The exterior of this palace, which is now the House of Peers, has nothing very remarkable. It is a large regular building of a pure style of architecture: but its gardens are almost as fine as those of the Tuileries; they are, however, in bad condition, owing to the encampment of the Prussians, which has only of late been broken up: they were in small wooden huts, built in the principal walks and avenues of the garden.
By the by, I must not omit to mention that in Rubens' gallery there was a carpenter at work, mending the inlaid floor, although Sunday; a pretty example of attention to the fourth commandment.
The church of St. Sulpice, of which I shall next take notice, is one of the finest structures of its kind in Paris. Its architecture is very chaste and beautiful, especially that of the interior, which has more the air of our great religious edifices than French churches usually have. It possesses many fine chapels, but the chapel of the Virgin is the most venerable looking spot I have ever seen. Indeed I was completely awe-struck by it, and almost instinctively returned, to experience again the pleasing calm which its first appearance had excited in me. Upon examining the outer wall of the building, I found that this effect was produced by the ingenious manner in which its altar piece, which is a chef d'œuvre in sculpture, received its light: it is a statue of the Virgin and child, with a surrounding representation of clouds and little cherubs, placed in a niche, which is lighted by a small window over the head of the statue. The window is not discernible, but I suppose it is formed of ground glass, or something like it; at all events, the effect is almost magical, and although no catholic, I see no impropriety, in such a vortex of vice as Paris, in endeavouring by any means, even by an image or a painting, to abstract the human mind, for one short moment, to ideas above it.
This church, which is not old, I understand was one of Bonaparte's favourite churches, and to shew it to more advantage, he pulled down its surrounding houses, in order to form a large square before it, in the centre of which he erected a very handsome fountain.
Near this square is the École de Médecine, a large and noble building, enclosing an open court, from which you enter to the different lecture rooms. Its style of architecture is pure and manly, and its interior, as far as I could judge by looking through some of the windows, is conveniently arranged. I went thither intending to have heard one of Vauquelin's lectures on chemistry, but, it being holiday-time, there was no admission. The fountain near it is also worthy of notice, from its massive Grecian architecture, and its being a reservoir of the waters from the celebrated aqueduct at Arcueil, which, on account of their petrifying qualities, are brought to Paris, only, I suppose, to be used medicinally.
In the evening I accompanied two friends to the parterre of the Opera House. The performances were Les Badayeres and the ballet of Psyche: the music of the opera, by Catel, was but indifferent, and poor Psyche was too much bedeviled.
After the opera we resolved to end the year at the Café de France, in the Palais Royal, where we supped, à la mode Anglaise, on oysters, bread and butter, and beer, to the apparent astonishment and amusement of not less than seventy or eighty Frenchmen.
On Monday, 1st January, I went a second time to the Jardin des Plantes, in order to see that part of the Museum of Natural History which I had not time to inspect on my former visit. But I found that the porter had gone holiday-making so I contented myself by observing the various live foreign animals which may be seen in various parts of the garden, enclosed in proper fences, and by ascending a prospect-mount, erected for the purpose of overlooking Paris and its environs, of which, the day being clear, I had a very fine view. Returning, I crossed the Pont du Jardin, formerly called the Pont d'Austerlitz, a noble bridge of iron upon stone abutments; this and the other iron bridge at Paris, the Pont des Arts, leading to the National Institute, are the only two where they demand toll from passengers.
I then walked all along the Boulevards to the Porte St. Denys, passing the beautiful fountain on the Boulevard de Bondi. This is very large and circular, and embellished with several well executed figures of lions couchants, whose mouths serve for the passage of the water. On my way I passed many groups of people all dressed in their best clothes, amusing themselves by looking at the drolleries of mountebanks and puppet shows, with which the Boulevards were swarming; others were playing at games of skill and hazard, while some were exercising in swings and round-abouts; indeed it was almost like an English fair, and it appeared to me that all Paris was merry-making, on account of the arrival of the new year.
In the evening I went to the Théâtre de la Gaieté, one of the minor playhouses, but it was so filled by holiday folks that the only vacant place was the stage box. This house is small and dirty, but the music and dresses were good. A great many people in the boxes were eating little holiday sweetmeats. On my return home I witnessed, for the first time, a slight disturbance in one of the streets, and some national guards about to break their way into a house.