LITMIR.BIZ

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its lions; I shall only say, that we spent so short a time there, and I was so afraid of exhausting my stock of strength, which was fully wanted for the journey to Geneva, &c. that I did not even attempt to see every thing that might have been seen.

      The extreme height of the houses, and narrowness of the streets, together with the inconceivable variety of horrible smells in all parts of the town, and the want of pavements for pedestrians, made an extremely unpleasant impression upon me. The gaiety and fancy displayed in the signs over the shops (every one of which has an emblematic device peculiar to itself) were very striking, however, as well as their markets, where Pomona seemed to have lavished the choicest treasures of her horn: indeed I never beheld such a profusion of exquisite fruits and vegetables, the cheapness of which astonished us natives of a more niggard clime not a little. The quantities of cooling and refreshing beverages, sold in every corner of the streets, were also quite a novel thing to us, as well as the circumstance of all the world sitting on hired chairs out of doors, sipping lemonade, or eating ices.

      I did not remark, I must confess, that appearance of excessive animation and enjoyment, which I had been led to expect among the Parisians; on the contrary, I saw full as many grave faces as in notre triste pays, as they call it. The Palais Royal I thought a very amusing place; and the fountain in the midst is most beautiful and refreshing, throwing up a stream of water, which in its descent resembles a weeping willow. The fountain of the Lions, also, is still superior, and I think them among the most agreeable objects in Paris. The Boulevards are an airy, cheerful situation, and the moving scene constantly going on there put me in mind of a perpetual fair.

      The gentlemen went to the Opera Françoise, where the splendour of the ballet, and the superiority of the dancing, struck them with astonishment and admiration. They visited Tivoli (which did not appear to them to be so good a thing of the sort as our Vauxhall); and I went one evening to the Beaujon, and les Montaignes Russes, in les Champs Elysées. Both the latter, however, were shut; that is, no sliding in the cars was going on, for there had been so many fatal accidents lately, that the rage for this amusement was over. I did not like les Champs Elysées so well as our Kensington Gardens; the want of turf was unpardonable in our English eyes. La place de Louis XV., opposite the Tuileries, where the unfortunate Louis XVI. was executed, is very superb in itself, as well as interesting from its melancholy legends. I was rather disappointed in les jardins des Tuileries, admiring the fine orange-trees in tubs there more than the gardens themselves. We saw the remains of that horrible monument of cruelty, injustice, and despotism, the Bastile; and drove past the entrance to the celebrated Jardin des plantes, which we did not enter, as I had already seen a very fine botanical collection at Kew, and a much superior set of wild beasts at Exeter Change.

      To the Louvre, however, even in its present state of diminished splendour, no words of mine can do justice; its superb gallery far exceeded even my expectations, which had been highly excited by all I had ever heard upon the subject: to see the paintings properly, one ought to go there every day for a week. We had only time particularly to distinguish several landscapes of Claude Lorraine, beautiful beyond all idea, and the set of historical pictures illustrative of the life of Henri quatre, by Rubens: I was much struck with the fine countenance and person of the gallant monarch. A Saint Sebastian also, by Guido, rivetted my delighted attention. A friend of ours has painted an exquisite miniature copy of it, with which I remember being greatly struck in England, but it was not until I had seen the original that I was fully aware of its extraordinary merit. The gallery itself is a most magnificent thing; it really is quite a long fatiguing walk from one end of it to the other; and the crowds of people of all ranks who are constantly to be met with there render it altogether one of the most curious and interesting spectacles in Europe.

      I was much amused with the shops, particularly the confectioners; the ingenious and endless devices into which they form their delicious bon bons and dried fruits are really surprising, and we purchased specimens of their different fancies, to astonish our English friends upon our return home. The vendeurs des tisannes (cooling beverages, something like eau de groseilles, or lemonade), going about with their stock in trade strapped to their backs like walking tea-urns, were curious figures. The vessel which holds the tisanne is not unlike a long violin case in shape, with a spout to it; it finishes at the top like a Chinese pagoda, and is sometimes covered with little jingling bells, and hung round with pretty silver mugs. The dress of the petites bourgeoises is quite distinct from that of every other rank of person; it is rather smart and neat than otherwise, but not at all picturesque.

      I do not remember to have heard a single note of agreeable music while I was in Paris, except that which regaled our ears in an opposite hotel (belonging to Count S.) the second evening of our arrival. This nobleman (of an Irish family, but now a naturalized Frenchman) gave a grand dinner (in a temporary banqueting-room, built out upon the leads of the house à la troisieme étage) to the English; and, during the entertainment, his band of musicians played several pieces, amongst others the celebrated national air, still dear to the French, of Vive Henri quatre; they then attempted God save the King, but made a dreadful business of it, which I attribute less to professional ignorance than to the impossibility of their being able to feel it, or to enter into the spirit of it con amore! The ballad singers (at least all of them that we had an opportunity of hearing) have harsh wiry voices and nasal tones; the latter circumstance, however, is almost inseparable from their language. I could not but be diverted with the espièglerie of the fille de chambre who attended me at the hotel de Rivoli: she was ugly, but shrewd, and very active and civil. I asked her if Count S. was a young man; upon which she hopped round the room in the most ridiculous manner possible, imitating the action of a decrepit old person. Jeune! (said she) oh mon Dieu, que non! c'est un vieux Monsieur qui va toujours comme cela! I inquired if she knew why he gave this fête. Oh, je n'en sais rien, mais, le pauvre homme, il n'a que tres peu de temps encore à restre dans ce monde ci, et je crois qu'il aime à faire parler de lui, avant de partir pour l'autre.

      As to the personal charms of the women here, they appeared to me to be very mediocre; we remarked three or four pretty faces, but not one that had any claim to superior beauty. The people were all civil to us, except one woman, who kept a little shop for bijouterie in le Palais Royal: nothing could be more pert and sulky than her language and manner; she looked as if she hated us and our nation altogether. We heard reports from other English people residing here, that it was very common for the lower orders of French to treat us with marked incivility and dislike; indeed that they should do so, under the present circumstances, ought not to be wondered at. The bronze statue of Henri quatre was erecting during our stay; we passed by the spot (close to the Pont Neuf), and beheld a mob assembled around it, with gens d'armes on duty: we did not see the statue itself, it being at that moment covered with a purple mantle, studded with golden fleurs de lis. The various political parties speak differently of this affair: some say the brass of the statue will soon be converted into mortars, and others, that it is built upon a rock, and will stand for ever! The bridges appeared to us all vastly inferior to ours in London; that of Waterloo, in the Strand, makes them shrink into utter insignificance in comparison! but the palaces and public buildings are, on the contrary, infinitely finer than our own. Nothing can be more magnificent, or in a more noble taste! I was very much amused by the novelty (totally unknown to ladies in England) of dining at a restaurateur's. Curiosity induced me to accompany Mr. Baillie, and our friend, to Véry's, and the next day to Beauvilliers', two of the most distinguished in the profession in Paris; and the excellence of the cookery almost awakened (or rather I should say created) in me a spirit of gourmandise. There were a few other ladies present, which was a sort of sanction for me. A Russian or Prussian officer (by his appearance) sat at one of the little tables next to us, at Beauvilliers', and very nearly made me sick by the sight of his long, thick, greasy moustaches, and his disgusting habit of spitting every instant upon the floor. I observed that the French people eat their vegetables (always dressed with white sauce) after the meat, &c. and as a sort of dessert or bonne bouche even after they have finished their sweet dishes: to us this seems an odd custom. We took our coffee and liqueurs at a Café near the Tuileries, and then, while the gentlemen went to the opera, I returned to the hotel, to go on with my journal.

      One morning we

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