are destined to form the ornament of St. Cloud, and other public buildings.

From the Gobelins, situate in the most distant part of the Fauxbourg St. Germain, I drove along the new Boulevard to the observatory. I found here only some common sized telescopes, on which I observed with pride the respectable name of “Dollond,” of London. I was informed that a magnificent instrument of this kind is preparing on the plan of Herschel, which is to be twenty-two feet long, with a speculum of platina. It is to be moved on a platform, for the purpose of making observations, by means of a machine invented for the purpose. I ascended the top of the building, and the view thence, which commands all Paris, is grand and striking.

Near the observatory is the nursery of that humane establishment called “les Enfans trouvés,” which is still kept up on the old philanthropic plan. Orphan children, deprived by death of their parents, or abandoned by them, are received here without question, recommendation, or inquiry, and are nursed with tenderness, well fed, properly educated, and lastly, qualified for some trade or profession, in which they are afterwards placed at the expense of the public. Their infancy is passed in the building shown to me; they are, at a certain age, sent into the country, for the benefit of the air, and then return to the principal hospital of the institution at Paris, where their education is completed. Their number is seldom less than a thousand.

I shall continue to speak of the different objects I have lately seen, in the same order in which I visited them.

The Champ de Mars, where, on the 14th of july, 1790, I was present, when the unfortunate Lewis XVI received and repeated the oath of fidelity to that constitution which was so soon violated, has still the remains of that vast amphitheatre, made by the activity and zeal of the parisians in the course of fourteen days, and on which were seated nearly a million of people. I recollected all the spots, where the principal authorities were placed on that memorable day; and it will be needless for me to repeat the innumerable reflections which were created by a remembrance of the extraordinary and many-coloured events which have since occurred. The École Militaire, which is now a barrack for the consular horse guards, forms the front and principal ornament of the Champ de Mars, which is terminated on the other side by the river Seine. L’École Militaire was built, in 1751, from a plan of Gabriel. It has a handsome façade, and a lofty dome, with a dial, and the figures of Time and Astronomy.

The building of “les Invalides” presents one of the most striking objects of Paris. Besides the beauty of its construction, its handsome entrance, its four courts, its celebrated clock, its lofty dome, and elegant pillars, it contains, in the principal hall, or chapel, now called “le Temple de Mars,” the colours, or ensigns, taken during the war, by the republican armies, from the different powers opposed to France. This beautiful room at least a hundred feet long, is lined on all sides with the badges of triumph, many of which bear, from their tattered appearance, the most convincing proofs of not having been obtained without considerable difficulty. Among the innumerable colours of all nations, I perceived, with pride, that there were only two or three english; and these, from their size, had belonged to some ship, perhaps to a merchantman, or to that man of war, which, after sharing the glories of Aboukir, was taken by five french vessels of the line, after a resistance no less honourable than her former success. In the centre of this spacious apartment, to the right, surrounded by the trophies of his successors and countrymen, is placed the tomb of Turenne. This monument was removed to the Temple of Mars by the present government, and placed here, with considerable pomp, after having been saved from the fury of jacobinical rage, and preserved, by the care of le Noir, in the “Musée des Monuments françois.”

The circumstance which I have just mentioned, naturally leads me to speak of the last named institution, which I visited yesterday for the second time. On my arrival at Paris, I went to see le Musée des Monuments françois; and not being as much struck with the exhibition as I expected, from its great renown, I purposely postponed speaking of it, till I had had an opportunity of examining it again with all the attention it deserved. After several hours employed in this second view, I continue of my former opinion, that the spot[78], in which these monuments are collected, is infinitely too small; that the garden, meant to be the tranquil site of sepulchral honours, and the calm retreat of departed grandeur, is on so limited a scale, is so surrounded with adjoining houses, and altogether so ill arranged, that, instead of presenting the model of

“Those deep solitudes ...

Where heav’nly pensive Contemplation dwells,