Paris as It Was and as It Is Part 2

To find private lodgings, you have only to cast your eye on the daily advertiser of Paris, called _Les Pet.i.tes Affiches_. There I read a description of my present quarters, which are newly fitted up in every particular, and, I a.s.sure you, with no small degree of tasteful fancy. My landlady, who is a milliner, and, for aught I know, a very fashionable one, left not the smallest convenience to my conjecture, but explained the particular use of every hole and corner in the most significant manner, not even excepting the _boudoir_.

This would be a most excellent situation for any one whose princ.i.p.al object was to practise speaking French; for, on the right hand of the _porte-cochere_ or gateway, (which, by the bye, is here reckoned an indispensable appendage to a proper lodging), is the _magazin des modes_, where my landlady presides over twenty damsels, many of whom, though a.s.siduously occupied in making caps and bonnets, would, I am persuaded, find repartee for the most witty gallant.

LETTER IV.

_Paris, October 23, 1801._

Since my arrival, I have been so much engaged in paying and receiving visits, that I really have not yet been able to take even a hasty view of any of the grand sights introduced here since the revolution,

On Wednesday I dined with M. S----i, whose new 8vo edition of Buffon proceeds, I find, with becoming spirit. It is quite a journey to his residence; for he lives in one of the most retired quarters of Paris, However, I had no reason to repine at the distance, as the party was exceedingly cheerful. Naturalists and literati were not wanting.

Egypt was a subject that engrossed much of the conversation: it was mentioned as a matter of regret that, during the dominion of the French in that country, curiosity had not prompted the Inst.i.tute, established at Cairo, to open one of the pyramids, with a view of ascertaining the object of the erection of those vast ma.s.ses. At the desert, we had luscious grapes as large as damsons, in bunches of from three to five pounds in weight. They were of the species of the famous _cha.s.selas de Fontainebleau_, which are said to have sprung from a stock of vine-plants, imported by Francis I. from the island of Cyprus. These did not come from that town, but grew against the naked wall in S----i's garden. From this you may form a judgment of the climate of Paris.

The persons with whom I have had any correspondence, respecting literature, vie with each other in shewing me every mark of cordial hospitality; and those to whom I have been introduced, are by no means backward in friendly attention. All the lovers of science here seem to rejoice that the communication, which has been so long interrupted between the two countries, promises to be shortly re-opened.

After dining yesterday with Mr. M----y, the British minister, in company with Mr. D----n, the member for Ilchester, we all three went to an exhibition almost facing Mr. M----y's residence in the _Rue St. Dominique_. This was the third time of its being open to the public. As it is of a novel kind, some account of it may not be uninteresting. In French, it is denominated

THERMOLAMPES, _or stoves which afford heat and light on an economical plan_.

The author of this invention, for which a patent has been obtained, is M. LEBON, an engineer of bridges and highways. The place of exhibition was the ground floor of one of the large hotels in the _Faubourg St. Germain_, on which was a suite of rooms, extremely favourable for displaying the effect of this new method of lighting and warming apartments.

In lieu of fire or candle, on the chimney stood a large crystal globe, in which appeared a bright and clear flame diffusing a very agreeable heat; and on different pieces of furniture were placed candlesticks with metal candles, from the top of each of which issued a steady light, like that of a lamp burning with spirits of wine.

These different receptacles were supplied with inflammable gas by means of tubes communicating with an apparatus underneath. By this contrivance, in short, all the apartments were warmed very comfortably, and illuminated in a brilliant manner.

On consulting M. LEBON, he communicated to me the following observations: "You may have remarked," said he, "in sitting before a fire, that wood sometimes burns without flame, but with much smoke, and then you experience little heat, sometimes with flame, but with little smoke, and then you find much warmth. You may have remarked too, that ill-made charcoal emits smoke; it is, on that account, susceptible of flaming again; and the characteristic difference between wood and charcoal is, that the latter has lost, together with its smoke, the principle and aliment of flame, without which you obtain but little heat. Experience next informs us, that this portion of smoke, the aliment of flame, is not an oily vapour condensable by cooling, but a gas, a permanent air, which may be washed, purified, conducted, distributed, and afterwards turned into flame at any distance from the hearth.

"It is almost needless," continued he, "to point out the formation of verdigrise, white lead, and a quant.i.ty of other operations, in which acetous acid is employed. I shall only remark that it is this pyroligneous acid which penetrates smoked meat and fish, that it has an effect on leather which it hardens, and that _thermolampes_ are likely to render tanning-mills unnecessary, by furnishing the tan without further trouble. But to return to the aeriform principle.

"This aliment of flame is deprived of those humid vapours, so perceptible and so disagreeable to the organs of sight and smell.

Purified to a perfect transparency, it floats in the state of cold air, and suffers itself to be directed by the smallest and most fragil pipes. Chimnies of an inch square, made in the thickness of the plaster of ceilings or walls, tubes even of gummed silk would answer this purpose. The end alone of the tube, which, by bringing the inflammable gas into contact with the atmospheric air, allows it to catch fire, and on which the flame reposes, ought to be of metal.

"By a distribution so easy to be established, a single stove may supply the place of all the chimnies of a house. Every where inflammable air is ready to diffuse immediately heat and light of the most glowing or most mild nature, simultaneously or separately, according to your wishes. In the twinkling of an eye, you may conduct the flame from one room to another; an advantage equally convenient and economical, and which can never be obtained with our common stoves and chimnies. No sparks, no charcoal, no soot, to trouble you; no ashes, no wood, to soil your apartments. By night, as well as by day, you can have a fire in your room, without a servant being obliged to look after it. Nothing in the _thermolampes_, not even the smallest portion of inflammable air, can escape combustion; while in our chimnies, torrents evaporate, and even carry off with them the greater part of the heat produced.

"The advantage of being able to purify and proportion, in some measure, the principles of the gas which feeds the flame is," said M.

LEBON, "set forth in the clearest manner. But this flame is so subjected to our caprice, that even to tranquilize the imagination, it suffers itself to be confined in a crystal globe, which is never tarnished, and thus presents a filter pervious to light and heat. A part of the tube that conducts the inflammable air, carries off, out of doors, the produce of this combustion, which, nevertheless, according to the experiments of modern chymists, can scarcely be any thing more than an aqueous vapour.

"Who cannot but be fond of having recourse to a flame so subservient?

It will dress your victuals, which, as well as your cooks, will not be exposed to the vapour of charcoal; it will warm again those dishes on your table; dry your linen; heat your oven, and the water for your baths or your washing, with every economical advantage that can be wished. No moist or black vapours; no ashes, no breaze, to make a dirt, or oppose the communication of heat; no useless loss of caloric; you may, by shutting an opening, which is no longer necessary for placing the wood in your oven, compress and coerce the torrents of heat that were escaping from it.

"It may easily be conceived, that an inflammable principle so docile and so active may be made to yield the most magnificent illuminations. Streams of fire finely drawn out, the duration, colour, and form of which may be varied at pleasure, the motion of suns and turning-columns, must produce an effect no less agreeable than brilliant." Indeed, this effect was exhibited on the garden facade of M. LEBON'S residence.

"Wood," concluded he, "yields in condensable vapours two thirds of its weight; those vapours may therefore be employed to produce the effects of our steam-engines, and it is needless to borrow this succour from foreign water."

_P. S._. On the 1st of last Vendemiaire, (23rd of September), the government presented to the Chief Consul a sword, whose hilt was adorned with fourteen diamonds, the largest of which, called the _Regent_, from its having been purchased by the Duke of Orleans, when Regent, weighs 184 carats. This is the celebrated _Pitt_ diamond, of which we have heard so much: but its weight is exceeded by that of the diamond purchased by the late empress of Russia, which weighs 194 carats; not to speak of the more famous diamond, in possession of the Great Mogul, which is said to weigh 280 carats.

LETTER V.

_Paris, October 24, 1801._

Last night I received yours of the 20th ult. and as Mr. M----y purposes to send off a dispatch this morning, and will do me the favour to forward this, with my former letters, I hasten to write you a few lines.

I scarcely need a.s.sure you, my dear friend, that I will, with pleasure, communicate to you my remarks on this great city and its inhabitants, and describe to you, as far as I am able, the princ.i.p.al curiosities which it contains, particularizing, as you desire, those recently placed here by the chance of war; and giving you a succinct, historical account of the most remarkable national establishments and public buildings. But to pa.s.s in review the present state of the _arts, sciences, literature, manners, &c. &c._ in this capital, and contrast it with that which existed before the revolution, is a task indeed; and far more, I fear, than it will be in my power to accomplish.

However, if you will be content to gather my observations as they occur; to listen to my reflections, while the impression of the different scenes which produced them, is still warm in my mind; in short, to take a faithful sketch, in lieu of a finished picture, I will do the best I can for your satisfaction.

Relying on your indulgence, you shall know the life I lead: I will, as it were, take you by the arm, and, wherever I go, you shall be my companion. Perhaps, by pursuing this plan, you will not, at the expiration of three or four months, think your time unprofitably spent. Aided by the experience acquired by having occasionally resided here, for several months together, before the revolution, it will be my endeavour to make you as well acquainted with Paris, as I shall then hope to be myself. For this purpose, I will lay under contribution every authority, both written and oral, worthy of being consulted.

LETTER VI

_Paris, October 26, 1801._

From particular pa.s.sages in your letter, I clearly perceive your anxiety to be introduced among those valuable antiques which now adorn the banks of the Seine. On that account, I determined to postpone all other matters, and pay my first visit to the CENTRAL MUSEUM OF THE ARTS, established in the

LOUVRE.

But, before, we enter the interior of this building, it may not be amiss to give you some account of its construction, and describe to you its exterior beauties.

The origin of this palace, as well as the etymology of its name, is lost in the darkness of time. It is certain, however, that it existed, under the appellation of _Louvre_, in the reign of Philip Augustus, who surrounded it with ditches and towers, and made it a fortress. The great tower of the _Louvre_, celebrated in history, was insulated, and built in the middle of the court. All the great feudatories of the crown derived their tenure from this tower, and came hither to swear allegiance and pay homage. "It was," says St.

Foix, "a prison previously prepared for them, if they violated their oaths."[1] Three Counts of Flanders were confined in it at different periods.

The _Louvre_, far from being cheerful from its construction, received also from this enormous tower a melancholy and terrifying aspect which rendered it unworthy of being a royal residence. Charles V.

endeavoured to enliven and embellish this gloomy abode, and made it tolerably commodious for those times. Several foreign monarchs successively lodged in it; such as Manuel, emperor of Constantinople; Sigismund, emperor of Germany; and the emperor Charles the Fifth.

This large tower of the _Louvre_, which had, at different periods, served as a palace to the kings of France, as a prison to the great lords, and as a treasury to the state, was at length taken down in 1528.

The _Tower of the Library_ was famous, among several others, because it contained that of Charles V. the most considerable one of the time, and in which the number of volumes amounted to nine hundred.

OLD LOUVRE

The part of this palace which, at the present day, is called the _Old Louvre_, was begun under Francis I. from the plan of PIERRE LESCOT, abbot of Clugny; and the sculpture was executed by JEAN GOUGEON, whose minute correctness is particularly remarkable in the festoons of the frieze of the second order, and in the devices emblematic of the amours of Henry II. This edifice, though finished, was not inhabited during the reign of that king, but it was by his son Charles IX.

Under him, the _Louvre_ became the b.l.o.o.d.y theatre of treacheries and ma.s.sacres which time will never efface from the memory of mankind, and which, till the merciless reign of Robespierre, were unexampled in the history of this country. I mean the horrors of St.

Bartholemew's day.

While the alarmed citizens were swimming across the river to escape from death, Charles IX. from a window of this palace, was firing at them with his arquebuse. During that period of the revolution, when all means were employed to excite and strengthen the enmity of the people against their kings, this act of atrocity was called to their mind by an inscription placed under the very window, which looks on the _Quai du Louvre_.

Indeed, this instance of Charles's barbarity is fully corroborated by historians. "When it was day-light," says Brantome, "the king peeped out of his chamber-window, and seeing some people in the _Faubourg St. Germain_ moving about and running away, he took a large arquebuse which he had ready at hand, and, calling out incessantly: _Kill, kill!_ fired a great many shots at them, but in vain; for the piece did not carry so far."--This prince, according to Ma.s.son, piqued himself on his dexterity in cutting off at a single blow the head of the a.s.ses and pigs which he met with on his way. Lansac, one of his favourites, having found him one day with his sword drawn and ready to strike his mule, asked him seriously: "What quarrel has then happened between His Most Christian Majesty and my mule?" Murad Bey far surpa.s.sed this blood-thirsty monarch in address and strength. The former, we are told by travellers in Egypt, has been known, when riding past an ox, to cut off its head with one stroke of his scimitar.

The capital was dyed with the blood of Charles's murdered subjects.

Into this very _Louvre_, into the chamber of Marguerite de Valois, the king's sister, and even to her bed, in which she was then lying, did the fanatics pursue the officers belonging to the court itself, as is circ.u.mstantially related by that princess in her Memoirs.

Let us draw the curtain on these scenes of horror, and pa.s.s rapidly from this period of fanaticism and cruelty, when the _Louvre_ was stained by so many crimes to times more happy, when this palace became the quiet cradle of the arts and sciences, the school for talents, the _arena_ for genius, and the asylum of artists and literati.