The Stranger in France Part 8

Amongst those who suffered, was the beautiful young d.u.c.h.esse de Biron, said to be one of the loveliest women of the french court. Her fate was singular, and horrible. One morning, two of the a.s.sistant executioners came into one of the rooms, and called upon the female citizen Biron to come forward, meaning the old d.u.c.h.esse de Biron, the mother, who was here immured with her daughter; some one said, which of them do you require? The h.e.l.l-hounds replied, "Our order was for one only, but as there are two, we will have both, that there may be no errour." The mother and daughter were taken away, locked senseless in each others arms. When the cart which carried them arrived at the foot of the scaffold, the chief executioner looked at his paper, which contained a list of his victims, and saw the name of only one Biron; the a.s.sistants informed him that they found two of that name in the convent, and to prevent mistake, they had brought both. The princ.i.p.al, with perfect sang froid, said it was all well, wrote with a pencil the article "les"

before the name Biron, to which he added an s, and immediately beheaded both!!!

Mrs. S---- led me to the chapel, to show me the havoc which the unspairing impious hands of the revolution had there produced. She put into my hand an immense ma.s.sy key to open the door of the choir. "That key," said she, "was made for the master-key of the convent, by the order of Robespierre. In the time of terrour, our gaoler wore it at his belt. A thousand times has my soul sunk within me, when it loudly pushed the bolt of the lock aside. When the door opened, it was either a signal to prepare for instant death to some of those who were within, or for the gloomy purpose of admitting new victims." When we entered the chapel, my surprise and abhorrence were equally excited. The windows were beaten through, the hangings were flapping in the wind, the altar was shattered in pieces and prostrate, the pavement was every where torn up, and the caves of the dead were still yawning upon us. From their solemn and hallowed depths, the mouldering relics of the departed had been raised, by torch light, and heaped in frightful piles of unfinished decay against the walls, for the purpose of converting the lead, which contained these wretched fragments of mortality, into b.a.l.l.s for the musketry of the revolution. The gardens behind the chapel must have been once very pleasant, but they then had the appearance of a wilderness.

The painful uncertainty of many years, had occasioned the neglect and ruin in which I saw them. Some of the nuns were reading upon shattered seats, under overgrown bowers, and others were walking in the melancholy shade of neglected avenues. The effect of the whole was gloomy and sorrowful, and fully confirmed the melancholy recital which I received from Mrs. S----. Bonaparte, it is said, intends to confirm to these nuns their present residence, by an act of government.

Upon leaving the convent I visited the seats of ca.s.sation, and justice, in the architectural arrangement of which, I saw but little worthy of minute notice, except the perfect accommodation which pervades all the french buildings, which are appropriated to the administration of the laws.

The hall of the first ca.s.sation, or grand court of appeal, is very fine.

The judges wear elegant costumes, and were, as well as the advocates, seated upon chairs, which were constructed to imitate the seats of roman magistracy, and had a good effect. I was informed that the whole of the ornamental arrangement was designed by David.

From the courts of justice, I went to the second national library, which is very n.o.ble and large, and has a valuable collection of books. Several students were arranged with great silence and decorum, at long tables.

In one apartment is a very large, and ingenious model of Rome in a gla.s.s case, and another of a frigate.

Upon leaving the library I proceeded to the Gobelins, so called from one Gobel, a noted dyer at Rheims, who settled here in the reign of Francis I. This beautiful manufactory has a crowd of visitors every day. Upon the walls of the galleries the tapestry is suspended, which exhibits very exquisite copies of various historical paintings, of which there are some very costly and beautiful specimens. The artists work behind the frame, where the original from which they copy is placed. The whole is a very expensive national establishment, much of its production is preserved for presents to foreign princes, and some of it is disposed of by public sale.

Upon the comparison between the works of the Gobelins and the beautiful works of Miss Linwood, I could not help feeling a little degree of pride to observe that my ingenious countrywoman did not appear to suffer by it. Too much praise cannot be bestowed upon the tasteful paintings of her exquisite needle. This elegant minded woman has manifested by her charming exhibition, that great genius is not always separated from great labour, and unwearied perseverance.

From the Gobelins I visited the garden of plants, which is considered to be the largest, and most valuable botanical collection in Europe, and was founded by the celebrated Buffon. The garden is laid out into n.o.ble walks, and beds containing the rarest plants from all parts of the world, each of which is neatly labelled for the use of the students. On the right of the entrance is a park containing all sorts of deer, and on the left are vast hothouses and greenhouses; in the centre, enclosed in iron lattice work, is a large pond for the reception of foreign aquatic animals, very near which is a large octagon experimental beehive, about ten feet high, and at the end, near the banks of the Seine, is a fine menagerie, in which, amongst other beasts, there are some n.o.ble lions.

Many of the animals have separate houses, and gardens to range in.

Adjoining is the park of the elephant. This stupendous animal, from the ample s.p.a.ce in which he moves, is seen to great advantage, and is considered to be the largest of his species in Europe. Near the entrance, on the right, is the museum of natural curiosities, the collection of which is very valuable, and admirably arranged. There is here a fine giraffe, or camelopard, of an amazing height, stuffed. This surprising animal is a native of Ethiopia, and some other parts of Africa, and has scarcely ever been seen in Europe.

From the garden of plants, I made all possible dispatch to Madame C----'s, in the Boulevard Italien, where I was engaged to dinner.

Upon crossing the Pont Neuf, where there are a number of little stalls erected, the owners of which advertise upon little boards, which are raised upon poles, that they possess extraordinary talents for shearing dogs and cats; I could not help stopping and laughing most heartily to observe the following address to the public from one of these canine and grimalkin functionaries:

"Monin, tondit et coupe les chiens la chatte et sa femme---- vat en ville."

Which runs in this ridiculous manner in english:

"Monin shears and cuts dogs and cats and his wife---- goes on errands."

As I had no time to return to my hotel to dress, I was initiated into a mode of expeditiously equipping myself, by a young friend who was with me, to which I was before a stranger, and which shows in the most trifling matters, that the french are good adepts in expedition and accommodation. In pa.s.sing through the Palais Royal, we entered the little shop of a boot cleaner. In a moment I was mounted upon a dirty sopha, to which I ascended by steps, and from which I had a complete commanding view of the concourse of gay people, who are always pa.s.sing and repa.s.sing in this idle place; the paper of the day, stretched upon a little wooden frame was placed in my hand, each foot was fixed upon an iron anvil, one man brushed off the dirt, and another put on a shining blacking, a third brushed my clothes, and a fourth presented a basin of water and towel to me. The whole of this comfortable operation lasted about four minutes. My dirty valets made me a low bow for four sols, which, poor as the recompense was, exceeded their expectations by three pieces of that petty coin.

In the evening, I had the happiness of being introduced to Monsieur S----. Under his n.o.ble and hospitable roof, amidst his affectionate, beautiful, and accomplished family, and in the select circle of his elegant and enlightened society, I pa.s.sed many happy hours. Monsieur S---- was of a n.o.ble family, and previous to the revolution was one of the fermiers generaux, and possessed a very n.o.ble fortune. In discharging the duties of his distinguished and lucrative office, he conciliated the affections of every one, who had the good fortune to be comprehended within the compa.s.s of his honourable authority, and when the revolution stripped him of it, it found his integrity without a stain, except what, in the bewildered interpretation of republican fury, adhered to him from his connection with the old established order of things. In the general, and undistinguishing cry for blood, which yelled from the remorseless a.s.sa.s.sins of Robespierre, this admirable man was consigned to a dungeon, and doomed to the scaffold. Two hours before he was to suffer, the remembrance of the n.o.ble victim, and of a series of favours, of kindness, and of generosity, flashed, with momentary but irresistible compunction, upon the mind of one of his sanguinary judges, who, suspending the b.l.o.o.d.y proceedings which then occupied the court, implored the compa.s.sion of his fell a.s.sociates. He pleaded until he had obtained his discharge, and then at once forgetting the emotions of mercy, which had inspired his tongue with the most persuasive eloquence, he very composedly resumed the functions of his cruel occupation, and consigned to the fatal instrument of revolutionary slaughter, other beings, whose virtues were less renowned, or less fortunate in their sphere of operation. Monsieur S---- had reached his sixty-eighth year, but seemed to possess all the vivacity and health of youth. His lady was a very amiable, and enlightened woman. Their family consisted of a son, and three daughters, all of them handsome, and very highly accomplished.

The eldest, Madame E----, excelled in music; the second, Madame B----, in poetry and the cla.s.sics; and the youngest, Mademoiselle Delphine, in drawing and singing. I shall, perhaps, be pardoned for introducing a little impromptu compliment, which the pure, and una.s.suming merits of the youngest of the family, drew from my pen, in consequence of the conversation one evening, turning upon the indecorum of the tunic dress, amongst the elegantes of Paris.

TO MADEMOISELLE D.S.

Whilst art array'd in _tunic_ robe, Tries over fashion's gaudy globe, To hold resistless force, Thy merits shall impede her course, For grace and nature gain in thee, A chaste, decisive victory.

From the general wreck of property Monsieur S---- has been fortunate enough to save a considerable portion of his former fortune. A similar favourable circ.u.mstance has, in general, rewarded the fort.i.tude and constancy of those who, in the political storm, refused to seek a dastard safety by flight. Influenced by the reputation of the integrity, talents, and experience of Monsieur S----, the first consul has deservedly placed him at the head of the national accounts, which he manages with great advantage, and honour to the government. I was pressed to make this charming house my home. Upon a n.o.ble terrace, which communicated with the drawing room, and commanded a view of all the gayety, and fashion of the Italien Boulevard, which moved below us, in the circle of some of the most charming people of Paris, we used to enjoy the refreshing coolness of the evening, the graceful unpremeditated dance, or the sounds of enchanting music. In this happy spot all parties a.s.sembled. Those who had been divided by the ferocity of politics, here met in amiable intercourse. I have in the same room observed, the once pursuing republican conqueror, in social converse with the captive vendeean general, who had submitted to his prowess, and to the government. The sword was not merely sheathed--it was _concealed_ in flowers. To please, and to be pleased; to charm, and to enlighten, by interchanges of pleasantry, and politeness, and talents, and acquirements, seemed alone to occupy the generous minds of this charming society. The remembrance of the hours which I pa.s.sed under this roof, will afford my mind delight, as long as the faculty of memory remains, or until high honour, and munificent hospitality have lost their value, and genius and beauty, purity and elegance have no longer any attractions.

CHAPTER XV.

_Civility of a Sentinel.--The Hall of the Legislative a.s.sembly.--British House of Commons.--Captain Bergevet.--The Temple.--Sir Sydney Smith's Escape.--Colonel Phillipeaux._

One morning, as I was entering the grand court of the hall of the Legislative a.s.sembly, I was stopped by a sentry. I told him I was an Englishman. He politely begged my pardon, and requested me to pa.s.s, and called one of the housekeepers to show me the apartments.

This magnificent pile is in the Fauxbourg St. Germain, and was formerly the palace of the Bourbons. After pa.s.sing through a suite of splendid apartments, I entered, through lofty folding doors, into the hall, where the legislators a.s.semble. It is a very s.p.a.cious semicircular room, and much resembles, in its arrangements the appearance of a splendid theatre before the stage. The ascent to the seat of the president is by a flight of light marble steps; the facing of his bureau is composed of the most costly marble, richly carved. On each side of the president's chair are seats for the secretaries; and immediately below them is the tribune, into which the orator ascends to address the House. On each side of the seat of the president are antique statues of eminent patriots and orators, which are placed in niches in the wall. Under the tribune, upon the centre of the floor, is the altar of the country, upon which, in marble, is represented the book of the laws, resting upon branches of olive. Behind it, upon semicircular seats, the legislators sit, at the back of whom are the boxes of the emba.s.sadors, and officers of state, and immediately above them, within a colonnade of corinthian pillars, the public are admitted. Round the upper part of the cornice, a beautiful festoon of lilac coloured cloth, looped up with rich ta.s.sels, is suspended, for the purpose of correcting the vibration of the voice.

The whole is very superb, and has cost the nation an immense sum of money. The princ.i.p.al housekeeper asked me "whether our speakers had such a place to declaim in," I told him, "that we had very _great_ orators in England, but that they were content to speak in very little places." He laughed, and observed, "that frenchmen never talked to so much advantage as when their eye was pleased."

This man I found had been formerly one of the door keepers of the national a.s.sembly, and was present when, after having been impeached by Billaud, Panis, and their colleagues, Tallien discharged the pistol at Robespierre, whom he helped to support, until the monster was finally dispatched by the guillotine, on the memorable 9th of Thermidor.

The french are amazingly fond of finery and stage effect. The solicitude which always first manifested itself after any political change in the course of the revolution, was the external decoration of each new puppet who, arrayed in the brief authority of the fleeting moment, was permitted to "play his fantastic tricks before high Heaven."

The poor battered ark of government was left overturned, under the protection of an escort of a.s.sa.s.sins, in the ensanguined mud, upon the reeking bodies of its former, headless, bearers, until its new supporters had adjusted the rival pretensions of silk and satin, and had consulted the pattern book of the laceman in the choice of their embroidery. On one side of the arch which leads into the antiroom of the legislative a.s.sembly, are suspended patterns and designs for tickets of admission to the sitting, elegantly framed, and near the same place, in a long gallery which leads to the dressing-rooms of the legislators, are boxes which contain the senatorial robes of the members. The meetings of our house of commons would inspire more awe, and veneration, if more attention was paid to decorum, and external decoration. A dignified and manly magnificence would not be unsuitable to the proceedings of the sanctuary of british laws, and the seat of unrivalled eloquence. What would a perfumed french legislator say, accustomed to rise in the rustling of embroidered silks, and gracefully holding in his hand, a cap of soft and showy plumes, to address himself to alabaster statues, glittering l.u.s.tres, grecian chairs, festoons of drapery, and an audience of beings tricked out as fine as himself, were he to be suddenly transported into a poor and paltry room, meanly lighted, badly ventilated, and inconveniently arranged, and to be told that, in that spot, the representatives of the first nation in the world, legislated for her subjects? What would he say, were he to see and hear in the mean attire of jockeys and mechanics, such orators as Greece and Rome never saw or heard in the days of their most exalted glory; unfolding with the penetration of a subordinate Providence, the machinations of a dark and deep conspiracy, erecting elaborate laws to shelter the good, against the enemies of repose, or hurling the thunder of their eloquence against the common foes of their country. The astonished frenchman would very likely say, "I always thought that the english were a strange set of beings, but they now exceed the powers of my comprehension, they can elicit wit in the midst of gloom, and can say such things in a plain unbrushed coat of _blue_ cloth, as all the robes, plumes, and finery of the republic, in her gaudy halls of deliberation, cannot inspire."

From the legislative a.s.sembly I went to pay my respects to the gallant captain Bergeret, to whom I had letters of introduction. It will be immediately remembered, that this distinguished hero, in the Virginie, displayed the most undaunted courage, when she was engaged by sir Edward Pellew, in the Indefatigable, to whose superior prowess and naval knowledge, he was obliged to strike the tricolour flag. His bravery and integrity have justly ent.i.tled him to the admiration and lasting friendship of his n.o.ble conqueror, and to the esteem of the british nation. When sir Sidney Smith was confined in the Temple, and captain Bergeret a prisoner in England, the latter was sent to France upon his parole, to endeavour to effect the exchange of sir Sidney. The french government, which was then under the direction of some of the basest and meanest of her tyrants, refused to listen to the proposal; and at the same time resisted the return of their own countryman.

The gallant Bergeret was resolved to preserve his word of honour unsullied, or to perish in the attempt. Finding all his efforts to obtain the liberation of the ill.u.s.trious captive unavailing, menaced with death if he departed, and invited by promised command and promotion if he remained, he contrived to quit his own country by stealth, and returned a voluntary exile to his generous and confiding conquerors.

From captain B----'s hotel I went to the Temple, so celebrated in the gloomy history of the revolution. It stands in the Rue du Temple, in the Fauxbourg of that name. The entrance is handsome, and does not much impress the idea of the approach to a place of such confinement. Over the gates is a pole, supporting a dirty and tattered bonnet rouge, of which species of republican decoration there are very few now to be seen in Paris. The door was opened to me by the princ.i.p.al gaoler, whose predecessor had been dismissed on account of his imputed connivance in the escape of sir Sidney Smith. His appearance seemed fully to qualify him for his savage office, and to insure his superiors against all future apprehension, of a remission of duty by any act of humanity, feeling, or commiseration. He told me, that he could not permit me to advance beyond the lodge, on account of a peremptory order which he had just received from government. From this place I had a full command of the walk and prison, the latter of which is situated in the centre of the walls. He pointed out to me the window of the room in which the royal sufferers languished. As the story of sir Sidney Smith's escape from this prison has been involved in some ambiguity, a short recital of it will, perhaps, not prove uninteresting.

After several months had rolled away, since the gates of his prison had first closed upon the british hero, he observed that a lady who lived in an upper apartment on the opposite side of the street, seemed frequently to look towards that part of the prison in which he was confined. As often as he observed her, he played some tender air upon his flute, by which, and by imitating every motion which she made, he at length succeeded in fixing her attention upon him, and had the happiness of remarking that she occasionally observed him with a gla.s.s. One morning when he saw that she was looking attentively upon him in this manner, he tore a blank leaf from an old ma.s.s book which was lying in his cell, and with the soot of the chimney, contrived, by his finger, to describe upon it, in a large character, the letter A, which he held to the window to be viewed by his fair sympathizing observer. After gazing upon it for some little time, she nodded, to show that she understood what he meant, sir Sidney then touched the top of the first bar of the grating of his window, which he wished her to consider as the representative of the letter A, the second B, and so on, until he had formed, from the top of the bars, a corresponding number of letters; and by touching the middle, and bottom parts of them, upon a line with each other, he easily, after having inculcated the first impression of his wishes, completed a telegraphic alphabet. The process of communication was, from its nature, very slow, but sir Sidney had the happiness of observing, upon forming the first word, that this excellent being, who beamed before him like a guardian angel, seemed completely to comprehend it, which she expressed by an a.s.senting movement of the head. Frequently obliged to desist from this tacit and tedious intercourse, from the dread of exciting the curiosity of the gaolers, or his fellow prisoners, who were permitted to walk before his window, sir Sidney occupied several days in communicating to his unknown friend, his name and quality, and imploring her to procure some unsuspected royalist of consequence and address sufficient for the undertaking, to effect his escape; in the achievement of which he a.s.sured her, upon his word of honour, that whatever cost might be incurred, would be amply reimbursed, and that the bounty and grat.i.tude of his country would n.o.bly remunerate those who had the talent, and bravery to accomplish it. By the same means he enabled her to draw confidential and accredited bills, for considerable sums of money, for the promotion of the scheme, which she applied with the most perfect integrity. Colonel Phelipeaux was at this time at Paris; a military man of rank, and a secret royalist, most devoutly attached to the fortunes of the exiled family of France, and to those who supported their cause. He had been long endeavouring to bring to maturity, a plan for facilitating their restoration, but which the loyal adherent, from a series of untoward and uncontrollable circ.u.mstances, began to despair of accomplishing. The lovely deliverer of sir Sidney, applied to this distinguished character, to whom she was known, and stated the singular correspondence which had taken place between herself and the heroic captive in the Temple. Phelipeaux, who was acquainted with the fame of sir Sidney, and chagrined at the failure of his former favourite scheme, embraced the present project with a sort of prophetic enthusiasm, by which he hoped to restore, to the british nation, one of her greatest heroes, who, by his skill and valour, might once more impress the common enemy with dismay, augment the glory of his country, and cover himself with the laurels of future victory. Intelligent, active, cool, daring, and insinuating, colonel Phelipeaux immediately applied himself to bring to maturity, a plan at once suitable to his genius, and interesting to his wishes. To those whom it was necessary to employ upon the occasion, he contrived to unite one of the clerks of the minister of the police, who forged his signature with exact imitation, to an order for removing the body of sir Sidney, from the Temple to the prison of the Conciergerie: after this was accomplished, on the day after that on which the inspector of gaols was to visit the Temple and Conciergerie, a ceremony, which is performed once a month in Paris, two gentlemen of tried courage and address, who were previously instructed by colonel Phelipeaux, disguised as officers of the marechaussee, presented themselves in a fiacre at the Temple, and demanded the delivery of sir Sidney, at the same time showing the forged order for his removal. This the gaoler attentively perused and examined, as well as the minister's signature. Soon after the register of the prison informed sir Sidney of the order of the directory, upon hearing which, he at first appeared to be a little disconcerted, upon which the pseudoofficers gave him every a.s.surance of the honour and mild intentions of the government towards him, sir Sidney seemed more reconciled, packed up his clothes, took leave of his fellow prisoners, and distributed little tokens of his grat.i.tude to those servants of the prison, from whom he had experienced indulgencies. Upon the eve of their departure, the register observed, that four of the prison guard should accompany them. This arrangement menaced the whole plan with immediate dissolution. The officers, without betraying the least emotion, acquiesced in the propriety of the measure, and gave orders for the men to be called out, when, as if recollecting the rank and honour of their ill.u.s.trious prisoner, one of them addressed sir Sidney, by saying, "citizen, you are a brave officer, give us your parole, and there is no occasion for an escort." Sir Sidney replied, that he would pledge his faith, as an officer, to accompany them, without resistance, wherever they chose to conduct him.

Not a look or movement betrayed the intention of the party. Every thing was cool, well-timed, and natural. They entered a fiacre, which, as is usual, was brought for the purpose of removing him, in which he found changes of clothes, false pa.s.sports, and money. The coach moved with an accustomed pace, to the Faubourg St. Germain, where they alighted, and parted in different directions. Sir Sidney met colonel Phelipeaux at the appointed spot of rendezvous.

The project was so ably planned and conducted, that no one but the party concerned was acquainted with the escape, until near a month had elapsed, when the inspector paid his next periodical visit. What pen can describe the sensations of two such men as sir Sidney and Phelipeaux, when they first beheld each other in safety? Heaven befriended the generous and gallant exploit. Sir Sidney and his n.o.ble friend, reached the french coast wholly unsuspected, and committing themselves to their G.o.d, and to the protective genius of brave men, put to sea in an open boat, and were soon afterwards discovered by an english cruising frigate, and brought in safety to the british sh.o.r.es.

The gallant Phelipeaux soon afterwards accompanied sir Sidney in the Tigre to Acre, where, overwhelmed by the fatigue of that extraordinary campaign, in which he supported a distinguished part, and the noxious influence of a sultry climate, operating upon a delicate frame, he expired in the arms of his ill.u.s.trious friend, who attended him to his grave, and shed the tears of grat.i.tude and friendship over his honoured and lamented obsequies. But ere the dying Phelipeaux closed his eyes, he received the rewards of his generous enterprise. He beheld the repulsed legions of the republic, flying before the british banners, and the irresistible prowess of his valiant companion; he beheld the distinguished being, whom he had thus rescued from a dungeon, and impending destruction, by an act of almost romantic heroism, covered with the unpartic.i.p.ated glory, of having overpowered a leader, who, renowned, and long accustomed to conquest, saw, for the first time, his _invincible troops_ give way; who, inflamed to desperation, deemed the perilous exposure of his person necessary, to rally them to the contest, over bridges of their slaughtered comrades, but who at length was obliged to retire from the field of battle, and to leave to the heroic sir Sidney, the exclusive exultation of announcing to his grateful and elated country, that he had fought, and vanquished the laurelled conqueror of Italy, and the bold invader of Egypt.

Sir Sidney has no vices to conceal behind his spreading and imperishable laurels. His public character is before the approving world. That peace which his sword has accelerated, has afforded us an undisturbed opportunity of admiring his achievements in the field, and of contemplating his conduct in the retired avenues of private life, in which his deportment is without a stain. In him there is every thing to applaud, and nothing to forgive.

Yet thus glorious in public, and thus unsullied in private, the conqueror of Bonaparte, and the saviour of the east, owes the honours, _which he adorns_, to foreign and distant powers.

To the _grateful_ government of his own country, he is indebted for an ungracious paltry annuity, inadequate to the display of ordinary consequence, and wholly unequal to the suitable support of that dignity, which ought for ever to distinguish such a being from the ma.s.s of mankind.

The enemies of sir Sidney, for envy furnishes every great man with his quota of such indirect eulogists, if they should honour these pages with a perusal, may, perchance, endeavour to trace the approving warmth with which I have spoken of him, to the enthusiasm of a friendship dazzled, and undiscriminating; but I beg to a.s.sure them, that the fame of sir Sidney is better known to me than his person, and that his n.o.ble qualities have alone excited the humble tribute which is here offered to one, for whom delighted Nature, in the language of our immortal bard,

"--------------------------------might stand up, and say to all the world, this _is_ a man----"

CHAPTER XVI.

_A fashionable Poem.--Frere Richart.--Religion.--Hotel des Invalides.--Hall of Victory.--Enemies' Colours.--Sulky Appearance of an English Jack and Ensign.--Indecorum.--The aged Captain.--Military School.--Champ de Mars.--The Garden of Mousseaux._

The conversation whilst I was at Paris, was much engaged by a poem, describing the genius and progress of christianity written in imitation of the style of Ossian, which excited very considerable curiosity. From the remarks of some shrewd acquaintances of mine, who had perused the work, I learnt that the principles of the poem seemed strongly tinctured with the bewildered fancies of a disordered mind, conveyed in very heavy _prosaic_ blank verse. "It was the madness of poetry, without the inspiration."

This composition may be considered as a curiosity, from other reasons than those which mere criticism affords. The poem was bad, the readers were many. The subject was sacred, the author a reputed atheist, and the profits which it produced exceeded two thousand pounds sterling. The fortunate writer relieved himself from the jaws of famine by this strange incomprehensible eulogy on the charms and advancement of christianity, which has been received in Paris, with a sort of fashionable frenzy. Another pseudobard has announced his intention very shortly of issuing from the press, a work which he conceives will be more saleable and a greater favourite with the public, in which he intends ironically to combat the doctrine of the Trinity, by gravely resembling it to the Deity taking snuff between two looking gla.s.ses, so that when he sneezes, two resemblances of him are seen to sneeze also, and yet that there are not three sneezers, but one sneezer.

Some other outlines of this work were imparted to me at Paris, but the pen turns with disgust and detestation, from such low and nauseous profanation. I have only condescended to mention the composition, and the last anecdote, to show how much the world is deluded, by the received opinion that the french are become a new race of exemplary devotees. The recoil from atheism to enthusiasm, is not unusual, but the french in general have not, as yet, experienced this change. That they are susceptible of extraordinary transitions, their history and revolution have sufficiently manifested. In the Journal de Paris, written in the reigns of Charles VI and VII, is preserved rather a curious account of the velocity with which religious zeal has, in former periods, been excited. "On the 4th day of April, 1429," says the journal, "the duke of Burgundy came to Paris, with a very fine body of knights and esquires; and eight days afterwards there came to Paris, a cordelier, by name Frere Richart, a man of great prudence, very knowing in prayer, a giver of good doctrine to edify his neighbour, and was so successful, that he who had not seen him, was bursting with envy against those who had. He was but one day in Paris, without preaching. He began his sermon about five o'clock in the morning, and continued preaching till ten or eleven o'clock, and there were always between five and six thousand persons to hear him preach. This cordelier preached on St.

Mark's Day, attended by the like number of persons, and on their return from his sermon, the people of Paris were so turned, and moved to devotion, that in three or four hours time, there were more than one hundred fires lighted, in which they burnt their chess boards, their back gammon tables, and their packs of cards."