A rough sketch of modern Paris

by J. G. Lemaistre

Besides the “national library,” there is the library of the Pantheon (or St. Généviève), consisting of eighty thousand volumes, and two thousand manuscripts, open every day from ten till two o’clock.

The Mazarine library, or (“des quatre nations,”) is open every day, from ten till two o’clock (excepting on the 5th and 10th of each month), and contains sixty thousand volumes.

The library of the “Institute” is open every day to members, and every 15th of the month to the public.

The legislature, the tribunate, the senate, and the other constituted authorities, have also their libraries.

In addition to these sources of knowledge, there are several literary institutions, called, when I first came here, “des Lycées, or Lyceums,” but which, in consequence of the national colleges lately established having taken that name, have changed theirs, and assumed the appellation of “des Athénées.” The most distinguished of these, “le Lycée,” (or, according to its new title, “l’Athénée,”), “republicain,” has been the principal source of my amusement at Paris. It consists of annual subscribers, who, for the moderate sum of four louis, enjoy all its benefits. The society has a large floor, or apartment, situate near the “Palais Royal,” (in a street called by its name); and it is open the whole of every day for the use of the subscribers. There is a small library, where all the periodical publications and newspapers are taken in; and while three or four rooms are appropriated to conversation, one is devoted to reading, and profound silence is there ordered and maintained. In addition to these, there is an excellent lecture room, with all the necessary apparatus for experiments, in which the ablest men in France appear as professors. The subject of the lectures, which are regularly given, always twice, and frequently three times, in the course of the day, are literature, the sciences, and modern languages. When I add, that Fourcroy takes the chymical department, that Cuvier reads on natural history, and that la Harpe, till banished by the government, was the professor of literature, you will readily allow, that no establishment can be better organized. Besides these, “Hassenfratz” gives very good lectures on agriculture, and the studies connected with that science. “Sué,” as an anatomist, is justly celebrated; and the other professors, in their different lines, prove themselves well qualified for the tasks assigned them. With “Fourcroy,” and “Cuvier,” I was particularly delighted; and it is impossible, without having heard them, to form an idea of the clearness and eloquence with which they explain the subjects of their respective departments. As to “la Harpe” I must confess, I was not a little disappointed. From his great renown, and from the encomiums past on him, in early life, by Voltaire, I expected to have been at once pleased, instructed, and surprised. In these hopes I was strongly encouraged by the manner in which his lectures were spoken, of at Paris, and by the crowds which flocked to the “Lycée,” whenever it was his turn to fill the chair. Dreadful was my disappointment, when, at last, I heard him. Pompignan, la Motte, Fontenelle, and some other authors of that stamp, were the subjects of his discourses; and, beginning with telling us that these writers were either entirely forgotten, or deserved to be so, he continued, for whole days together, to drag their ghosts before his audience, whom he seemed to convert into a “tribunal révolutionaire” of criticism, and to attack their memory with all the warmth and violence of an “accusateur public.” These philippics against dead and neglected authors, filled up with long quotations from the works which he ridiculed, interlarded with attacks on those philosophical and political principles of which he was originally the ardent advocate, and enlivened now and then with a joke, and sometimes with an anecdote, constituted the whole merit of his lectures. Yet the members of the “Lycée” heard him with wonder and admiration; and whenever he threw down his book, turned round with a look of self-complacence, or filled his tumbler with lemonade from the decanter always placed by his side, the signal was instantly taken, and loud and repeated applauses thundered from every corner of the room. To account for this partiality, I must repeat, that every thing at Paris is ruled by fashion; and la Harpe being generally considered as the most distinguished literary man now alive, every thing which fell from his tongue was necessarily excellent; and I have no doubt, that if he had contented himself with reading an article from one of the newspapers of the morning, he would have been equally admired and as warmly applauded.

The “Lycée” is altogether a most excellent establishment; and, considering, that two lectures, and frequently three, are given six days in every week, and that these lectures are included in the subscription, the price of four louis is very moderate.

I cannot speak properly of this institution as a place of society, as I seldom staid there after the conclusion of the lectures; but I am told, that the members are, generally speaking, respectable men. The rooms are constantly full, and some persons may be said nearly to pass their lives there, since they are scarcely ever absent, except at the hour of dinner. I think it not improbable, that much amusement may be found in the conversation of the members; but I confine my recommendation to the advantages which the “Lycée” affords, as an easy source of profitable knowledge.

“L’Institut national,” that celebrated society, which has succeeded “l’académie française,” which is held up as the great republican repository of genius and learning, and into which admittance is solicited with so much eagerness, both at home and abroad, consists of one hundred and forty-four members resident at Paris, and of twenty-four foreign associates. It is divided into three classes; the sciences, physical and mathematical; the sciences, moral and political; literature and the fine arts. Each of these classes is again subdivided.

The “Institut” has a public séance, or meeting, on the 15th of every month. I was present at one of these assemblies; and I am ashamed to confess, that I had difficulty in refraining from laughter. The society holds its sittings in a spacious room in the palace of the Louvre. The members were seated in such silent, solemn state, each with his reading desk, books, ink, and wax lights before him, while a dull and uninteresting paper was reading, that their gravity produced the opposite effect on me, and “malgré” my respect for the establishment, and for those who belong to it, it was not without a struggle that I composed my features, and checked the impulse of nature. At last, fortunately for me, “Colin d’Harleville,” a dramatic writer of merit, ascended the rostrum, and read a kind of funeral oration, or eulogy, on the memory of an author of reputation, lately dead. The simplicity of the speaker’s manner, the harmony of his voice, and the feeling which he displayed, in deploring the loss and proving the worth of his friend, charmed every ear; and, notwithstanding the pompous faces which surrounded me, I became as melancholy as they wished to appear serious. The members of “l’institut national” wear a blue cloth uniform, richly embroidered with silk of the same colour.

The “Jardin national des Plantes[84],” founded originally by Buffon, is one of the most interesting objects at Paris. Naturalists, and persons fond of botany, have here every opportunity of cultivating those useful studies, and of gratifying, in the amplest manner, their favourite taste. The garden itself, which is extensive, and reaches to the river, contains every kind of curious and exotic plant. There is a greenhouse likewise, filled with such trees, the tender nature of which cannot bear the coldness of a northern atmosphere.