How to Enjoy Paris in 1842 Part 4

"Pay for it," sternly said the Frenchman, "what do you talk of paying for it, when you are invited, follow me;" the Englishman obeyed, but wished himself well out of the sc.r.a.pe; his conductor took him to one of the lowest sort of wine-houses and they entered a large room where there were above twenty seated, drinking round a table. His new acquaintance introduced him in due form, saying, I have brought you an Englishman who finds our Revolution very fine; there was a degree of order amongst them and they had a president and vice president, but were very much such rough looking fellows as the one who announced him; as a stranger, he was awarded the seat of honour to the right of the president, but had no sooner been seated, than one man addressed him, saying,

"I have been in England, I was a prisoner and very ill treated."

"I am sorry for that," replied the Englishman.

"I was almost starved," added the other.

"That was not the fault of the people or the intention of the government," observed my friend, "but was caused by a few rascally contractors who received a handsome sum for the supply of the prisoners, and to make the greater profit they provided bad articles."

"Well," said another, "I have seen extracts from the English papers and they speak very highly of our revolution, particularly the Times."

They next proceeded to give accounts of the share they had taken in the struggle which had just terminated, and some began to state the number that they killed, all of which was far from edifying to my friend, who sat upon thorns notwithstanding they all drank his health, hitting the gla.s.ses together according to the custom of olden time. At several periods he made an effort to go, but they a.s.sured him that they could not part with him so soon, called him a _bon anglais_, now and then giving him a smack on the shoulder as a proof of their friendly feeling towards him. The Englishman began at last to wish himself anywhere but where he was, and in that manner they kept him for three hours in durance vile; at last he made a bold push for a retreat, declaring he could not stay a minute longer.

"Then," said his conductor, "I shall see you safe home to your door;"

now that was the very thing that my friend did not want, as he was particularly desirous of dropping the acquaintance as soon as possible, therefore did not wish him to know where he lived; so at last he thought of a person with whom he dealt, and said he must go, and see a friend there with whom he had an appointment; and the Frenchman accompanied him to the door, always carrying his drawn sword with him, and when taking leave asked the Englishman when and where he should see him again; my friend answered he was going to England.

"Going to England," repeated the other, "what are you going to England for, if you find our Revolution so very fine, what do you want to go away from it for, not to abuse it to your country people, I hope?"

"Oh no," replied the Englishman, "I am only going to England for a little while, on business, and shall be back soon, and shall have it in my power to tell my countrymen all about the Revolution, and what an heroic struggle it was."

"Ah!" said the Frenchman; then holding out his great rough hand, bade the Englishman "bon soir," and "bon voyage."

My friend declared that it was impossible for him to describe to what a degree he was rejoiced at seeing his new acquaintance depart, although, however rough his appearance, the man might have been perfectly harmless, except when called upon to fight for what he considered his country's cause.

I was myself living in Paris during the struggle of the Three Days, and can bear witness to the humanity and moderation of the people during the contest, and of their forbearance after their victory; they came to the house at which I was living and asked for wine; but they brought with them pails of water into which they threw what was given them, thereby proving their extreme temperance and forbearance, but certainly a band of a more ruffianlike looking set of fellows, it would be difficult to imagine, and the manner in which they were at first armed, had something in it of the horrible, and at the same time of the ludicrous; iron bars, pokers, pitchforks, and in fact anything that could be converted into a weapon was taken possession of by the unwashed horde, who swarmed towards the centre of Paris from the manufacturing suburbs; soon, however, the public armouries, and the gunsmiths' shops, the musquetry, and other arms taken from the soldiers during the battle, contributed to arm them more formidably.

But in justice to the Parisians I must cite two circ.u.mstances; the one is, that whatever they seized upon in the public inst.i.tutions, as instruments of offence and defence, were restored when the contest was over; the librarian at the Royal Library told me that they took all the ancient and modern arms from their establishment, but with the exception of seven they were all brought back, and most likely the bearers of those which were missing had been killed.

The other instance which does high credit to the Parisian mob, is that they would not permit of any robbing or pillage in any house or building which they might enter, but, as might be expected, some of the regular thieves of Paris mixed amongst the people; one at length being caught purloining an image in the palace of the Tuileries, they formed a circle round the thief, tried him in an instant, and shot him; this was summary justice with a vengeance, and certainly not exactly what ought to have been done, but it showed the principle which existed. In fact honesty is undoubtedly a quality existing in France to a most extraordinary degree, a greater proof of it cannot be adduced than the fact that when any person quits a theatre with the idea of returning in a few minutes they leave their handkerchiefs on their seats by way of retaining their places, which custom is even practised at the lowest theatres, where the admittance is only half a franc.

Ingenuity and a tact for invention are certainly features peculiar to the French character, but they are far behind the English in their methods of transacting business; this remark is applicable even to most of the public offices; that France is extremely flourishing, and Paris more particularly so, cannot be denied, but were it in the hands of the English there is no doubt their produce, manufactures, and commerce, both home and foreign, would be considerably greater than it now is.

France has been most peculiarly favoured by nature, her soil produces everything that can be grown in England, and besides three commodities which are not genial to our climate, and are of immense value, oil, silk and wine; hence the products of the soil of France amount annually to the immense sum of 240,000,000_l._, or 6,000,000,000 francs; having such a basis, or one may even say such a capital to work upon, to what an incalculable extent might business be carried on, with the amazing industry that exists in France, as in the first place their population exceeds ours by nearly six millions; then their general temperance is such, there is not so much time nor labour lost as there is in England, consequently there are more hands available, and those generally for a longer period of time, as every one who is familiar with many manufacturing and even agricultural districts in England must be aware that there are numbers of workmen who never appear on the Monday, vulgarly called St. Monday, but spend it at the public houses.

I myself have had farming men whom I hired by the day in Kent, who did not appear until Wednesday morning, but that, however, is some years since, and the evil is now correcting. The great deficiency in France is not only want of great capitalists, but men of enterprise, who are not afraid to enter upon colossal undertakings; and now, looking at the speculative works of the greatest magnitude which exist in France, it will be found that Englishmen are concerned in them, either as partners in a firm, or the princ.i.p.al shareholders in any company or a.s.sociation.

The promptness of the English for adventuring their funds in all sorts of schemes is the wonderment of all Europe; whenever there is any discovery which may be rendered available for trade, an Englishman is on the spot with his capital in his hand and his calculation in his head.

Recently a vein of coal was found near the coast of Brittany, three Englishmen were there as if they had dropped from the clouds, quite prepared to enter into all the arrangements requisite for working the mine and rendering it productive of profit.

But although the French are deficient in those qualities requisite for commencing and conducting gigantic enterprises, yet they are rapidly improving in every point that is necessary for the management of business and augmenting their foreign commerce to a great extent, particularly with America; from the town of New Orleans alone, last summer, there were eighty merchants in Paris at one time, and the amount from all the United States was estimated at two thousand; in fact if France remain at peace, the increase of her prosperity in every branch of industry must be certain, as if she obtain English machinery, which she must ultimately, with those who know how to set it in motion also, as provisions are cheaper, and always will be than with us, because she needs not so much taxation, her debt being so much smaller than that of England, labour must be lower, therefore she will have an advantage over us which it will be impossible for England, with all her talents, to circ.u.mvent. Already the Americans purchase, not only silks and fancy articles in France, but also even cotton goods of the superior qualities; the only obstacle which prevents the French from making still more rapid advancement than is at present the case, is first timidity of capitalists, deficiency of knowledge of the higher order of business, and extreme slowness in proceeding with any grand national operation, as for instance, her railroads, in which she has not only seen England surpa.s.s her tenfold, but other neighbouring countries; but as there is a sort of system of centralization in favour of the metropolis, Paris improves more rapidly in proportion than the rest of France.

CHAPTER VI.

The monuments of Paris, the gardens, promenades, markets, libraries, etc.

In order to facilitate the progress of the reader in viewing the monuments and different objects of interest in Paris, I shall cla.s.sify them within certain limits, so that they may be viewed in the shortest possible time, stating those which are contiguous to each other, so that a greater number may be visited in a day, than if the traveller went from one distant quarter of Paris to the other promiscuously, as he happened to hear of any building or monument he wished to see, and thus have to return perhaps two or three times to the same neighbourhood instead of finishing with one district first, then taking the others in rotation; as I shall suppose that some of my readers can only afford ten days or a fortnight to view Paris, I shall be as chary of their time as possible; having been accustomed to show the lions to many different friends or acquaintances from England, I trust I am tolerably _au fait_ at that operation. I shall begin with that part of Paris denominated La Cite, because it is the most central and the most ancient; we will therefore proceed to it by the Pont-Neuf, which as I have already stated was built by Henry III about 1580. There are several shops upon it contained within small stone buildings, which, when viewing the bridge at a short distance, have rather a picturesque effect; it is ornamented with a number of heads according to the taste of that day, and which now give it rather an antique appearance. When well upon the bridge which rises as it approaches the centre, I would advise the spectator to look around him, as the view well repays the trouble, the quays having a most n.o.ble appearance, adorned by the Louvre, the Tuileries, the Inst.i.tute, and other public buildings.

Now let us look about us at more immediate objects; what a noisy bustling scene it is at present, and has been for centuries past, as in the reign of Henry IV it is described as absolutely stunning; now you are a.s.sailed by the hissing of fried potatoes, fish, and fritters, which are bought up as fast as they are supplied, women and men are seated with their little apparatus for shearing cats and dogs, and clipping their tails and ears if required, which is a calling that appears to be followed by numbers in Paris who all seem to take their stations on the bridges; situated amongst them are several s...o...b..acks, who appear to take their posts in uniform array with the trimmers of cats and dogs; they operate upon your boots and shoes as you stand, therefore if you wish to patronise them you may take that opportunity of looking about and getting disburthened of some of the Paris mud, quite certain if it be wet weather that you will soon get more. Fruit in all its variety, books, prints, blacking, and nick-knacks of every description offer themselves to your notice. But let us direct our attention to a more interesting object; the fine bronze equestrian statue of Henry IV: one could almost think the good and merry monarch was going to utter some of his witty sallies. Now let us turn round and behold those antique looking houses which face us and were built in his reign, at a distance they have a sort of castellated appearance: before we quit the bridge let us look down on the Baths Vigier with their pretty garden; we will enter the place Dauphine, and then take one look at the bust of Desaix, the victim of the battle of Marengo, and next we will turn on to the Quai de l'Horloge and view the north side of the Palais de Justice; it presents two round towers, which have the appearance of being very old, and I was a.s.sured by an architect who employed much of his time in poking about after such morsels of antiquity as he could find, that they were built by the Romans, but I doubt it.

We must not miss the Tour de l'Horloge, which is certainly of the middle ages, and the clock is I believe considered the oldest in Paris; turning to the right we view the grand front of the Palais de Justice, a very handsome iron grating in part gilded, decorates the entrance to the front court, and you ascend a bold flight of steps to the princ.i.p.al door; four doric pillars with figures representing Justice, Fort.i.tude, Plenty, and Prudence, adorn the grand facade of the building; an immense hall to the right, in which is a n.o.ble statue of the good and venerable Malesherbes, well worth attention, and is the apartment where formerly amba.s.sadors were received and the nuptial ceremonies of princes were celebrated, but now the rendez-vous of lawyers, barristers, and their clients.

Several other halls, chambers, galleries, corridors, etc, are worth notice, and that which is beneath them, has a shuddering kind of interest; it is called the Conciergerie, and if its victims were there consigned by the harsh decree of rigid justice, surely mercy and charity were not allowed to enter, whilst it formed the prison of the hapless Marie Antoinette and the brave Pichegru, but we will draw a veil over those scenes which are but fraught with sad reminiscences. Many of these dark covered alleys, belonging to this extraordinary building, have been long occupied by venders of shoes, slippers and a variety of articles which remind one of the old Exeter Change.

This singular edifice which almost resembles a town is considered to have been founded by Eudes, count of Paris, about the year 890, but the most ancient part now standing, was built by Saint Louis who founded the chapel, which is considered to be a complete type of the _pure_ gothic architecture, and which in that respect is not exceeded by any other in Europe; it has the most decided air of antiquity, with a richness and elegance which certainly characterise it as the beau ideal of that period. It is termed the Holy Chapel and now appropriated to the conservation of ancient records. From this interesting monument we turn with regret, but a new scene bursts upon us; it is the flower market, which is held under trees and furnished with large ba.s.sins constantly supplied with water; the numerous display of flowers mostly in pots done up in such a manner with white paper so that it forms the background, gives much light and life to the colours, buds, and blossoms, which bloom on this enlivening spot. Wednesdays and Sat.u.r.days are the market days, and I recommend the reader not to miss so pleasing a spectacle. On the Quai du Marche-Neuf, on the southern bank of the island, a very opposite sight may be seen, being the Morgue, a little building for receiving all dead bodies found, and not owned.

We now proceed to Notre-Dame, which is in the form of a cross; it was began about the year 1150, in the reign of Louis the Seventh, but continued in that of Philippe-Auguste, and completed under Saint-Louis in 1257, which date, as I have already stated, it now distinctly bears.

Its magnitude and extent surpa.s.ses every other church in Paris, it is in the arabic style, and being now totally detached from any other building has a most grand effect; it is only in the present reign that this great improvement has been effected, as it was formerly joined on one side to the archiepiscopal palace. The immense number of grotesque figures which surround and surmount the doorway, give it a most rich appearance, although they are in the rudest style of barbarism; above is a large window called the rose, which is a most beautiful and curious object.

The interior at the first view has a most striking effect; one hundred and twenty pillars supporting a range of arches afford a most splendid _coup d'oeil_, the middle aisle presenting an uninterrupted view of the whole church, which being very lofty has a most majestic appearance; the sumptuous altar, the fine gloom pervading the pictures, the curious Gobelin tapestry which decorate the sides, combine in affording a rich effect which is still heightened by the chapels which are perceptible between the columns. Although it might be urged that there is rather a profusion of decoration with the bas-reliefs, and other ornaments, yet the edifice is on so colossal a scale that it still presents so broad a ma.s.s, that a tone of simplicity pervades the whole. The beautiful choir is after a design by De Goste, the altar and sanctuary are of marble and porphyry, whilst tesselated pavements and variegated shrines adorn the numerous chapels. The pictures are good in general; as to the tapestry, I think it had better be removed, which I dare say it will be as taste refines. It is to be regretted that the towers of Notre-Dame have so heavy and black appearance, which is increased by a parcel of dark unseemly shutters. On the outside towards the north, there are some pieces of sculpture well worth examination; they are beautifully executed although much deteriorated by time, and appear to be works of about the thirteenth century. There are some curious bra.s.ses which would be very interesting to persons capable of decyphering them, one in particular to the left on entering, but so much in the dark that it is difficult to make it out, especially as the characters at best are not easy to understand, but I recommend them to the inspection of those persons who have time and inclination to study such subjects. The view of the city from the towers affords an ample panorama, and displays the positions of the princ.i.p.al monuments.

The Hotel Dieu is one of the finest establishments of the kind in Europe, it is an hospital for the sick, in which they can make up 1,500 beds, but there is nothing in its external appearance that is very striking. The Archiepiscopal Palace had not a very attractive exterior, but now, as they are partly demolishing and rebuilding it all, remarks must be suspended until it be finished. No other object presents itself particularly worth notice on this island, once the celebrated Lutetia, but many of the houses have a very old appearance, and are some of them probably of three or four hundred years standing; the curious observer inspecting them will here and there find indications of the middle ages.

If the reader like to pa.s.s over to the Isle St. Louis, it will but take him a few minutes, which is about as much as it is worth; the only object exciting attention is the Hotel Chamisot, No. 45, Rue St. Louis, and the church of St. Louis, built in 1664. In this edifice there are some pictures worthy remark and a curious spire. The Hotel Lambert, No.

2, Rue St. Louis, also merits attention, being most richly adorned with paintings, gilded mouldings, frescos, etc. Voltaire lived in it, and Napoleon had a long conversation in the gallery in 1815 with his minister, Montalivet, when he found all was lost.

I shall now conduct my reader from the little Isle St. Louis by the Pont de Tournelle to the Quay de Tournelle, from which we proceed to that of St. Bernard, where every one must be struck with the Halles aux Vins, or Wine Halls; they are all arranged with extreme regularity, and forming altogether a whole, have a most singular effect; the neatness of the appearance is remarkable; and the extent is such that they might contain sufficient inhabitants to people a small town. As we proceed along the quay, we have a good view of the Pont d'Austerlitz, it is quite flat, built of iron, and is extremely light and handsome.

Upon our right is the great attraction, so interesting to all nations, the Garden of Plants; the first view of it through the iron railing is most striking, rows of sable looking trees, forming a fine contrast to the broad expansive beds of flowers, their gay colours blooming forth so thickly as to resemble at some distance the brightest and richest carpet; broad walks are between these brilliant ma.s.ses; at the end of which is the building which contains the Museum of natural History; to give the reader anything like an accurate idea of this establishment, it is necessary to exercise one's ability in condensing to the utmost degree, as to furnish a comprehensive a.n.a.lysis of the wonders of this inst.i.tution would require a folio volume. I knew an English couple who took lodgings in the immediate neighbourhood for three months that they might go every day and study the numberless interesting objects this establishment contains. The long promenades are formed by picturesque trees and shrubs which have been collected from every clime; the immense number of labels, as one approaches more closely, rather disfigure the display of flowers, but as usefulness is the object, it is impossible otherwise than to approve the extreme order and regularity with which every plant, according to its genus, is cla.s.sified, affording a most delectable treat to a regular botanist. This arrangement has been effected under the superintendence of Monsieur du Jussieu himself, no doubt one of the most scientific botanists thatever has appeared; his residence and that of his family was in the gardens, when I was in Paris twenty years back, and I believe some of them still are concerned in the botanical arrangements of the inst.i.tution.

The tremendous vocabulary of long latin names inscribed on the labels is really enough to appal the most retentive memory that ever existed, and to a person who has never dipped at all into the mysteries of botany I can imagine the terms are rather alarming, words with nineteen letters in them are but trifles compared to others, and a regular John Bull who was scanning them very justly remarked, pointing to the flowers, that it was certainly a favoured spot of Flora, and then alluding to the fruits observed the same of Pomona, but added, he should like very much to know who was the G.o.ddess of hard words as he would recommend her to descend upon the same beds, as she would there find a more numerous progeny than either of her rival G.o.ddesses. I believe that there are now nearly 10,000 plants arranged according to the system of De Jussieu, in the most simple and perfect manner, so that the student is enabled at once to comprehend the plan, and numbers of both s.e.xes attend even as early as six in the morning copying the names of plants and studying their cla.s.sification. Although this establishment is called the Garden of Plants, it has many other objects of the highest interest besides what its name indicates. It is at the same time a most extensive menagerie, which first gave the idea that has since been adopted of the Zoological Gardens in Regent's Park; formerly the arrangement exceedingly interested and delighted the English visiter, but now that he has the same thing at home, it has ceased to be a novelty. Each animal having plenty of room to walk about in, was certainly a beautiful thought, and great improvement on confining them in cages, which is now only found necessary with ferocious animals. The bears form a great source of amus.e.m.e.nt to the people, they are in large square pits about ten or twelve feet below the level of the promenades, and each has a large pole in the middle, with several branches upon which they climb, whilst the visiters throwing bread to them are exceedingly diverted at their successful or unsuccessful attempts to catch it. It would be superfluous to enter upon a description of the great variety of animals a.s.sembled in this collection, suffice it to say that I believe there is no living animal who can exist in a Parisian climate, that is not to be found in this garden; generally there are several of a kind, and in case one dies it is immediately replaced by another. The monkeys are the princ.i.p.al objects of attraction, and as soon as they are let out into their little paddock in front of their dwellings, which is only when the day is considered sufficiently warm, crowds of people a.s.semble to witness their grimaces and gambols; they and the bears may be considered as the princ.i.p.al dramatis personae of the menagerie, and who certainly perform their parts most admirably, never failing to afford the utmost entertainment to the audience: and it is indeed a sort of rivalry between Jocko and Bruin which should play their _role_ the best; for my own part I really think I give the preference to the latter, there is something at once so comic and so good natured-looking in the bears, that I feel almost inclined to descend into their pits and caress and pet them as I would a favourite dog, but am only deterred by fearing they would give me a reception rather too warm, and their friendly hug be too overpowering for me to sustain.

There are several buildings in this garden which are applied to various purposes, amongst the rest an Amphitheatre where lectures on all the branches of natural history are delivered. A Cabinet of Anatomy most richly stored occupies one mansion; dissections of the human form, as well as those of almost every animal are here found, besides numerous other curiosities. Amongst other things the progress of a chicken in the egg is exemplified, from its first speck until it has life, which is imitated with the most extraordinary exactness in wax, as also are several fishes which cannot be preserved, besides a numerous collection of foeti and monsters. To see these things properly; would require to pa.s.s several days in these rooms; but a week would not suffice to do justice to the grand Museum, every description of bird and beast that has been known to exist in our days may be found here stuffed, and preserved in gla.s.s cases with the nicest care; it appears strange to see an enormous elephant and a tall ostrich within a gla.s.s case. Here also are to be found every species of fungus, chrysalis, sea-weed, eggs, and nests. But the sh.e.l.ls, minerals, and fossils, form so extraordinary and numerous a collection that they are the subject of admiration of every beholder; the polish of the sh.e.l.ls, the brilliance of the colours of the plumage of the birds, and the glossy smoothness of the skins of the beasts are as perfect as if they were living, but the same cannot exactly be said of the fishes. The marbles, porphyry, and granite, the lava, basaltes, barks of trees, bones of animals known and unknown, some within stones, are arranged by the celebrated Cuvier, whilst the ores, crystals, jaspers, and extraordinary varieties of ornamental articles formed of these materials occupy several apartments.

In addition to all these objects of high interest, there is a most excellent library, giving every possible information regarding the contents of this delightful establishment; a statue of the great ill.u.s.trator of the wonders of nature, Buffon, is here most appropriately placed, as also some paintings of plants and animals.

Hence it may be easily imagined that persons who have much leisure, and are fond of the study of natural history, may well choose to take up their abode in the neighbourhood, for the convenience of long poring over the beauties of this wonderful Museum. From hence other schools of botany are supplied with seeds, cuttings, suckers, etc., whilst the hospitals of Paris are gratuitously furnished with whatever is requisite for the purposes of medicine; nor must I omit to state that there is a most beautiful aviary, the birds of which are choice selections of the finest of their species, and for those of an aquatic nature, there is a basin of water from the Seine. Even specimens of soils, manures, ditches, ha-has, palisades, frames, and every thing necessary for forming fences are to be found here in every variety. Even to persons who have no scientific information nor desire to obtain knowledge, to walk in the Jardin-des-Plantes (Garden of Plants) affords delight, the number of attractions are such, and of so varied a description that even the dullest mind must be awakened to a sense of pleasure, yet some persons I have seen who regarded all the phenomena collected here with the most stoical indifference; the fact is, that a number of people will not take the trouble to think, and lose the enjoyment they might receive from the wonders of nature; how different if they would but devote to them a little reflexion.

With our minds still deeply impregnated with the impression of the objects we have just contemplated, we will leave the garden, and turning round to the right, we find ourselves upon the Boulevard de l'Hopital, just facing the Hopital de la Salpetriere, which makes up 500 beds for females, who are lunatics, idiots, otherwise diseased, or 70 years of age; it is of immense extent, and conducted with so much order, and such cleanliness prevails both with regard to the inmates and the establishment itself, that it may be considered one of the most gratifying sights in Paris; in fact I have heard many English ladies, much to their credit, declare that not any of the interesting objects which they had seen in the French capital, afforded them more pleasure and satisfaction. Just near it is the terminus for the Orleans railway, which is worthy of observation, and then we will cross over to the horse and dog market and observe the regular system with regard to the stalls and other arrangements which are adopted; it is princ.i.p.ally for draught-horses, Wednesdays and Sat.u.r.days are the market days, and Sundays for dogs. We must next glance at the Hopital de la Pitie, founded in 1612 for paupers, it has been since annexed to the Hotel-Dieu, and contains 600 beds; it is situated No. 1, rue Copeau.

Sainte-Pelagie being just by in the Rue de la Clef, we ought to afford it a half hour; it was formerly a convent of nuns, political prisoners are now here confined when committed for trial, or if sentenced to but short terms of imprisonment; it is also appropriated for other offenders whose sentence of confinement is of brief duration, but the military surveillance within and around it is very strict.

The Fountain Cuvier, at the corner of the street of that name, and the Rue St. Victor, must claim a few minutes' attention; it is certainly one amongst those of modern erection possessing great merit. In the Rue Scipion we will cast one look at the great bakehouse for all the hospitals in Paris, to which I have before alluded. The Amphitheatre of Anatomy must occupy some attention, being a suite of anatomical schools only recently built, on a most commodious scale; it forms a corner of the Rues du Fer and Fosses St. Marcel. One thought in pa.s.sing the ancient Cimetiere de Ste. Catherine, closed in 1815, must be devoted to Pichegru, who lies buried there; we then hurry on without loss of time to the manufacture of the Gobelin tapestry. As the little river Bievre is considered to be peculiarly adapted for dyeing, that process has been carried on from a very remote period on the spot where the present establishment now stands, which owes its foundation to Jean Gobelin in 1450, and under Louis the Fourteenth it was formed into a royal manufactory. To me this is indeed one of the greatest wonders of Paris, how such beautiful specimens of art can be produced when the work is all done behind the frame, so that the artist cannot see the effect of what he is doing, is to me most miraculous; the material used is woollen and silken threads, so woven together, that a perfectly smooth surface is produced, having all the softness and gradation of tints to be found in the finest oil painting, without that glare which varnish produces; the execution of these works is attended by a most tedious application, requiring sometimes six years to complete one piece, which, at 18,000 francs, about seven hundred pounds, is not adequate to recompensing the workmen equal to their merit and perseverance; about 120 men are constantly employed, princ.i.p.ally for the Government or the Royal Family.

Attached to this establishment is the Royal Carpet Manufactory; such as are here produced are considered superior to those of Persia, with regard to the evenness of the surface, the strength, durability, and fineness of the workmanship, the beauty of the designs, and the brilliance of the colours, which are such as can never be surpa.s.sed, but if they were ever allowed to be sold, the price would be so enormous that some would amount to 150,000 francs (6000_l._) The accuracy with which the pictures of Rubens have been copied is most extraordinary, as it may be said that the operative works in the dark. One carpet has been produced for the Gallery of the Louvre, consisting of seventy-two pieces, forming a total exceeding 1,300 feet which is supposed to be the largest carpet ever made. The same facility exists for foreigners seeing this exhibition, as with all others, the pa.s.sport being presented, Wednesdays and Sat.u.r.days, from one to three in winter, and from two to four in the summer.

A curious old house, termed the Maison de St. Louis or de la Reine Blanche, is worth notice, in the Rue des Marmouzets; it may have been inhabited by a queen of that name, but certainly not the mother of St.

Louis, as it is not sufficiently ancient, being of about the time of Charles the Seventh, when it was the rage to build houses in that style of architecture, about the period of from 1440 to 1460. The church of St. Medard, in the Rue Mouffetard, offers nothing remarkable, but a mixture of different styles of architecture, according to the epochs at which it was repaired and embellished; in 1561 a tremendous attack was made upon it by the Calvinists, when several of the congregation were killed, and the Abbe Paris, having been buried in the cemetery attached in 1727, his tomb, it is pretended, had certain convulsions in 1730, and was the origin of the sect called convulsionists, and the scenes which occurred caused the cemetery to be closed in 1732. A picture of St.

Genenieve, by Watteau, in the chapel of that saint, must be admired, having much merit. In the Rue de l'Oursine, No. 95, is an hospital which is a refuge for sinning and afflicted females (something in the nature of the Magdalen, in London), containing 300 beds. To the fountain of Bacchus, at the corner of the Rue Censier, we will give a look _en pa.s.sant_, as also to the School of Pharmacy, formerly a convent, in the garden of which was formed the first botanical garden, in 1580; there is here a cabinet of specimens of drugs and a collection of mineralogy worthy of examination; it is situated in the Rue de l'Arbalete, No. 13.

The Hopital Militaire and Church of the Val de Grace is in the Rue St.

Jacques (vide page 96) and is one which particularly merits attention of the visiter; the vault of the dome is painted upon the stone by Mignard, and is justly celebrated as one of the most splendid frescos in France; the heart of Anne of Austria, the foundress of it, was sent here, as also those of many succeeding members of the Royal Family. The interior of the church is much admired for the richness of its architecture. At No. 3, Rue de la Bourbe, is the Lying-in Hospital, formerly the Abbey of Port Royal, containing 445 beds; any woman, eight months advanced in pregnancy, is admitted, if there be room to receive her, without an inquiry, if she be in distress; she enters into an engagement to support the child, and if she cannot fulfil it, she must make a declaration and it is sent to the Foundling Hospital, but if she retain it, clothing and a small sum of money is given her on quitting the hospital. A school for midwifery is established here, the pract.i.tioners being females, who, when considered competent, receive a diploma from the physicians who are appointed judges.

Just by this establishment is the Observatory, erected in the reign of Louis XV; it is a most curious piece of architecture, having in it neither wood nor iron; it is not a large building, but has a fine appearance, and Perrault was the architect; it is vaulted throughout, and a geometrical staircase, having a vacuity of 170 feet deep, merits particular notice. There is a circular universal chart upon the pavement of one of the apartments. By means of mechanical arrangements the roof and cupola open, and every night, the weather permitting, astronomical observations are taken. M. Arago, the most celebrated astronomer of France, lectures here, where there is every facility, and every instrument to be found requisite for the promotion of the science of astronomy; there are two pluvia-meters, for ascertaining the quant.i.ty of rain that falls in Paris during a year. There is a general map of France, called the Carte de Ca.s.sini, containing 182 sheets, a marble statue of Ca.s.sini (the author of the work) attests the high estimation in which he was held; he died in 1712, aged eighty-seven. This inst.i.tution is the just admiration of all scientific men from every civilized part of the world, but it is an astronomer alone who can thoroughly appreciate its merits.

The little hospital, founded by M. Cochin, in 1780, being just by No. 45, Rue du Faubourg St. Jacques, may claim our hasty look, it contains 114 beds, and the patients receive the attendance of the Soeurs de St.

Marthe. At No. 9, Rue des Capucins, Faubourg St. Jacques, is an hospital for men and youths above fifteen, whose excesses have brought on disease; it is styled Hopital des Veneriens, and contains 300 beds; the attendants are all males.

Near to the Barriere d'Enfer is the entrance to the Catacombs, containing the bones of 3,000,000 persons which are all systematically arranged so as to have the most extraordinary effect; they are formed into galleries of an immense length, and occupy a considerable s.p.a.ce of ground under a great portion of Paris, on the south side of the Seine; but now they cease to be such objects of interest as they formerly were, as the public are not now permitted to visit them; they were formerly large quarries from which the stone was drawn for building most part of ancient Paris, and when it was decided to clear many of the cemeteries within the capital, the bones were placed in these quarries in 1784, and the operation of piling them as they now are was effected in 1810. In the Rue d'Enfer, No. 86, is the Infirmary of Marie Therese, founded by Madame la Vicomtesse de Chateaubriand, in 1819, named after the d.u.c.h.ess d'Angouleme, its protectress; it is destined for females who have moved in respectable society, the accommodations and food being far better than are found in the generality of hospitals; the establishment consists of fifty beds. At the Barriere of St. Jacques, the guillotine is erected when criminals are to be executed. Beyond the Barriere d'Enfer, on the Orleans road, No. 15, is the Hopital de la Rochefoucauld; it is devoted to the reception of old servants of hospitals, and other aged persons, it also receives poor persons on their paying, according to circ.u.mstances, 200 francs a-year, or upwards, or on paying a sum on entering varying from 700 to 3000 francs. The number of beds is 213.

As we descend the Rue d'Enfer, we find, at No. 74, the Foundling Hospital, founded by the good and celebrated St. Vincent de Paule, in 1632. Any child is received at this inst.i.tution on the mother making a declaration that she has not the means of supporting it, when she receives a certificate signed by a commissary of police; the average number admitted in the last two or three years is rather over three thousand; they are attended by the Soeurs de Charite (Sisters of Charity) in the most praiseworthy manner; in the same building is the Orphans' Hospital, where the children are placed when two years of age, and of poor persons who fall ill and are obliged to go to an hospital, the children may be sent here until the parents are cured. The children are all taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, and are placed to various trades at the proper ages; they are treated with the greatest care and kindness, it is open to visiters, and the sight of it produces the most heartfelt gratification; many of the most respectable members of society have come from this inst.i.tution. Turning into the Rue de Faubourg St. Jacques, at the corner of the Rue des Deux Eglises, is the inst.i.tution for the Deaf and Dumb, founded by the benevolent Abbe de l'Epee, who, with only 500_l._ a-year, took the charge of maintaining and educating forty deaf and dumb pupils, whom he taught to write and read, even on the most abstruse subjects.