I was permitted to see the royal stables. They are, it is said, sufficiently large to contain 4000 horses, but are at present much out of repair. The city of Versailles is large and well built, but has a melancholy and deserted appearance, having lost nearly half its population since it has ceased to be a royal residence, and the present number of inhabitants does not exceed 30,000. The Grand and Petit Trianons deserve attention from having been the favourite retreats of the late unfortunate Queen of France; but few traces of the taste once displayed in their decoration now remain. They are situated within the limits of the forest of Versailles, which is said to be twenty leagues in circuit. At Sèvres, which is celebrated for the beauty of its porcelain manufactory, I observed workmen employed in finishing a new and handsome bridge of nine arches over the Seine, in place of the old one which is hardly passable. Near the barrier of Passy is a carpet-manufactory, which was established there by Henry the Fourth. This barrier is thought to be the most striking entrance to Paris. In my excursions in the vicinity of Paris, I observed that the harvest was extremely abundant, but the majority of those employed in collecting it were women. I was informed that last year the greatest difficulty was experienced in saving the harvest for want of a sufficient number of hands. I saw, at a distance, the castle of Vincennes, where Buonaparte (who had caused the removal of every vestige of the Bastile) had dungeons constructed many feet under ground, and with walls ten feet thick. This place is distinguished for the atrocious murder of the Duke d'Enghien. I had occasion to observe, both in the streets of Paris and on the roads in its vicinity, that there were but few private carriages to be seen, and those by no means handsome; but the roads are covered with cabriolets, of which there are 2,800 in Paris, besides about 2,000 fiacres, or hackney-coaches. The fare for an hour is only thirty sous.
As I had by this time pretty well satisfied my curiosity, in visiting the objects in Paris that principally arrest the attention of a traveller who has not leisure to dwell longer than is indispensable in one place, I began to be impatient to exchange the continual bustle of that city—its
"Fumum opes strepitumque,"
for those romantic and enlivening scenes in which Switzerland stands without a rival, and is, as it were, by acclamation, allowed to surpass the other countries of Europe.
I therefore attended at the office for foreign affairs, and obtained the signature of the Prince of Benevento (for about ten francs) in addition to the signature of our own distinguished minister, Lord Castlereagh. I was told it was necessary also to have my passport visited by the police before leaving Paris; and my landlord offered his services to arrange that affair for me. I however recollected Dr. Franklin's maxim, "If you would have your business clone, go; if not, send," and went accordingly to the office myself.
These affairs being arranged, so as to permit my passing without molestation through the interior of France, I quitted Paris without any sensations of regret at leaving a place which, highly as I had been pleased with many of the great objects which it contains, I cannot but consider, when curiosity is once gratified, to be an unpleasant residence. I took the road to Fontainbleau, distant about thirty-seven English miles; a place formerly only remarkable for its castle, situated in a forest of about 30,000 acres, and often visited by the Kings of France, for the amusements of the chace; but which will hold in history a distinguished page, and be visited in future ages as being the scene where it pleased Providence to terminate a tyranny unexampled in the history of the world. It is worthy of remark, that in this very castle, in which the venerable Head of the Romish Church was so long and so unjustly detained a captive, his once formidable oppressor was obliged to abdicate that authority which he had so long usurped and abused; and the 11th of April 1814, will be long hailed over Europe as the epoch when liberty, peace and good order were restored to its inhabitants, after the long and stormy reign of oppression, war and anarchy had so long precluded the expected time of which it was impossible entirely to despair—when Europe, so long a prey to dissension, should again be united as one common family. These hopes have at last been realized; the evils of the French Revolution (more productive of misfortune than the fabled box of Pandora) have in a manner been surmounted; and we have only further to wish, that the nations who have restored tranquillity to Europe, may continue to act with the moderation for which they have hitherto been distinguished [guess: distinguished].
It was natural, in beholding a place rendered memorable by such great events,—events which are probably destined to fix the fortunes of succeeding centuries, that the mind should dwell with more than common attention on the scene, and give itself up to the reflections it was calculated to produce. My thoughts were principally engaged in considering the very opposite characters of Pius VII. and of Buonaparte.
In the first we see united all that can give dignity to an exalted station, or that is praiseworthy in private life. We see him disposed as much as possible to conciliation, and even persuaded by his cardinals to cross the Alps in the most inclement season notwithstanding his advanced age, to crown the Usurper of France, in the expectation of advancing the interests of religion, by consenting to submit to a power which then appeared but too firmly established. The hopes of the pope were not realized; Buonaparte soon forgetting past services, made demands which he well knew could not be complied with, and amongst them that his holiness should declare war against England, and that too without the slightest motive for such a proceeding on his part, as he stated in his manifesto against the outrages of Buonaparte, a paper which must affect all who peruse it, and excite their regret that the pope was not in a situation effectually to preserve that independence which did such honour to his heart.
The new-made emperor was not, however, to be reasoned with but by force; and in about four years after the pope had placed the diadem on his head, he caused him to be removed from his capital as a prisoner, and united the Ecclesiastical States to the dominions of France. The spirit of the pope was still unsubdued, and he refused, for himself and his cardinals, all offers of subsistence from the usurper of their possessions. When urged to come to some agreement with Buonaparte, he answered that his regret at having accepted the late Concordat, would be a sufficient security against his being again deceived. And when the cardinals represented the evils which might result from his refusal, he answered, "Let me die worthy of the misfortunes I have suffered." On the 23d of January, 1814, the pope was removed from Fontainbleau, as were each of the seventeen cardinals, in custody of a gend'arme, and their destination was kept secret. But on the 5th of April following, the provisional government of France gave orders, that all obstacles to the return of the pope to his states might be removed; and, after five years of confinement and outrage, Pius VII. returned to his capital, to receive the reward of that firmness and moderation, which, blended so happily in his character, will long render it an object of admiration.