CHAPTER III
From Bruxelles to Paris—Restoration of Louis XVIII—The officers of the allied armies—The Palais Royal—The Louvre—Protest of the author against the proposed despoiling of the French Museums—Unjust strictures against Napoleon's military policy—The cant about revolutionary robberies—The Grand Opera—Monuments in Paris—The Champs Elysées—Saint-Cloud—The Hôtel des Invalides—The Luxembourg—General Labédoyère—Priests and emigrants—Prussian Plunder—Handsome behaviour of the English officers— Reminiscences of Eton—Versailles.
PARIS, August 3rd.
Here I am in Paris. I left Bruxelles the 29th July, stopped one night at Mons and passing thro' Valenciennes, Péronne and St Quentin arrived here on the third day. The villages and towns on the road had been pretty well stripped of eatables by the Allied army, as well as by the French, so that we did not meet with the best fare. In every village the white flag was displayed by way of propitiating the clemency of the Allies and averting plunder.
August 7th.
I have put up at the Hôtel de Cahors, Rue de Richelieu, where I pay five francs per diem for a single room; such is the dearness of lodgings at this moment. It is well furnished, however, with sofas, commodes, mirrors and a handsome clock and is very spacious withal, there being an alcove for the bed. This situation is extremely convenient, being close to the Palais Royal, Rue St Honoré, Théâtre Français, Louvre and the Tuileries on one side, and to the Grand Opera, the Théâtre Feydeau, the Italian Opera and the Boulevards on the other. The National Library is not many yards distant from my hotel, and a few yards from that en face is the Grand Opera house or Académie Royale de Musique.
This city is filled with officers and travellers of all kinds who have followed the army. The House of Legislature of the Hundred Days,—as it is the fashion to style Napoleon's last reign—dissolved themselves on the demand of a million of francs as a war contribution made by Marshall Blucher. Louis XVIII has been hustled into Paris, and now occupies the throne of his ancestors under the protection of a million of foreign bayonets, and the bannière des Lis has replaced the tricolor on the castle of the Tuileries. A detachment of the British army occupies Montmartre, where the British flag is flying, and in the Champs Elysées and Bois de Boulogne are encamped several brigades of English and Hanoverians. The Sovereigns of Russia, Austria and Prussia are expected and then it is said that the fate of France will be decided. The Army of the Loire has at length made its submission to the King, after stipulating but in vain for the beloved tricolor. Report says it is to be immediately dissolved and a new army raised with more legitimate inclinations. Should the King accede to this, France will be completely disarmed and at the mercy of the Allies, and the King himself a state prisoner. The entrance into Paris, thro' the Faubourg St Denis, does not give to the stranger who arrives there for the first time a great idea of the magnificence of Paris; he should enter by the Avenue de Neuilly or by the Porte St Antoine, both of which are very striking and superb.
Now you must not expect that I shall or can give you a description of all the fine things that I have seen or am about to see, for they have been so often described before that it would be a perfect waste of time, and I can do better in referring you at once to the Guide des Voyageurs à Paris; so that I shall content myself with merely indicating these objects which make the most impression on me.
My first visit was, as you will have no doubt guessed, to the Palais Royal: there I breakfasted, there I dined, and there I passed the whole day without the least ennui. It is a world in itself. It swarms at present with officers of the Allied army. The variety of uniforms adds to the splendour and novelty of the scene. The restaurants and cafés are filled with them. The Palais Royal is certainly the temple of animal gratification, the paradise of gastronomes. The officers are indulging in all sorts of luxury, revelling in Champaign and Burgundy, in all the pleasures of the belly, as well as in iis quae sub ventre sunt. 'Twill be a famous harvest for the restaurateurs and for the Cyprians who parade up and down the Arcades, sure of a constant succession of suitors. In fact, whatever be the taste of a man, whether sensual or intellectual or both, he can gratify himself here without moving out of the precincts of the Palais Royal. Here are cafés, restaurants, shops of all kinds whose display of clocks, jewellery, stuffs, silks, merchandize from all parts of the world, is most brilliant and dazzling; here you find reading-rooms where newspapers, reviews and pamphlets of all tongues, nations and languages are to be met with; here are museums of paintings, statues, plans in relief, cosmoramas; here are libraries, gaming houses, houses of fair reception; cellars where music, dancing and all kinds of orgies are carried on; exhibitions of all sorts, learned pigs, dancing dogs, military canary birds, hermaphrodites, giants, dwarf jugglers from Hindostan, catawbas from America, serpents from Java, and crocodiles from the Nile. Here, so Kotzebue has calculated, you may go through all the functions of life in one day and end it afterwards should you be so inclined. You may eat, drink, sleep, bathe, go to the Cabinet d'aisance, walk, read, make love, game and, should you be tired of life, you may buy powder and ball or opium to hasten your journey across Styx; or should you desire a more classic exit, you may die like Seneca opening your veins in a bath. Deep play goes forward day and night, and I verily believe there are some persons in Paris who never quit these precincts. The restaurants and cafés are most brilliantly fitted up. One, Le Café des Mille Colonnes, so called from the reflection of the columns in the mirrors with which the wainscoat is lined, boasts of a limonadière of great beauty. She is certainly a fine woman, dresses very well, as indeed most French women do, and has a remarkably fine turned arm which she takes care to display on all occasions. I do not, however, perceive much animation in her; she always appears the same, nor has she made any more impression on me—tho' I am of a very susceptible nature in this particular—than a fine statue or picture would do. There she sits on a throne and receives the hommage and compliments of most of the visitors and the money of all, which seems to please her most, for she receives the compliments which are paid her with the utmost sang-froid and indifference, and the money she takes especial care to count. English troops, conjointly with the National Guard, do duty at the entrance of the Palais Royal from the Rue St Honoré; and it became necessary to have a strong guard to keep the peace, as frequent disputes take place between the young men of the Capital and the Prussian officers, against whom the French are singularly inveterate.
The French, when left to themselves, are very peaceable in their pleasures and the utmost public decorum is observed; their sobriety contributes much to this; but if there were in London an establishment similar to that of the Palais Royal, it would become a perfect pandemonium and would require an army to keep the peace. The French police keep a very sharp look-out on all political offences, but are more indulgent towards all moral ones, as long as public decorum is not infringed, and then it is severely punished. But they have none of that censoriousness or prying spirit in France which is so common in England to hunt out and criticise the private vices of their neighbours, which, in my opinion, does not proceed from any real regard for virtue, but from a fanatical, jealous, envious, and malignant spirit. Those vice-hunters never have the courage to attack a man of wealth and power; but a poor artisan or labourer, who buys a piece of meat after twelve o'clock on Saturday night, or a glass of spirits during church-time on Sunday, is termed a Sabbath-breaker and imprisoned without mercy.
In the Palais Royal the three most remarkable temples of dissipation are Very's for gastronomes, Robert's faro bank for gamesters, and the Café Montausier for those devoted to the fair sex. The Café Montausier is fitted up in the guise of a theatre where music, singing and theatrical pieces are given; you pay nothing for admission, but are expected to call for some refreshment. It is splendidly illuminated, and is the Café par excellence, frequented by those ladies who have made the opposite choice to that of Hercules, and who, taking into consideration the shortness and uncertainty of life, dedicate it entirely to pleasure, reflecting that
Laggiù nell' Inferno,
Nell' obblio sempiterno,
In sempiterno orrore,
Non si parla d'amore.
Of course, this saloon is crowded with amateurs, and the Prussians and English are not the least ardent votaries of the Goddess of Paphos; many a vanquished victor sinks oppressed with wine and love on the breast of a Dalilah: this last comparison suggests itself to me from the immense quantity of hair worn by the Prussians, as if their strength, like that of Samson's, depended on their chevelure. There is a very pretty graceful girl who attends here and at the different restaurants and cafés with an assortment of bijouterie and other knick-knacks to sell. She is full of wit and repartee; but her answer to all those who attempt to squeeze her hand and make love to her is always: "Achetez quelque chose." Her name is Céline and she has a great flow of conversation on all subjects but that of love, which she invariably cuts short by "Achetez quelque chose."
10th August.
I have been to see the Museum of sculpture and painting in the Louvre, but what is to be seen there baffles all description:
Se tante lingue avessi e tante voci
Quanti occhi il cielo o quante arene il mare
Non basterian a dir le lodi immense.
The Apollo Belvedere, the Venus de Medici and the Laocoon first claimed my attention, and engaged me for at least an hour and a half before I could direct my attention to the other masterpieces. I admire indeed the Laocoon, still more the Venus, but the Apollo certainly bears away the palm and I fully participate of all Winkelmann's enthusiasm for that celebrated statue. The Venus is a very beautiful woman, but the Apollo is a god. One is lost, and one's imagination is bewildered when one enters into the halls of sculpture of this unparalleled collection, amidst the statues of Gods, Demi-Gods, Heroes, Philosophers, Poets, Roman Emperors, Statesmen and all the illustrious worthies that adorned the Greek and Roman page. What subjects for contemplation! A chill of awe and veneration pervaded my whole frame when I first entered into that glorious temple of the Arts. I felt as I should were I admitted among supernatural beings, or as if I had "shuffled off this mortal coil" and were suddenly ushered into the presence of the illustrious tenants of another world; in fact, I felt as if Olympus and the whole Court of Immortals were open to my view. No! I cannot describe these things, I can only feel them; I throw down the pen and call upon expressive silence to muse their praise.
Of the Picture Gallery too what can I say that can possibly give you an idea of its variety and extent? Here are the finest works of the Italian, Flemish, and French schools, and you are as much embarrassed to single out the favourite object, as the Grand Signor would be, among six or seven hundred of the most beautiful women in the world, to make his choice. The only fault I find in this collection is that there were rather too many Scripture pieces, Crucifixions, Martyrdoms and allegorical pictures, and too few from historical or mythological subjects. Yet perhaps I am wrong in classing the Scripture pieces with Martyrdoms, Crucifixions, Grillings of Saints and Madonnas; there are very many beautiful episodes in the Scriptures which would furnish admirable subjects for painters. Why then have they chosen disgusting subjects such as Judith sawing off Holofernes' head, Siserah's head nailed to the bedpost, John the Baptist's on a trencher, etc.? But the pictures representing Martyrdoms are too revolting to the eye and should not be placed in this Museum.
It is reported that the Allies mean to strip this Museum [of sculpture and painting]. No! it cannot be, they never surely can be guilty of such an act of Vandalism and contemptible spite. I am aware that there is a great clamour amongst a certain description of English for restoring these statues and pictures to the countries from whence they came, and that it is the fashion to term the translation of them to Paris a revolutionary robbery; but let us bring these gentlemen to a calm reasoning on the subject.
The statues and paintings in question belonged either to Governments at war with France, or to individuals inhabiting those countries; now, with respect to individuals, I will venture to affirm, on the best authority, that the property of no individual was taken from him without an equivalent. Those who had statues and pictures of value and wished to sell them, received their full value from the French Government, but there was no force used on the occasion; in fact, many who were in want of money were rejoiced at the opportunity of selling, as they could never have otherwise disposed of those valuable articles to individuals at the same price that the French Government gave. I recollect a day or two ago being in conversation with a Milanese on this subject and others connected with the occupation of Italy by the French. I happened to mention that the conquest of Italy by the Republican armies must have been attended with confiscation of property; he assured me that no such thing as confiscation of property took place; that so far from being the losers by the French invasion and the establishment of their system, they had on the contrary been considerable gainers, for that the country flourished under their domination in a manner before unknown, and that one of the greatest advantages attendant on the occupation was the establishment of an equality of weight and measures, the decimal division of the coin, the introduction of an admirable code of laws free'd from all barbarisms—legal, political and theological—and intelligible to all classes, so that there was no occasion to cite old authors and go back for three or four hundred years to hunt out authorities and precedents for what men of sense could determine at once by following the dictates of their own judgment.
With respect to the statues and pictures belonging to the different governments of Italy, it must never be forgotten that these governments made war against the French Revolution either openly or insidiously, and did their utmost to aid the coalition to crush the infant liberties of France. Those who did not act openly did so covertly and indirectly; in short, from their tergiversations and intrigues, they had no claim whatever on the mercy of the conquerors, who treated them with a great deal of clemency. The destruction of these governments was loudly called for by the people themselves, who looked on the French as their deliverers.
It will be admitted, I believe, that it is and has been the custom on the continent, in all wars, for all parties to levy war contributions on the conquered or occupied countries; but Buonoparte thought it more glorious for the French name to take works of art instead of money; and not a statue or picture was taken from the vanquished governments except by a solemn treaty of cession, or given in lieu of contributions at the option of the owners, and the Princes were very glad to give up their pictures and statues, which the most of them did not know how to appreciate, in lieu of money which they were all anxious to keep; and on these articles a fair value was fixed by competent judges. In this manner did the French become the possessors of these valuable objects of art, and in this manner was the noble Museum in Paris filled up, and surely nothing could be more generous and liberal than the use made of the Museum by the French Government; foreigners were indeed more favoured than the inhabitants themselves. To the inhabitants of Paris this Museum is open twice a week; but to foreigners on producing their passports, it is open every day in the week all the year round; artists of all nations are allowed, during a certain number of hours each day, to come to copy the statues and pictures which suit their taste; and stoves are lighted for their accommodation during winter, and all this gratis.—Now, before these objects of art were collected here, they were distributed, some in churches, and some in Government palaces. To see the first, required a specific introduction to the owner; to see the second, application to the attendants of the churches became necessary, and for both these you were required to pay fees to the servants and church-attendants, who are always impatient to take your fee and hurry you through the apartments or chapels, scarcely giving you time to examine anything. To be admitted into the Government palaces was a matter of favour, and here also fees were required.[32] Here in the Louvre there is no introduction required; no court to be paid to major-domos, no favour; it is open to all classes, high and low, without exception, and no money is allowed to be given.
But there are some people, in their ridiculous fury against the French Revolution, who would fain persuade us that before that epoch there was a golden age on the earth, that there were no acts of violence committed, no frauds practised, no property injured, no individuals ill-used; that every Prince governed like Numa; that every noble was a Bayard, and every priest like a primitive apostle. Why I need go no further than the Seven Years' war to show that in that war, during the height of European civilisation, and carried on between the most polished nations in Europe, there were much more acts of violence and rapine carried on than ever were done by the French republicans. I by no means wish to excuse or even palliate the acts of ferocity which took place at that epoch of the French Revolution called the reign of Terror, which were executed by a people wrought up to frenzy by a recollection of their wrongs; and I know too well that many virtuous individuals fell victims to their indiscriminating fury; but I do believe and aver that much more clamour was made at the execution of a handful of corrupt courtiers, intriguing and profligate women of quality and worthless priests, than all the rest put together.
To return to the Seven Years' war (I may be permitted to take this retrospect, I hope, since it is the fashion, and those who differ with me in opinions go much farther back than I do), let the French royalists and emigrants recollect the confiscation of property and barbarity exercised by Marshall Richelieu in Hanover, where many families were reduced to beggary. They may not chuse to recollect this; but the Hanoverians do and they have not forgotten the Pavillon de Hanovre, so called by the wits of the time from its having been built by the Marshall with money arising from the spoils of Hanover; will they recollect also the harsh treatment inflicted on the burghers and citizens of a town in Germany, who were shut up in a room and kept without food or drink for nearly three days because they would not consent to fix a heavy and unwarrantable contribution on their fellow citizens; when these unhappy but virtuous men were only allowed to go out for the necessities of nature attended by sentries, and on the third day, when fainting with hunger, a little bread and water was given to them, with an assurance that in future they were not to expect such luxuries. Have they forgot the devastation committed in Berlin by the Austrians in the Seven Years' war, when they pillaged, burned or destroyed all the valuable property of the royal Palaces, the most valuable works of art, vases, statues of antiquity, the loss of which could never be replaced; when they lopped off the heads, arms and legs of the statues? Have they forgot the conduct of the belligerent powers at the siege of Dresden at the same epoch, when whole families, among whom were helpless old men and women with children at the breast, were compelled to leave Dresden in the middle of a most rigorous winter and were driven to take refuge in the fields where the most of them perished with hunger and cold; and where many individuals lost their reason and became insane from the treatment they received? Have they forgotten the merciless barbarities inflicted by the Russians in the same war on the inhabitants of the Prussian territory? their ripping up and burning men, women, and children? and the dreadful retaliation inflicted on them at the battle of Zorndorff, when the Prussians, exasperated at the idea of those horrors so fresh in their memory, on being ordered to bury the Russian dead, threw the wounded men also belonging to that nation into the graves dug for the dead, to be thus buried alive, and hastily filled them up with earth, as if fearful that they might relent, did they give themselves time for reflection? These are not exaggerations; they are given by an author celebrated for his impartiality and deep research and who was an eye-witness of many of these proceedings; I mean Archenholz in his admirable history of the Seven Years' war.[33]
Then again in the war of American Independence (and here my countrymen must excuse me if I point out the acts of injustice committed by them, when acting in obedience to an unprincipled and arbitrary government and in a cause hostile to freedom), who does not recollect the private property wantonly destroyed and confiscated by the English? their employing the Indian tribes, those merciless savages of the forest, to scalp, etc., which called forth the indignation of a Chatham? and the grossly unjust pillage and confiscation of property which took place at St Eustatius by the commanders of a religious and gracious King?[34] Again, who does not recollect the gentle but deep reproof given by the American General Schuyler to the English General Burgoyne, when the latter was made prisoner by the Americans under Gates? General Schuyler's valuable house, barns, etc., had been burned by the express order of Burgoyne. Nevertheless, Schuyler received him with dignified politeness, magnanimously stifled the recollection of the injury he had received, and obtained for him a good quarter, merely remarking, "General, had my house and farms not been burned, I could have offered you a more comfortable abode." How Burgoyne must have felt this reproof! yet he was not by nature a harsh man, but he had the orders of his government to exercise severities; he was educated in Tory principles, and passive obedience is their motto.
Can one forget likewise even, in the late war, Nelson's conduct to Caraccioli at Naples, whom he caused to be hanged on board of an English ship of war, together with a number of other patriots, in violation of a solemn capitulation, by which it had been stipulated that they should be considered as prisoners of war and sent to France? Then again the wanton destruction of the Capitol and other public buildings at Washington not devoted to military purposes, which it is not usual to destroy or deface; and the valuable public library too which was burned? What excuse can be offered for this? Were the times of Omar returned? It is fair and allowed by the laws of war to blow up and destroy arsenals, magazines, containing warlike stores and engines of destruction, but to destroy with Gothic barbarity buildings of great symmetry and beauty, and a library too—O fie!
Why I will defy any man to point out a single instance where the French republican armies or Napoleon ever injured or wantonly destroyed a single national edifice, a single work of art, a single book belonging to any other country! On the contrary, they invariably extended their protection to the Arts and Sciences. Why at Vienna, where there is, I understand, a most splendid museum, and many most valuable works of art and antiquity, tho' this city fell twice into their possession, they never destroyed or took away a single article; but, on the contrary, there, as well as in Berlin, they invited the inhabitants to form a civic guard for the protection of their property. As to the Vandalism shewn during the reign of Terror, and I by no means seek to palliate it, that was of short duration, it was madness, if you will, but it was disinterested—and other nations who talk a great deal about their superior morality would do well to look at home. They would there observe, in their own historic page, that the atrocities of the French Revolution have not only been equalled but surpassed perhaps by more dreadful scenes committed at Wexford in 1798, under the auspices of the Government then ruling Ireland and which the noble and virtuous ——[35] disdained to serve.
Excuse this long digression, but I feel it my duty to open the eyes of my countrymen and prevent them from supporting on all occasions the unjust acts of their Government, which reflect dishonour on a great and enlightened nation; which can boast, among its annals, of some of the most heroic, splendid, and disinterested characters that ever the world produced.
All that I need add on the subject of the statues and pictures is, that putting out of the question the justice or injustice of the restitution, it will be a great loss to England and to English artists in particular, should they be removed: many an artist can afford to make a trip to Paris, who would find it beyond his means to make a journey to Florence or Rome.
If these objects of art are to be taken away, it should be stipulated so in the treaty of peace; and then everybody would understand it. This would be putting it on the fairest footing. You then say to France: "You gained these things by conquest; you lose them by defeat"; but for God's sake let us have no more of that cant about revolutionary robberies!
PARIS, ——
I went for the first time to the Grand Opera, or, as it is here called, the Académie Royale de Musique, which is in the Rue de Richelieu. Armida was the piece performed, the music by Glück. The decorations were splendid and the dancing beyond all praise. The scenes representing the garden of Armida and the nymphs dancing fully expressed in the mimic art those beautiful lines of Tasso:
Cogliam d'amor la rosa! amiamo or, quando
Esser si puote riamato amando![36]
The effect of the dissolution of the palace and gardens by the waving of Armida's wand is astonishing; it appears completely to be the work of inchantment, from the rapidity of execution which follows the potentissime parole. The French recitative however does not please me. The serious opera is an exotic and does not seem to thrive on the soil of France. The language does not possess sufficient intonation to give effect to the recitative.
On the contrary, the comic operas are excellent; and here the national music and singing appear to great advantage. It never degenerates to the grotesque or absurd buffo of the Italians, but is always exquisitely graceful, simple, touching and natural.
Among the ballets, I have seen perhaps three of the best, viz., Achille à Scyros, Flore et Zéphire and La folle par amour. In the ballet of Flore and Zéphire, the dancers who did these two parts appeared more aerian than earthly. To use a phrase of Burke's, I never beheld so beautiful a vision. Nina, or la folle par amour, is a ballet from private life. The title sufficiently explains its purport; it is exquisitely touching and pathetic. O what a divine creature is Bigottini! what symmetry of form! what innate grace, what a captivating expression of countenance; and then the manner in which she did the mad scenes and her return to reason! Oh! I was moved even to tears. Never had any performance such an effect upon me. What a magnificent tout ensemble is the Grand Opera at Paris! Whenever I feel chagrined or melancholy I shall come here; I feel as if I were in a new world; the fiction appears reality; my senses are ravished, and I forget all my cares.
I have very little pleasure in visiting royal Palaces, unless they have been the residence of some transcendent, person like Napoleon or Frederick II of Prussia, as the sight of splendid furniture and royal pomp affords me no gratification; and I would rather visit Washington's or Lafayette's farms in company with these distinguished men than dine with all the monarchs of Europe. After a hasty glance at the furniture of the Tuileries, what fixed my attention for a considerable time was "La Salle des Maréchaux," where are the portraits of all the modern French Marshalls. They are all full length portraits and are striking resemblances; some are in the Marshall's undress uniform and others in the full court costume which is very elegant, being the costume of the time of Francis I with the Spanish hat and plumes. I did not observe Ney's or Soult's portraits among them.
In front of the great square of the Tuileries where the troops exercise, stands the Arch of Triumph erected by Napoleon, commonly called l'Arc du Carrousel. It is a beautiful piece of architecture, but is far too small to tally with such a vast mass of buildings as the Palace and offices of the Tuileries. By the side of them it appears almost Lilliputian. It would have been better to have made it in the style of the triumphal arch of the Porte St Denis. On this arc of the Carrousel are bas-reliefs both outside and inside, representing various actions of Napoleon's life. He is always represented in the Roman costume, with the imperial laurel on his brows, with kings kneeling, and presenting the keys of conquered cities. On the outside are statues, large as life, in modern military costume, representing the different armes which compose the French army.[37] On the top of this Arc du Carrousel is an antique car of triumph, to which are harnessed the four bronze horses which were taken from the façade of the Church of San Marco in Venice. They are of beautiful workmanship and of great antiquity. What various and mighty revolutions have these horses witnessed! Cast in Corinth in the time of the glories of the Grecian commonwealths and removed by conquest to Rome, they witnessed the successive fall of the Grecian and Roman states; transferred to Constantinople in the time of Constantine, and from thence removed to Venice when Constantinople fell into the hands of the French and Venetians; transferred from thence to Paris in 1798, they have witnessed the successive falls of the Eastern and Western Empires, of the Republic of Venice and the Napoleonic dynasty and Empire. Report says they are to be restored to Venice; and who knows whether they may not be destined one day to return to their original country, Greece, under perhaps Russian auspices?
The Gardens of the Tuileries which lie at the back part of the palace are very spacious, well laid out in walks and lined with trees. Large basins inlaid with stone, fountains and statues add to the grandeur of these gardens; they extend from the Tuileries as far as the Place Louis XV parallel to the Seine, and are separated by a wall and parapet and a beautiful cast iron railing from the Quai, and on the other side from the Rue de Rivoli, one of the new streets, and the best in Paris for pedestrians. On the side opposite the palace itself is the Place Louis XV, called in the time of the republic Place de la Révolution, and where the unfortunate Louis XVI suffered decapitation. The Place Louis XV is by far the most magnificent thing of the kind I have ever seen and far exceeds the handsomest of our squares in London. On one side of it is the Hótel du Garde Meuble, a superb edifice. On the other the Quai, the river; and on the other side of the river is the Palais du Corps législatif, now the place where the Chamber of Deputies hold their sitting, and which has a magnificent façade. In front of this place are the Champs Elysées and avenue of Neuilly and behind the gardens and palace of the Tuileries.
My next visit was to the Place Vendôme, where stands the majestic column of the Grand Army. To me this column is the most striking thing of its kind that I have hitherto seen. It is of bronze and of the most beautiful workmanship, cast from the cannon taken from the Austrians in the war of 1805, and on it are figured in bas-relief the various battles and achievements, winding round and round from the base to the capital. It is constructed after the model of the Column of Trajan in Rome.
The next place I visited was the Chamber of Deputies. It is a fine building with a Doric façade and columns; it is peculiarly striking from its noble simplicity. On the façade are bas-reliefs representing actions in Napoleon's life. The flight of steps leading to the façade is very grand, and there are colossal figures representing Prudence, Justice, Fortitude and other legislative virtues. The Chamber itself where the Deputies hold their sittings is in the form of a Greek theatre; the arch of the semi-circle forms the gallery appropriated to the audience, and comprehends in its enclosure the seats of the deputies like the seats in a Greek theatre; on the chord of the semi-circle where the proscenium should be, is the tribune and President's seat. The whole is exceedingly elegant. The Orator whose turn it is to speak leaves his seat, ascends the tribune and faces the Deputies. The anti-rooms adjoining this Chamber are fitted up with long tables and fauteuils and are appropriated to the sittings of the various committees. These antichambers are hung round with pictures representing the victories of the French armies; but they are covered with green baize and carefully concealed from the public eye in order to stifle recollections and prevent comparisons.
PARIS, August.
I mounted on horseback and rode out to St Cloud to breakfast, passing through the Champs Elysées, the Bois de Boulogne and the little town of Passy, and returned by the Quai, as far as the bridge of Jéna, which I passed and went to visit the Hôtel des Invalides, le Champ de Mars, the Pantheon or Church of St Geneviève and the Palace of the Luxembourg. This was pretty good work for one day; and as you will expect some little account of my ideas thereon, I shall give you a précis of what most interested me.
In the Champs Elysées are quartered several English regiments who are encamped there, and this adds to the liveliness of the scene; our soldiers seem to enjoy themselves very much. They are in the midst of places of recreation of all kinds, such as guinguettes, tennis-courts, dancing salons and cafés, and besides these (places of Elysium for English soldiers), wine and brandy shops innumerable; our soldiers seem to agree very well with the inhabitants. In the Bois de Boulogne are Hanoverian troops as well as English. At Passy I stopped at the house occupied by my friend, Major C. of the 33rd Regt.,[38] who was to accompany me to St Cloud. St Cloud is an exceedingly neat pretty town, well and solidly built, and tolerably large. There are a great many good restaurants and cafes, as St Cloud with its Palace, promenades and gardens forms one of the most favourite resorts of the Parisians on Sundays and jours de fête. Diners de société and noces et festins are often made here; and there is both land and water conveyance during the whole day. There are two roads by land from Paris: the one on the Quai the whole way; the other through the Bois de Boulogne and Champs Elysées. The gardens of St Cloud are laid out something in the style of a jardin anglais, but mixed with the regular old fashioned garden; it abounds in lofty trees, beautiful sites and well arranged vistas commanding extensive views of Paris and the country environing. St Cloud was the favourite residence of Napoleon; and the furniture in the palace here shows him to be a man of the most refined taste. All is elegant and classic; there is nothing superfluous; the furniture is modern, but in strict imitation of the furniture of the ancients and chiefly in bronze. There are superb vases and candelabras in marble, magnificent clocks of various kinds, marble busts, and busts in bronze of great men, and bronze statues large as life holding lamps. The chairs and sofas too are in a classic taste, as are the beds and baths. We were informed here that Blucher, who passed one night here, tore with his spur the satin covering of one of the sofas and that he did it wilfully; but I never can believe that the old man would be so silly, and I rather think that this story is an invention of the keeper of the Palace, or that if it was done, it was done by an accident merely. But the fact is that Blucher has a contempt for and hates the Parisians and likes to mortify them on all occasions; he threatens to do a number of things which he never seriously intends, merely for the sake of teasing them; and it must be owned that they deserve a little contempt from the want of caractère they showed on the entrance of the Allies. Be it as it may, Blucher is the bête noire of the Parisians and they are as much afraid of him as the children are of Monsieur Croque-mitaine.
We returned from St Cloud by the Quai, crossed the bridge of Jéna, galloped along the Champs de Mars, took a hasty glance at the Hôtel des Invalides, a magnificent edifice and which may be distinguished from all other buildings by its gilded cupola. It is a superb establishment in every respect, and is furnished with an excellent library. A great many old soldiers are to be seen in this library occupied in reading; they are very polite to all visitors, particularly to ladies. Nothing can better demonstrate the superior character, intelligence and deportment of the French soldiers over those of all other countries than the way in which they employ their time in literary pursuits, their dignified politeness to visitors and the intelligent answers they give to questions. I am afraid our British veterans, brave as they are in the field, occupy themselves, when laid up as invalids, more in destroying their bodies by spirituous liquors than in improving their minds by reading. The Chapel of this establishment where were displayed the banners and trophies taken at different epochs from the enemies of France, and which were much mutilated by the wars since the Revolution, is now stripped of all the ensigns of glory. They were all burned by the French themselves previous to the capitulation of Paris in 1814, in order to prevent their falling into the hands of the enemy. An old soldier who was my guide related this with tears in his eyes, but suddenly checking himself said: "Mais telle est l'histoire."
The only things now in this Chapel that interest the eye of the traveller are the monuments of Vauban and Turenne. Of the rest nought remains but the brilliant souvenirs.
Fuit Ilium, et ingens
Gloria Teucrorum!…[39]
I had a great deal of difficulty in inducing this old soldier to accept of three franks; I told him at last that, as he did not want it himself, to take it and give it to somebody that did. I then visited the rest of the establishment. There is a whole range of rooms which contains models or plans in relief of all the fortresses of France; they are admirably and most minutely executed; not only the fortifications and public buildings, but the private houses, the gardens, orchards, meadows, mountains, hill and dale, bridges, trees, every feature of the ground in fine and of the surrounding country are given in miniature. In fact it gives you the same idea of the places themselves and of the environing country as if you were held up in the air over them to inspect them; or as if you viewed them from a balloon at the distance of 800 yards from the earth. The models of Strassburg, Lille and three or four others have been taken away by the Austrians and Prussians, but I have seen those of Calais, Dunkirk, Villefranche, Toulon, and Brest, and in fact almost every other French fortress. This is one of the most interesting sights in Paris, and for this we are certainly indebted to the occupation; for I question much if travellers were ever permitted to see these models until Paris fell into the hands of the Allies. Prussian sentries do duty at the doors; how grating this must be to the old invalids! Among the models I must not omit to mention a very curious one which represents the battle of Lodi. The town of Lodi, the bridge and river are admirably executed. The soldiers are represented by little figures about a quarter of an inch in height and cobwebs are disposed so as to represent the smoke of the firearms, Buonaparte and his staff are on horseback on one side of the bridge. There is also a very fine model of the Hôtel des Invalides itself.
From hence we went to the garden and palace of the Luxembourg. These gardens form the midday and afternoon promenade of that part of the city. In one wing of the Palace is the Chamber of Peers, elegantly fitted up and in some respect resembling a Greek theatre. The busts of Cicero, Brutus, Demosthenes, Phocion and other great men of antiquity adorn the niches of this chamber and on the grand escalier are the statues in natural size of Kleber, Dessaix, Caffarelli and other French generals. Report says that these statues will be removed.
In the picture gallery at the Luxembourg is a choice collection of pictures of the modern French school such as Guérin, David, etc. The subjects are extremely well chosen, being taken from the mythology or from ancient and modern history. I was too glad to find no crucifixions, martyrdoms, nor eternal Madonnas. I distinguished in particular the Judgment of Brutus and the Serment des Horaces et des Curiaces. Connoisseurs find the attitudes too stiff and talk to you of the Italian school; but I prefer these; yet I had better hold my tongue on this subject, for I am told I know nothing about painting.
Poor Labédoyère[40] is sentenced to be shot by the Court Martial which tried him, and the sentence will be carried immediately into execution. His fate excites universal sympathy, and I have seen many people shed tears when talking on this subject. He certainly ought to be protected by the 12th Article of the Capitulation. The French are very uneasy; the Allies have begun to strip the Louvre and there is no talk of what the terms of peace are to be, or what is the determination of the Allies. This is a dreadful state of uncertainty for the French people and may lead to a general insurrection. The Allies continue pouring troops into France and levying contributions. "Vae victis" seems their motto. France is now a disarmed nation, and no French uniform is to be seen except that of the National Guard and the "Garde Royale." France is at the mercy of her enemies and prostrate at their feet; a melancholy prospect for European liberty!
The Allies have parades and reviews two or three times a week and the Sovereigns of Russia, Austria and Prussia constantly attend; Wellington is their showman. These crowned Heads like mightily playing at soldiers; I should think His Grace must be heartily tired of them. Massacres and persecutions of the Protestants have begun to take place in the South of France, and the priests are at work again threatening with excommunication and hell the purchasers and inheritors of emigrant estates and church lands. These priests and emigrants are incorrigible. Frequent quarrels take place almost every evening in the Palais Royal between the Prussian officers and the French, particularly some of the officers from the army of the Loire. I rather suspect these latter are the aggressors. The Prussians being gorged with plunder come there to eat, drink and amuse themselves and have as little stomach for fighting as the soldier of Lucullus had after having enriched himself; but the officers of the army of the Loire are, poor fellows, in a very different predicament; they have not even been paid what is due to them, and they, having none of those nice felicities (to use an expression of Charlotte Smith's)[41] which make life agreeable, are ready for any combat, to set their life on any cast, "to mend it, or to be rid of 't." The Prussians indulge in every sort of dissipation, which they are enabled to do by the plunder which they have accumulated, and of which they have formed, I understand, a dépôt at St Germain. They send these articles of plunder to town every day to be sold, and then divide the profits, which are sure to be spent in the Palais Royal, and other places of revel and debauchery.
They sometimes affect a fastidiousness of stomach which is quite laughable, and not at all peculiar to the Germans, who are in general blessed by nature with especial good appetites; and they spend so much money that the English officers who have not had the advantages of plunder that these Prussians have had must appear by the side of them stingy and niggardly.
I was witness one day to a whimsical scene, which will serve to give you an idea of the airs of importance these gentlemen give themselves. I was one day at Versailles and after having visited the palace and gardens I entered the Salon of a restaurateur and called for a veal cutlet and vin ordinaire. There was a fat Prussian Major with two or three of his companions at one of the tables, who had been making copious libations to Bacchus in Burgundy and Champaign. He heard me call for vin ordinaire, and whether it was to show his own magnificence I know not, but he called out to the cafetière: "Madame, votre vin ordinaire est il buvable? car j'en veux donner a mon trompette, et s'il n'est pas bon, il n'en boira pas. Faites venir mon trompette." Now I dare say in his own country this Major would not have disdained even the "schwarze Bier" of Brandenburgh.
Scarcely any quarrels, I believe, take place between the English and French, nor did I hear of any violent fracas but one. In this instance, the English officers concerned must have been sad, brutal, vulgar fellows. They, however, after behaving in a most gross insulting manner, were compelled by some Frenchmen not to eat but to drink their words, and that out of a vessel not usually employed in drinking. I shall not repeat the contemptible affair, but it furnished the subject of a caricature.
The English officers in general behave in a handsome and liberal manner, and their conduct was spoken of in high terms of encomium by very many of the French themselves. I regret however exceedingly that any of the British officers should have imbibed the low prejudices and vulgar hatred against the French, which certain people preach up in England to cover their own peculations and interested views. A young friend of mine, with whom I was one day talking on political subjects, said to me: "I cannot help agreeing with you in many things, but I am staggered when I think that your ideas and reasoning are so contrary to the ideas in which I have been brought up; so that I rather avoid entering at all on political questions."
I do not wonder at all at this, for I recollect when I was at school at Eton, the system was to drill into the heads of the boys strong aristocratic principles and hatred of Democracy and of the French in particular; we were ordered to write themes against the French Revolution and verses of triumph over their defeats, with now and then a sly theme on the great advantage of hereditary nobility; in these verses God Almighty was to be represented as closely allied to the British Government and a sleeping partner of the Administration. One of the fellows of Eton College actually told the late Mr Adam Walker, the celebrated lecturer on natural and experimental philosophy, who was accustomed to give lectures annually to the Etonians, that his visits were no longer agreeable and would be dispensed with in future; as "Philosophy had done a great deal of harm and had caused the French Revolution."
With respect to my visit to Versailles, I was much struck with the vast size and magnificence of the buildings and with the ingenuity displayed in the arrangement of the grounds and the numerous groups of statues, grottos, aqueducts, fountains and ruins. Still it pleases me less than St Cloud, for I prefer the taste of the present day in gardening and the arrangement of ground, to the ponderous and tawdry taste of the time of Louis XIV, and I prefer St Cloud to Versailles, just as I should prefer a Grecian Nymph in the simple costume of Arcadia to a fine court lady rouged and dressed out with hoops, diamonds, and headdress of the tune of Queen Anne. Napoleon must have had an exquisite taste.
[32] Exceptions to this are, I understand, the Gallery at Florence, and the
Museo Vaticano at Rome, which are both open to all and no fees allowed.
[33] Johann Wilhelm Archenholz (1743-1812), author of the Geschichte des
Siebenjährigen Krieges, 1789.—ED.
[34] In February, 1781, before the declaration of war was generally known in the West Indies, Rodney's fleet surrounded the Dutch island of Eustatius, which had become a sort of entrepôt for supplying America with British goods; two hundred and fifty ships, together with several millions worth of merchandise, were seized and sold at a military auction. The plunder of Eustatius was bitterly commented upon In the British House of Commons.—Lee Richard Hildreth, The History of the United States, vol. III, p. 335.—ED.
[35] The name is in blank. Major Frye may have meant Beauchamp Bagenal Harvey (1762-1798), the squire of Wexford who deserted to the Irish rebels.—ED.
[36] Tasso, Jerusalemme liberata, canto XVI, ottava 15.—ED.
[37] For instance, a Cuirassier, a Dragoon, a Grenadier, a Tirailleur, an Artilleryman.
[38] Major G. Colclough, senior major of the 33rd Regt.—ED.
[39] Virgil, Aen., II. 325.—ED.
[40] La Bédoyere (Charles Huchet, Comte de) distinguished himself in several of the Napoleonic wars, in particular at Ratisbonne and Borodino. Being a colonel at Grenoble, in March, 1815, he deserted to Napoleon's cause and was nominated by him general and pair de France. In July, 1815, he was arrested in Paris, tried for high treason and shot, August 19, in spite of Benj. Constant's efforts to save him.—ED.
[41] Charlotte Smith (1749-1806), author of Emmeline, or the Orphan of the Castle (1788), Celestina (1792), The Old Manor House (1793), etc.—ED.
CHAPTER IV
From Paris to Bruxelles—Visiting the plains of Waterloo—The Duke de Berri
at Lille—Beauvais—Return to Paris—Remarks on the French theatre—
Talma—Mlle Duchesnois—Mlle Georges-French alexandrine verse—The Abbé
Delille—The Opéra Comique.
I met with my brother-in-law and his nephew at Paris, and hearing from them that they had an intention of returning to England by the way of Bruxelles, with the idea of visiting the plains of Waterloo, I was induced to accompany them. We started on the 18th August, taking the exact route from Paris that was taken by Napoleon. Passed the first night at St Quentin; the second at a small village on the line between Mons and Charleroy in the Belgian territory. The next morning, after breakfasting at Nivelles, we proceeded to Quatre Bras and Mont St Jean. At the little cabaret called à la belle Alliance we met a host of Englishmen who had been to behold the field of battle; Lacoste, the peasant who was Napoleon's guide on the day of battle, was about to conduct them across the fields to Hougoumont. We followed them. The devastation of the place, every tree being pierced with bullets, and the whole premises being nearly burned to the ground, seemed to astonish their weak minds; one of them was not contented till he had measured the length and breadth of the garden and orchards.
Cuirasses, helmets, swords and various other spoils of war found on the spot, were offered for sale by some boys and eagerly bought up as relics. My brother-in-law made a purchase of a helmet, sword and cuirass, intending to hang it up in his hall. For my part I have seen, and can see no reason whatever to rejoice at this event. I fear it is pregnant with infinite mischief.
We arrived at Bruxelles on the afternoon of the 20th August and after visiting thePark, Alée verte and Palace of Laeken, we proceeded the next morning on our journey to Lille.
The Duke of Berri was at Lille and a grand fête was given in the evening to celebrate the second restoration of the Bourbons. Fireworks were let off, the city was brilliantly illuminated and boys (hired of course) went about the streets singing the following refrain
À bas, à bas Napoléon!
Vivent, vivent les Bourbons!
A number of beautiful women elegantly attired paraded up and down the public promenades, which are exceedingly well and tastefully laid out. This city is built with great regularity, and the streets are broad, neat, and clean. It is by far the handsomest city I have ever seen either in France or Belgium. The Hôtel de Ville and the theatre both are on the Grande Place and are well worth seeing. Lille is renowned for its fortifications; I much wished to visit the citadel but I was not permitted. At dinner at the table d'hôte at the Hôtel du Commerce, I remarked a French officer declaiming violently against Napoleon; but I heard afterwards that he was the son of an Emigrant; the rest of the company did not seem to approve his discourse and shewed visible impatience at it.
Lille may be easily recognised at its approach from the immense quantity of wind-mills that are in the vicinity of this city, some of which are used for grinding of wheat and others for the expression of oil. A great deal of flax from whence the oil is made, grows in the country.
I left Lille on the morning of the 24th inst., with the courier for Amiens. From Amiens I took the diligence to Beauvais and on arrival there I put up under the hospitable roof of my friend Major G., of the 18th Light Dragoons, lately made Lt.-Colonel for his gallantry at Waterloo.[42] I did not want for amusement here, for the next day a fête champêtre was given just outside the walls of the town, and I admired the grace and tournure of the female peasantry and their good dancing. How much more creditable are these innocent and agreeable fêtes to the fairs and meetings in England, which are generally signalized in drunkenness! The next afternoon presented a novel sight to the inhabitants of Beauvais, it being a grand cricket match played between the officers of the 10th and 18th Dragoons. It was won by the latter, mainly owing to the superior play of Colonel G. of the 18th, who never touched a bat since he was at Burney's school. The Officers afterwards dined al fresco and many toasts accompanied by the huzzas were given, to the astonishment of the bystanders, who seemed to consider us as little better than barbarians. One of the officers wishing to pay a compliment to the inhabitants of Beauvais proposed the health of Louis XVIII, but they seemed to take it coldly and not at all to be flattered by the compliment.
After five days very agreeable residence at Beauvais, I put myself in the diligence to return to Paris. During the journey an ardent political altercation arose between a young lady, who appeared to be a warm partisan of Napoleon, on the one side, and a Garde du Corps on the other. The lady was seconded by a young gentleman, of whom it was difficult to say, whether he sustained her argument from a dislike to the present order of things, or from a wish to ingratiate himself in her favour. The argument of the Garde du Corps was espoused, but soberly, by one of the passengers who was a mathematical professor at one of the Lyceums; he was not by any means an Ultra, but he supported the Bourbons, with moderate, gentlemanly and I therefore believe sincere attachment. This professor seemed a well informed sort of man; he told me that he was acquainted with Sir James M., formerly recorder at Bombay. On our arrival at the Bureau des Messageries, the whole company forgot their disputes and parted good friends; and the young man who was partisan of the young lady in the political dispute took care to inform himself of her abode in Paris.
* * * * *
Remarks on the various dramatic performances which I witnessed at Paris, with opinions on the French theatre in general.
In my ideas of dramatic works I am neither rigidly classic nor romantic, and I think both styles may be good if properly managed and the interest well kept up; in a word I am pleased with all genres hors le genre ennuyux,[43] and tho' a great admirer of Shakespeare and Schiller, I am equally so of Voltaire, Racine and Corneille; I take equal delight in the pathos of the sentimental dramas of Kotzebue as in the admirable satire and vis comica of the unrivalled Molière, so that on my arrival at Paris I was not violently prejudiced either for or against the French stage, but rather pre-occupied, to use a gentler term, in its favour; and I have not been at all disappointed, for I think I can pronounce it with safety the first, perhaps the only stage in Europe.
I now mean to speak not of Operas, nor of Operas-comiques, nor of melodrames, nor of vaudevilles; all these have their respective merits; but when I speak of the French stage, I confine myself to the regular theatre of tragedy and comedy, of their classical pieces; in a word, to the dramatic performances usually given at the Théâtre Français.
The first piece I saw performed was Manlius;[44] but I was too far off from the stage to judge of the acting, and could do little more than catch the sounds. The parterre and the whole house was full. I was in the fourth tier of boxes, yet I could distinguish at intervals the finest and most prominent traits, of Talma's acting, particularly in that scene where he upbraids his friend with having betrayed him. This he gave with uncommon energy and effect. The plot of this piece is very similar to that of Venice preserved.[45]
The next piece I saw represented was the Avare of Molière, which to me was one of the greatest dramatic treats I had ever witnessed. Every part was well supported. The next was Athalie of Racine. Here too I was highly gratified. Mlle Georges performed the part of Athalie and gave me the perfect ideal of the haughty Queen. Her narration of the dream was given with the happiest effect, and in her attempt to conceal her uneasiness and her affected contempt of the dream in these lines:
Un songe, me devrois—je inquiéter d'un songe?
she seemed in reality to labour under all the anxiety and fatigue arising from it. That fine scene between Joad and Joas was well given, and the little girl who did the part of Joas performed with a good deal of spirit. The actor who played Joad recited in a most impressive manner the advice to the young prince terminating in these lines:
Vous souvenant, mon fils, que caché sous ce lin,
Comme eux vous fûtes pauvre et comme eux orphelin.
The interrogating scene between Athalie and Joad was given spiritedly, but the rather abrupt and uncourtierlike reply to the Queen's remark, "Ils sont deux puissans dieux"—"Lui seul est dieu, Madame, et le vôtre n'est rien"— excited a laugh and I fancy never fails to do so, every time the piece is performed.
Racine has several passages in his tragedies which perhaps have rather too much naiveté for the dignity of the cothurnus; for instance in the answer of Agamemnon to Achille in the tragedy of Iphigénie:
Puisque vous le savez, pourquoi le demander?
A poet of to-day would be quizzed for a line like the above, but who dare venture to point out any defect in an author of whom Voltaire has said and with justice too, that the only criticism to be made of him (Racine) would be to write under every page: "Admirable, harmonieux, sublime!"
The costume and the decorations at the Théâtre français are so strictly classical and appropriate in every respect, that it is to me a source of high delight to witness the representation of the favourite pieces of Racine, Corneille, Molière and Voltaire, which I have so often read with so much pleasure in the closet and no small quantity of which I have by heart.
The next piece I saw was the Cinnna of Corneille; and here it was that I beheld Talma for the second time. I was of course highly pleased, tho' I was rather far off to hear very distinctly; this was, however, no very great loss, as I was perfectly well acquainted with the tragedy. Talma's gestures, his pause's, his natural mode of acting gave a great relief to the long declamation with which this tragedy abounds. When this tragedy was given it was during the time that poor Labédoyère's trial was going on, and the allusions to Augustus' clemency were eagerly seized and applauded. It was hoped that Louis XVIII would imitate Augustus. Vain hope!
I have seen Phèdre; the part of Phèdre by that admirable actress Mlle Duchesnois, who performs the part so naturally and with so much passion that we entirely forget the extreme plainness of the person. She acts with far more feeling and pathos than Mlle Georges. I shall never be able to forget Mlle Duchesnois in Phèdre. She gave me a full idea of the impassioned Queen, nor were it possible to depict with greater fidelity the "Vénus toute entière à sa proie attachée," as in that beautiful speech of Phèdre to Oenone wherein she reveals her passion for Hippolyte and pourtrays the terrible struggle between duty and female delicacy on the one hand, and on the other a flame that could not be overcome, convinced as it were of the complete inutility of further efforts of resistance and invoking death as her only refuge. I was moved even to tears. I am so great an admirer of the whole of this speech beginning "Mon mal vient de plus lorn" etc., and ending "Un reste de chaleur tout prêt à s'exhaler," that I think in it Racine has not only united the excellencies of Euripides, Sappho and Theocritus in describing the passion of love, but has far surpassed them all; that speech is certainly the masterpiece of French versification and scarcely inferior to it is that beautiful and ingenuous confession of love by Hippolyte to Aricie. What an admirable pendant to the love of Phèdre! In Hippolyte you behold the innocence, simplicity and ingenuousness of a first and pure attachment: in Phèdre the embrasement, the ungovernable delirium of a criminal passion.
I have seen Mlle Duchesnois again in the Mérope of Voltaire and admire her more and more. This is an admirable play. The dialogue is so spirited; the agitation of maternal tenderness, and the occasional bursts of feelings impossible to be restrained, render this play one of the most interesting perhaps on the French stage, and Mlle Duchesnois gave with the happiest effect her part in those two scenes; the first wherein she supposes Egisthe to be the person who has killed her son; in the other where having discovered the reality of his person, she is obliged to dissemble the discovery, but on Egisthe being about to be sacrificed she exclaims "Barbare, c'est mon fils!" The part of Egisthe was given by a young actor who made his appearance at this theatre for the first tune, and he executed his part with complete success (Firmin, I think, was his name). Lafond did the part of Polyphonte and did it well. At this tragedy many allusions were caught hold of by the audience according as they were Bourbonically or Napoleonically inclined; at that part of Polyphonte's speech wherein he says:
Le premier qui fut Roi fut un soldat heureux.
Qui sert bien son pays n'a pas besoin d'ayeux.
Thunders of applause proceeded from those who applied it to Napoleon. At the line:
Est il d'autre parti que celui de nos rois?
a loud shout and clapping proceeded from the Royalists; but I fancy if hands had been shown these last would have been in a sad minority. I have often amused myself with comparing the Mérope of Voltaire with that of Maffei and am puzzled to which to give the preference. Maffei has made Polyphonte a more odious and perhaps on that account a more theatrical character, while Voltaire's Polyphonte is more in real life. In the play of Voltaire he is a rough brutal soldier, void of delicacy of feeling and not very scrupulous, but not that praeternatural deep designing villain that he is represented in the piece of Maffei. In fact Maffei's Polyphonte appears too outré; but then on the stage may not a little exaggeration be allowed, just as statues which are destined to be placed in the open air or on columns appear with greater effect when larger than the natural size? Alfleri seems to have given the preference to the Mérope of Voltaire.
I have seen Talma a second time in the part of Nero in the Britannicus of Racine; Mlle Georges played the part of Agrippina. Talma was Nero from head to foot; his very entry on the stage gave an idea of the fiery and impatient character of the tyrant, and in the scene between him and his mother Agrippina nothing could be better delineated. The forced calm of Agrippina, while reproaching her son with his ingratitude, and the impatience of Nero to get rid of such an importunate monitress, were given in a style impossible to be surpassed. Talma's dumb show during this scene was a masterpiece of the mimic art. If Talma gives such effects to his rôles in a French drama, where he is shackled by rules, how much greater would he give on the English or German stages in a tragedy of Shakespeare or Schiller!
Blank verse is certainly better adapted to tragedy than rhymed alexandrines, but then the French language does not admit of blank verse, and to write tragedies in prose, unless they be tragedies in modern life, would deprive them of all charm; but after all I find the harmonious pomp and to use a phrase of Pope's "The long majestic march and energy divine" of the French alexandrine, very pleasing to the ear. I am sure that the French poets deserve a great deal of credit for producing such masterpieces of versification from a language, which, however elegant, is the least poetical in Europe; which allows little or no inversion, scarce any poetic license, no enjambement, compels a fixed caesura; has in horror the hiatus; and in fine is subject to the most rigorous rules, which can on no account be infringed; which rejects hyperbole; which is measured by syllables, the pronunciation of which is not felt in prose; compels the alternative termination of a masculine or feminine rhyme; and with all this requires more perhaps than any other language that cacophony be sedulously avoided. Such are the difficulties a French poet has to struggle with; he must unite the most harmonious sound with the finest thought. In Italian very often the natural harmony of the language and the music of the sound conceal the poverty of the thought; besides Italian poetry has innumerable licenses which make it easy to figure in the Tuscan Parnassus, and where anyone who can string together rime or versi sciolti is dignified with the appellation of a poet; whereas from French poetry, a mediocrity is and must be of necessity banished. Neither is it sufficient for an author to have sublime ideas; these must be filed and pruned. Inspiration can make a poet of a German, an Italian or an Englishman, because he may revel in unbounded license of metre and language, but in French poetry inspiration is by no means sufficient; severe study and constant practise are as indispensable as poetic verve to constitute a French poet. The French poets are sensible of this and on this account they prefer imitating the ancients, polishing their rough marble and fitting it to the national taste, to striking out a new path.
The Abbé Delille, the best poet of our day that France has produced, has gone further; he had read and admired the best English poets such as Milton, Pope, Collins and Goldsmith, and has not disdained to imitate them; yet he has imitated them with such elegance and judgment that he has left nothing to regret on the part of those of his countrymen who are not acquainted with English, and he has rendered their beauties with such a force that a foreigner Versed in both languages who did not previously know which was the original, and which the translation, might take up passages in Pope, Thomson, Collins and Goldsmith and read parallel passages in Delille and be extremely puzzled to distinguish the original: for none of the beauties are lost in these imitations. And yet, in preferring to imitate, it must not be inferred that he was deficient in original thoughts.
To return to the theatre, I have seen Mlle Mars in the rôle of Henriette in the Femmes Savantes of Molière. Oh! how admirable she is! She realizes completely the conception of a graceful and elegant Frenchwoman of the first society. She does not act; she is at home as it were in her own salon, smiling at the silly pretensions of her sister and at the ridiculous pedantry of Trissotin; her refusing the kiss because she does not understand Greek was given with the greatest naiveté. In a word Mlle Mars reigns unrivalled as the first comic actress in Europe.
I have seen too, Les Plaideurs of Racine and Les fourberies de Scapin of Molière, both exceedingly well given; particularly the scene in the latter wherein it is announced to Géronte that his son had fallen into the hands of a Turkish corsair, and his answer "Que diable allait-il faire dans la galère?"
I have seen also Andromaque, Iphigénie and Zaïre. Mlle Volnais did the part of Andromaque; but the monotonous plaintiveness of her voice, which never changes, wearies me. In Iphigénie I was more gratified; for Mlle Georges did the part of Clytemnestre, and her sister, a young girl of seventeen, made her début in the part of Iphigénie with great effect. The two sisters supported each other wonderfully well, and Lafond did Agamemnon very respectably.
Mlle Georges the younger, having succeeded in Iphigénie, appeared in the part of Zaïre, a bold attempt, and tho' she did it well and with much grace, yet it was evidently too arduous a task for her. The whole onus of this affecting piece rests on the rôle of Zaïre. In the part where naiveté was required she succeeded perfectly and her burst: "Mais Orosmane m'aime et j'ai tout oublie" was most happy; but she was too faint and betrayed too little emotion in portraying the struggle between her love for Orosmane and the unsubdued symptoms of attachment to her father and brother and to the religion of her ancestors. In short, where much passion and pathos was required, there she proved unequal to the task; but she has evidently all the qualities and dispositions towards becoming a good actress, and with more study and practise I have no doubt that three or four years hence, she will be fully equal to the difficult task of giving effect to and portraying to life, the exquisitely touching and highly interesting rôle of Zaïre. She was not called for to appear on the stage after the termination of the performance, tho' frequently applauded during it. The actor who did the part of Orosmane, in that scene wherein he discovers he has killed Zaïre unjustly, gave a groan which had an unhappy effect; it was such an awkward one, that it made all the audience laugh; no people catch ridicule so soon as the French.
What I principally admire on the French stage is that the actors are always perfect in their parts and all the characters are well sustained; the performance never flags for a moment; and I have experienced infinitely more pleasure in beholding the dramas of Racine and Voltaire than those of Shakespeare, and for this reason that, on our stage, for one good actor you have the many who are exceedingly bad and who do not comprehend their author: you feel consequently a hiatus valde deflendus when the principal actor or actress are not on the stage. I have been delighted to see Kemble, and Mrs Siddons and Miss O'Neil, and while they were on the stage I was all eyes and ears; but the other actors were always so inferior that the contrast was too obvious and it only served to make more conspicuous the flagging of interest that pervades the tragedies of Shakespeare, Macbeth alone perhaps excepted. I speak only of Shakespeare's faults as a dramaturgus and they are rather the faults of his age than his own; for in everything else I think him the greatest litterary genius that the world ever produced, and I place him far above any poet, ancient or modern; yet in allowing all this, I do not at all wonder that his dramatic pieces do not in general please foreigners and that they are disgusted with the low buffoonery, interruption of interest and want of arrangement that ought of necessity to constitute a drama; for I feel the same objections myself when reading Shakespeare, and often lose patience; but then when I come to some sublime passage, I become wrapt up in it alone and totally forget the piece itself. In order to inspire a foreigner with admiration for Shakespeare, I would not give him his plays to read entire, but I would present him with a recueil of the most beautiful passages of that great poet; and I am sure he would be so delighted with them that he would readily join in the "All Hail" that the British nation awards him. Thus you may perceive the distinction I make between the creative genius who designs, and the artist who fills up the canvas; between the Poet and the Dramaturgus. I am probably singular in my taste as an Englishman, when I tell you that I prefer Shakespeare for the closet and Racine or Voltaire or Corneille for the stage: and with regard to English tragedies, I prefer as an acting drama Home's Douglas[46] to any of Shakespeare's, Macbeth alone excepted; and for this plain reason that the interest in Douglas never flags, nor is diverted.