^de/zc-d f/er/y. ffj- , /f^c/ 4-^,. '^miM/i;//M,:Viemn,)M//m//, r 'S9S. T > I. .°' 5 ,a *" s ^ 3 J I ,.2 ,^ ,4 ^ S: ;; 5; S; <; •< -5 'tj -i 5 K >. 'i j 5 rj V J s j, "S: "-'S JOURNAL AND ILEKHK^S^S, FRANCE GREAT-BRITAIK, BY EMMA WILLARD. TROY, N. Y.: • N. TUTTLE, PKINTER— 225 RFVER-STEEET. 1833. Entered according lo act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hun dred and thirty-three, by Emma Willard, in the Clerk's Office of the North ern District of New- York. PREFACE. When in consequence of ill health, I was obliged fo leave my institution in the care of my sister, and go abroad, I intended making observations not only for my self, but for my country woraen ; especially for those who were, and who bad been my pupils. Arrived in Europe, and introduced into society ih Paris, my views on this subject changed. Seeing so much that was new to me, I felt that what I could learn in my short stay abroad, would not be worth presenting to the public. The dilBculty too, of giving candid statements, without betraying implied confidence, was presentto my mind, — and to make up common place accounts from Guide Books, did not suit my vein. From these considera tions then, I lost sight of the public in my observations, and in the descriptions which I gave in letters to my friends, or kept in my private journal. This was hasti ly written in pencil, amidst many other avocations. Of matter thus put together, I had two considerable volumes. When I collected, and added to these the letters I had written home, especially those to my sister, I found a bulk of papers, if not of information, quite sufliciently ample to make a book. My friends at home were urging to see my journal ; and those abroad, par ticularly my former pupils, that I should publish my travels. I thought I could about as readily prepare a. book for the press, as to put my papers in a condition to be read by my friends. IV PREFACE. In the mean time, by the marriage of my sister, which occurred soon after my return, the cares of my school fell more heavily upon me than forme.rly; and other literary occupations, commenced before my de parture, and connected with my plans of education, demanded my attention, and filled up my few leisure hours.* During the prevalence of the cholera, in the month of July following my return, my school was discontin ued a fortnight, previous to tbe regular close of the term. My teachers preferred remaining, and during the time, they copied out my pencil written journal, and I verily thought that one fortnight of my own time spent upon my papers, would have been sufficient to fit them for the press. But from several considerations, I was undecided as to the expediency of publishing them. I believed that God bad devoted me to a special calling, that of female education, and that my time was not my own to be stow upon objects that might amuse me, or gratify my private friends. Early in the month of January last, an affecting appeal was made to me, in behalf of female education in Greece. From my earliest youth, my mind has dwelt with mingled sorrow and indignation, on the degradation to which my sex are subjected, in Mahometan lands, and those regions adjoining, which are infected by their cus toms. It appeared, and now appears clear to me, that a time has come^ when a door may be opened in Greece for their deliverance, if the means can be found. I no * I refer h and his amiable family. I was also introduced to Mrs. Opie. She attracts your notice, first among the crowd, from her quaker costume, worn however with something of a mo dish air. She uses also the quaker thee and thou ; yet with her fine flow of thought, and occasionally ornament ed style of expression, il can hardly be called the plain language. The other sex seem charmed with her con versation. One is reminded by Ibis, of Swift's compli ment to Stella. I was introduced to one American lady at Ibis soiree, who has been sometime residing in France, in whom I am disappointed, for I had heard much of her. I talk ed sometime with her ; and though she is a woman, whom in some things I might admire, yet I am confident • Sans lui, nous etions perdu. t Toute le monde pleuraitdejoie — fondaient en larmes. 5 46 PARIS. I could never like her. She has personal beauty ; — that is, symmetry of form and regularity of features,— and she oul-frenches the French in tastefulness of dress. She has grace in her movements, and I am told uncommon skill in music. I hear also, that she is a per son of sound calculation, shrewdness and discernment iu business affairs ; and is, (the best of her qualities, if it was turned lo a good account,) industrious ; but with al, I can read no thought or feeling of genuine benevo lence in any line of her face, or accent of her voice ; but cold self-interest instead. To me she seems to move, the goddess of her own thoughts ; not inviting, but de manding admiration, as her unquestioned due. Capt. R., hy whom I send, is about to depart. After you have read my letter, send it to mother and Mary.* There is not an hour of the day that I do not think with anxiety on the stale of Mary's health ; and when the letters which I eagerly expect from home arrive, that will he the first thing I shall look after. I want also to hear from mother, and from you all. I cease not to make mention of you daily in my prayers ; desiring that all among you, teachers and pupils, may be taught of God ; — may be safe here and hereafter, in his guidance and protection. ********* Accept, dear Almira, the affectionate adieus of Your sister. TO MR. Paris, Nov. Sth, 1830. Mt dear Friend, I have just returned from the House of Deputies, where I sat for more than four hours, so intensely inte- • Miss Mary I.ydia Treat, a niece and adopted daughter, whom I had left at Hartford, Connecucut. She was in a feeble state of health;. though I supposed her on the recovery from symptoms of a consump^ fion, which threatened her in the early part of the season. PARIS. 47 rested, that I had no feeling of fatigue. I do not un derstand the spoken French well enough lo comprehend fully the meaning of the speakers ; but were il a mere pantomime, so important and critical to the state of the world, are at this time the deliberations of this body, thai it would still interest me, beyond any other spec tacle that could be presented. It is a theatre, where the action of the piece teems with great resulls, and where the show of human passions is the reality. Nev er did I witness a body of human beings so perfectly alive, so fully awake to thought and feeling, — and so prompt to action. The debate respected the liberty of the press ; — whether il should be left perfectly free as in the United States, or partially restricted. The speakers, unlike those of our legislative bodies, occupy a rostrum which fronts the members, and places their backs towards the President ; whom they do not al all address, but they commence all their speeches with Messieurs. Thus placed face to face with those whom they address ; — speaking directly, not indirectly to them, — there is a sympathy between the speaker and the hearers, favorable to eloquence, though not to good order ; — as it excites a degree of feeling in the hearers, which seems, to their sensitive natures, to be irrepressi ble ; and il breaks forth in bursts of applause, or in hisses and sounds of disapprobation. Such agitated el ements reminded me of a storm at sea, and of the mighty force which there hears you along, lerriffic if not dan gerous. Many spoke, among whom were our good La Fayelle, De Tracy, the brother of Madame George Lafayette, Lafitte, the present minister of finance, and M. Guizot, the ex-minister, M. Dupin, the elder, M. Barthe, and many others. The gentlemen named were all eloquent, but no one's speaking interested me so much as that of M. Barthe. There was in his manner modesty, mingled with earn estness, — grace with force. The entranced hearers were held in a profound silence ; for which forbearance however, Ihey made themselves amends hy a full burst of noisy applause, after the speech was closed. 48 PARIS- The keep-order men, whose proper appellation I for get, were distinguished in their appearance, by broad Crimson sashes over the shoulder. Seeing Ihem " hung round with strings," and more dressed than the others — I thought when I first entered the chamber, they might have been some great ones ; but I find that in these days, of improving taste, finery is more generally the badge of servitude ; and simphcily, of power and con sequence. These men, at the limes of the greatest dis order, went ahout among the members, calling out, " A vos places Messieurs ! A vos places .'" but to get them to their places was no easy task. Their hissing, when a speech displeased them, I thought abominable; and by no means a sample of French politeness — to say nothing of legislative dignity. Of course, my feelings were always with the hissed, and never with the hissing ; and I was well pleased when Ihey were beaten, as in one instance, at their own game, hy the member speaking. As he first rose, his manner was inoffensive, but the sentiments he uttered highly displeasing lo the house ; and they hissed like a den of enraged serpents ; — so long and so loud, that the speaker was obliged to slop. His venom gathered in turn — his color heightened — his eyes shot lightnings; and he stood before them, as the real " horridus" among common snakes. Then throwing himself forth in a few words of wrathful contempt, he ended hy whistling through his teeth, je persiste, as though he really shot forth a sting. Yesterday Gen. La Fayelle gave me an hour and a quarter of his time. I was delighted lo observe that his health of body and mind seemed unimpaired ; and al though he talked of fearful chances of wars which might occur, and of perplexities which he now suffered ; he fspoke as one might fancy he talked in his youth, when j he so cheerfully, yet so firmly encountered dangers in the cause of America and of mankind. In speaking of the late revolution, I told him that in America, some of us thought, that the Liberals must have been organized in expectation of such an event ; or they would never have conducted things in so orderly a man- PARIS. 49 ner, on such a sudden emergence. He said it was hy no means the fact, nor would public sentiment, previous to those obnoxious edicts of Charles X. have borne them out, in the bold measures which were afterwards taken. He .spoke with great satisfaction, of the effect which their revolution had produced iu England. He seemed to consider, however, that it was. the fears of the govern ment, and not their love of the people, which produced the course they were pursuing. On another point he said, " they are playing the deuce with us by means of their money, and that which Charles X. carried out of the country. They embarrass our financial operations, and affect the price of our stocks; and Ihey are endea voring to cxcita our people, especially in La Vendee and Languedoc, to civil war." It was, he said, and had been with him a darling ob ject, that this revolution should pass without any blood being shed upon tbe scaffold ; — and his efforts to prevent this, the royalistshad seized upon, as a means to weaken the confidence of the people in him. Those who had suffered by the banishment of Charles X. hated Polignac as the author of their fall, and if their machinatious re ally worked his death, they vvould not be sorry. But their main object was to excite the people to demand it, in order to place the Liberals iu the predicament, either to sacrifice their popularity by refusing them, or incur the censure of making a bloody revolution like the former. This was now the dilemma in which they were placed. Had it been early anticipated, it might have been pre vented. It was the crowning act of their own folly, thai the ministers of Charles had suffered themselves to be taken. They might have escaped, but that Ihey counted on the forbearance of those in power. In reverting lo the scenes of the three days, the Gen eral described his feelings, at the news of the first rev olutionary movements at Paris, which he received, while enjoying, in the midst of his family, his rural re treat at La Grange ; — his immediate decision to go to Paris, not knowing tbe things which might befal him there, save that trouble, and blood-shed were in pros pect, — himself a peculiar mark ; — and his parting with 5* 50 PARIS. bis children and grand-children, who felt that Ihey might never see him more.. One of his daughters, Madame de Laysterie, was in Paris. He went first lo her house ; but his friends, who al once rallied round him, persua ded him to remove privately from a place where his enemies would naturally seek him. Finding himself made a rallying point hy the friends of liberty, he thought it proper lo take a public station, and he decided on making the Hotel de Ville his head quarters. With the bloody fray, by which the brave Parisians obtained possession of il, you are already ac quainted. He detailed the circumstances of his own removal thither. When he first appeared in the street, he was received with acclamations. Directly there was a hush. — " We endanger his life !" was whispered from one lo another, and in profound silence, often greeted with tear-s, a way was opened, for him to move through the dense throng, which crowded the streets. As the revolution proceeded, and the prospects of the royalists became desperate, the General received a dep utation from Ihe Court at St. Cloud. To Ihe despatch es Ihey brought, he wrote this reply — " The family of Charles X. has ceased lo reign." His next thoughts, were the formation of a provision al government. His struggles of mind on this point were intense. He would have preferred a republic ; but besides the odium, which former excesses commit ted in this name, had cast upon it in F^ance, he knew that he should bring a host of foreign foes upon his country. He thought of the son of Napoleon for king — ^• but only to reject him. He was not a Frenchman ; by his education he had become an Austrian. He would probably gather around him the friends of ' his father, who would dictate to him his father's policy ; and France had already seen enough of military despolism. Under these circumstances, his mind turned lo the Duke of Orleans ; — not as being all they could have ¦wished, but the best man Ihey could gel. He had not yet mentioned the subject, when Gen. Gerard, who was lodging in tbe same apartment, spoke to him of the PARIS. 61 Duke. I have thought of him, was the General's ans wer, and I will not object lo him, provided he pledges himself to support the principles of the revolution, and surround his throne with republican inslilutions. " That be will do," was the reply. In the morning of the next day, the Duke, said La Fayette, look a bold measure. He mounted on horse back, and rode openly through the streets to the Hotel de Ville. The General there had a conference^ with him. He frankly and freely gave the pledges demand ed ; and required a pledge in return, that La Fayelle would not abandon him, but remain at the head of the national guard. The suceeding steps of Louis PJiillippe's introduction to the monarchy of France, the General ^Iso detailed ; but you already know them. I remarked, that from what I had learned since I had been in France, I feared they might yet have trouble. Would they be able to effect the abolition of the peer age ? How was the king disposed on this favorite mea sure of the liberals ? He was against it ; but I have told bim, said La Fayelle, that though we were willing faithfully lo support one family, yet three hundred le gitimates were loo many. The king, he said, could not take other ground than thai of the Liberals, on this sub ject, consistently with his principles, declared in the time of establishing this government. I inquired, (alluding to the King of England's late speech,) if he did not think there was reason to apprehend that Belgium might prove a bone of contention. He said, it was pos sible ; that the French would not allow Belgium lo be interfered with. They would do all in their power to preserve peace, hut if war must come, they were strong to meet it- In speaking of the fires of Normandy, he said thus much is true : there have been fires, simultaneously in different parts of the province, — happening in such a way, that they must have been the result of some plot previously laid. " There have been then, intended fires," said the General. " They could not have occurred by means of our party, or we should have known 02 PARIS. something about il. Some of the incendiaries have been apprehended ; and every one refuses lo the very last to confess who has moved him lo commit these acts. And when people give up this life, it must be from some mo tives which have reference to another ; and hence it is inferred that the priests have in some way, and for some motive, been instrumental in producing these fires." I have occupied my letter with political affairs, for I think at this lime nothing I could write, will interest you so much. The main actor in these scenes too, is the Father of our own country, that venerable republi can " sans peur, et sans rejjroche.'" — He it is who has rode the whirlwind, and directed the storm of the revo lution. I lake an interest in politics myself, too. I al ways did, from a child upon my father's knee. My hus band, who was on a smaller scale, a rider of political storms, took pleasure in instructing me in the principles of general politics, which he had made a study. The writing of history since, has kept my little stock of knowledge in play ; — and it has been put into practice in the government of my little empire at home. That I have succeeded in this, so much. to the satisfaction of my friends, I doubt not is owing much lo Ihe fact, thai I have studied in such a degree as I was able, the gen eral principles of government, and the laws of human nature ; and looked forward lo what should he in edu cation ; rather than back to imitate defective systems. Adieu. E. W. LETTER TO MY PUPILS. Dec. 1st. My dear Pupils : Having now been sometime in Paris, examining things and making observations ; studying plans, and looking over guide hookfe, I understand the city pretty well ; at any rate, I have learned a good deal that I did PARIS. 53 not know before : and now I must Iry a little to put in to your heads, what I have been gelling into mine. Well, we will suppose that I had you all here, with your pleasant faces, and that we had on boots of seven leagues. By the way — I have a substantial pair of leather shoes which I bought at Havre,' suitable to French mud, lo which I have given this appellation. I assure you, that the sound judgment of my countrywo men, is absoliilely called in question hy foreigners; on account of the manner in which Ihey expose their health by wearing, in all weathers, thin shoes to walk in. Our feet, being well guarded, we will go forth in grand procession to see Paris, and get an idea of its most celebrated places. Our starting point is the Palais Royal, with which you are doubtless (from my letter to my sister) acquainted. I will conduct you in the first place to the Louvre, which may be considered as the very heart of Paris. Observe particularly the first street which we cross. This is the celebrated Rue St- Honors. Il stretches westerly thiough the whole ex tent of Paris, and also for a considerable distance in the opposite direction. Here you will probably find your substantial shoes of service ; for this street is in a low situation ; — narrow, w^ithoul side-walks, paved with the square paving-stones, the edges of which are worn off, leaving the tops rounded. The gutter is in the middle of the street, and the probability is, that you will find a stream of liquid mud lo jump over ; and you must jump quickly loo, or you will be in danger from some stupid dolt of a cocher, who drives his fiacre, with two jaded horses for public accommodation ; or some dash ing buck who drives a cabiiolet with his antic one, for his own. Now if you ask me if this narrow Rue St. Honori with its river of mud, passes directly by the gate of the King's Palace, I shall be obliged to say yes. To show you at once the most beautiful side of the Louvre, I will lake you to view its eastern front. This immence pile was three hundred years in building. Is it not majestic .? — Scarcely, though you are al some dis tance, can your eye take in its whole length of more 54 PARIS. than five hundred feet.* And how those beautiful double pillars shoot up — and how finely in the finish of their capitals, falls the graceful Corinthian leaf. How solid is this structure of massy stone, fit ornament in peace, or defence in war. It has lately been tbe scene of blood and carnage, as you may see il by the broken glass of its lofty windows ; and you may read it in the characters, which the leaden messengers of death have written on its walls. Mark those women in black, who stand neart he palace, weeping over monuments of the slain. They are widows and mothers, whose hus bands aud sons, fell during the three bloody days of July, for the rights of their country ; and Ihey are buried where they fell. Before you move from this spot, turn for a moment to lake a look at the venerable church of St. Germain I' Auxerois. Ilis a work of the fourteenth century, and is decorated with a mixture of Grecian and Gothic orna ments. It looks old, and seems to stand like some aged pastor, whose own decay, more forcibly than his lessons, reminds his hearers of the frailty of earthly things. Now as we turn again to the Louvre, observe in the centre of the front, an arched passage, with a gate of irocrail-vvork.— -Thither let us bend our steps , and enter the court of the palace. Nothing like the view within this palace-court, can be seen on our side of the Atlantic, and little on this. Indeed it is one of the most remark able spots in the world. The four sides of the palace, each of five hundred feet in length, surround it. The massy hewn stone of the edifice is ornamanted, espe- 'Nole In my pupils. One circumstance respecting the pictures you 60 often see of these edifices, is calculated to mislead you as to the ac tual graiidour of tbeir-dimensions. VVhen we meet in books tlie draw ings of different buildings, each one is made to fill about the same space on the paper, let It be great or small;— and we thus fail to acquire tliose ideas of their comparative sizes, which we should get if they were laid down on the same scale. I wish some artist would rive us a book of e.igravings of the principal edifices of the world after this plan But as we have ir,thi..g of th.s kind, suppose as you read, vou take some famihar building of known dimentions as a scale for yonr own mind Our Seminary which is a hundred feet in length (though it will soon be longer) wdl be a good object for you, and as I give ySutlie nroDor tions of buildings, read slowly and measure them in your mind by this. PARIS. 53 cially over Ihe four gates at the centre of each side, by sculptured figures of colossal size. Here is justice, and fame, and piety, and strength, with many other devices in carved imagerj^. Let us now cross the court, and pass out on the other side. O the vexation of walking over these eternal pavements of rounded stones. — The pain of our feet, puts the sublime out of our heads. Now we are without the sourlhern gate, and tbe Seine is before us. You are a little disappointed. You expected lo see our own broad, deep, clear Hudson ; and it is not here. But you must make the best of it as il is. There is variety in a running stream, passsing through the heart of a great city ; and its uses are innu merable. Forornamental purposesithas some advanta ges, over rivers navigable for vessels of size. There are no stores along its banks. These banks, you ob serve, are artificial, built up of stone-work. These delightful streets, laid along the water's edge, are call ed quays. Let us now pass on to the Pont des Arts, an elegant bridge, where we shall have no interruption hy carriages. It is the only one in Paris, built solely for foot passengers ; or where we pay any fee for cross ing. We are now at its central and highest part. Let us stop and lake a view of Paris from this point. Mr. Cooper, with whom I was one day walking over this bridge, told me there was no view in any other city of Europe to equal this. If you either look up the riv'er, or in the opposite direction, on either side, you sen stately private dwellings, public edifices, royal palaces with towers or domes, and with the groves of their eS" lensive gardens. Mark towards the south east those two gray towers, with a venerable religious aspect There stands old Notre Dame, where for ages, so many august ceremonies connected with the history of France, have been performed. Those round and pointed turrets in the same direction, rise from the gloomy prison of the Conciergerie, from whence so many victims have been led to execution. The next bridge as we look up the river, is called the 66 PARIS. Pont Neuf,* though now one of the oldest bridges in Paris. The one below is called the Pont Royale, he- cause il leads across the river from yonder palace, long the abode of the Kings of France, and known so well by the name of the Tuileries. Across the bridge where we now stand (which you must remember is the Pont des Arts,) is the Palace of the Institute, now common ly called the Palace of Fine Arts. You often hear of the French Institute, and probably know that it is an association of men of learning and skill in the arts and sciences ; and of which it has long been regarded a high honor lo he chosen a member. This building was originally the College Mazarin, so called from the Cardinal of that name, who founded it in 1662, as a place of education for -sixty gentlemen of four different nations. During the French Revolution it was sup pressed, and the buildings, together with a magnificent library, presented to the Institute ; who now hold their public session in the ancient church of the college. — When I visited and went over its interior, that old church seemed rife, with literary and scientific inspira tion. I said to myself, what stores of living intellect, what boundless treasures of knowledge, have here been collected ; and have here passed in eloquent strains from mind to mind. The library, though not one of the largest, is one of the best in Paris. Few of you, have any idea of its size. To see alarge hall, equal in extent lo one of our common sized churches, filled with books, many of enormous sizes, richly bound ; to gether with maps and very large globes, would be to most of you a new and pleasing sight ; yet 7%e Biblio theque Mazarin is small compared lo others here. Thai long building, which stands a little above the Palace of the Fine Arts, is the Mint, here c^MeA Hotel de Mounoie. Il runs back lo a distance nearly equal ling the length of the principal front, which is the one we see, and nearly the whole ground enclosed by the square is filled with buildings, crossing each other from side lo side. In gelling an idea of European edifices, * New Bridge. PARIS. 67 this is a consideration which is apt to he overlooked by superficial observers. They see pictures of the front of a building, and think it is like one of our college edifi ces, a long and comparatively narrow buildiug, where as in this case, and many others, il is but one side of an enormous pile. Before we move from the Pont des Arts, turn and view from this spot the Louvre, and the long connect ing palace which joins it to tbe Tuileries. What an endless pile ! Within it is that splendid gallery of four teen hundred feel in length, where Buonaparte deposit ed the pictures of rifled Italy, (now returned lo their owners,) with the choicest paintings of the French and Flemish schools. Observe toward-s the west, those irregular masses call ed pavillions, which rise above the old Tuileries, still tbe most splendid royal residence of Paris. Beyond is its delightful garden, with its groves and fountains. Thither let us bend our way, passing along the oppo site "bank of the river on the quay. Here, thanks lo Bonaparte, we find broad walks of tlat stones. Observe as you pass, what quantities of books are here exposed for sale. They are to be purchased, in these times of pecuniary distress, for such low prices as would astonish you. Many of those handsomely bound octavoes, you might buy for a franc a volume. Here loo you may get poor pictures for very little, but if you insist on good ones, you must pay their pnce. How delightful the promenade along these quays, where you find com modious side-walks, and the views on the other side of the river unobstructed. We might cross the Seine on the Pom Royale, and pass that way into the garden of the Tuileries, but it appears belter when entered al the other extremity. The walk along the quai dWrsay is charming, surrounded on every side with agreeable ob jects. The opposite bank of the Seine here presents in the groves of the Tuileries and the Champs Elysees such a degree of rural elegance, as you would scarce expect lo find in the heart oi a great city. Now we stand in front of the Chamber of Deputies. Bonaparte caused its magnificent portico to be erected. You would not think it 100 feet in length, so high are 6 58 PARIS. dls tv/elve stately pillars. Observe the elegant carv ing of the Corinthian leaf, which forms their capital. Look at the grand pediment which crowns them, and the beautiful carved imagery, which adorns ils centre, or tympanum. Now face about I am going to lake you across my favorite bridge. This is called the bridge of Louis XVI. I love it for the exquisite views il af fords of the surrounding scenery, but more especially for the twelve colossal statues of while marble which are ranged along its sides. These give us the form and lineaments of the warriors and statesmen of other days ; and that these modern statues, are so clad as not lo of fend the eye of modesty, is a most pleasing evidence to me, that considerations of decency and propriety, be gin here to have their proper weight. The good taste of placing these statues along the wall of a bridge, is disputed by cavilling critics; but of what use are works of taste but lo please ? Whenev er I am abroad in this quarter, I am ready to go oul of my way, to pass this bridge. 1 am never tired of the acquaintance of these sages and veterans ; and should I meet their shades, I am confident I should know them. The fiery Conde, the artful Richelieu, the dignified Sully, and the chivalrous Bayard, has each his history in his visage. A people who erect statues to their great men, are more likely to know well, and intimately the history of their nation. And even strangers, sojourning among Ihem, will better learn it. For instance, you see here the statue of Duguay Trouin : — you are struck with his fine countenance and figure, but you do not recollect lo have read his name in history — or you may remember his name merely, with a confused idea of his exploits. Naturally, as when you become acquainted with the name and person of an interesting man, you will hereafter seek out and remember his history, and you will thenceforth remember that Douguay Trouin, was the celebrated admiral of the grand monarquS, Louis XIV: — that he took Rio Janeiro in 1711, and thai it was he, who gave lo the king the occasion of one of his very best sayings. The admiral was describing to Louis one of his naval battles. "I commanded," "said he PARIS. 59 (speaking of one of the vessels of his squadron,) " the Glory lo follow me." " And she was faithful to your orders" — rejoined the polite monarch. But we linger toolongby these statues. In fact, I am always so fasci nated by the marble society of this bridge, that I am in danger of running against something that I should not. Now we are fairly over the river, and here we see some of the greatest lions of Paris: — lions literally, , couchant, on either side of the gate, which leads lo the garden of the Tuileries. Fear not, but boldly advance ; they have turned to stone, or rather stone has turned to lions : and though Ihey grin frightfully, they are like many other "lions in the way," harmless to impede our entrance. Yet ere we give our minds lo the survey of this garden scene, let us look a little at the objr;cts in the other directions. The broad, open, octagonal paved space which we have crossed, is called the Place Louis XV. Here in the old French revolution, stood the guillotine, that drinker of human blood, thai destroyer of the temple, which God has made for the soul of man to dwell in. Oh! what a pang shoots through the heart, when we reflect that we belong to the same inhuman', cruel race, who guided that instrument to do ils promis cuous work, on the christian and the atheist, the mon arch and the peasant, the hardy warrior and the weep ing child. Of all the victims who here perished, il is Marie Antoinette who is most frequently mentioned. — But it is Charlotte Corday and Madame Roland, that interest me most, particularly Madame Roland ; and even now her dying exclamation is on my lips, as I think oi; these tragic scenes. ^ — Oh liberty, how many excesses art committed in thy name I Along this way lies my road lo church. Sometimes my friend, Mr. D — . and myself, as we thread our course through the world of French gaiety and fashion, which are abroad on Sunday, pass through the garden of the Tuileries and cross this open space : and sometimes we keep along the beautiful rue Rivoli on its northern side, and pass under the arcades of those two elegant and similar edifices, which bound the Place Louis XV. or the north ; but in either case our way lies west through 60 PARIS. that forest, which covers the celebrated Champs Elysies. Here we see throngs mostly of the lower classes, with all sorts of shows and amusements. Beyond the forest, at the chapel of the Hotel MarLavf, once ils theatre, we find a little assembly of apparently devout worship pers, where the services of the sanctuary are performed iu our own tongue. How often have we made the sorrowful remark, that if a space equal to our little chapel were lo be marked out, any where along the crowded way, a number equal lo, those who worship there might be enclosed. Those two similar edifices on the north are, you see, highly elegant and imposing in their appearance. You perceive by the pillars above the arcades, that the Corinthian order still prevails. The length of each colonade is nearly three hundred feel ; these are, at present, occupied mainly with public offices. The ma jestic building, which meets your view between Ihem, as you look along up the Rue Royale towards the north, is the church de la Madelaine. Louis XV. chose this spot, and commenced the building of a church. Napo leon never did any one act, more expressive of the great fault of his character, than when he changed the desti nation of Ibis spot, from a temple dedicated to God, to a building expressly termed,-a temple to the glory of the grand arnde ; himself of course their head. And where is Napoleon.? Say to crest-fallen ambition, that the high God gives not his glory lo another. This temple is now re-dedicated to religion, and bears the appropriate peni tential name of La Madelaine. Il is unfinished, but yet il is more imposing, in its appearance, from distant points of view, its roof more seen, than that of any other building in Paris. CONTINUATION OF LETTER TO MY PUPILS. Despite the lions at the gale, we will now enter the garden of the Tuileries ; and we are forlunale in arriv ing at this spot, al three o'clock of a fine afternoon. GARDEN OF THE TUILERIES. 61 As you are yet standing in the gate-way, you would im agine thai the persons walking, were wholly on a belief ground, surrounding the garden : and that the broad centre had nothing in it but majestic trees. Yet as the eye wanders up the beautiful vista , which opens through them, to give you a view of the palace, which bounds ils further extremity ; the scene wiihin, seems by de grees lo become peopled with living multitudes. Let us advance a few steps, and you will comprehend the mystery. You see, we are on an elevated terrace, per haps al Ibis point, as much as twenty feet above the garden, and the crowds which are below us. Was ever such an assemblage of gay and elegant ob jects .' Observe how the sun sheds from behind us, his mild and cheering rays over the groves ; — the glittering fountains, where the swans play ; — the groups of white marble statues, gleaming amidst the green foliage, — and the many walks, bordered with flowers. Observe the groups, who are seated under trees, and whose delight ed counteuances and animated gestures, mark all the spirit of gay conversation. Some sit apart, in deep shade, with books in Iheir hands. The broad walks are thronged, and here you see every variety of elegant cos tume. Officers from many different nations in splen did uniforms, move onward with martial air ; or per chance bend to converse with the fair ones al their side. Observe that stately beauty, who seems to move like the Juno of the ihrong, while near her in tasteful simplicity, a young Venus " wins her easy way." And see those groups of beautiful children ; they are mostly of girls, for boys go elsewhere for exercise. How gaily they sport, while the young nurse runs after them, if they wander too far from their mother ; who, sealed in the shade, smiles at their antic gambols. I would, that some of our country women, who send their children abroad with their arms and necks exposed, could see, with what judgment as well as taste, these healthy and beautiful creatures are attired. One day I was walking in this garden, near one of the enclosures for flowers, which il is forbidden to en ter, when a little sportful girl with laughing eyes and 6* 62 GARDEN OP THE TUILERIES. curling hair, crept under the enclosure, on to the forbid den ground. The nurse, a pretty young woman, per ceived, but might net follow her. The mother loo, half angry and half pleased, left her seal. The French have an absolute horror of destroying the least thing, or pluck ing a single flower from public grounds. But the little lawless urchin ran over the plants, picked the flowers and held them up and laughed ; lo the delight of all around, except mother and nurse, who stood leaning over the rail, vainly coaxing her to come forth. Have you observed that this broad opening, which gives us, as we look through the trees, a view of the palace of the Tuileries on the east, extends westerly through the groves of the Champs Elyseis, and the elegant villas beyond ; the ground rising by a gradual acclivity, until the vista is closed, and crowned with a triumphal aich. This loo was erected by Buonaparte, and il now stands, as truly the monument of himself ; — elevated above all surrounding objects, grand in ils out line, but exciting sorrow, that il is unfinished and in complete ; thus giving less satisfaction to the beholder, than some humble, yet finished abode of peace and vir tue. But we forget, say you, the gay garden below us, where we are going to join that cheerful throng, and examine those beautiful statues. No — my dear girls, I shall not take you lo examine those statues. If your mothers were here, I would leave you silting on these shaded benches, and conduct Ihem through the walks, and Ihey would return aud hid you depart for our own America ; where the eye of modesty is not publicly af fronted ; and where vergin delicacy can walk abroad without a blush. You have seen this garden in ils fairest light. The French are al home here. We, of America, are al home by our own fire-sides. And truly I believe, that far more happiness is found in our own stale of society. Men here, seem all devotion lo women : love and gal lantry are the pervading spirit. But it is rarely that innocent love, where the worthy youth seeks lo win tbe heart of his chosen one, that they may be united in garden of the TUILERIES. 63 honorable marriage. Marriage is here a mailer of traf fic, especially, among such as daily display their ele gance and fashion in this garden. Girls are watched. Love is an affair of their mothers, not of theirs. They are bargained away, often sent for from their boarding- schools, to be married to men whom they have never seen ; and they go to the altar, delighted that they are now lo be no longer guarded ; but henceforth free lo fre quent the haunts of amusement, and receive uucensur- ed the attentions of men. We will no longer stand moralizing at the garden- gate of the Tuileries. I lake you now, along ils terrace on the northern side. Look at the countenances of the crowds you here meet, and you will lose the impression, which the first glare of the scene cannot fail of giving, that this is all but the garden of Paradise itself. You meet many that seem moody ; some with a deep gloom ; and others, where malignant passions seem shooting from baleful eyes. Give me for real, enduring happiness, the faces of the throng, who is-iue from the door of a New-England church, rather than those of the crowds I meet in the Tuileries, — even those who are flip pant and gay ; and if for the expression of personal con tent, how much more, for that of those virtues, which make a land a wholesome residence ; — one, where we may safely cast in our lot among the people, for this world and another. The critics censure the plan of Ibis garden on account of the regularity, with which il is laid out ; not consid ering that if all public grounds were made to imitate natural wildness, there would not he as much variety on a general scale as now. The police of this place is very strict It prohibits all vulger looking people from entering; even a dog may not come here except it is led with a string, and the rules forbid ladies lo enter, if their hair is in papers. Let us stop a moment in this spot, which looks across the Rue Rivoli, up a beautiful new street, called the Rue Casliglion^.. Our countrymen, Mr. Carter, who has written fine descriptions of Paris, says the Rue Ri voli, the Rue de la Paix, and the Boulevards, are ils on- 64 GARDEN OP THE TUILERIES. ly handsome streets ; an assertion with which the French are displeased ; and indeed it is too sweeping a remark. That noble pillar of bronze, which stands di rectly before us, you will not need me to tell you, if you have ever examined views of Paris, is Ihe column of the Place Vendome ; made of the melted cannon, which tlie army of Bonaparte, took from the Austrians at the battle of Austerlitz. It is constructed after the model of Trajan's pillar at Rome ; and is another mon ument of the greatness, and the fall of Bonaparte. A co lossal statue of the conqueror, one day crowned its sum mit ; — another day, with a rope around its neck, it was burled to the ground. The fine street which opens be yond the column, is the Rue de la Paix. We will still keep along the northern terrace. You ¦ perceive as you advance towards the palace, that the terrace gradually descends, to the level of the central part of the garden. As w« stand in the front of this once gay, but now deserted abode of kings, the whole ground is on a perfect level. There is a certain some thing to our ears in the word palaces — things not found in our republican land — which is imposing, and we al most fancy a kind of glory surrounding them, so that when we see them, we are at -first disappointed ; — nothing hut stone, and mortar, and window-glass, after all : — il may be in greater quantities, than in ordinary houses, and more curiously wrought, but, still this is all. The pres ent plans of building, not uncommon in gxeat cities, where a number of private dwellings are so put toget.l.er as to resemble one grand palace, lakes from Ihem, even this advantage.* Passing along the beautiful walk, in front of the pal ace, we have reached its centre ; and now we will make our exit under a grand arched way, where we shall see the magnificent stair-ways on each side We are now on the eastern side and within the court ot the Tuileries, surrounded, as you see, on three sides, » In London, in the new city of Edinbursrh and at- il,o t t^ Race in New-York, are buildings more imposing in t i h ^Tin n"^'"' than palaces ordinarily are. ^ "*" ^iPPearance, ST. CLOUD. 63 by piles of royal buildings.* On the remaining, or eas tern side parallel with the palace, is a tall, massy iron railing, finished on the lop with fleurs de lix, as is the case with all the royal enclosures. The king's guards wer? wont, in former limes, to watch here, and now military parades are frequently seen. Here begin again those feet-annoying pavements. The gate of the court, leads us lo the Place Carousel. That elegant arch before us, still speaks of the former emperor of tbe French. Il was erected by him after the model of Nero's triumphal arch at Rome, and it was still his own loved image that surmounted it. The arch remains entire, but the statue is removed. In crossing the Place Carousel, we must look well about us. We shall find such throngs of carriages dash ing along on all sides, that '.i hen we are fairly on our way, we must keep our eyes in every direction, and hasten with all vigilance over the dangerous spot Now we have passed it, nothing remains lo complete the ex pedition in hand, but lo thread our way through narrow and dirty streets, to our starling point, the vicinity of the Palais Royal. LETTER TO MRS. A. H. LINCOLN. Paris, Dec. 2d, 1830. Dear Sister : We have made several excursions into the environs of Paris. The principal objects of curiosity, which these have yet afforded us, are the palaces of St Cloud and Versailles. I do not wonder that Bonaparte preferred St. Cloud to the other royal' residences. The palace itself is com paratively small, being about 150 feel in length. Ils * Bonaparte intended to have connected the Tuileries to the Lou vre, on the northern side ; and with thia view, caused a connecting building to be commenced,, which was continued from the 'I'uileries easterly, beyond the palace-court, and now stands incomplete. 66 VERSAILLES. structure, too, is irregular ; but it is so charmingly situ ated, amidst groves of lofty trees — beautiful parterres. — and terraces affording magnificent views ; — there is so much, amidst its art, of smiling nature — cultivated, but not tortured, — that it forms a delightful tout ensemble ; and is the more admired, because in this respect, il con trasts so finely with the adjacent palaces. From ils eastern windows, it commands an enchanting prospect of the objects around ; — of the Seine, with the elegant villas on its banks, and of the distant "towered city." Ou entering one of the apartments, Which overlooked a garden yet gay with blossoms, we thought at first that the windows were left without glass, for the sake of the elegant view they commanded; but on inspection, found the large openings vfere filled with a single pane, (if so it may be called,) of crystaline transparency. It was not till the SOth day of November, that we went to Versailles. I was sorry to visit that place, which, for expensive magnificence, is the wonder of the world, feo lale in the season ; but fearing that we might not he able to-see it in the spring, my son and myself took an early breakfast, — settled ourselves in the com!- fortable coupde of a diligence, and at half past ten, the ' morning fine, found ourselves four league.s* from Paris, at the entrance of the grand avenue, which leads to the far-famed palace of Louis XIV. Every thing at Verseilles reminded me of what the grand monarque himself was in his old age, the decay ing monument of an outward splendor, which had daz zled and half destroyed his country. It is grand, yet one sees al a glance, that it is a grandeur, in poverty, and coming decay. This you see in the houses of the city — once inhabited by Ihe first nobles of Fjance ; and in the king's stables of great size and expensive archi tecture, in which nine hundred horses were once kept These we see as we pass up the avenue, widening by degrees, till in front of the palace, it becomes the Place " The me.asurea commonly used in France are the toise 6,395 Enev lishfeel. The ?n.Ue — English measure, 1 mile, 1 furlong, 28 poles ¦. and the league— 2 EwgWah miles, 3 furlongs and 16 poles-^that is aeai> ly two miles and an half English measure. VERSAILLES. 67 d''Armes. The appearance of the palace in this direc tion, was to me, an utter disappointment. The grand court in front, is separated from the Place ^d'Arrnes by a massy iron railing, nearly four hundred feel in length, or namented as usual by the regnljleur de lis. At the gate' vve found a cicerone vvho (leveled himself lo our service, as if he did it lo oblige a dear friend. He first conducted us to the terrace on the south side ; and thence down a solid and superb stairway, consisting of not less than one hundred and thirty steps, to the orange ry below.. This is extensive — of solid stone-work, and supported by Tu.s<;an pillars. The orange and pome- grante trees contained in very large boxes, bad been re moved by machinery, from the gardens, which they adorn in summer, and were now placed in rows along this fine receptacle. We thought their numbers aston ishing as we first entered ; supposing as we looked through the long rows, gay and fragrant with yellow fruit and white blossoms, that vve saw Ihem all ; but when we had walked through the first range, vve made a turn, and other ranks presented themselves ; — and there was yet another turn to be made, and other rows to be seen. Many of the trees are large, but the pride of the whole, whose nativity and exploits are related by the cicerone with as much minuteness and gravity, as would have been those of the monarque himself, is called the Grand Bourbon. In (he reign of Francis I. it is said this tree came into the royal possession, and was then a hundred years old. Francis I. being cotemporary with Henry VIII. of England, in whose reign America was discover ed, this tree, if we may credit authorities, was a hun dred years old, vvhen our continent was first made known lo Europeans. .It is still a most respectable looking tree, and may truly be said to enjoy a green old age, and lo have more of the vigor of life about it, than any other thing of the same name now existing. Having shown us the orangery, and the flower gardens in this quarter, our conductor received his fee and turned us over to another. He conducted us into the palace ; up the splendid staircase ; and through its endless cor- 68 TERSAILLGS. ridors, vestibules, salons, eating-rooms, sleeping-rooms, and galleries. We had but lime lo glance al their deco rations of enormous urns, numerous statues, curious clocks and tables, innumerable pictures, and other regal et ceteras. Of most things which I see I had formed a t^jlerably correct idea before 1 came lo France ; but of one cir cumstance I had not. This is the finishing over head, or of the phi fond of the grand state apartments, and of the chapels and churches. And here I often experience a sensation of horror al the sight of certain pictures, which make me feel as if I had unwillingly been made a parly to a blasphemous act. We had, in viewing Ver sailles, been conducted through galleries and salons, where the upper-ceiling had been painted to represent the heaven of the heathen mythology. This I liked well enough : it is a fair subject for painting, to present to the eye those beautiful fictions of poetic fancy ; — though if the best interests of morality vvere consulted, we should as fast as possible, banish from the christian world, the remembrance of these heathen imaginations, where vice is made so alluring ; but still they are not blasphemous. And when ngain I saw above me, — Apollo as a beauti ful child, with his charriol on the clonds, — accompanied by tbe young and lovely Flora, with her garlands, as spring ; — by the matron Ceres, in grave expressive beau ty, with her fruits, as summer; — and for autumn, jolly Bacchus, with his vines and grapes, followed by the win try form of stern old Saturn ; I enjoyed the pageant. — And sd, io another salon whose plafond represented Her cules just ascended to the court of Jupiter, and receiv ing, as the reward of his labors, the smiling Hebe from the hand of complacent Jove. And so also, when the ceiling of Ihe salle of Venus, presented the exquisite goddess of beauty appearing in the court of her majes tic sire, supported by the snowy plumage of her own graceful bird, and crowned by the hand of the graces ; while to greet her triumph, groups of the devoted lov ers of every age were around : — Alexander, and Roxa- men, Anthony, and Cleopatra, and many other pairs, VERSAILLES. 69 where man in his utmost majesty bowed his soul to Ihe charms of woman. But when from witnessing these I went to the chapel, rich and highly ornamented in every part, — when 1 turned my eye upwards lo the ceiling, and beheld the impious attempt to paint God the Father as a man — Him, whom the heaven, and the heaven of heavens cannot contain ! I felt that my own spirit was debased and de graded by the sight. And they paint heaven too, with the glorified body of (be Redeemer ; and attempt with the poor colors of earth, to imitate that brightness, which no human being can approach unto and live, lo bring before the sight, those joys, which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man lo conceive : and which, probably, whoever shall enjoy, must first be furnished with new senses ; for bow else can spirits see as they are seen. Here, I thought, is the spirituality of our sublime re ligion destroyed, and in its destruction, the foundation of morals overturned. He, who is accustomed to see in one room the representation of the heathen heaven, in the next that of the christian — from the necessity of the case, far less attractive to the senses, will naturally min gle their ideas together ; and lose, or never acquiie those sublime visions, with which God vouchsafes to reveal himself, and his rewards to the pious mind: and he will become attracted by the elegant representations of per sonified vice, which the heathen mythology presents. And what will bevtbe consequence ? Let the sensuality,, the unfeeling selfishness, tbe mean intrigue and deceit; of the court, which so long held here their revels, an- ' swer the question. This vast pile, with all its appurtenances, is said to have cost France between thirty and forty millions ster ling. Like extravagance in private life, it brought pe cuniary embarrassment and vain regrets in its train ; and Louis XIV, is said lo have destroyed the records of his profusion ; but its consequences remained, and bis de scendants to this day may reckon Ihem, among the causes of their downfall. 7 70 VERSAILLES. The king of France at Versailes, must support a style equal to his residence ; and you will find it difficult lo stretch your imagination lo comprehend its vastness, and the magnificence of its decorations. It is no less than eighteen hundred French feet (more than nineteen hun dred English) in the length of the western facade ; be sides the central mass, which projects from the main building far into the garden. If my impressions are correct, it is here thai the brilliant gallerie Le Brun is situated ; which, with the salles of peace and war on each side, extends two hundred and seventeen feet. — The cost of this gallery must have been immense. It rises to the princely height of forty feet The light of seventeen large arched windows, is reflected by answer ing mirrors of equal sizes, with which the arcades on the opposite side are filled. Except the spaces occu pied by the windows and mirrors, the entire gallery is of marble, or covered with rich paintings, or gill sculp ture. The plafond is divided into numerous compartments, each of which contains a scene representing some actor exploit of Louis XIV. Here, he appears in equestrian majesty, at the head of an army ; there, in milder dig nity, he encourages the poets and painters ; again, sur rounded by the splendors of the court, he receives with ineffable grace, ambassadors in all the varied costumes of the world. Of these multiplications of the king in his various acts, there are in this grand gallery nearly thirty. A proof that he was willing the world should know that he was a great monarch ; he having caused them all lo be paint ed, and placed here io the principal room of his palace. Jupiter, and the heathen gods, though, as I have said, Ihey are well provided for, have but poor accommoda tions compared with those the monarque reserved for himself. The theatre is another spot, (though il is now in a ru inous condition) which marks the extravagance that here reigned ; it being so large, Ihat il was wont to contain three thousand persons, each night of the performance of an opera ; which is said to have cost the king a sum equal lo Iwenly-five thousand dollars. VERSAILLES. 71 Much of the furniture of the palace, amidst the thril ling horrors which vvere here acted, during tbe old re volutions was broken, or otherwise destroyed or carried away. The gardens without, displ.iy if possible, a more prodigal expenditure than the palace within. When 1 stood on the terrace which ranges along tbe western front of the palace, and looked abroad over the majestic groves, the spreading and placid waters, the long canal and far vista beyond, I found, for a time, the scene loo beautiful for aughl but admiration. There was something loo, in unison with the feeling excited by viewing the deserted palace. In this place, so lately peopled with kings and rulers, — and thronged with those who lived upon their smiles ; now nought rem;iined but the moveless multitude of marble statues. The waters were still, — their urns were dry, and their fountains played not Nature herself, on (his last day of autumn, seemed like art, her mistress here, putting off her gay attire ; — and in a sombrous mantle of dark, dead green, which my own country never presents, awaiting the final loss of her summer splendors. But 1 could not give much time (o the pleasing spirit of poetic melancholy. I must hurry over the scene ; and these feelings were soon destroyed by the unnatural and monstrous things which crossed my way ; — such as evergreens, — cut into cones, and pyramids, and all other mathematical shapes ; — and monstrous figures, prepared lo spout when waters were afforded them ; and whose forever distended jaws, showed the machinery wiihin. n If inanimate things are ever ludicrous, I am cerlaia thai it must be a huge pile, where leaden alligators, and other curious monsters of the deep, are assembled in a ring, (an order these gentry in (heir sports are not wont to observe,) their tails inwards, — and their broad mouths outwards ; and above these, in pyramidical fashion, co lossal lizards and turtles, — and frogs a hundred times the size of those, whose roarings once disturbed tbe sleep of the people of Windham. Conceive this leaden congregation of amphibia, mostly high and dry, staring at you with their mouths wide open ; — and you will find yourself inclined lo laugh at them, as Ihey seem lo do 72 VERSAILLES. at you : a more pleasing sensation however, than should "sympathetic imitation" (no uncommon thing) seize upon your stomach as they are cascading ; which oper ation they perform al least once a year, for the pleasure of gaping multitudes, and possibly for their health too. I beg pardon of the grand monarque, for speaking dis respectfully of his frogs, and other cascaders. But al though there are in the many, and different fountains of this garden, innumerable naiads and dryads, gods and goddesses, and pouring urns, and other water-pots, — yet it is a fact, that the greater part of the boasted fountains of Versailles, are on the plan of spouting monsters ;--a disgusting and outrageous perversion, and turning upside down of nature ; — against which, 1 feel conscience. bound to bear my testimony. There is a little of it al ready in our country ;— but, by all the principles of good taste, — by the lovely streams which dash from over hills, — by tbe wild cataracts of our mountains, which foam and sparkle in the native "joy of waves,"— by the thunders of Niagara, — and the quiet of our stomachs, — "let's have no more on't." Within the garden grounds, there are two palaces. The first which we visited, called the Grand Trianon, was built by Louis XIV. for Madame Maintenon. The other named tbe Petit Trianon, by Louis XV. as a place to retire in sickness, and as it proved, in death. These are both delightful places. They are low, but elegant and extensive structures ; — regally provided and orna mented, within and without. One room of the Grand Triaoon is wainscoted with mirror. Both have many exquisite paintings. In the Petit Trianon, was born the son of Napoleon. It was formerly given by Louis XVI. lo Marie Antoinette, and was with her a favorite spot. On the grounds belonging lo it, there is, among many other things, the representation of a Swiss ham let. The cottages are rural in their appearance, but I was told they had wiihin, been finished and furnished, with all that luxury could devise; and distributed to particular individuals of the high nobility : Marie An toinette reserving one for herself; a place of profound retirement, and mysterious retreat. VERSAILLES. 73 In our visits to these places, we went over the grounds, and returned on foot, which ilbad been thought 1 should be unable lo do. My feel now rue the walking ofthat day ; though while 1 was performing it, the weather being just cool enough to make exercise pleasant, and the varied scenery carrying me from one species of excitement lo another, 1 was not much sensible of fa tigue. After all, I could but glance at tbe innumerable objects of curiosity. There is wiihin the garden, stat uary, which it would lake a volume to describe. You find il scattered here and there among the trees, — skirt ing the walks and terraces, — amidst the waters, or oc cupying the places, where Ihe fountains play in their proper season. I have already alluded to the difference in tbe ap pearance of vegetation here, and that of our own ma ny-coloured autumn scenery. The trees of France, like her women, seem lo have no " sear and yellow leaf;" but rather to grow greener, as they trow older. But it is not after all, a youthful green, like that of spring, but a heavy blackening colour, which speaks of decay ; — but the foliage is yet thick, and there are still some flowers. The monthly rose often glistened forth, the most cheerful objects of our walks. The waters, with which the fountains are supplied, are raised from the Seine al Marly, ahout three miles north, by grand and very expensive machinery ; and Ibeoce conducted through pipes to the several fountains. These are distinguished by the names of the ^'Grands eaux, and the Petits eaux." The little fountains play every Sunday, in the spring and summer ; — the greater, only on particular days, which the Journals announce Versailles at these seasons, is said to be sometimes thronged with gay company. Tbe world has but one Versailles, and it is to be hop ed it will never have another. Men now understand too well their rights, and their strength, to allow one of their own number, again lo fancy himself the stale ; and to use ils united toil, and treasure, to uphold his per sonal vanity, and gratify his luxurious pleasures. The course of events has brought about a great change 7* ^ 74 VERSAILLES. in several respects, since Louis XIV. held his court at Versailles. No man in Europe then kepi house in so splendid and expensive a style. Now, there are many , private fortunes, both in France and England, thai ena ble their possessors to surround themselves, with the pomp and circumstance of external grandeur, to a gi^eater degree than their kings. Trade and commerce in this respect, thus put even royalty in the back ground ; while the increased facilities of intercourse be tween mind and mind, in different countries, enlarge the influence of that republic of letters, — thai sphere of impartial moral judgment lo which all are amenable ; and which, like the gospel, knows neither male nor female, bond or free ; and where superior merit, either intellec tual or moral, can alone be invested with the symbols of greatness. How then is king-craft lo hold up its head again as in former days ? Il may remain the same in title, but in reality, it cannot again, in enlightened countries be the car of Juggernaut, where the unfeeling idol rides high over the heads of its victims. How different was the condition of the Bourbons, after tbe restoration suc ceeding the fall of Bonaparte, from that of their prede cessors. The Duchess d'Angouleme, 1 am told, on good authority, caused the seals of the numerous petitions, presented to Charles X. lo be lorn off and melted over, and the fresh slicks of sealing-wax, she sold to obtain money for her private charities. How different was this deed, ofeconemy, as well as mercy, from the occupations and expensive spirit of the court, where her beautiful mother, Marie Antoinette presided. PARIS. 75 LETTER TO MY PUPILS. Paris, Dec. 3d, 1830. My dear Pupils : If you wish lo derive pleasure from the accounts which from time to lime 1 shall give you of Paris, you must take the pains lo gel some clear and distinct ideas of ils topography. The main points must first be secured. Suppose, before we proceed farther, you review on Ibe small map 1 have given you the central part of the city, which is the ground already gone over. We took our departure from the Hotel de I'Europe, al the soulh-easlern extremity of the Palais Royal ; crossed, at our first selling out, the Rue St Honore ; proceeded to the eastern side of the Louvre, viewed ils magnificent colonade, and faced about lo look at the old church of St. Germain I'Auxerrois. We then entered the eastern gate ofthe Louvre, passed diagonally through ils splendid court, and out through ils southern gate ; and thence lo the Pont des Arts. Here we look a view ofthe city, marking particularly towards the south-east, the Pont Neuf, which crosses the northern extremity of the Isle de Cite ; from which rise the square lowers of Ibe old Notre Dame, and the conical pointed turrets of the prison ofthe Conciergerie. From this point we saw the long and elegant facade of the mint, or Hotel des Monnaies. Pursuing our course we reached the oppo site side ofthe Seine, in front of the palace ofthe Insli- lule ; pursued our course along the quays Malaquais and Voltaire, without stopp\ng.lo notice the Palais du legion d''Honneur ; — lef lon our right the Pont Royal opposite lo the Tuileries ; kept our course along the qiiai d'Orsay, as far as the Chamber of Deputies ; looked at its beau tiful colonade ; crossed tbe Seine on the ponl Louis XVI.; admired its elegant statues and the charming prospect be fore us, and reached the northern bank ofthe Seine on the place Louis XV. After inspecting the exactly similar fronts of the Iwa fine buildings on its northern side, and looking up the Rue Royale, lo view the noble proportions and majestic 76 PARIS. colonades ofthe church de la Madelaine, we entered the lion-guarded gate of the garden of the Tuileries ; saw its beauties in perspective ; looked at its statues from a distance, as tbe christian does at the world, only lo turn from them and pass away. Keeping the terrace, we walked around to the northern side of the garden, ob serving its beauties, and those of tbe Rue Rivoli — stop ped a moment to look at the Rue Castiglione ; al the column ofthe Place Vendome ; — then completing the cir cuit ofthe northern side of the garden, and half the eas tern — we passed the arch-way in the centre ofthe Tuil eries ; crossed the court on its eastern side ; traversed the Place Carousel ; passed beneath the triumphal arch of Napoleon ; and last of all, had the mortification to thread our way through dirty and narrow streets, ere we arrived at the point of departure. I hope you now feel sufficient interest in Paris, lo give attention to some of ils other important localities ; and a short general description ofthe plan ofthe city. The ground, on which Paris is situated, partakes of the form of an amphitheatre or deep basin, of which the portion already gone over is the central or lowest part. It is about three miles and a half, from the hills of Monlmarlre and Mount Calvary on the north, lo the opposite southern boundry ; and nearly five miles in ex tent, from Mont Louis, the site of the celebrated ceme- metery of Pere la Chaise on the east, to the Barrier of Neuilly on the west, — where stands the triumphal arch of Bonaparte, al which we have already looked. The Seine, running in a north-westerly direction, en ters Paris on the southenst. The first bridge we meet, is half a mile from its entrance into tbe cily, and is called from that most remarkable botanic garden in the world, which is contiguous on the sooth, the Pont du lardin du Roi. After flowing about a quarter of a mile beyond this bridge, the Seine divides, and embosoms the small island ofLouviers, which is connected bv abridge to its northern bank, but is uninhabited, and "used only as a deposit for fuel. Following the course ofthe river, we soon find the island Lt Louis, connected by bridges to each ofthe opposite shores, and on the north-west to PARIS. 77 Ihe important isle de Cite, already mentioned ; on which is the Church of Notre Dame, the Palais de Justice, the hospital. Hotel Dieu, — other public, and many private buildings. This island originally comprised the whole city. One might have supposed it was here that it originated ; from examining its map, and observing, that lo this point, the principal thoroughfares ofthe city converge. The two principal streets which continue from north lo south, along its whole extent, pass through il. Of these, Ihe most easterly is the Rue St. Martin, which coming in from the north, leads by the pont Notre Dame, on to tbe Island ; continues its course by different names across it, and passes by the Petit ponl into the Rue St Jaques, on the south. Parallel to this, and at no great distance on the west, is the other street mentioned, called the Rue St Denis, which crosses the part of Paris north of the Seine, by the Pont au Change, and passes the Pont St. Michel to the Rue La Harpe, and thence .^long the Rue d^Enfer, to the southern extremity of Ihe city. Here is tbe entrance to those excavations of almost in credible extent, now the subterranean abodes of the dead, and called the catacombs. Al the north-western extremity ofthe isle de Cite, the Ponl Neuf crosses the Seine. On tbe extreme point of the Island, which projects a few feet beyond the wes tern side of this bridge, is a splendid equestrian statue in bronze, ofHenryl V. — that most chivalrous, best-headed, and kindest-hearted of all the French Kings. About a furlong below, is the Pont des Arts ; and be low this, at about double distance, is the Ponl Royal. Between these bridges, as we have already seen, the Louvre and the gallery connecting it to the palace ofthe Tuileries, occupies the right bunk of the river, and from tbe Pont Royal to the Pont Louis XVI., the distance of half a mile, the same bank is occupied by its beautiful garden. Just below this bridge, the Seine bends its course, and flows al first towards the west, where is a bridge sometimes called, from its construction, the suspension bridge ; but sometimes the Pont des Invalides, from its contiguity to tbe celebrated Hospital for disabled sol- 78 PARIS. diers, to which it conducts through an extensive garden, appropriated lo the use and pleasure of these veterans. The Seine then bends to the south-west, where is the famous Champ des Mars, where military parades are held. The form of this area, is that of a parallelogram, a quarter of a mile in width upon the Seine, and running at right angles lo it for half a mile towards the south east, where it is bounded by the handsome facade ofthe pile of buildings, in whichyis the military school. The elegant bridge erected by Bonaparte, and called by him the bridge of Jena, conducts from the centre of the Champ des Mars across the river. This bridge is now sometimes called by the name of the Champ des Mars, sometimes by (hat of the military school. The boundaries of Paris, as they existed in the com mencement ofthe reign of Louis XIV., are indicated by tbe Boulevards* interieure, and as Ihey now exist, by the Boulevards exterieure. When Louis XIV. ascended the throne, Paris was a fortified city; but he took tbe resolu tion to demolish the fortifications, and make in their pla ces broad and beautiful streets, planted with trees. The northern Boulevsrd was commenced in 1670, and com pleted in 1704. Those elegant triumphal arches were also erected, which bear the names of the ancient gates of St Dennis and St. Martin. On ray first arrival at Paris, I was much puzzled to understand how objects so formed and so situated, could ever have been gales. I at length learned that they never were, but were erect ed on the Boulevard for ornament. The southern in terior Boulevards, were not made till several years af terwards. In the mean time the cily was, on every side, rapidly extending beyond these limits. In tbe reign of Louis XVI. the fiirmerst of the kings revenue, complained lo the king thai contraband goods were intioduced into Ihe ¦ Bulwarks. JI!^^ ^l"^! "^ France formerly farmed out their revenues ; that Is, let them to persons to collect for a certain per centage ; in thus giving an interest to the collectors of the revenue in oppressing the plop"e, they produced a state of things which led to many abuses, and was one oftbemcipient causes of the French revolution. city, and obtained permission of him in 1783, to enclose it with walls. It is not lo be supposed that these walls, which are made to keep oul wine, cabbages, chickens, and other prohibited articles, from going to market with out duties paid by the owners, are like the walls of Ha vre, which are made to resist an enemy with battering artillery ; and I had been in and out of Paris frequently, without understanding that these enclosures had a name so dignified as thai of the walls of the cily. Calonne, the prodigal minister of the king, wishing to impress strangers with the magnificence of the capital, ordered elegant edifices lo be constructed for tbe con venience of the collectors, al the entrance ofthe princi pal streets. These are called barriers. Of these there are at least fifty. They generally present two smilar buildings on each side of ihe way. The space between them sometimes, contains nothing but a miserable fence, though al some of the principal entrances, the side buildings are connected by an iron railing, with a double gale in the centre. In 1791 the entrance duties were abolished, and these edifices, called bureaux d''octroi, be came useless. There is now a small duty collected, which goes mainly to the support of public charities. We entered Paris on oui first arrival, by the barrier St. Denis. Being in the diligence, we passed without search, but the ofiicers ofthe city revenue examined our trunks at the diligence office. I asked what it was for ; and some one replied mirthfully, it was to see if they contained any eggs ; these being one of the articles on which duties must be paid. The exterior Boulevards are about fourteen miles in extent, and like the inner, planted with trees. They are, however, little frequented ; while the interior form one of the gayest and most interesting promenades ofthe cily. This is particularly the case, with that portion of the northern Boulevard, extending from the Rue St. Denis lo the church de la Madelaine. The most fash ionable part is the Boulevard des Italiens. Here the ample side pavements are of fine flat stones, and are promenaded by throngs of elegantly dressed persons. Flower-girls, musicians, and mountebanks, each in their 80 PARIS. various calling, seek fo please, and those who can be thus easily amused, gather in groups around them. Sun day is especially the day of gaiety. The Theatre des Italiens, where I heard the delight ful voice of Madame Malihan, is situated on the Boule vard of tbe same name. The grand opera, which is Ihoughl lo be tbe finest affair of the kind in Europe, to which, as I have mentioned. Gen. La Fayelle invited me lo accompany him, is in tbe same quarter, not directly on the Boulevard, but a little lo the north on the Rue Le Pelletier. The Theatre Francais, where tbe celebrated Talma used to perform, is in the vicinity of the Palais Royal. Except this, almost all the principal theatres are on the northern Boulevards. The central parts of Paris, within the interior, which are generally styled the Boulevards, have a dense popu lation. The streets are generally narrow, and the hou ses high. The highest house in Paris is nine stories in height The way of living in this city is different from ours. The hotels, (for so are called houses of considerable size, whether public or private) are ordi narily so constructed, Ihat the fronts ofthe lowerportion, are devoted lo shops for merchandize, except the porter's lodge at the entrance. Then is a stair-way, which is a kind of street in Ihe house, being used by so niany per sons. Each of the stories is calculated for the residence of a family, the hotel, having one kitchen over another, and so on, of the apartments for eating, lodging, receiv ing company, Sic, so that it is by no means uncommon that one bouse should contain a number of families equal lo, or greater than the number of stories. It is easy to see how, in Ibis way, a certain population may occupy less ground-room, than is possible in our manner of liv ing ; where each respectable family occupies a house by itself. Many ofthe streets are not more than half the width, which ours ordinarily are ; and are so narrow that room cannot possibly be spared for side-walks. When we consider, what multitudes are thronging in and oul, of these large high houses ; — what numbers must be passsing through the central parts of the city, to go from one extremity to the other, — bow many persons, PARIS. 81 business or curiosity must naturally bring there, — in stead of vvoodering that il is difl[icult for foot passengers, to make their way, and sometimes dangerous for car riages, one is almost astonished, that the passage of these streets can be achieved at all. You often bear of tbe faubourgs of Paris. This term, seems to carry the idea that they are places wilh- oot the city. When the name was given them, they doubtless were, but at present they are enclosed be tween the outer and inner Boulevards .; except the fau bourg St. Germain, on the sooth side ofthe Seine, which is wiihin the interior Boulevards. You would not be likely to remember them all, should I repeat their names ; but it will be well lo recollect that the names of Mont Martre, St. Denis, and St. Martin, so often recurring, are names of faubourgs, as well as streets, boulevards and barriers, and are all on the north. The faubourg Poissoniire, is between that of St. Denis and Mont Martre. West of tbe faubourg Blont Martre, is that of St. Honore. The large faubourg of St. Anloina, on tbe east, you will often find mentioned in reading accounts of commo tions in Paris. The workmen and rabble of that quar ter, have a character of ferocity, which makes them spoken of with dread by the Parisians. The Palace of the Luxembourg, in the faubourg St. Germain, is an object of much interest, particularly as it is now the place of session of the Peers, one branch of the national legislature. Il is called from Ibis circum stance the Palais des Pairs. Its garden is spacious and delightful. The avenue through the centre leads to the observatory, where observations are made concern ing latitude and longitude and other astronomical subjects. The Palais de Justice on tbe Isle de Citi is the seat of the highest judicial tribunal in France. The Hotel de Ville on the northern bank of the Seine, near the Isle de Cite, is that of Iheprefecture of the Seine, and of the chief municipal court of the capital. The guillotine stands near il on the Place de Grive, being still the instrument of execution. Ills not my intention here to speak of all the impor- 8 82 PARIS. tant localities of Paris. Hereafter you will be able fo go with me in thought, where I go. Though these pre- liniinaries may seem a little tedious, you will afterwards find the benefit of giving me your attention, and tracing out every thing on the little map which I shall give you. If you can have access loa larger one, by all means use it faithfully. Of things that pertain to eating and drinking on a public scale, I shall say little, though they figure large ly in our maps of Paris. Of course I do not visit the Abattoirs, where cattle and sheep are turned into meat for the market: but I remark as I pass them, that they are not offensive, like similar places in our country. On enquiring the reason of this, I was told it was partly in consequence of interior arrangements ; yet it was in part owing to colonies of rats, which are not, it seems, so particular here about their living as with us. Neither have I visited that immense reservoir of bread stuffs, called the Halle au Ble; nor the great vaulted receptacle for wine, called the Halle aux Vins ; nor have I seen much of the markets, except as I pass them. — But they seem somewhat differently arranged from those in our cities : not so much centering in any one spot, but spread over the city ; and not so much for all kinds of food together ; but more on the plan of having one market for fowls, another for vegetables, another for fruits, and so on. Eating arrangements make a great show, too, as one goes around Paris. Along the Palais Royal, and through the most fashionable parts of the city, you see splendid rooms, through large clear win dows, where every dainty that could tempt the appetite is tastefully displayed. Some persons are sitting at their meals, and others are reading the journals of the day. These are the celebrated cafes and restaurants. Their visitors are mostly gentlemen ; but sometimes la dies too, who hav'e their lodgings al hotels, take their meals at these places. The Parisians say, that respect able ladies, especially strangers, go there occasionally ; but the gentlemen of our party hold doubts on this point; and though I often threaten them, that as I came to see Pari.s, I may go to one once ; I have not yet made PARIS. 83 such a violent out-break : and doubt, whether I shall have the courage lo face, their — not reproaches, — hut silence. Neither of mercantile arrangements on a large scale, shall I be able lo say much ; but tbe Bourse, or Ex change, where the agents of government, and mer chants meet lo make bargains and transact busine,ss, from its surpassing architectural beauty, should not be over looked, even in the most cursory view of Paris. It is situated on the Place of the Bourse, a quarter of a mile norlhof the Palais Royal, at the end of the Rue Vivienne. This street and the Rue Richelieu, which runs parallel to il, a little to the west, are the richest marts, especially for silks, of any in Paris. Many per sons consider the Bourse as the most elegant building in the city ; but to me it is less attractive, than the ancient churches and palaces. Its form is a parallelogram, of two hundred and twelve feet, by one hundred and twen ty-six. It is wholly of light colored marble, surrounded on every side by fine Corinthian columns, in all sixty- six ; the centres of these columns being about ten feet apart. The entablature which rests on this splendid colonade, is rich and heavy. The finely proportioned roof has a large sky-light in the centre. I was told before I visited the Bourse, that there were within it, some paintings, which so resembled bas- reliefs, that I should he deceived. Notwithstanding, the morning, when I visited the building, having got into the spirit of admiration at the simple grandeur of ils exterior, I mounted the slair-case, entered the grand salle, stood on the gallery above the arcades, lo which the central pari below, (having the sky-light above) leads in every direction ; then I looked on the other side and fell to admiring the exquisite bas-reliefs. Af ter my son had sufliciently enjoyed the joke, he told me that these were the very deceptive paintings of which he had warned me. I could not be satisfied, till I had passed over, and found thai there was truly only a flat surface. This is the most astonishing instance of the kind which I have ever witnessed. This magical pow er is owing, no doubt, in pari, lo the position of the pic- 84 PARIS. tures, and the fact, that the painter knew precisety what light they would have. I am sensible that my descriptions are inadequate 10 give you a true idea of things. Paris is a place of con trast beyond all others ; the ne plus ultra of all that is grand and all that is mean. Lei me take you through the Boulevards, along the quays, through the garden of the Tuileries, and up the main avenue, which leads through the Champs Elysees to the triumphal arch ; and if you follow the general impression, without regarding little meannesses, you will, " on home returning soothly swear," that il is the most splendid and delightful of cities. Again, follow me through ils numerous muddy lanes of streets, where, if there is a house of respectable grade, it fronts inwards, and leaves on Ihe street a high unwin- dowed blank wall, with & porte cochere, something like a barn-door, — not a single tree or shrub, or even a blade of grass lo be seen, — where you must take care how you read the words on buildings, or look at the pictures ¦*vhich are profusely stuck up around shop windows at the corners ; — you may thus be carried all day about Paris, and return at night in complete and utter disgust. And these contrasts, 'which the cily shows on a great scale, particular edifices, too often manifest on a small one. There is enough of little mean things, about even tbe grandest of the churches, if one was hunting after them, lo destroy the general effect of the whole ; but when the emotion of sublimity strongly seizes on the- mind, little opposing objects sink unmarked into shade. But was every thing set forth in words, it would lake as many lo describe, for example, some little chapel of a cathedral, where stands my lady of wax, with her rag- baby, with branches of coarse artificial flowers, and oth er trumpery around her, as it would to give an idea of the noble cathedral itself, and il would destroy that effect which the eye (seeing all things- in just proportions) may convey lo the mind ; hut which the describer can only give when be mentions the capital circum stances which produced the impression of sublimity in his own mind. I judged therefore, that il would be PARIS. 85 more in the spirit of Irulb and justice sometimes to leave oul these things, in my descriptions, and give them as here a separate consideration. LETTER TO MRS. A. H. LINCOLN. Paris, Dec. 7th, 1830. My DEAR Sister : Since I wrote you last, I have had the happiness of receiving letters from you and from Mary. I was much gratified with the intelligence they contained ; thai Ma ry's health is improvhig, and things and persons are well at the Seminary. My health is good ; and I have formed a number of interesting acquaintances. From Mr. and Mrs. Rives, (our minister and his lady,) I have received a kind po liteness. I made a call at their house yesterday, and I have been there once, a few evenings since, to a soiree, the only one they have yet given for the season. As I was the oldest lady of our party, the custom here obliged me to enter the room first, and a little in advance of the others, which was rather embarrassing, as not enough persons had arrived lo fill the centre of the room. A servant announced us, as we entered, one by one, and we immediately mingled with the company ; not mak ing it a point to pay our respects at first to the lady of the house, but waiting for a convenient opportunity. Dr. Niles, the Secretary of Legation, who has been for some time residing in Paris, seems lo take much in terest in the affairs of the Americans ; and to be solici tous, Ihat we should so demean ourselves, as to do hon or lo our common country. Yesterday I fortunately met at Mr. Rives', M. le Comte Semirier, who is going ambassador from France to our government, in a few weeks. Mr. Rives intro duced me to him ; and we had along, and to me, highly interesting conversation. Mrs. Rives has kindly offer ed to give me an opportunity of meeting Madame Ser- rurier at her house previous lo her departure. 8* 86 PARIS Last evening, I went with my son to Gen. La Fay ette's soiree. Mr. Rives, who happened to be near the door of the first apartment of the suite which contained tbe General's company, joined us. The rooms were unusually full. We edged along, conversing together — expecting lo find the General in the next room ; when suddenly the countenance of the blessed patriot, full of benevolence, was beaming upon us. After answering bis enquiries about my health, I told him I hoped he was not the worse, for the dissipation of the last evening. "Oh no," said he, " I am all the better for having spent the evening with you !" This he said, not emphasising the you, but in just such a way that it might mean, " I am the better for having been amused last even ing;" — and I told him I was happy that he had been entertained. Il may look like vanity for rae lo tell you of these things ; but it is not my pride alone ; il is my deeply filial affection, my reverential love, that is grati fied thus lo meet a return, where I had so little reason to expect it. I must now tell you, how it was that we spent the evening together. Il was at the Opera Francais, usu ally called the Grand Opera. You will remember that be told me he bad not been at a theatre since the revolution, and the first lime he did go, he would go with me. One evening before had been appointed, and failed from the illness of one of the performers. Il was the evening before last that we finally went. I ex pected that the people would have cheered him as he entered. But he was in a citizen's dress, and went with a determination, as it appeared, not to be known. The two boxes next, and each side the king's, were for the evening taken by the La Fayette family. There are places in each for six persons, two in front, and three deep. The General, Mrs. S— . of Baltimore, (a particular friend of Madame George La Fayelle,) two of the General's grand-daughters. Col. C— ., an oflicer of his household, and myself, filled the box to the left of the king's. Mrs. S— . and myself were placed in the front seats, notwithstanding our entreaties that the General would take one of them ; two of his grand-daugh- PAftis. 87 ters had the two next, and tbe General was quite back where it was impossible for any one below lo see him. The first piece was an opera, " Le Dieu et la Bay adhe." In this I saw the performance of M'lle Tag^ lioni, the first dancer in the world. Much of this French opera dancing is what il should not be ; but of Taglioni, though expected much, yel her performance perfectly astonished me ; and I exclaimed in a, pas seul, where she seemed divested of terrestrial gravity, and to fly, rather than dance, " this is the sublime of dancing !" The scenery of the theatre — the splendor of the dress es and decorations — the crowds of actors, all capital in their parts — the perfeetion of instrumental music dis played by the grand orchestra, who were all so per fect in time, thai it was as if one spirit played the num berless instruments — all this was admirable. After we had been in the theatre about half an hour, an officer entered the box, bowed very low, and presented the General a paper, containing a few fines, written, as I observed, in an elegant hand. He looked rather grave, and perplexed for a moment as he read the pa per ; then said — " the king has sent for me to come to him. I must go, but I will return." I begged him not to return on my account, if il would incommode him ; but he said he could not consent lo lose all the pleasure of the evening. Before he returned, the first piece was over ; and those of the La Fayette family, in the other box, came in the interval, to greet us. Their counte nances seemed a little shaded, and I though Ihey were uneasy that he had insisted on sitting so far hack. Mrs. S — . then took her place behind my chair, and all appeared determined thai he should take the front seat, when he relumed. Just as they had completed the ar rangement, he came in, hut he refused lo go forward. Mrs. S — . now refused lo take the seat, as did the other ladies also, who were in the box with us. Just then the sweet Mathilde La Fayelle came from Ihe other box to speak lo her grand father. He told her lo take the seat; and though she would not for the world have done an impolite thing by voluntarily taking the precedence of older ladies ; yet she did not a moment dispute, what she saw was her grand-father's will. PARIS. Thus seated and arranged, we went through another dancing piece. It was the ballet pantomime of Manon Lescavt. The scenery and the dresses, represented the court of Louis XV. The stiff bows and curtsies,— and hoops and trains, and elbow cuffs, — the frizzed and powdered heads, and enormous head-dresses--the silk- velvet, gold-trimmed, long-skirted coats, and silver em broidered white satin vests,— the little boys and girls dressed like Iheir fathers and mothers, and curtsying and bowing as stiffly, — the dancing of minuets — slow, and graceful, and formal, — it was all pleasing : and the representation was historically true. Gen. La Fayette was much amused. " Why," said he, " this is exactly my lime !" " Foila ce petit en fant!" exclaimed Mathilde, as a little boy, a sprig of nobility, in a long embroidered coal, and flapped vest, with his hair queued and powdered, appeared upon the stage. Said the General, " I was dressed Jus? so when I was of that age !" "Jus< so." Thai piece went off. Bui I observed that the eyes of the people, were ever and anon, turning towards our box ; — and when al another interval, we rose from our seals, as every body did, suddenly there was a shout, " Vive La Fayette! Vive La Fayette .'" It resounded again and again, and was echoed and re-echoed by the vaulted roof. In the enthusiasm of the moment, I ex claimed, " you are discovered — you must advance !" — and I handed him over the seats, unconscious al the mo ment that I was making myself a part of the spectacle- He advanced, bowed thrice, and again retreated — but the cries continued. Then the people called oul " la Paiisienne! la Parisienne ."' You know it is the celebra ted national song of the last revolution. The curtain rose. Nourril, an actor who, iu the for mer piece had the principal male part, came forward. He was dressed as a Parisian gentleman. His figure. was bold, and he bore in his hand an ample standard, which he elevated, waving the Iri-colored flag. He bad himself, been one of the heroes of the three days. He sung the song in ils true spirit, amidst repeated ap plauses. When he came lo the part where it speaks of PAftlS. 89 La Fayelle, with his while hairs, the hero of both worlds, the air was rent with a sudden shout. I look ed al him, and met his eye. There was precisely the same expression as I marked, when we sung lo him in Troy ; and again I shared the sublime emotions of his soul, and again they overpowered my own. My lips quivered, and irrepressible tears started lo my eyes. When the song was over, the actor came and opened the door of the box, and in his enthusiasm embraced him. " You sung charmingly," said La Fayelle. "Ah General, you were here to hear me I" was the reply. When we descended lo leave the theatre, the throng ing multitude reminded me of the time, when crowds for a similar purpose assembled in America. The grand opera house is an immense building. In the lower part is a large room, supported by enormous pillars, and used as a vestibule. To this room the crowd had descended, and here they had arranged themselves ou each side of a space, which tbey had left open for La Fayelle, that Ihey might see, and bless him as he passed. There was that in this silent lestmonial of their affection, more touching, than the noisy acclaim of their shouts. There was something loo, remarka ble in the well defined line which bounded the way left open. A dense crowd beyond — not even an intru ding foot, within the space, which gratitude and vene ration had marked. I can scarcely describe my own feelings. I was with him, whom from my infancy I had venerated as the best of men ; whom for a long period of my life I had never hoped even to see in this world. Now I read with him his noble history, in the melting eyes of his ardent nation. And I saw that he was regarded as he is, the father of France — aye, and of America loo. America ! my own loved land ! It was for her sake I was thus honored, and it was for me lo feel her share in the common emotion. My spirit seemed to dilate, and for a moment, self-personified as the genius of my country, I enjoyed lo the full his tri umph, who is at once her father,' and her adopted son. There are rumours of wars. I think the people of France, especially the young men, desire it. This, and 90 PARIS. the trial of the ministers, are the theme of conversation, 'go where I will. Some of my best hours are spent with Mr. Cooper and his family. I find in him, what I do not in all who hear the name of Americans, a genuine American spirit His conversation on various subjects, particularly his descriptions of scenery, are delightful. He sometimes sets before me the vales of Italy ; sometimes he makes me see the white spectral form, of a distant mountain among the Alps ; or hear amidst their profound gulfs, the roar of a cataract, which falls lo some viewless chasm below. I often tell him, Ihal I hope he will give us a work, whose scene shall be laid in Switzer land, so deeply does its scenery seem impressed upon his mind, and so finely do his words delineate it. One day I told him the report, with regard to his having borrowed the plot of his " Wish-Ion- Wish" from Miss Sedgcv.ick's "Hope Leslie." He said, that he had never read " Hope Leslie" -in his life, nor had he heard of the subject of it at the time of writing his book. This would perhaps be considered incredible, hut for the fact, thai he reads little. He prefers origin als to copies, and studied nature. My last minute for writing has come. God's blessing he with all my dear bonsehold.. Yours, ever. PARIS. 91 LETTER TO MY PUPILS. Paris, Dec. 8lh, 1830. My dear Pupils : To get an idea of thingshereyou must take into con sideration, the very different condition of Paris in re spect to the affairs of government, from that of the cities of our own country. The frame of society with us, is very simple in comparison with thai here. Paris is the seat of government for the kingdom of France ; and a royal establishment has a thousand ofBces, military and civil, and of course officers to fill them, and public buildings for their uses, with which a republic, happi ly for us, is not burdened. Paris is also the capital, of the province of the Isle of France,' and of the division of that province, called the department of the Seine. It is also a great city, having its own organization as such, to maintain It is divided for the purposes of city regulations, into twelve arondissements, each of w^hich has a mayor with suitable assistant officers, and each a marie, or mayor's office. — The prefect or principal officer of the department of the Seine, is a kind of general mayor over the whole. His office is at the Hotel de Ville. This being the people's house, and not a building of the royal establishment, was the reason, as Gen. La Fayette told me, why be erected there, the Iri-colored flag in the revolution of July. We have already seen, that the king is al present re siding iixthe Palais Royal ; but he is expected, ere long, to remove to the Tuileries. We have also seen that, of the two branches of the national legislature, the Peers hold their sittings at the Luxembourg, and the deputies of the people, at the Chamber of Deputies. The high est judicial tribunal in France, is called the court of cassation, from the French word casser, to break ; be cause it has power lo break the decisions of the other courts. This court, together with several other inferior ones, holds its sessions at the Palais de Justice, as we have already mentioned. ^ PARIS. The Police of Paris, is not so rigid as it was in the time of Bonaparte. Then it was so exact in taking cognizance of all the affairs of strangers, thai it is said, when a certain foreigner forgot his residence, he learnt it by applying at the office : and it is supposed that he might have stood a good chance lo learn even his name, had he forgotten that loo, — by the exact description which was kept of his person. The Police Office is on the Isle de Citi, south of the Palais de Justice. The fluctuating multitude of Paris is held in check, by the constant watch of a military force. You cannot walk the streets without meeting officers and soldiers in a great variety of uniforms. You cannot go lo a theatre, or any public spectacle where crowds assemble, but you find armed horsemen ranked along the way, or moving here and there, as there may chance lo he indications of disorder. Of those we see, there are the king's body guards, — other corps of the royal army, — the gens d'armes, who are under the direction of the Police, — and the national guards, of whom General La Fayette is chief. Besides these, there is a corps, some of whom we are constantly meeting, called for shortness, the sap- eurs, though their whole appellation is les sapeurs-pontr piers — which last word means pumpers ; as they are the regular firemen of the cily ; though from their costumes one would lake Ihem for tbe very last persons lo per form that service. They seem as they walk with meas ured tread, lo he of the sons of Anak, — real giants. — They wear a bear-skin cap, pointing directly upwards for something like a yard above the head. They have while leather aprons, covering the front of their milita ry gear ; and they keep about their faces all the whis kers and muslachoes that nature gave them, and some times more : as I found by once meeting one who had lost a whisker : — and last of all, Ihey carry in both hands perpendicularly before Ihem, an enormous axe ; which always reminds me of the picture of that, with which lady Jane Grey was beheaded in the lower of London. Happily they have little lo do with sapping buildings, or pumping water ; for fires very seldom occur. I have npt yet heard of a single one since my arrival in the city. PARIS. 93 •Of the ministers belonging to the royal government ; — tlie minister of the interior, resides at the Rue Grenelle, in the faubourg St Germain, — the minister of foreign affairs a little north in the same faubourg, where most of the foreign ambassadors have their residences. — Among others is the American minister Mr. Rives, who lives in the Rue de /' University. The minister of the finances (at present M. La Filte) has his hotel in the Rue Rivoli. — The chancellor of France, and the minis ter of Justice, have their offices at the Place Vendome. Geneial La Fayelle resides al a public hotel, called the Etat-major, or Head quarters of the National Guards, in the Rue Chaussee d'Anlin ; which is a broad, pleasant, and fashionable street, a little north of the Italian Boule vard. The buildings appropriated to the public charities of Paris, form a distinguishing feature of its topography. Of Ihe public hospitals, where the sick alone are re ceived, and the hospices, where those who need charity from old age, unprotected infancy, or infirmity, may be admitted, there are thirty ; besides others, founded by benevolent societies, or individuals. The whole are said lo contain more than a hundred thousand objects of charity. The Hospital des Invalides, is the most exten sive in its buildings, and grounds, for pleasure and utili ty. I have already adverted to the inadequate ideas, which we are apt lo gel of the extent of these estab lishments, from having little in our own country with which lo cottipare them ; and from seeing in pictures merely their facades. The northern front or facade, of this Utile world, inhabited by the hall and maimed, is in length more than six hundred feet. The southern side, presents the facade of the chapel with its splendid dome, towering to the majestic height of three hundred and Iwenly-three feet. From its ground plan, which is delineated in our maps of Paris, we perceive what a mass of buildings are here connected together. They are al right angles to each other, and enclose about twenty oblong, or square courts, or gardens. Seven thousand invalid pensioners can be amply accommo dated. 94 PARIS. The other hospitals are scattered in different parts of tbe city. They are more generally, especially those of recent date, near its confines. The oldest one in Paris is that of the Hotel Dieu, which is near the centre ofthe cily. Here are 1500 beds for the sick ; who are attend ed by the Sisters of Charity, an order of nuns, held in high estimation for their self-devoting cares in the abodes of distress. . As I meet them hurrying to and fro, about tbe streets of Paris, or see them watching at the hospi tals, I know them by their robes of black woolen, the silver cross hanging over their breasts, and the clean, stiffly starched sun-bonnet and cape, with which their beads and necks are covered ; — and which often shows, in the enclosure of ils projecting front, a face where re ligion seems lo have exerted ils purifying and compo sing power. All give way as they pass. What con trasts does Paris present, in the female character ! Of the public edifices for schools, that which is the most imposing in ils external appearance, and I believe the most expensive in ils provisions, is the Military School already mentioned as fronting the Champ de Mars. it is under the direction of the minister of war. It was founded in 1751, by Louis XV. for the education of five hundred young noblemen- At some periods, it has been diverted from ils original destination, and converted'in- to barracks. The pile of buildings which it occupies, covers an extent exceeding in length, that ofthe Hospi tal des Invalides, but falling short in breadth. Like that edifice, the parts which compose it, so cross and unite as lo form right angled courts and gardens within its en closures, of which there are fifteen. The cadets are instructed, as at the Military Academy of our own coun try, in the arts and sciences requisite to form the soldier. From what I could learn, I was disposed to believe, their standard of scientific attainment, was much inferior to that of the cadets at West Point ; and also to that of tke Polytechnic school of Paris. Tbe Polytechnic school, of which we often bear, on account of improvements in education, here commenced, is also a military establishment. It is situated near the Luxembourg. The number of students is three hun- PARIS< 95 dred and sixty. The course and objects of instruction here, were, I beUeve, adopted in no inconsiderable de gree in those prescribed at West Point ; as the students, in both schools, are qualified for civil engineering, as well as for military discipline. Both the students of the military schools, and those of law and medicine, are generally liberals, admire the political regulations of our country, and bave for La Fayette, an enthusiastic regard. They are prompt lo act, and in the revolution of July, played a conspicu ous part In viewing the buildings of L'Ecole mili- laire, I was shown a high wall, which some of the young cadets scaled lo make their way into the cily and join the fight ; and General La Fayelle, who speaks of them as his children, described lo me astonishing instances of their valor, and commanding energies during the three days ; which show that if the veteran commanders of France have mainly passed away, she has among her youth the best of material for a new set. There is less resemblance, in the manner of educa ting young men in our country and in France, for civil, than for military occupations. — The term Academy, which is here used in reference to the very highest grade of education, has hy some means, been brought into use in America, as the name of a grade of inslilu tions, just above our common schools ; while the word college, both here and in England, is used to designate institutions, on the whole, inferior lo those of the same name with us. There are several colleges in Paris, where youth are received at an earlier age, kept longer, and learn the dead languages more thoroughly, than in ours. Bui Ihey look lo other sources, for completing their literary and scientific education if Ihey expect to be accomplished scholars. Paris shines preeminent above all other cities, for the facilities afforded to these ; and hence il is the place of resort for students, fiom every part of the civilized world. In the various branches of natural history and natural science, in medicine and surgery, the French profes sors stand unrivalled. And Ihey are supported too hy public munificence, so that the student can come to their 96 PARIS. learned lectures without money or price. Nor are the facilities of the student less, in the libraries, apparatus, natural and artificial specimens, provided for his use, — than in the instructions given him. The Royal Library contains seven hundred thousand volumes. There is nothing in the world so complete in ils kind, as the Cabinet of Natural History, at the Garden of Plants. The living animals from every region, and ve getable productions of every clime, are spread out be fore the student ; arranged to suit the principles, both of science and taste. (^Although my first object is lo learn the stale of education in France, particularly that of my own sex, yel no species of information seems so difficult of attainment. In our country, the education of the young, is one of the primary subjects of conver sation in tbe parlor ; and one of the first mentioned in public prints. Here, you are told of theatres, balls, concerts, and politics, but not of schools. Every pne knows the names of public singers, dancers, actors and actresses, but no one speaks of teachers ; unless occa sionally of learned, and distinguished professors. Those who labor for the instruction of youth, espe cially for those of our sex, seem to be regarded as fol lowing a servile occupation for gain ; and there is much reason to fear, tbey too generally regard themselves in tbe same light. I have, hov/ever, traced oul and visited a few female schools. I find them all modelled on the same plan ; and similar lo that of Madame M. — , described in ray letter to my sister. Tbe common dormitory I find in all. with large halls for common study. When, in conversation, a lady is described, I fre quently bear the expression — she is parfaitement in- struite, (perfectly educated) followed by tbe assertion that she can speak a certain number of languages, play on so many instruments, and perhaps to this list it is ad ded that she understands mythology and history, and is mistress of drawing. This is evidence to me not only of the defective, but of tbe wrong views here enter tained of female education. Yet if the female mind could become the subject of a proper moral and intel- PARIS. "' lectual culture, how would the evils which abound in Paris be ameliorated ! How different bad been the past history of France, if the influence of women had been what it should be I / Nothing I have seen abroad, has so exceeded my ex pectations, highly as Ihey were raised, as the appear ance of the ancient churches. Why I did not get a more just idea of the grandeur of their proportions, I cannot tell, unless il were, thai I did not read the num bers which described Ihem, slowly and with thought ; taking some familiar object of known dimensions, with which lo compare them. The cathedral of Noire Dame is four hundred feet in length, and 150 in width, and one hundred and four in height Now think how vast must be the interior of such an edifice. The material of which it is construc ted is massy stone. Look from its entrance through the long, long perspective, till beyond the nave, the objects are diminished, in the distant choir, to mere miniatures of altars, — and candles, and pictures, and statues. The priest as he moves in his pompous robes, and the hoys in while linen, who serve bim at the al tar, are, in size, but as the moving puppets of a show- box — and look far upwards to the vaulted roof; — and around, to see from whence are streaming those many- colored unearthly lights, which tinge every object with magical Itues. They come from more than a hundred windows, three of which are round and of forty feet di ameter ; — painted in curious figures, and of the richest dyes. Lower your vision lo examine the thirty rich chapelles, receding far into the sides between the mas sy pillars, and peopled hy the painter and sculptor, with a moveless congregation of saints and angels. — And hark — that slow and solemn sound, as it rises, at first faint ly, then louder, and now swells out in the full tones ot the grand organ. It is as if the notes of angels, min gled with the roar of waters. Amidst such a scene| one might fancy, il was the final trumpet ; awful, yet pleasing, as it will sound in the ears of the just. Now let us pass out of the church, and examine fof a moment, from a suitable distance, its exterior. Lift 9* 98 PARIS. your eyes slowly, — slowly, — and mark how long alime it lakes to raise them lo the top of those two square towers. They are two hundred feet in height. Six cen turies, these giant towers, yet strong, though aged, have withstood the assaults of nature, and of time. Think of the multitudes, who have thronged, from generation to generation, these lofty and venerable portals. Here, in the thirteenth century; congregated a mullilude, to hear one, who preached the third crusade.— But priests with their flocks, and kings with their people, have now gone down to the dust. What now avail the mitres which have here been worn ; or the crowns, with which proud heads have been encircled. All v.'ho have here received them from pontifical hands, have not waited for the grave, to show them how unsubstantial is Ihe. dream of ambition ; — not he, the Alexander of mo dern times, who sought the empire of the world ;— whose gaudy robes of coronation are yet displayed, the very mockery of human grandeur. And ye loo, ye toweis, ye shall one day rock upon your base, and fall. But there is that remaineth ; — a " strong tower, a suie defence to the righteous. ' , LETTER TO MY PUPILS— CONTINUED. The church which the royal family at present attend, is Ihat of St Roch, situated west of the Palais Royal, on the northern side of the Rue St Honore. Louis XIV. and his mother Anne, of Austria, (who was a great builder of churches,) laid its corner stone, ia March, 1653. It is a large and solid structure. Itsen- trance, or portal, is eighty-four feet in width, and of about the same beighlh ; and it has some very striking ornaaient.3 wdthin/^ I have once attended this church with some pious catholic ladies, who worship constant ly here. The assembly was so numerous that it could not have been contained, in what we should call a large PARIS. 99 church, but it occupied only a small portion of this. The part of the church where we stood on our first en trance, called the nave, is in length ninety feef Ils vaulted roof is supported by twenty pillars. The con tinuation of the nave called tbe choir, is in length fif ty feet ; where is the altar, and all the paraphernalia of the Roman Catholic service. Beyond the choir, is the chapel ofthe virgin, forty-seven feet in length, and ornamented with statues. This church, hke others on the same grand scale, though so imposing and splendid in appearance, is yet a most uncomfortable place for Ihe worshipper. There are no pews as with us ; but chairs with flag bot toms, like ours for kitchen use ; with lower ones of a similar kind for kneeling. These were placed, by hun dreds, for the accommodation of the assembly. But be neath our feet was the cold stone pavement. This splen did church with its costly ornaments, and these mean looking chairs, form another of those contrasts, which one so often meets in Paris. After the service was ended, a preacher mounted a pulpit, attached to one of the pillars which surround the nave ; of course not in the choir, where the service was performed. The congregation gathered around him; — those in the front of the preacher looking diagonally across the church. This pulpit is considered as quite a curiosity. Colos sal statues ofthe four evangelists form ils base. Above them, rises a winged genius, who with outstretched arms supports the body of the pulpit. Another genius meant to represent Truth, throws back a mimic curtain, representing the Veil of Error, . This is so arranged, as to form the sounding-board behind the speaker. A French writer, makes this sensible remark con cerning the ornaments of this church. " There reigns in the tout ensemble of the church of St. Roch, a marked intention to strike the imagination, which makes ' itself too much perceived. Such curiosities as it con tains, are not in my opinion, agreeable lo the grave and reverential dispositions of piety." The preaching of a Massillon or a Bourdeloue, would not have been in 100 PARIS. keeping with this place ; — but it suited exactly with the oratorical flourish of the over-animated preacher, whom I beard. At least, such was my opinion. He was, however, a favorite orator with the ladies, whom I ac companied, who perhaps were belter judges. His sub ject was the church ; — the church in its divine miracu lous powers ; — the church, now iu danger, and needing the most vigorous aid of its adherents. Of the meek and lowly Jesus, who went about doing good, little was said. After the sermon was ended, my attentive friends placed me in a favorable position to get a near view ot the ladies of the royal family, whom I bad seen, as Ihey sat in a kind of pew, constructed above one of the side chapels of the church. The lady who first descended was Mademoiselle d'Orleans, the king's sister ; next was the queen — then the princesses Louise and Marie. I took the first lady for the queen, and so it seems did a poor woman, who knelt and presented a petition. Mademoiselle d'Orleans took the paper, — gave il, and di rected the attention of tbe suppliant lo the queen ; to whom she spoke a few words, which were listened to with graceful condescension. The scene was, however, but for a moment The ladies were in mourning. Noth ing in their dress or deportment would have distinguish ed them from other very respectable and genteel people. The king's sister has an ugly face, but a good person ; — the queen appears to me delicate, graceful, and pleas ing, and her daughters handsome. Republican as I am, I was silly enough to be pleased, that the queen wore a cloak, in fashion and material, like one I had just b^en buying ; — of a blue-black gros des Inde, with a broad velvet cape. I do not hovvever put this important mailer altogether on the ground of her royal dignity. From all I bear, and from what I have had opportunities of observing, I^like the woman. The enemies of Louis Philippe, who say hard things of him, speak well of his queen ; as being a pious, virtuous^ charitable and amiable person ; a frequenter of the church, a good wife, — a seller of good examples to hef daughters ; — and to her country-women, — too many of PARIS'. lOI whom need them. And so I am pleased lo wear a cloak like hers ;— or rather lo speak in the character, which our poet Halleck gives of the people of my native state, willing that she should wear one like me. To speak more seriously, poor human nature is some times abused for its deference to power, In things without life, the rhetorician tells us that power and' force is an element of the sublime : — the sun which warms and fertilizes, and the storm which destroys, ahke possess this attribute. And when man pays the homage of involuntary awe lo power, found in inanimatE things, how can he do other, than reverence il, when associated with the noble faculties of his own species. The church of St Sulpice, of which, as well as of St. Roch, Ann of Austria laid the corner-stone, is in the vicinity of the Luxembourg ; and is superior in some of its dimensions even lo that of Noire Dame. But I find ils general appearance less coimnanding, in spiring less of religious veneration. The style of ils ar chitecture is Grecian, being mingled of the Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, and Composite orders. The portico has a magnificent aspect, and the ground in Ironl, is such as to give you a proper point of view. In fact il is throwing away the fine facade of a building, not to allow a suffi cient space before it lo give the beholder an opportunity of such a distance, as to take in the whole al a coup d!ceil. Lei us now lake a look at this portico. The length of the whole front is three hundred and eighty feet — At each extremity are two. square lowers rising lo the height of two hundred and ten feet. On a line with these lowers, commences a row of majestic Doric pil lars, each having a square base of ten. feet. The shafts of the columns rise lo the height of sixty feet. Over these, is solid work to support a tier of Ionic pillars, which are placed directly above the Doric, and carry the eye up in continued lines thirty-eight feet higher The pediment, which once pointed upwards between the towers, has been destroyed hy lightning. A heavy balustrade now supplies ils place, which carries fix eye. between the towers, in a line parallel with the 102 PARIS. horizon. Now turn your eyes downward, and at the foot ofthe bases ofthe columns, you perceive a flight of fifteen steps, by which you ascend to the floor of the portico, on a level with the tops of those bases. Upon this floor are other columns of corresponding dimensions, whose grandeur seems increased by their receding into shade. The whole number of columns above and below is sixty-eightThe interior is grand from its vastness, the whole length being four hundred and fifty-two feet, and its height one hundred. But il seems to me to want unifor mity and simplicity ; as not only the two orders on the outside, but the . Corinthian and Composite are here found also. The image ofthe virgin is, in this church, as in most others, the principal figure. Mary and the infant Saviour are represented by beautiful statues of white mfirble. She stands on a globe, (her infant in her arms,) tre-:'ling a serpent beneath her feel — her. head encircled by a glory. The deep recess, which con tains these statues, would be too dark, but a fine light falls in from above, beautifully touching the figures, while all around Ihem is comparative shade. At the distance of about a mile from St Sulpice to the southwest, is the elegant edifice sometimes called the Pantheon, Ihougb sometimes the new church of St Ge nevieve. It is called the new church, because it occu pies the site of an ancient one ofthe same name. The present building is recent, being begun so lately as 1764. The name Pantheon was given il during the revolution, when its destination was changed. Its vaults beneath, were appropriated lo receive the ashes of the dead, whom the men of those days wished lo honor ; nnd the church itself was to be their monument. The bones of Voltaire and Rousseau were among the first placed here ; and themselves deified (as one would suppose, by the name given to tbe monumental temple,) by men, who had become too wise and great, lo worship the majesty of Heaven. Bonaparte, though he still retained the usage of bu rying here, those whose memory he wished to honor, caused the building to be restored lo its rank as a church, PARIS. 103 and re-dedicated to ils patron Saint ; whose shrine bad been on Ibis spot since the days of Clovis and Clotilda, with whom she was a cotemporary. Louis XVllL, m 1822, having stripped the church of a variety of emblem atical bas reliefs, representing philosophy, morality, and other deities, worshipped with such bloody rites, during the revolution, caused it to be consecrated by Ihe Bish op of Paris. This church is, lo my eye, a perfectly beautiful edifice. Its dimensions are such as lo claim for it the sublime, but the lighter style of Grecian architecture, throws il be hind Notre Dame and others, in Ibis respect ; and its elegant proportions give the predominance to the beau tiful ; — whether viewed within or without Take a suitable point of distance from without on tbe Place St Genevieve, and you bave before you a colonnade advan cing from the centre of the church ; which extends to considerable distances on each side of the colonnade. In front of this, a flight of steps conducts to superb rows of Corinthian columns, six of which stand forward. These are fifty-eight feet in height, and five in diameter. Other columns are seen farther back in the shade, the whole number being twenty-two. Over these is a ped iment of perfect proportions ; above which the eye marks with delight as beautiful a dome as the sun shines upon. It is sixty-three feet in diameter at its base, upon which rises, in the fashion of a circular temple, a peris tyle of fifty-two Corinthian columns. On these rests the cupola. Now enter the church, and stand directly under the centre of the dome. Look upwards, and the concave seems almost fading in the distance. It is two hundred and eighty-two feet above your head. Look around and you will perceive that the body of the church is, in its ground plan, in the form of a cross. The four naves centre where you stand, and each one extends more than a hundred feel from your point of view. The nave be tween you and the entrance of the church, is perhaps two hundred feet. Mark the white marble pavement be- 304 PARIS. nealhyour feet II is of mosaic, into which is wrought al regular intervals, in black marble, the fleur de lis.* Since I have been in France, I learn that there is a strong party, and among them are some of the high catho lic clergy, who wish to place religion on its own proper basis T acknowledging not the Pope, but Jesus Christ, as prime head of the christian church. Relying on his di vine aid lo support it, they would neither seek to direct, or allow the church to be directed by human authority. Of course, these are with the liberal party in politics: General La Fayette named Ibis subject lo me ; and on- his remarking, that among other reasons which withheld Iheir raising the standard of open revolt against the powers that be in the catholic church ; was the want of a suitable place of worship, (all Ihe churches being un der the control of the arch-bishop and his adherents) I immediately Ihoughl of St. Genevieve ; which is not now used as a place of worship ; and I asked bim why it would not be, the proper spot. He said it had been much thought of, but there were difficulties to encoun ter. Probably tho queen's attachment to her religion, is one of those difficulties. The church of St. Germain L'Auxerrois, the irregu lar ancient pile, al which we formerly looked, was built by Childeric I., and completed as early as A. D. 606. — Its bell, called the locsin, sounded the first signal for (he infamous massacre of St. Bartholomew, contrived by Catharine de Medicis, thai woman — and no woman. It bas rich and beautiful decorations, having been for a long lime the parish church of the royal Bourbons, of whom I bear Marie Antoinette, more frequently men tioned than all the rest together. You must visit, 1 am told, the church of St Germain L'Auxerrois. Marie • After the disturbances of December, while the populace -were showing such dislike to the fleur de lis, and destroying whatever bore this hated emblem of their former servitude, I visited mis church, and missed the fleur de lis on the pavement; the whole ofthe stones which contained it appearing to be of black marble. I asked the monk who showed the church, the meaning of this. With a crafty bmile he stooped down, and with a wet cloth rubbed one ofthe stones, and the fleur de lis appeared. They had painted the stones lest the mob should destroy the church. PARIS. 105 Antoinelle attended the service, and received the sacra ment there ; and then I am told that the pastor of this church, disguised in a military dress, entered her prison and administered the commuoioo to her, tbe night before her execution. There is an expiatory chapel, erected near the Rue d'Anjou St. Honors, northwest of the church de la Ma delaine, to her memory, and that of her husband, over the spot where it is said, they were first interred ;* and where their remains were discovered, and after- • wards removed to the abbey of St. Denis. Our party had taken a carriage, and directed Ihe coachman lo drive us to tbe English ambassador's chapel. Mistaking his directions, he drove us lo this monumental edifice. We entered a sombre court, and proceeded through rows of the melancholy yew, along arcades in which were tombs, lo the entrance, of the dimly lighted, and mournful edi fice, dedicated to the unfortunate couple. It brought back lo me all the feelings of sympathy, with which I had once regarded Marie Antoinette ; considering ber a high-souled, persecuted, suffering woman ; — which have since given place, to more painful thoughts, of gifts perverted, and crimes punished, with which I am now l«d to regard her fate. More hapless, ills true, than that of suffering virtue ; but not like that, entitled to respect, and complacent regard. She was corrupted by her situation; and by means of her situation, she spread widely around her, tbe influence of vicious manners. How can Ihe philanthropist believe, that it is well for the world thai systems of government should be upheld, whose natural tendency is lo corrupt those who are at the head of society ; and who, of course, are looked up to as examples for the whole community. In visiting these churches, I am sometimes amused with the accounts of their origin, which show the su perstitions of former days. The old church St. German des Prh, (a little north of St. Sulpice,) was founded by * I was told in Paris, that notwithstanding the accounts given ofthe discovery and removal of these remains, that the thing was impossible that they were thrown into a common receptacle of flie dead, with such a quaiilitv of quick-lime, that, all the banes were reduced to an indis- tingiu'shable mass. 10 106 PARIS. Childebert in 543 ; at the request, we are told, of the saint whose name il bears, that he might place there an efficacious morsel ofthe true cross, and a wonder-work ing piece of the tunic of St Vincent. The principal church of the metropolis, as we have seen, bears the name of Notre Dame — Our Lady. Be sides this, there are at least three others, which bear the same name, with soinp additional appendages. JVo- tre Dame de Bonnes JVouvelles— Oar Lady of good tid ings ; JVotre Dame des Fictoires—Ouv Lady of victo ries ; and M'otre Dame des Blancs Manteaux — Our Lady . of white mantles. Besides this, the chapel in each church, having the richest ornaments, is dedicated to the virgin. There are few places of worship in Paris for the Protestants. The one best known is called V Oraloire, and is situpted on the Rue St Honore, near the north west corner ofthe Louvre. We here sometimes listen to the pious Mr. Wilkes, who notwilbstading his feeble health, fails not lo encourage, warn, and exhort, a little company of believers. His room is small, and is ap proached by ascending a long flight of stairs, and winding through extensive and narrow passages ; and it appears to be in a corner and under the roof. We bave once or twice attended the service performed in a lower and larger room, where a son of'bishop Lusconlb sometimes ofiiciales, and sometimes the Rev. Mr. Lefevre. It is a striking change, in the use ofthe spot of earth -where this building stands, that it lakes the place of the hotel of the beautiful Gabriella d' Estrees, so often menlioned in the history of Henry IV. There is also a service performed, which al first we attended, al the chapel of the English ambassador, at present a Scotch peer. Lord Stuart de Rolhsay. This chapel is in the Rue Faubourg St Honor'S. Here the English nobility, and other distinguished persons ofthat nation, generally resort, to attend on the ministrations of the venerable Bishop Luscomb. Things here have an air of fashion. You mast go yery early to get a seat at all ; and you must wait for the service to commence, till the ambassador and his PARIS. 107 family (for whom a row of seats next the altar are re served) enter, at a side door. Not much liking all this, after a few Sundays, we lefl attending regularly here ; my friend Mr. D. having found at the Hotel Mar- boeuf, a place, that, on the whole, suited us both, belter than any other we had tried. I must say, however, that I was well pleased with Bishop Luscomb, the resi dent English Bishop. In doctrine he seemed to me sound, in manners grave, and unaffected. With the ap pearance and countenance of Lord Stuart and his family, I was also pleased. Indeed, the Scotch even appear to me like Americans. I think Lord and Lady Stuart, and their family of daughters of all sizes, with Iheir neat simple dresses, and pretty, though plain bonnets, might have entered any church in New-York, without being thought foreigners, or other than a very genteel family cf Americans. Tbe place of worship we now settle upon, as our Sun day home, is as I have said before, al the Hotel Mar- boeof, beyond the Champs Elysees. Here we find coun tenances betokening pious reflections ; looks Ihal seem " commerciog with the skies," and a preacher whose soul seems kindled with holy zeal. He sometimes de nounces the corruptions of the Romish church, with Lutfaereaa energy and boldness. We of course as Pro testants, look on some ofthe practises of this church as calculated to bring down that spiritual worship, which "God who is a spirit" demands of bis creatures, to something not much better than a kind of idolatry of the senses. I wish pious Roman Catholics, who from being used to the numberless statues and pictures of their churches, cannot be sensible of the first feehngs which are excited on viewing Ihem, could know the horror which a mind, accustomed never to think of God, but as tbe formless, viewless soul of all things, and all worlds, — is filled, lo behold Him pictured forth, bounded by form, — and the tenant of a little space. I shun to look at such pictures, as 1 would seek to save my rich est treasure— as I would avoid dropping into Ihe flames, the deed of my best possessions. From the church where man learns to die, the transi- 108 PARIS. ition is natural to the place of his last repose. In the interesting character of their cemeteries, the Parisians excel all other people. Of the great subterranean char nel-house, which, under Ihe name of the catacombs, spreads its dreary confines under so great a part of Par is, and contains such an immense congregation ' of the dead, I have already spoken. Here are collected, from the former cemeteries of Paris, the bones of thirty gen- eratians ; a number said lo be eight limes more nume rous than the busy multitude wiihin the walls ofthe city.* These excavations were made by quarrying for building stone. They came al length lo be considered as endan gering the lives of the inhabitants. Al one time, from the falling in of some buildings, so great was tbe alarm fell, lest the whole ground above Ihem should give way, that supporting pillars and props were erected, lo cor respond with the streets and edifices above. The crowd now pursue their business and pleasure, reckless alike, that their foundation is undermined, and that the bones of the dead are beneath their feel ;^lhough one would suppose thai Ihey would be reminded of it, by the horri ble name of the Rue d'Enfer,-f tbe street which leads to their entrancd. I believe thai strangers are not at this lime permitted lo visit the catacombs. Pere La Chaise is a cemelry where the feeling of awe and solemn contemplation on human mortality, is wonderfully and sweetly tempered, by the emotions caused by its great beauty. I had dwelt with pleas ure on the excellent description of our countryman, Mr. Carter, and others ; yet fhe reality surpasses the ima gination. The main circumstances which strike us a( first view, are the extent of the ground, covered by the -thickly placed monuments ; — the variety and elegance of the monuments ; — the contrasts made by the different form and color ofthe yew and willow, and other funeral trees ; — and the varied appearance, which the fine ir- * I find thatthe authorities as to the numbers, of the dead coUected in these catacombs, difi-er from three hundred thousand to more than six miUioDs. t Street of Hell. PERE LA CHAISE. 109 regularity ofthe ground presents, — now rising by gentle slopes, and now by bold acclivities. In our approach, we passed through ranks of women, who sit near the gate, making and selling artificial flow ers, to be bung over the graves. They also twine the real natural flowers, into " amaranthine wreaths ;" a name more imposing to the ear, than these hltle clus ters of white and yellow globe-flowers are lo the sight. Yel as they fade not, nor wither, they are regarded as fit emblems ofthe virtues of the dead, and the affections ofthe living. Leaving these, we entered the solemn gate — read its awe-inspiring inscriptions — were conducted by our guide up the broad avenue, and examined many of its monu ments — passed the little sepulchral chapel, beneath whose roof of pointed arches the figures of Abelard and Eloisa are slretched out in fhe semblance of death, their ashes mingling beneath : — we had viewed amidst thou sands of other monuments, those of Admiral Colbert, De- lille,,and the recent one of Talma ; we vvere examining others, when the sound of martial music warned us of the approach of a military funeral on our left. Some of our party, of whom I was one, desirous lo see the pa rade, spud across the graves, in the nearest course to the place indicated by the sound. We were politely aided, in clambering some monuments which impeded our vyay, by two women of decent appearance ; who perceiving that we were foreigners, gave us directions how to proceed. But with all our efforts, we could not get near enough to view the ceremony ; though a part of Ihe numerous procession were near, and the guns, as it were, in our ears. We had, however, reached a part of fhe cemetery where were monuments more splendid than any we had before seen ; among which was one ofthe wife of a for mer Russian minister, Demidoff. Beneath a curiously wrought roof, (if so il might be called,) of grey raarbe, supported at the corners by pillars, is her figure, repos ing as if in death, on a mimic couch of marble. We lin gered awhile to examine Ibis, and other exquisite speci mens of art ; and then thought of finding our way and 10* 110 PERA LA CHAISE. our guide, which we had left in Ibis erratic excursion. But we were lost, and went forward and around, and for some time could find no trace of any thing we had seen, or by which we could retrace our road, — allast, in the main avenue, we met our companions. This little inci dent shows the extent and variety ofthe grounds. We afterwards went lo another, and still more distant quar ter ; and here were superb monuments of several of Bonaparte's generals, and the no-monument of the un fortunate Ney; more noticed from this peculiarity, which would deprive bim of notoriety. Were I in the spirit of criticism, 1 could find subjects for il, in the shabby decorations, which we frequently see in the hltle box-like chapels made over the graves; where are waxen figures of the Virgin, surrounded with coarse, arti'ficial flowers ; and also in the ill-judged epi taphs, over many ofthe graves. We are told, by good authority, that there is one here to the memory of a merchant, erected by his wife ; who, after assuring the public of the virtues of the deceased ; informs Ihem, that his business will be continued at the old stand, by his widow. We visited Ibis cemetery, soon after our arrival at Paris, on a delightful day. The grass, and foliage of the trees were yel ofthe deepest and richest green ; and many of the flowering plants, with which the graves in all directions were adorned, were in full blossom. The monthly rose every where shed ils perfume, and dis played its blushes ; while garlands of artificial flowers were hung by the hand of bereaved affection on the deep green boughs of funereal shrubs ; and in some in stances emblematical flowers carved in marble, fell on marble stones, laid vvilh artful irregularity lo imitate a natural pile. Here and there an obehsk — a pyramid,— or a single pillar rose high ; then a sculptured figure lay prostrate on a tomb. Here was a marble bust, and there a " well dissembled mourner." Every form of monumental beauty, which genius can execute, or wealth can procure, 16 here lo be found. Il seemed to me as I looked around— as 1 wandered far— as I regarded from the height of St Louts this wilderness of monuments ; that as much mo- PERA LA CHAISE. Ill ney had been here expended as on all the public build ings of Paris ; though they are acknowledged to be more rich and elegant, than those of any other cil-y in tbe world. There are in Paris several other cemetaries. That of Mont Martre, in particular, is worthy of examination; though it bears no comparison in point of elegance to P^re La Chaise. — But in them all, is apparent a portion of French character, which is worthy of imitation. It consists in the care, which all feel bound lo lake of pub lic monuments, and in that respect for Ihe memory of the dead, which prompts lo Ihe utmost attention lo the places where Ihey repose.* * The Baroness Piehon, daughter of the celebrated Brougniart, with whom I afterwards became acquainted, called on rae one morning, with a countenance bearing marks of recent tears. She apologized for her want ofspirits by saying, "I have been to Pere La Chaise to take care of the graves of my poor parents." It i.g to Brougniart that Paris is in debted for the elegant plan of this cemetary. JOURNAL. Thursday, Dec. 9th. — From my first arrival, I have been seeking an opportunity of visiting St Denis, on ac count of Ihe celebrated female school there located. St. Denis is about three miles north of Paris. It owes its first celebrity lo ils church, and ibis our party first visited. It is a Gothic structure, of an irregular form, having been built at five successive periods; Ihe first of which can claim an antiquity of twelve hundred years : it having been founded by Dagobert It is a grand edifice, and although undergoing some repairs, will yet, from the solidity of its structure, outlast a dozen successive church es, such as are built in our country. The stained windows have great richness and beauty. Tbe church is cruciform. The two great round win dows al each extreme side, are richly stained, and seem lo radiate from a centre, and form concentric rings of similar objects, like tbe magnified image seen through a kaleidoscope. Beneath this church, the kings of France were bu ried ; and their monuments are placed partly in the body of the church, and partly in tbe low-arched and darksome vaults beneath. Here seems to dwell the genius of her history, and point you, one by one, lo the marble figures of her former sovereigns ; — some as if reposing on their tombs, in their royal robes upon couch es of stone : and some extended to view as if in the ha biliments of the grave ; — their dead faces and feel ex posed ; for marble can imitate either death or life. Here frowns a warrior in bis helmet and mail ; and there, with countenance of sainlly show, stands an ab bess, with her fillet, her veil, and her low depending robes. In the solemn vaults of St. Denis, amid tbe sculptured congregation of dead royalty, you see not 114 ST. DENIS< only the warrior, and the aged statesman ; but the mar ble infant smiling beside its dead mother. These were of royal blood ; and while the good and great often sleep unhonered, these little useless beings must have their lineaments preserved lo posterity. Yel, Heaven rest their souls ! Ihey were innocent. Would that their fathers and mothers had been so loo ! It is said that Louis XlV. would not inhabit the palace of Si. Germain, because it Was wiihin hearing of the bell of St Denis; which reminded him, that regal splen dor, must at last end ils career, in its damp and silent vaults. This bell pealed, while we were al the church. Its sound was melodious, yel grand, beyond any other which 1 have ever heard. In the body of the church, near Ihe altar, and on the right hand as you approach from the entrance, stands an object of funereal gloom. It is hearse-like, of black vel vet, with white plumes nodding al the corners. Tbe arms of France, glittering in silver lustre, are embroi dered upon its descending folds. We are told thai under this pall, always reposes the last king of France. Louis XVIII. is now resting beneath this sombre canopy. From the church, we proceeded to the Royal House, which was constituted in 1809 by Bonaparte, for the edu cation, of the daughters of the officers, belonging to the Legion of Honor. This school, was al first placed un- <3er the direction of the celebrated Madame Caropan at Ecouen, and was afterwards removed lo St Denis. — The object of Napoleon was, to attach the military more firmly to his person, by making a safe and popular re treat, for the daughters of his indigent officers, or of those who died in his service. Had bur sex owed Ibis monu ment of his bounty, to his wish of elevating us in the scale of intellectual and moral being, we should bave been still more his debtors, by Ibis liberal act. This school has, for a longtime, been with me a spe cial object of curiosity ; and we were indebted to the kind ness and influence~of Mr. Cooper, for a permission to visit il, obtained from the Marshal McDonald ; who, ar Grand Chancellor of the Legion of Honor, is its head, and the only person who has power to grant such per- ST. DENIS. 115 missions. He also nominates the pupils to the king, who appoints them. ' The number of gratuitous pupils, is fixedalfour hun dred ; besides which, one hundred boarders are admitted who defray their expenses. Al the head of the house, is a lady called la surintendante.* The ladies under her orders, who perform the duties of instructing and govern ing the school, are seven dames dignitaires, ten dames of the first class, thirty-six of the second class, and twenty novices. These ladies wear decorations according to Iheir rank. Thai of the dames dignitaires is the silver cross. Tbe central building, I should suppose, not less than three hundred feel in length, and it is three stories in height. Extending in a circular direction from each of its ends, is a long low building of only one story. These two wings extend to the street, and enclose a fine areti in front. We observed from the windows as we went over the building, that there were other extensive gar dens and pleasure grounds on the other sides, attached to the establishment. We entered at the street gale, and showed the porleressour letter to the superintendent She took the letter, and conducted us along one of tbe low circular buildings, through a corridor, the windows of which on our left, looked into the area in front ; on our right," there were doors, over which were wrilten the names of the apartmeols. These were little par lors for the Dames or Teachers of the several classes. And for the first and second classes ; al the end of the corridor we were invited into a small room, and intro duced to a lady, whom I have since learned was one of the dames dignitaires, and this, her week of duty. She examined Ihe permission given by Marshal McDonald ; and immediately, with the utmost kindness of manner, proceeded to conduct us through the apartments. We then entered another corridor ; and here we saw the pupils, as it was an hour of recreation, walking as if for amusement and exercise : some in small groups, many in pairs, walking arm in arm, and here and there a soli- * She is mpehet-inMaw to the Grand Chancellor. 116 ST. DENIS. tary one walking and musing by herself. They remind- ed me of my own dear girls ; but there were differences in their appearance. Their costume was entirely of black woolen stuff, in no way distinguished, the one class from the other, except by the color of the long red, or while, or striped girdle, which each wore around the waist ; and which I understood was the badge of her standing as a scholar. Their countenances wore in gen eral the appearance of health, and yet less of content ment, (so I thought,) than my own pupils. Their faces were generally less beautiful, than my own American girls ; but Iheir persons were generally better made, and Iheir movements more graceful. Their carriage was erect, and all the younger ones appeared to me bncor- setted. Our conductress next showed us the chapel, which was handsome and commodious. An altar with images, candles and crucifixes, after IheBoman catholic fashion, was at the further extremity. Along each side of the middle aisle, were seats for the pupils, and al one end of each a cushion for a dame. We next went to the refectory, a long room arranged with tables and seats running transversely. As we pass ed through the centre of the room, these tables were to our right and left. I think there were places for twen ty al each, with a dame at the head. Near the centra was a raised seat for a. dame dignitaire ; a hammer for rapping to order, lay upon il. Al the head ofthe room was a hand writing on the wall, " Place for criminals," which I was sorry lo see. We saw also the kitchen ; every thing was on a grand scale, and nothing crowded or inconvenient* * A lady, who was educated at this scliool, gives me the following particulars respecting the fare, hours of repast, &c. Study hours be gin at seven in the morning. At eight the pupils have soup and bread ; sometimes in the summer, bread and milk. At one they dine. Atfout o'clock in the winter, they have dry bread, in summer bread with fruit ; seven o'clock, supper ; two dishes warm in winter ; always somethilig at nine in winter, at half past nine in summer. Dinners —Sunday, at ways boillon (boiled beef) and soup. Monday, breast of mutton with potatoes. Tuesday, beef fried, radishes and butter. Wednesday, mutton fricaseed with potatoes. Thursday, roasted veal and sallad. Friday, souu-maigre, lenules (beans) lor sorrel. Saturday, two dish es pf vegetables. -^ ' ST. DENIS. 117 These rooms were all on the ground floor, and be sides these, were Iwo large apiirlments for drawing scholars. Here 1 saw Iheir progress io every stage. Tbe beginners had black boards of a portable size, on. which they drew eyes, and mouths, &c., from copies which had been set them ; then hands and feet. Their next stage was to draw the whole face from copies. Afterwards they drew heads, hands, and arms, from models in plaster, and thus by degrees they learned to draw from nature. Theirfirst drawings were altogether in crayon ; but after they began colouring, they mostly painted in oil. They had I think some models for fruit and flowers, as well as for figures. They painted many landscapes and history pieces, after patterns taken from pictures in the Louvre. After seeing the apartments on the first floor, we ascended to the second story, where we saw the two great dortoirs of the eslablishrnenl ; one containing two hundred, the other three hundred beds. Those for the pupils had no curtains ; those for ihe dames, which were intermingled with Ihem, had each a simple white cur tain. There was near the centre a raised bed for a dame dignitaire. From the dormitories we proceeded to the apartments ofthe physician, of which there are three ; one for his library, one for preparing medicines, and another where they are kept. From thence we went lo the apartments used as hospitals, which are on the third story. Here every thing was clean and in good order ; there were two rooms, and a number of beds in each. The measles was prevailing, and there were perhaps fifteen or twenty sick, two or three of whom were in bed, and the others sitting up io their night gowns and caps. I said some kind words to them, and they looked towards me with affectionate smiles. Con tiguous to Ihe hospital, were rooms containing baths, which we understbod were used in rotation, in such a manner that all were accommodated. From these apartments we were taken lo a room where the more advanced pupils were learning to draw from nature. A young lady was painting (he likeness ot one of her companions, who was silling for that pur- 118 ST. DENIS. pose. Another was taking a matron of a dignified ap pearance, who sal with her back to the door, dressed in a black silk velvet, and holding forth her gloved hand with untiring patience. I stole round to gel a look al her ladyship's face, and laughed in it without any breach of politeness, for it was of wax. From this room we proceeded to another on the same floor, where em broidery was taught. There was one piece done in flowers on silk, the colours and work very beautiful ; it was for the long piece which in the priest's dress de pends from his neck, and hangs down his back. Most ofthe woik however, was for covers of tables, foot stools, &.C., done in worsted yarn of bright colors; a kind of work which is quite fashionable among the French ladies, and of which Ihey make socks to be worn over the shoes, and a variety of other little articles. I was told that the pupils did not spend much of their time al embroidery. The da7ne of this department said, that they were however all obliged lo learn the use of ihe needle, and that each made her own clothes. As we were descending, we passed a room where a class of about thirty, were paraded for a dancing lesson. A dame stood by to govern thern, and 1 observed they had a female teacher. We also saw a large apartment where music lessons were given, where were ten or more pianos for music practice. In descending to the lower floor, we were shown into alarge room, whose walls were covered with paintings, said lo be wholly the work of the pupils during the last six months. Many of Ihem were works of which mas ters need not have been ashamed ; and showed that the art was well understood by the pupils. After seeing the school, we were introduced to the superintendent, who is Ihe mother-in-law ofthe grand chancellor. Her par lor was elegant, and the reception of us lady-like. She asked me queslions of ir-y own school, and if I was pleas ed with the arrangements at St. Denis. Our conductress then look us back through the corridor, by which we had entered. She remarked in the course of conversa tion, that all strangers could not be shown Ibis place as iwe had been,—- Ihat it was seldom shown so entirely, ex- ST. DENIS. 119 cepl lo members ofthe royal family. This was a com pliment rather lo JVIr. Cooper, than to our party. The order for our arrmittance was given to " Mr. Cooper and his friends." It seems the ladies had had previous in telligence that such a one had been given, and ihey were much disappointed thai he did not come in person, nnd said ihey hoped that he would yet honor them with a visit.* During my visit, 1 hinted a wish lo see some of the classes at recitation ; but my hint was not taken. I ex pressed many thanks to the lady who bad so kindly spent the morning for our gratification. I had before told her, why I was so deeply interested in female schools, — I was myself devoted lo the cause of female education. In America, we were comparatively a recent people, and hoped to learn much, from their skill and experience. I then cisketl Irer, if u. would be consistent with their usa ges, that I should be allowed fo peruse the rufes and reg ulations of the institulion. She replied with the utmost politeness, that she would seek permission of the grand chancellor, when she had an opportunity ; as without this il would be impossible.! Tbe government pays a large sum, for the support of this establishment ; probably not less than one hundred thousand dollars per annum. Besides Ihe pupils of St. Denis, there are' about four hundred conlained in its two dependent institutions, call ed Succursales one of which is located al Paris, Ihe other at St. Germain in Laye. *M''- Cooper is esteemed in France as a better writer than Sir Walter Scott, by the majority of those with whom I have conversed on the subject. In fact, they place him here quite at the head of the novel writers of the day. t She (lid not forget her- promise. I repeatedly heard during my stay in Pans, that things were in a train for me to see the rules ; but to my regretthey were not yet in readiness at the time of my leaving Pa ris. Une ofthe dames at St. Uenis was afterwards desirous of accom- buth'il^mTh' "u™*' ^''.rausic teacher, (her occupation there) on „f=,Z h "T'S "?.' S'™ •;«¦¦ <=onsent. The lady whom 1 brought "nslimtfon Sh' °^ '^ I'^l^^ language, was one of the pupils of tlis efwelve years very young, and remained'initasmany 120 PARIS. Friday, lOth. — This morning was spent in visiting with Dr. Niles the Chamber of Deputies. The sub ject of appropriating money for an expected war, was before the House, and il was discussed as every thing seems here lo he, with great animation. Saturday, llth.—l went to the college of France, lo hear a lecture from the Baron Cuvier. The personal appearance of this wonderful savan answers my expec tation, which is saying a great deal. His large and strongly marked head, is lo me sublime. I regarded it with attentive observation, and considered bow the works of God, exceed those of man. Wiihin the little circle of that wall of bone, what stores of knowledge reside I The mind, which there inhabits, has been nour ished to its prodigious growth, by the products of Ihe whole earth ; and il has sent forth an impulse which every pari of the civilized world hae felt. Suppose for a moment the whole knowledge of events and facts, and all the reasonings and deductions past and present of that mind, were developed in words ; the world could scarce contain the books that would be wrilten. Sup pose every conception of things external — whether of the concave heavens, or of the broad earth with her mountains and vales, which those eyes have conveyed to thai mind, could he brought forth, and stamped on . some material medium, in the size which il has con ceived, or now conceives them; with all the mingled forms into which fancy has arranged them, and all the images with which other minds have furnished to that skull of a span's diameter ; if the channels of the deep were dry, the mighty cavities could not contain the pic tures. What then are towers, and domes, aud palaces, to that little temple, where dwells unbounded mind. The lecture was introductory lo a course of natural history ; and brought forth in simple and forcible lan guage, the peculiarities of this philosopher's researches into comparative anatomy ; precisely the subject on which I wished to hear him. He repeated thai wonder ful truth, that a profound knowledge of the animal structure may enable its possessor, having one single bone, to determine its species and character. He PARIS. "^ dwell upon this subject, and explained it, with pious ascriptions, of unerring wisdom, lo the Author ot that structure. It was the finding of His design, who never works without a purpose, or fails of accomphshing it , which was the key of the whole mystery. The enunciation of Cuvier was very different from. that of the speakers al the Chamber of Deputies ;— more like the speech of a grave and dignified, yet polite Eng lish orator ; not that perpetual flow, of unemphasised and unaccented words, which French speaking often presents ;— the close of a period seeming to bring up lo such a pause, as a horseman in full lilt makes, when an unexpected ravine crosses his way. The consequence was, that 1 understood his French more perfectly than any other, which I have heard in Paris ; except, il may be, that of Madame George La Fayelle. I compared the physiognomy of Cuvier, with that of La Fayette ; and find in each, the peculiar differences of their character. They have both noble countenan ces; but menial strength is Cuvier's leading character istic, — benevolence thai of La Fayette. Cuvier's vis age invites the student to approach with profound re spect, and ask for knowledge. La Fayette's beckons the unfortunate lo come with confiding love, and re ceive sympathy and protection. Sunday, 12lh. — We attended church at the Hotel Marboeuf. The funeral obsequies of Benjamin Con stant were this day celebrated with much parade. The fatigues of General La Fayelle' gave apprehension that his health might suffer, and a report was spread lo this effect I was pleased lo remark that the Carlisls, whom I had heard say,, that La Fayette was a man of straw,* — • Accustomed as we are to hear of French politenesSj-it will hardly be credited, that French gentlemen would make such remarks to me, or in my hearing, with knowledge of my filialregard for La Fayette. But, for a time, I scarcely ate a meal, without being thus entertained. I remonstrated — begging the gentlemen to consider that La Fayette was not only the acknowledged father of my country, but that individu ally, and from personal acquaintance, I hadi those feelings of friendship for him, that whatever was said of him, affected me, as if it were said of my own father, or brother. With regard to his poUtical course, that was a proper subject of free remark; but expressions of contempt against him personally, it afflicted me to hear.. Notwithstanding this.. 11* 122 PARIS. that the government were tired of him — that there was talk of sending him to Algiers ; — these persons now showed au involuntary alarm at the news of his ill health, and were obliged lo acknowledge how important, al this crisis, pending the trial of the ministers, was his life and exertions. Nevertheless they treated the memory of Benjamin Constant with the most decided contempt I remarked to Ihem, there is One difference that I no tice between your manners and ours. If we think ever so ill of a man, we generally bury our animosities in his grave. I said to Mr. D — . that the anecdote which had been told us hy one of our royalists, of a human arm be ing carried about the streets on a pike, during the three days, might well be true. If the character of the dead, could, while his friends were yet mourning over his re mains, and his funeral riles unpaid, — be mangled in the salon ; their bodies, we could well believe, might be mangled in the streets. Il is almost incredible to me to hear with what con tempt the people are spoken of; — as wretches who have nothing to do, but to plod on in whatever occupation they may chance to follow ; and who, for a few sous, could be influenced lo do any deed, however dark. I was last evening in company with a royalist, and said something of the opinions of the people. These senti ments of contempt were expressed. I replied, that cer tainly there were a class of low individuals every where, especially in all great cities ; but for the body of the in habitants, the case was different ; they deserved more respect, and kings would be obliged lo learn that they must respect the people they governed. " The people !" was reiterated in a sarcastic tone. " The people are not the nation !" I dropped the conversation, thinking declaration, the offence was repeated, till I was near leaving ihe house, where 1 was then boarding. Things were, however, different after- w.-irds. These gentlemen, who were thus guilty of a rudeness such as 1 never witnessed in my own country, were yet, in other respects, truly polite. , Another example under the general remaik that France IS aland of contrasts, where every thing good and bad exists in its ex tremes : and sometimes individual characters resemble in this respect their nation. ' ^ SEVRES. ^23 Ihat one might as well discuss a malhemalical question, with a person who denied that the whole was greater than ils part Monday, 13.— Our parly went to visit Sevres, the great manufactory of porcelain. It is beautifully situated on the Seine, about three miles west of Paris, on the road to St Cloud. Our conductor first showed us some of the clay of Limoges, of which porcelain is made. He then showed us the manner in which the first operation is performed, after the clay is wrought to a suitable Consistence. The instruments are of the most simple kind— hands, a lathe, and a few implements after the fashion of kniVes and scissors. A man was lo make the central part of a vase. He took a ball of clay in his hands, passed through ils centre a spindle, which was attached to the lathe, and was the axis on which this little globe of clay turned. — Then by his hands, he worked it as it was turned, into a shape which was nearly as he wished ; then applied to the clay, still turning, the instruments lo make it ex act. It was then set lo dry, after which, we were told, another operation was lo be performed upon it with sharper instruments. I saw a man cut a fluted cup, when the ware was in this stage of its progress. It was done by an instrument fixed in a lathe. After this process, the ware was placed for a lime in a furnace. Then the liquid which is lo constitute the enamel, is put on it, with brushes. We were told that this liquid was made from a species of feldspar, found in the vicinity of the porcelain clay. After Ibis process, the fine ware was put in a vessel of coarser clay, and placed in furnaces where it was kepi eight days. After this the painting and gilding was performed, and il was again put in a furnace, where aless degree of heal was employed. In passing through the room where the painting and gilding was done, we observed a number of little boys who were faking their first lessons in drawing. I found these were taught much in the same manner as the pupils at St Denis. After going through the various rooms, where these pro cesses were performed, we were next shown a suite o£ 124 SEVRES. Bparlmenls, containing specimens of the porcelain of Sevres as it was made at the commencement of the man ufactory ; and al different .periods since. This served to mark the steps by which it lias advanced, from a rude state, to the most splendid manufactory of the kind which the world affords. We were next shown speci mens of porcelain from every other nation, where this art has been cultivated. China, Italy, Austria, Prussia, and Russia, were all honored in their works ; but Sevres surpasses them all. We next visited rooms where were innumerable figures of persons known in history. These are left in an unfinished state. The material of which they are made is called biscuit de. Sevres. Here the history of France is illustrated hy the' semblances of her monarchs and great men. Some of the figures were ahout a foot in height, some smaller, some larger, and some busts were as large as life. There were also likenesses in relief. I purchased those of Henry the Fourth, and Marie Antoinette. There was a set of little figures of the Roman worthies, and many representations also, of the gods and goddesses of the Greek mythology.. There were also arms, bands and heads, as models for scholars in drawing. On the subject of likenesses of kings, who are im portant (if in no other pointof view) as marking the his tory and chronology of the nation ; — and of the illuslri- Qus men, lo whom the nation owes a grateful remem brance, — and of those who have done good in the church, — I see much lo admire in France. Every where we find the personal appearances of these preserved, — from the colossal marble figures, which look majestically down upon the passer of the Pont Louis XVI. to the beautiful, and perfect little images of clay at Sevres. We see them where the philosopher delivers his lecture, — ^where the legislator gives bis vote, — al the entrances of pri vate houses— in the halls, and gardens, and groves of palaces, — upon the public square,— within the solemn shades of the cemetery, and along the aisles and chapels of the churches. Every where we meet the countenances of the greater good of former times. Every where thfi: SEVRES. ^25 rehgion, or virtue, or beauty, or valor, or power, of de parted days is commemorated ; and lo those who de light in history, there is the pleasing illusion of commu ning with the illustrious dead. I think we have too little of this in our country. Washington, and almost he alone, is preserved, as the French here preserve their heroes ; bnt there are many of our patriots, whom suc ceeding, ages will regard with admiration, whose mortal semblance can no where be found. After viewing the porcelain figures, we returned to the room into which we had first been shown, and from thence went lo another part of the building, where we passed through several rooms, filled with the most ex quisitely finished articles. Here were sets of plates of a size smaller than our ordinary dining plates, of which each plate bore a price of three hundred francs, about eighty dollais. The mosl superb of the articles were large urns and vases, and a kind of secretary. Of these last, there were only three. There were also some exquisite pictures in porcelain framed. Here were an abundance of cups, plates, lea, coffee, and dining sets, and, in fine, every thing of the kind, that well paid ingenuity — could invent for luxu ry. I was desirous of making a few purchases, but found Ihe articles so dear that I was discouraged — Their great price is mostly to be ascribed to the expen sive nature of the labor employed. They are painted by superior artists, many of Ihem as carefully as min^ iatures, or flower paintings, of the nicest kind. The colors employed, must also be cosily. If the least im perfection is fonnd in any article, it is not painted, but sold white. Much porcelain entirely while, is used in Paris, for ordinary table furniture. Tuesday, 14 — A report was yesterday in circulation that General La Fayette was ill. The anxiety mani fested by the royalists, I had again occasion to re mark. They well know how important is his existence at this moment, lo the tranquillity of France. I had in passing the Etat-Major yesterday, sent a servant to en quire his health, and learned that he had, as was r&. ported, suffered in consequence of having walked, ss 126 pAKis. one of the bearers, at Benjamin Constant's funeral — Madame George La Fayette, called on me this morning, and from her I rejoice lo learn, that the General is now well. She spoke of the pending trial of the ministers; said it was a serious matter, and, advised me, if I wish ed lo visit schools, or any thing of the kind, lo be in dustrious this week, as the next, il would probably be better lo remain at home. She insisted on my coming this evening to the soire^; which, as I had been so often, I had intended al this time lo miss. I saw again the benignant face of La Fayette, and fell the kind paternal grasp of his hand, and heard his affectionate — " How do you do, my dear friend." Once in the course of the evening, he made his way through the crowd, and came to me. He asked me if I was going to Mrs. Rives' the next eve ning. I said I was- ^' Then" sai Vanity puffs up a man, and makes him overrate his own consequence. Again, it leads him to be revengeful to those who refuse him the praise he covets. But who can charge La Fayetie wilh either ? His conduct, in reference lo the present govern- 192 PARIS. ment of France, would prove il a falsehood, should any make such an accusation. While he encourages a con stitutional opposition to measures which he disapproves, he exerts an active influence lo keep the people from avenging bis personal wrongs ; and no want of the most scrupulous courtesy has ever appeared in his be havior to tbe reigning family. He goes to court, and his family often go, as if he had no cause of dissatisfac tion there ; and thus his friends, who see that he passes over his ill treatment unnoticed, and as il were forget ting it, are led hy his example in some measure to for get it too. No ! it is not so much the praise, as the af fection of his fellow-beings, that is,dear lo La Fayette. He loves bis kind ; and il is grateful lo his benevolent heart to be loved in return. And in this he is gratifi ed ; for whichever way he turns, he sees faces beaming with affection. In the soiree this evening, I witnessed the arrival and warm reception of Gen. Bernard, from Washington. Some of his most intimate friends, particularly Gen. Fahvier, embraced him ; others pressed his hand, and a crowd were for a long time flocking around with cordial salutations, while his own countenance was brilliant with the joy of revisiting what he considered his regen erated country. The Spanish General Quiroga was this evening point ed out to me. Mr. Rives, whose countenance bespeaks better health, was there, and for a time entertained me with his fine conversation. Madame George La Fay etie, Madame de Maubourg, and Madame de Lasteyrie, were all present, wilh their charming daughters ; the whole family wearing the appearance of health, and more happiness than Ihey have lately seemed lo enjoy. The widow of Benjamin Constant was al this soiree, in weeds it is true, for the year and six weeks mourn ing prescribed to widows had nol expired ; but still she was there amidst the crowd.* * Custom has regulated the time for mourning in Paris in the follow ing manner: — For a parent, six months — for a grand-parent, four months and a half— for a husband, one year and six weeks fora wife, six months — for a brother or sister, two months — for an uncle or aunt, three weeks — for first cousins, fifteen days. PARIS. 193 Mr. H — ., a young American, whose figure and bear ing might designate him as the hero of a romance, ac costed me witii his usual politeness, and as I was crowd ing along, asked me how I liked the liberty of the press. I conversed also with Mr. Cooper, and Mr. Jul- lien ; saw Mrs. S — ., of Baltimore, and was introduced by her to Mrs. L — ., of New- York, who is one of the ladies to be presented at court Mr. C — ., an Ameri can, told me that his wife was also to be of the number presented. La Fayette had accosted me as usual, at my entrance, with his kind greeting of, " how do you do, my dear friend .?" " Well, General," said I, " and so you have been asking favors for us Americans, where I am sure you would not have asked Ihem for yourself" He looked as if he did not quite comprehend me. I said, "in the affair of the presentation." "Well! yes," said he, " and what if I did .'" 2d. — Madame Mazzara made me a morning's visit She had read my little work on education, which I had presented her. She thought it a singular coincidence that it had happened to her to write a small treatise giving many similar views on female education, not far from the lime I had written that She was in Italy, in the kingdom of Naples ; her manuscript found ils way to the minister of the interior, and soon after she receiv ed a letter from him, containing the assurance that a royal house for the education of giris should be made at Palermo in Sicily, liberally furnished with every thing necessary fo its prosperity, provided she would take the charge of it ; but her husband objected, and she, lo her perpetual regret, was obliged to refuse. The condition of the women iu Italy, was by the customs ofthe coun try, degraded ; and this circumstance, every where af flicting to women of sensibility, was more particulariy so in that land where genius was indigenous, and every where springing wild, and wanting the hand of culture. The women, she said, in the provinces of Italy, were of an excellent character; and indeed the people of the country in every land wherever she had travelled, were of a purer character than those in the cities. When 17* 194 PARIS. Madame Mazzara first came in, I had apologised for being out when M. lilazzara had called on me. It was al the hour I had named as being ordinarily at home, bnt it was on Sunday, on which day, agreeably to our Ameri can customs, I was always at church. " And your cus-- toms in that respect," said she, " are much belter than ours. But Paris is a wicked place. I give il up. In my early youth it bad a charm for me, and I thought it above all other places. I travelled, and returned dis enchanted. But the people of our provinces are virtu- PARIS. 195 TO MRS. 0. T Paris, Feb. 14lh, 1831. Dear Madam : As I have been presented at court, and attended a ball there, I hope I shall now be able 10 afford you some amusement in return for the many acts by which you have so often and so kindly contributed lo my happi ness ; among which I would enumerate your lale affec tionate letter. Our good friend La Fayelle, (who frequently speaks to me of you,) on my first arrival here, mentioned my being introduced to the Queen ; but as things have gone since, I neither expected, or particulariy desired il. But at length, as the invitation rather sought me than I that, I determined to avail myself of the only op portunity I should ever have of seeing royalty al home. Last Wednesday evening was the lime fixed for the presentation. On Tuesday evening at the General's soiree, he introduced to me Madame Z , whom he desired I would take wilh me to the Palace, and who I have since learned is of Engli.sh extraction, bul recent ly married to a Polish Colonel. I had never seen her before, and could only judge of herhy her person, which is strikingly fine. The young Polish Count Ladislas de Plater, whom I had before seen at the General's, helped us to make our little arrangements. Madame Z^- and myself were lo go in the same carriage, and it was settled that as she was farther from the Palace than myself, she should take me up, which she accordingly did. The hour of presentation named was half past eight. We went a little before the time, bul the ladies had several of them gone in before us. At the entrance, we gave our tippets lo the servant of Madame Z — , our only attendant. We were struck wilh the surpassing elegance of the grand marble staircase. Ils distance from the door might have been thirty or forty feet. Through this we passed, between ranks of the king's servants in livery, and the military guard, all of whona 196 PARIS. stood in solemn stillness, and /nothing indicated our way except the open passage between the two ranks. This way we took, mounted the magnificent staircase, which after we ascend a few steps, divides, and then unites again. After reaching the top, we passed to a large apart ment, the two ranks still indicating' our way, till vve came lo a lesser room, where were two gentiemen sit ting at tables with writing materials, and also a group of other gentlemen in court dresses, speaking ih an under tone, as if in a church. The gentlemen at the tables enquired, and wrote down our names and addresses, and told us that afterpassing one apartment more, we should reach the principal reception room ; that tbe Queen would enter on the left hand, and we had best have seats as near the head of the room, on that side, as we could. Following these directions, we entered first a smaller salon, where all whom we found spoke in a whisper; — from thence to the grand drawing-room, brilliant wilh almost innumerable lights. This room I should judge lo be at least eighty feel in length. Onoue side were eight large windows, and on the other, eight of miiror fo cor respond. The hangings of Ihe room, and the covering of the furniture were of rich crimson. The wainscoting was in part gilded. Between the windows of mirror were pilasters gilt, and having attached to Ihem branch es for candles. Elegant candelabras were at' the ends of the room, and suspended from the ceiling were brilliant chande liers. Their light fell upon the splendid dames who were now entering in small groups, and arranging them selves on each side the spacious salon, and it was re flected back and almost equalled by the clear sparkling luslre of the diamond ; the yellow light of the topaz ; the purple radiance of the amethyst ; or in the mild tints of spring thrown from the emerald. It was re flected also in the rich hues ofthe velvets — in the bright sheen of tbe satins, or in milder beams from crapes of ten of white, embroidered in gold or silver. There were turbans and toques of glittering materi- PARIS. 197 als, and berris wilh elegant plumes, sometimes tinged with colors, and sometimes of snowy while. Many beads were decorated with bandeaux and fanciful aigraf- fes of rich jewelry ; sometimes with the mosl exquisite imitations of flowers. The rose, the lily, the lilac, ev ery blossom of the garden, whether deep and rich in its hue, or bright and delicate, was emulated here. Many of. the gentlemen present added to the splen dor of the scene by coats loaded with embroidery, and glittering with stars, or with other insignia of royalty or military honors. My companion and myself had arrived at the right moment; not so early as to suffer the embarrassment of being first, nor so late as lo gel an unfavorable place. The main salon was in the same range as the room through whicb we last passed before entering il, and ap parently with that from which the queen was to issue, as it communicated in the same manner with them both, through two doors on each end, situated near each of the four corners of the room. We had found seats nearly half way tip the room. Here we were soon joined by Mrs. C — , an American lady, whose husband resides in Paris. Her dress was a lilac satin, with elegant blonde lace ; a turban of sil ver lama, surmounted by a plume of the bird of Para dise ; her jewelry composed of a mixture of the topaz and amethyst set in gold. Soon after came Mrs. Rives, in blue crape, wilh an elegant toque of white, sur mounted by plumes of ostrich. Her jewelry was of diamond and pearl. Every thing she wears is mi nutely elegant, and I am sure the French ladies, eiihean^ as she says they are in dress, on such occasions, must have acknowledged that hers was perfectly well select ed and worn. There soon came to join us, (for our position now be came the central point for the American ladies,) Mrs. B— , of Providence, Mrs. H. P — , of Philadelphia, and Mrs. C — , of New- York. The other American ladies who were expected, did nol appear. Soon there was a movement in the upper end of the room, and tiie Queen ! the Queen ! passed from lip lo 198 PARIS. lip. She came forth elegantiy but nol gorgeously atiir- ed ; in blue, with a berri of white, wilh four while plumes. Instead of taking her stand, as I expected, at the head of the room, and there receiving severally, the ladies presented, she suffered us to keep our places, aud came to us. When she had arrived al our paity, Mrs. Rives named to her the ladies one by one. She addressed some conversation to each. Her manner was perfectly courteous and lady-like. If she erred, I thought it was iu rather seeming loo much to court, than to command respect ; but al} on this occasion vvere pleased, and said after she passed, how affable ! how gracious is the queen ! When I was presented, she asked me how long since I left my country, and remarked thai I might if I chose, address her in English. I said I was charmed to find that I might speak in my native tongue, and be under stood by her majesty. She said she did not speak it well, though she understood il. The king spoke it well ; he was much allached to the Americans. I made her a complimfintary reply; — she smiled, courtesied, and passed lo the next. We had not space for any great flourish in our courtesies, but made Ihem as re spectfully as we might Madame Z — informed me that the Queen said to her, " Ah, Madame, I recollect having signed your mar riage contract" The Queen was followed by her two eldest daugh ters, aud a lady of honor. She has a Roman nose, and an agreeable physiognomy; her eyes not so dull as her pictures sometimes represent Ihem. But she is too thin, and has an appearance,especially in France, where women are so lale to grow old, of being considerably more advanced than she really is. The eldest of the princesses, Louise, is like her mother. Her figure is delicate, of a middling stature, and well proportioned ; her nose Roman ; her com plexion light ; her countenance spirited and agreeable. The princess Marie has dark hair and eyes, and is a lit' tie like her father; but perhaps more like her eldest brother. Her figure is also delicate and well formed. PARIS. 199 They were both dressed in white crape, with jewelry of peari, and large bunches of the mosl beautiful natural flowers directly in front of the corsage. The princesses in their turn, each addressed some conversation to the ladies introduced. It was of course rather common place, bul it was done in the spirit of courtesy and politeness. After the young princesses had passed on, a second lady of honor who attended Mademoiselle D'Orieans, the king's sister, enquired our names, and mentioned them to her. She is apparently of about the same age as the Queen, but nol of an aspect equally agreeable. She accosted me very graciously, and in the course of a short conversation remarked among other things, that the king had spent some time in America. Next came the Due D'Orieans, the king's eldest son, preceded by a gentieman who enquired my name, and as in the other instances mentioned it lo the branch of royalty who was next lo address me. The Due D' Orleans is a handsome young man, of a middhng stature, or perhaps rather beneath, erect and graceful — his eyes and hair dark. Either his health was nol good, or his mind was ill al ease. His language was more compli mentary than that of any other of the family, bul his manner had more of indifference. He said in the course of the dialogue, that he was extremely sorry I was go ing to leave Paris so soon, in a manner which would have done equally well for, I am extremely glad. Yet notwithstanding, I liked the general cast of his physi ognomy, better than that of any other of the family, ex cept the Queen's. I could excuse him for not liking to be taken round like a dancing bear at a show. After he had passed, I was again addressed with " Voire nom Madame s'il vous plait,"* and Madame Veelar was named to the Duke of Nemours, the elect king of Holland. It is however said that Louis Phillipe will not consent to let him go. His littie grace is about sixteen, rather small of his age, handsome as a fair blue-eyed, flaxen-haired girl. * Your name Madame, if you please. 200 PARIS. He stood talking some little time wilh me, and seemed lo wish thai here the talk might end. I naturally love the young, aud I think my manner put him at his ease. Madame Z — lold me that he said to the gentleman who accompanied him, that he did not want to go any far ther, for he really did nol know what more lo say lo the ladies. His tutor encouraged him lo go on, but said " you cannot now speak to the next ladies, for I dare say Ihey have heard what you said lo me." So his little duke-ship passed fhe nearest ladies with merely a how, and doubtless said the same things to those whom he next addressed, as to those he had last spoken with. The young dukes were in splendid military uniforms. The Queen had gone through the whole length of the salon, and as thai through which we passed on entering, had also been^lled with ladies lo be present ed, she took the rounds as if the two rooms had been one. When she had passed oul of the room, we sat down ; but when she had received all the ladies in Ihe adjoining apartment, and entered lo pass up on the op posite side, we rose again ; as it is a rule never lo sit in the presence of the King and Queen. It is also a rule to present the face, but this rule was not at this time strictiy observed. In this slate of affairs, our other American ladies came up, having been it seemed, belated. Mrs, Rives, who loves not this kind of display, vas in trouble, and the ladies who found that the queen had gone by, and they not presented, stood, looking somewhat blank. At last Mrs. Rives took courage, and led the way lo find a part of the room where the queen had nol yet been, and happily succeeded. Soon after, appeared Lady Granville, the EngHsh ambassadress, lately arrived, leading forward a party of English ladies, caught, it seems, in the same dilemma wilh our dilatory Americaines. She attempted the same manoeuvre which Mrs. Rives had just successfully prac tised, but failed. The ladies, some of them appeared disappointed and provoked ; and as I thought, their eyes glanced reproachfully al her. Lady Granville looked at them, looked again at the crowd around the PARIS. 201 queen, clasped her hands, and threw up her eyes wilh a pretty action of despair, and left them in the middle of the room to make their way as they liked, and joined a party on tbe side of the room opposite to our place. 1 marked her figure and appearance, the more particu larly as she is tbe daughter of the celebrated Duchess of Devonshire, the friend of Charles Fox. Her coun tenance is interesting, and her form good. I have fried to think of some of my female acquaintances that re sembled her, but I have not seen in any part of the Uni ted Stales, a lady so old, and yet so young. She must be at least thirty-five, but her step, her movements, her air and dress, were such as would become a lively, spiril- 'ed girl of twenty. She wore a robe of purple velvet, rather low in tbe neck, wilh a necklace of amethyst and gold. Her coiffure was a berri of peach blossom crape, surmounted with a superb plume, (I know not of what bird,) in which all the colors of the rainbow might be traced. Soon after the Queen had gone tbe rounds, she retired from the room, and the ladies soon followed her exam ple. Among the first fo go were Madame Z — and my self. We promenaded the long halls of the Palais Roy ale with somewhat of a lighter step, republicans as we were, than that wilh which we had entered. Her ser vant met us at the fool of the stairs, with our tippets, and we soon had our carriage at the entrance. At ten o'clock I was al home, having been absent two hours. The king did not appear this evening, it was said on ac count of a slight indisposition. On the llfh, 1 received on returning from a visit to the gallery of the Louvre, an invitation from the Palace to a ball lo be given on tbe 12lh, or rather a notice from Madame la Marquise Dolomieu, that I was invited. My invitation was for half past eight, bul Dr. N — , who is quite an oracle in these affairs, said I had better go at eight I had sent lo Madame Z — in the morning, to say thai if she was going to the ball, I would fake her up. She called to say to me, that much lo her disappoint ment, she bad no invitation. The Doctor was still present, and said that as many of my acquaintances 18 202 PARIS. among the gentiemen would be there, if I had a good servant, I might perfectly well go alone — nothing was more customary. I knew I could command the atten dance of the most accomplished servant 1 ever saw : — the very Talleyrand of domestics. He is an Italian, in the service of an English lady who has resided in llalyjbut now boards with ust and is one of the most friendly and obliging persons in the world. So at eight o'clock wilh Luiei behind my carriage 1 took my way to the Palais Royal. flow differently at different periods of our lives do similar events affect us. At fifteen I was all in a flutler al the thought of entering a village ball-room, with plenty of company ; how could 1 then haye believed that a time would come, when I should enter the court of France alone, pass through long rooms, guarded by files of sol diers, officers, and other royal attendants — and all this without any particular emotion whatever. My general feelings were, that 1 should see a show which il would, perhaps, be a satisfaction lo myself and my friends here- aftej that I had seen, and 1 hoped il would be worth the trouble 1 bad taken fo see it. Il was. not until I had passed through Ihe first ante chamber, after ascending the stairs, thai a gentleman of the court stepped forward to receive and examine my card of invitation. The dancers, early as il was, had already taken their places in'lhe room adjoining. The moment I appeared at the door, Mr. C — , an American resident in Paris, stepped forward and took me to a part of the room where Mrs. C — had an excellent seal ; but although il was not yet the hour for which tbe invita-i lions were given, almost all the seals were filled. Mr, C — went to search for a place where Mrs. C^-'and my self could sit together. He found one under a window. It was a raised seat behind another, on which four oth er persons could sit. We took it, and soon after, to my great satisfaction, we were joined by Madame de Lay^ slerie and ber three charming daughters ; — Madame de Remusat and M".^.^ Melanie and Octavie. Soon after several American ladies joined us. And now the affair of entrance well completed, I bad PARIS. 203 leisure to look about me and mark the splendid scene.— This was not the salon where the Queen received us at the presentation. It' was however long and large, and brilliantly lighted from large chandeliers and candelabras, and in a littfe time il was so filled, there was not much room for dancing. However as the dancing commenced, the centre of the room was cleared. The music was ex ceedingly fine. The performers occupied a situation that accommodated the dancers of the next room ; for several other large rooms— I think five or six— were also filled vvilli company. It was Ihe mosl splendid ball thai has ever been given fit the Palais Koyal, as it was to be the last of the sea son. The dresses were elegant The fashions were nol materially different from those al the ball recently given at the Opera house, but tbey were newer and richer. The white plame, though it waved often among the dancers, did not quite so much predominate as there, and more rich jewelry was worn. The elegant and delicate artificial flowers of Paris, I am never -weary of admiring. Tbe rose held here her natural place as the queen of flowers. The carna tion, tbelily, the pink, the chinaster, and bunches of small and delicate flowers vvere worn, either placed high at the top of (he head in(ermingled with the hair, or in elegant wreaths, depending low on one side, and rising ' high on the other. Crowns of roses, with scarce a leaf, and worn quite as high behind as in front of Ihe head, wer^ frequent, and bad a fine effect in the dance. Sometimes a bandeau of jewelry was worn a*ound the hair in front, or perhaps encircling the comb. Some times in cbi^ins or strings, fancifully arranged about the head, sometimes depending upon the forehead or rising higher, and used fo attach some part of the coiffure. — Sometimes diamond, or its semblance, glittered over a fair brow as the kernel of a wheafen-ear, and some times the pearl was elegantly wrought into the form of a rose wilh its buds and leaves. Al length the Queen appeared, and we all stood. — Her dress was splendid; chiefly by the rich jewels whicb she wore in profusion ; Ihey were diamonds, in 204 PARIS. double rows, encircling large emeralds. A necklace, thus formed, passed twice around her neck, and depend ed in front On her head, she wore a superb bandeau of the same, above whicb, was a turban of silver lama, and the whole head dress was surmounted by an elegant plume of the bird of paradise. Her daughters attend ed her as before ; but as she passed along, speaking to some and bowing to others, the young princesses re mained silent. The queen addressed me as she passed ; said she " hoped 1 was well this evening ;" I thanked her profoundly, but 1 could nol tell whether she recog nized me. Her manner was as if she did, but il is pro bable she did not. Tbe young princesses were some what more en grand toilette, than al the presentation, but their dress was much the same./ They were in plain while crape, but they were coiffed with flowers, wreath ed, and rising somewhat above the head. The French ladies of the best taste, avoid overloading.. However the princesses wore this evening, bouquets of natural flowers, placed in front of the corsage, which were re ally enormous. Their sleeves were short, wilh long white kid gloves. Mademoiselle D'Orleans, also made the rounds with the ladies of honor ; among these I con versed with tbe La MarquiseDolomieu, from whom I had received my invitation. She was dressed'in a robe of gold muslin, the ground work blue, with a toque of blue crape set off wilh an ostrich plume of blue. ^/'THrs. Rives was alsoMressed in gold muslin, the ground work while, perfecTly exact and elegant in ils fit and fashion. The gentlemen were directed in their invita tions to wear court dresses, which are generally under stood to be embroidered coals, or military uniforms, but there was here and there one en bourgeois, some were in black velvet, the dress of the institute. Many wore stars, and other insignia of nobility. The foreign ambassadors from different nations, sometimes wore cos tumes which appeared lo my eye passing strange. — What heathen is that ? said 1, to a member of our diplo matic corps. Which ? Why that large dark man with a turban, long flowing scarlet .robes, and an enormous ]t)eard. That, said he, is the Persian ambassador. — PARIS. 205 The uniform of the diplomatic corps is rich and ele gant. There was a young Hungarian ofiicer in a close blue military uniform, covered withgold and ornaments ; his coat without skirts, but his crimson sash forming a kind of drapery ; he was perfectly elegant in his figure and graceful in his movements ; a complete Apollo. After witnessing the splendid dresses and fine danc ing for some time, Mrs. . L , who had joined us, went with me, into the other rooms. In a long and elegant picture gallery, Ihe Queen, and Made moiselle D'Orleans, were silting, and the princesses and some other ladies of the court, were dancing before them. Their dances differ very little from our cotill ions ; but 1 am told that they do nol vary iheir figures, butjdance the same from year to year, hence the beauti ful uniformity in the movements of all the dancers.- The princesses of France, and other high dames, dancing in the presence of the Queen, were not so overpowered with grace, and bendiogunder the weight of it, as I have of late years much fo my annoyance, seen in the ladies of our own country. One had no difiiculty here in deci ding which was dancing, and which was walking ; yet there were no violent movements, but real unaffected grace combined with that animation which music natur ally gives, especially to the'young. In making this tour of the dancing apartments, we passed through fhe room which contained the throne. It was made on the same plan^of those I had formerly seen at the Tuileries, Luxembourg, and Versailles, Taut less ornamented. There were the three raised steps, the throne covered wilh crimson velvet, and the candela bras each side ; card tables, were now in the corners of this apartment where gentlemen were playing ; but few were here,_th6ugh the rooms on each side were crowded. Al last we jostied our way back into the salon, where Madame de Laysterie had obligingly kept our seals. Here we found a ringof waltzers, perhaps there were a dozen couples whirling round and round, faster and faster, until al length they nearly flew ; whenever one couple were tired oul and left the ring, there would be another waiting to take the place. At length the 206 PARig. dancing ceased, and a murmur ran through the room, " Ihe King and Queen are entering ;" and we all stood as before. Tbey were leading the way to tbe supper table. The supper was set oul in the manner of dining tables, fhe principal room was the one in which the Queen received the ladies, the evening of the presenta tion. There were tbree tables running through this room, al one of which sat the King and Queen. I had a seal in another room, where there were, 1 think, six tables, al each of which there were covers for about twelve persons. The furniture was whitechina, wilh a crown represented in gilding. The forks and large spoons were of silver. All the lea-spoons were of gold, as had been those which were passed about frequently in the evening, with ice creams and other refreshments. We found wiihin a napkin, nicely folded, each at our place, a small, slender roll of bread — Ihe most delicate in appearance, as well as the most delicious in taste, of any I have ever seen or lasted. For supper we had first brought on, a kind of thin soup. After we had finished this, the servants offered us meats of various kinds, some hot, some cold, all of a delicate appearance. There were trouffes, which Madame de Laysterie andher daughters ate with much apparent relish. They are esteemed here a great luxury, but I have not yel over come my dishke of their black, unpromising appear ance. Here was a dish which tbe French c- er Patriarch and Father, that my country should watch with a sympathy and affection, lively as their own. My country ! sacred name ! Would that I could stand on some tail cliff of her shore, aud be heard from the north lo the south,— I would cry, union ! union ! De stroy not madly a happiness which the world envies. I would say lo the south, " Even if what you complain of were true, that you pay an unequal portion of the re venue, would you destroy your country and yourselves for fhis .' Would you burn your house and your chil dren within it, because some one had stolen vour furni ture .' I would say lo the north — Offend nol your breth ren mortally — even though you think Ihey are unrea sonable ; destroy not your country for money, for the interests of trade — make a sacrifice lo appease your southern brethren, if they will not be appeased with out Look (0 fhe example of your fathers, who formed that constitution to which the philanthropists of the worid look as a model ; and let not your children re proach you wilh its destruction !" With cordial respect,your friend and servant. 23ar LETTER TO MRS. Paris, March 22d, 1831- Dear Maoam : ,. , J • . You wish lo know, when I speak ofthe danger into which our vouog American womeu may fall iu Fans, what I meaii; and whether any thing appears, on the face of society, other than the mosl perfect decency. Not generally, unless you reckon as oul of ils pale, very low-necked dresses, and such dances as ihe walU and galopade. These dances may do for giris, who are guarded is the French females are before mnrriage ;— never being left alone, with those who might seek to repeat, in private, the freedoms taken with their persons in public. But the danger lies in associating with those, who, while Ihey are living in the transgression of God's com mands, have all the fascinations of accomplished man ners ; and whom ihey see received exactly as others. They may occasionally, too, hear shocking principles uttered, by those whose opinions Ihey see no reason for nol respecting. We never hear characters scanned in i Paris, as with us, as to the moral tendency of Iheir ac- I tions. The standard of good society has nothing to do wilh such trifling circumstances ; and il is (lie height of impertinence to inquire into them, or make any remarks concerning fhem. Not that a French woman does not take into consideration respeclabilily — right and wrong; hut respectability, concerns a person's connexions, style of living, &c., and right and wrong, relate lo the right and wrong of caps and hats, dresses and ribbons. In this stale of affairs, if vve go into promiscuous soci ety, you see how impossible it must be for a young wo man, to form any kind of judgment, as to the real char acters of those she may meet Perhaps among the splendid dames, I met at court, was she, who was once Madame Tallien : now married lo an Italian prince, and, as I am lold, well received there. You will, I dare say, recollect ber as the infamous woman, who was drawn shamefully through the streets of Paris, during 234 PiRis. the old revolution, to personate the goddess of reasotr. I heard a respectable lady speak of her, and laughing at so witty a story, relate how she used lo introduce to her vjsiteirs, her numerous group of children, (no two of which she probably named after the same father) telling them to " look at her littie sins." A single lady, of great personal elegance, whom I often met, I learnt, by indubitable circuijistances (which came to my knowledge many weeks after my introduction f o her) was the chere amie of a married man : and among my acquaintances, other cases ofthe same nature, as far as morality is concerned, rose lo my suspicion, if not lo my knowledge. In general, however, nothing can be more modest than the demeanor, in societ)', of all we meet. But once in 8 while, one may chance to see an adroit manoeuvre, of a different complexion". Once, in a room where few were present, I saw, by a sudden turn, a lady of whom I never heard ill, touch her lips lo the neck of a gentie man, as he stooped for some obiect beside her. As a specimen of the principles one may chance to be edified with in Paris, I will tell you what I heard said by a French lady, who was perhaps piqued by the rude remark of a gentieman, who, after praising the American females, said he would not dare to trust French women as wives. The lady, whose own correctness I never heard impeached, observed :— Well, I own I am no friend lo marriage — how absurd lo make one promise to love the same person forever I Why, il is impossible. Give me nothing to eal, but a leg of mutton all my days, and I should starve to death. Is nol this enough lo show you, Ihat American women, especially if young and inexperienced, are better offal home, than here. True, a young woman, under the care of a watchful matron, and guarded by dignity of manners and innate purity, may escape these dangers. Yet Heaven forbid, that I include all Fiench women in this censure ; — and as I have before remarked, there are some better signs in these times. The two families now most placed in the public eye, are those of Louis Fhillippe, and La Fayette. The Queen is believed by PARIS. 239 all, lo be a pattern of conjugal virtue ; and nothing op- pears, but that her daughters will emulate her worthy example. The La Fayettes are as much American, as French, in their manners, and could Ihey give the tone lo society, France would be not less indebted fo ihem, than to the venerated Patriarch of the fiiinily. And many other ladies, I know, of whom I am equally con- fidenf, that their cast of moral character is such, as can not dwell with depravity in its vilest form. That I am not severe beyond truth, a fact which stares in the face of a slranger, as soon as he opens his guide book, is suflicient evidence. More than one third J of the children, born in Paris, are born out of wedlock. ! And what is wedlock here, in too many instances, bulaj license lo sin with the greater impunity .' Yet, while thus iniquity is abroad, the obligations of virtue -are known, and tacitly acknowledged ; else, why the hypo critical decency which the general face of .-ociety pre sents .'' Why the convenient accommodations fo give privacy fo sin, and fo its consequences.' How shocking are those consequences to the innocent beings who are cursed for iheir parents' guilt ! Never did I see a sight which so afflicted my heart, as the infants at the Hospital of the Foundlings. Here vvere hundreds of babes ranged along in little bed.s, or laid on inclined couches to receive (he warmth of a stove. Young nur ses were feeding them with pap, or standing carelessly around; while moauings and shriekings were in my ears from the litile pallid sufferers, which, as il were, withered my soul witiiin me. And where, ye littie innocents, I menially exclaimed, where are the fathers, who should have shielded your helpless infancy ! Where the moth ers, whose bosoms should have warmed and fed you • Perchance Ihey shine in the court, or are charioted along the streets, engaged in new intrigues. Surely, God will bring these things into judgment. In walking through an apartment where were manv beds for the infants, I came to one place, where were loSb:?''^' ""^'^^ ^'^ '^' white curtains suspended from the frame work above, dropped ; and the little bed was entirely enclosed. These,7aid 'a lady, who puUed 236 PARIS. me by the sleeve, as I was about to raise one of the cur tains, — these, contain the dead 1 I turned away, heart- stricken, and left the Hospital as soon as I could. It is true, these dismal sights were sometimes relieved, hy a Sister of Charily, who seemed really intent upon her charge : and here and there an infant, apparently heal thy, smiled, unconscious of its condition, and the life of servitude and degradation, lo which il was abandoned. I know that benevolent intentions, were in the hearts of those who founded this institution ; and now actuate those devoted women, who thus give their days and 'nights lo labor and watchfulness. It is said, these Hos pitals prevent the crime of infanticide. Bul they cannot save the lives of the infants, who perish by hundreds, de prived of their natural aliment If we urge that such institutions encourage crimes of another kind, we are told that these infants are often the children of the vir tuous poor, who cannot support Ihem. Why, then, if they are the children of the virtuous poor, are they thus mysteriously received in a basket, at the entrance, and no questions asked.? I am no friend to disguises — they betoken no good— and think it is wrong in the outset to encourage them. Lei vice wear her own colors. The virtuous part of society are not responsible for those crimes, which Ihey denounce and discourage; but when men undertake to do, or countenance evil, that good may come, they always, in the long run, do more hurl than good. The French are certainly worthy of imitation, in the facility with which persons of either sex, adapt them selves to their situation. No matter who Iheir relations are, or what their former situation may have been,— if poverty comes, or if they see il approaching, Ihey be take themselves to some profitable occupation, not con cealing their situation, and living on io splendor, at the expense of others. . Much evil among us, originates in a prejudice trom which the French seem, in a great measure, free ;— that there is something degrading in a woman's doing any thing to earn money. In families with us, where the father employs his hands from morning till night in cut- PARIS. 237 ting off yards of calico, as tying up pounds of tea, not for charity,— but for profit,— bis daughters would con sider it a shocking degradation lo employ theirs, to earn money, by making caps, or hats, or dresses for others. Though I have been sometime iu Paris, and I have nol been an inattentive observer of the frame of socie ty here, especially in cases where my own sex are con cerned, yel I am sensible thai I do not understand it sufficiently, lo pronounce with decision on points, in which as a woman, desirous lo promote the good of my sex, I feel an interest Women here, as is well known, act a more conspicuous part in business affairs, than is common in Great Britain or America. The laws loo are different ; a married woman not being here a nullity. In so far as this may lead to profligacy of manners, I should condemn it But in order that the experiment should he fairiy tri ed here, il would be necessary that Paris should be di vested of other causes of profligacy, and then we should know whether a woman's coming forward in mercantile and other business, would of itself produce it Take from the city ils indecent pictures and statues- Let men lake their consciences into their own hands. Let tbem no longer beheve that sin can he paid for in mo ney ; hut beheve that it is an account lo he settled with the just and omniscient Judge, every man for himself, without other Mediator than the man Christ Jesus; and see then if the useful, though it might be the more pub lic industry of women, than that which is common with us, would produce disorders in society. I do not say it would nol, but of this I am confident — that in our frame of society, by going to the opposite extieme, the evils are often produced, which it would seem lo be the lead ing tendency of our customs to avoid. For example, suppose wilh us a young man wilh suf ficient experience in business to conduct it, but without property, becomes acquainted wilh a young woman, it may be well educated, but also without properly. He loves her, bul it checks the native impulse of his affec tions, because he fancieslhat bis prelly wife must be kept dressed like a doll, and in an elegant parlor, and he has 21 238 PARIS. not the means. So he looks out for a woman who has money, and marries her, though he loves her nol — or be lives unmarried — but in either case, he is the man to resort to the haunts of vice — perchance lo seduce the innocent. And the woman he loved — perhaps had un derstood the language of his eyes — fell that his heart was hers, and given her own in return ; — and she now se cretly pines in solitary celibacy. In a country hke ours, where industry is rewarded, such things betoken something wrong in custom concerning our sex. Our youlh thus throw away their individual happiness ; and incur the chance of becoming bad members of society. And Ihe fault does not lie with the men, other than this, that Ihey seem not lo have the courage lo endea vor lo break wrong customs. They are willing to be industrious in Iheir calling, hut custom prohibits the woman from becoming that meet and suitable help fo the man, for which her Creator designed her. An edu cated woman, might become lo a merchant, his book keeper, and as il were a silent partner in his business — keeping a watch over other agents during his absence — giving him notice of important events, which concern the state of markets ; — and in fine, she might render a thousand important services in his affairs, wilhoul neg lecting the care of her household concerns, the drudge ry of which might he performed by uneducated persons, the value of whose time would be trifling to the family, compared with what hers might he made. Understand ing the business affairs, and taking an interest in the advancement of the family property, more than in the finery of her dress and furniture, she would need no stern mandate to keep in the ways of economy. If her husband is taken away by death, he parts in peace, as lo the condition of his wife and children, for she will know how to settle his affairs, or continue his business. These reflections I have been led to make by what I remark here. There are shops which I frequent lo make purchases, where great order prevails, and which I am told are wholly under the direction of the mistress, in their interior arrangements. One I recollect, a littie out of the northwestern Boulevard, where there are PARIS. 239 two rooms — one below, and the other above. The mistress, a grave and decided woman, keeps her stand behind a counter on one side the door, vvilh a female assistant by her side. They do all tbe writing in the books. The clerks, of whom there are several, do the selling part ; but whatever articles I bought, they were not made into a parcel, till they were carried with the bill, and the money to her, and the three compared. Then she and her assistant put down in their books the articles, and the account received. Aud I am lold that the whole is compared with the state of the shop, be fore il is closed, so that the clerks have no chance of purloining goods or money. I asked where were the husbands of these women, and was lold that they were abroad making purchases — attending to the payments, and watching the state of the markets. Now I do not believe that a woman in a situation like that, industri ously employed, is in a more dangerous place than vvhen she is idle in her parlor, or reading novels, or rt c.-iving calls from gossips, or lounging fops. But I think a mid dle course between public exposure and the utter use- lessness of some of the wives of our shopkei^pars, es pecially those who board, instead of keeping house, might be devised ; particulariy where they are women of intelligence and education. But this is a subject on which I could write a book, if I had time. Indeed, this letter will become one, if I do not bring it to a speedy close. Adieu, dear Sister. PARIS. 241 LETTER TO MRS. A. H. LINCOLN. Paris, March 2Sth, 1831. My dear Sister : Again I date from Paris. It seems as if a spell was laid upon rae, that I caunot go from this place. As soon as I determine to depart for some other spot, I hear of a revolution there ; and so I have siiccessi\elv aban doned Italy, Switzerland and Belgium, after having de termined to visit Ihem. ^\'e intended taking Belgium in our way lo England, but a friend who went before us, wrote us back word thai the limes were too unsettled and dangerous. Yet He who orders all things wisely, has overruled these disappointments, and they will doubtless terminate in good. Indeed, I would not ex change the acquisitions I have of late made here, lo have looked on the sublime mountains of Switzerland, or the beautiful vales of Italy. For is there in nature " aught so fair as virtuous friendship .?" Warm hearts, are belter than sunny fields, and elevated minds more sublime than cloud-capl monnlains. In the society of Madame Belloc, the very lady of whose writings we bave thought so much and often talked, I have reali zed these high imaginings. You, my dear sister, and a friend of Madame Belloc's, truly a friend. Mademoiselle Adelaide Mongolfier, are parties in the friendship which we have formed. You will recollect thai before I left America, in ar ranging the affair how I should introduce myself to her, you wrote to her, and sent a copy of your work on Bot any. For a long time after I came lo Paris, I could not find her address; — not that she was unknown ¦ on the contrary, she was spoken of as a dignified and highly gifted woman, bul the fashionables of Paris want other reasons to trouble their heads particularly about her. At length I learned her residence, and went to carry your letter. A lady appeared, who told me in an en gaging manner, that Madame Belloc was in deep afflic tion, having the day before consigned her mother lo the grave. I did not think at that time that mine too was 21* 242 PARIS. resting in thai dark sojourn. I regretted that I had in truded upon her sorrows, and said that hereafter I would call again. The countenance and voice of the lady wilh whom I conversed, were strongly impressed upon my mind, from the peculiarly fine expression of her large dark eye, and the uncommon sweetness of her voice, and I afterwards learned that she was a person of high intelligence, of sympathies finely touched, a celebra ted woman herself, and the daughter of Mongolfier, a celebrated man. Not long after, I called again, and Madame Belloc, though suffering from an ague in her face, a pari of which she was obliged lo cover, received me with cordial po liteness. She speaks English well, and though she ap peared to disadvantage, suffering as she was — I felt that I was nol disappointed ; but that I was in the presence of a noble mind. She was pleased wilh your letter, and your work, and said that Mirbel, with whom she had conversed, concerning il, was also pleased wilh it. In the mean time, il became my turn lo suffer, and though she came lo see me, and we felt a common af fliction, yet we had nol then found that deep fountain of sympathy which, once opened in our hearts, flowed on together, because in both, it had previously taken the same course. This was our common devotion to the cause of our sex. She had heard of me as a writer, and wished to read my hooks ; particularly my History of our repubhc. I had nol that, but I gave her my appeal to the Legislature in favor of female education, and my little volume of poems. A few days after I called to see her, expecting to be received as usual, by herself and her friend. Bul what a change I II was no longer merely literary ladies of high talent and atiainment, thai I mel ;— but sisters, — ready to take me to their very heart of hearts. Manners and language wilh us have not that mobility, which brings forth all the excited soul, and which makes you know that it is truly the soul which is in action. In the reality of this newly awakened sensibility for me, it was not so much myself, as the cause to which my life is devoted, that was honored ; and I loved Ihem, be- PARIS. 24S cause Ihey loved that. Bul in fhe manner of demon strating the regard which I fell, how inferior am I to them. And think nol that I am deceived by French duplicity. These women are above deceit ; — in soul, in character, Ihey are above it. I have said before, that in France, we continually meet wilh contrasts ; — the grand and the mean, in their farthest extremes ; and not more are the towers of their majestic temples, elevated above surrounding objects, than a few noble characters, rise above the general mass. The mutual friendship of these exalted women, reali zes all the visions of poetry concerning this lie. No con sanguinity exists between Ihem ; but for fifteen years, they have been as now, united by a bond far more close and intimate, than thai usually found between sis ters. From my recent affliction, I am out of the visiting circle, which occupied so much of my lime — too much I was beginning lo think, and had in part withdrawn myself from it before ; and I have therefore had leisure to cultivate a friendship so grateful lo my feelings, and so conducive lo my improvement Loving their coun try, Ihey yet see, and deplore its faults ; and attribute much that is, and has been wrong in their frame of soci ety, lo defects in the education of their women. In this sentiment, M. Belloc, the serious and dignified husband of my friend, perhaps goes even farther than herself He liaces mosl of the former misfortunes of France, and very many of her present ills, lo a defective plan in education, which by imparling lo women attraction, while it leaves them without proper moral and intellec tual culture, thus increases a certain species of influ ence, while it renders it destructive lo society. In the course of his observations, Louise and Adelaide, (for so these friends call each other, and so I sometimes call them,) occasionally half-checked him for the severity of his remarks upon our sex ; but he sustained every point, with convincing arguments, — and satisfied them, by making proper individual exceptions to general truths. How strange that I should have found in France^ the St44 PABrs. man whose language and manners in regard to women is the mosl perfectly manly and sincere of any one I have ever met, who is now living. There was cue whom the grave conceals, who in this respect Was what he now is. To such, our sex may look as onr true friends ;, our flatterers, we may consider as their own. M. Belloc encourages his wife in ber plans for the good of female youlh, as my husband did me ; be cause he is convinced of the importance of the work so profoundly, that he loo is willing to lend himself to their accomplishment, if circumstances should make it expe dient Madame Belloc and her friend have had al heart for some time, a plan similar lo that with which I went be fore the Legislature of New-York ; lo make a fenjale institution for the purpose of cultivating the mental and moral powers of female youth, aud fitting them for use fulness, not excluding what are commonly called accom plishments, bul giving them their proper subordinate place. After the revolution, they had hopes of suc ceeding in gelling some aid from the government ; and v/hen the husband of Madame de Stael's daughter, was in a high office ; Ihey thought, through her influence, something might he accomplisbed ; — ^but political chan ges destroyed their hopes. When they learned what had been done in America, without governmental aid, tbey dehberafed on the expe diency of attempting an institution on an independent fooling ; and had serious thoughts that either Louise or Adelaide should accompany me, to remain a year or two in my establishment, lo witness the effects of our ar rangements, novel lo them, aud in some instances al most incredible. They thought it passing strange, that a school could be governed by as simple means as mine was ; and remarked, that with one of French girls, it would be impossible. For any thing effectual to be done here, pupils must be received young. I told them candidly, my objections to the female schools here. I wanted but lo go over the build ings, to be convinced of the defective nature of their plans. Give me every advantage thai money could pro- PAEIS. 345 cure, and every convenience of location, I would not take the charge of an institution where the pupils were all placed together in large rooms, for iheir study and lodg ing, wilh their clotiies and articles of accommodation placed according to their kinds in different apartments, the care of them, of course, given to others. This sys tem must, of necessity, leave the pupils where it found them, as for any preparation for the duties of life. It keeps them in a state of perpetual infancy; — or rather it makes Ihem like the parts of a great machine — which, however perfect may be their operation while wiihin this united sphere, has nothing lo fit Ihem for individu al action. To be thus conslantiy kept together, — many in one room — must involve this alternative ; either the pupils must be left to themselves ; thus the good delivered to the mercy ofthe bad ; (or al the best youthful spirits, ma king continual disorders) — or they must be constantly watcbcd. This is well for children ; but beyond tbe age of childhood, the human will revolts at perpetual control, — the will, thai noble faculty, in which man essentially bears the stamp of divinity, — which educa tion should seek to regulate ; and cause to bend to Iha authority of God, and his vicegerent conscience, while It leaches it to assert its own dignify against any human au thority, except such as is derived from this prime source. The will revolting at this unremitting surveillance, artifice is practised lo elude ils dictates, and habits of deceit thus formed; frelfulness is engendered, and the temper ruined : and when at length the period of es cape arrives, it is hailed as the dawn of a brighter world. Hence, despite the native modesty of woman, a French giri goes joyfully from school al the suiomons of her parents, lo marry whoever they select, a man she bas never seen ; no matter of what age, of what person al, or mental characteristics. She goes gladly, because she goes from slavery fo freedom ;— a freedom which she determines lo enjoy ;— and French society witnesses the consequence. Young persons when changing from 846 PAais. infancy (where they need constant walcbfulness and care, and love those who watch and guard them.) to that thea tre of life and action where self-government, firmness, and constancy, are their only safeguards, (and who shall say that women need these less than men,) should re ceive a treatment keeping both Ihese states in view ; the one as partly existing, tbe other lo be prepared for. The pupil having her tasks assigned, and rules of conduct laid down, responsible for the consequences of her conduct, and guarded, as il were, from a distance ; should be left lo herself al seasons, lo fulfil her tasks by the energy of her own will, and her calculations ofthe consequences of her conduct She should loo, be charg ed as soon as possible, vvilh the care of her own clothes, and other little arrangements, knowing that she will be called to an account for what she does. Hence, in my establishment, the first thing I determined on, was to have my pupils placed io small rooms — not in perfect •olilude, far that is aa unnatural state, on Altbe same time, 1 saw in the room, landscape paititTngs done by Madame Colarl of high merit ; in which I at once recognized the style of Ihe best artist in that branch, now in Paris ; and on enquiring, learned that she bad been his pupil. There are in Paris many female artists, whose paintings for the different branches of history, landscape, and flowers, ara much esteemed, and bear a high price. In the Louvre, there are females ahiong those who are copying the pictures. 248 PARIS, On enquiring for recent improvements of M. JuUien and the Count de Laysterie, well known as the patrons of education in Paris, they recommended lo me to visit the institution Cochin, where children were taught ac cording to the method of mutual instruction. Madame Belloc repeated this advice, and a morning is named when my friends will accompany me lo tbe school. April 4th. — Louise and Adelaide, have communicated to the small circle-to whom Ihey confine their intimacy, the regard they feel forme. I would you could witness the delicate care Ihey lake that every thing 1 do and say in their little circle, should recommend me — the ways in which they correct my bad French and other errors, wilhoul seeming to notice them. A short time since I attended a little select soiree, given by "M'l". Mongolfier, al which she had, with a few ladies, invited half a dozen gentiemen. 1 wish that those among us, who, deceived by the prejudiced effusions of English writers, think there is nothing in French society but bows, and nods, and shrugs, and boisterous laughs ; could have witnessed tbe demeanor of this company, and heard their conver sation. Some of these gentlemen, if not all, are known to the public in the history of the present times, and in the progress of science. One of them was the fearless editor, whose bold exposition ofthe fyraonical proceed ings of Charles X. caused the subsequent suppression of his paper, and was thus the immediate cause of the re volution of July. In conversation, they were animated and eloquent, — in demeanor, they mingled ease and ele gance of manners, with that dignify which springs from intellectual elevation ; there were frequent smiles, bul no loud laughs. I do nol recollect, ever to have heard Madame Belloc laugh. The conversation was high in its moral lone, nor was fhe praise of our Maker, here deemed " a jarring note." At one period of the conversation it was turned, per haps not undesignedly, to the history of my country, her aboriginal inhabitants — her patriot sages — and her polit- PARIS. 249 ical inslilutions. Warmed with Ihe subject, but strait ened for words— 1 looked at Madame Belloc, dropped my bad French, and spoke in English. I would yoa could have heard how she translated me. I scarcely knew my own thoughts, they came forth so beautifully embodied from her eloquent lips. Who, thought I, could not be an oracle, with such a priestess ? A lidle incident whicb occurred at the commence ment of (he evening, showed to me the hold which Ma dame B — has on the affection of all the circle. 1 had received a letter from De F — , whose enthusiasm you know, for the great and good of his own country. You may likewise recollect that il was he, who first turned our attention to the articles in the Revue Encyclopediquc of Madame Belloc ; whom he pronounced as the best and most dignified writer, on moral subjects, in (hat pe riodical, and perhaps the best in France. But he knew her only through her writings. In a letter which I had recently received from him, he says, " I fancy you, as already enjoying tbe society of Madame Belloc, 1 im agine lo myself that she has a majestic figure, a counte nance expressive of benevolence and wisdom, and large eloquent black eyes." This imaginary description was a wonderful hit, and 1 carried the letter to show il to M"e Mongolfier. Madame Belloc, not having arrived, she read it to (he company, vvho all enjoyed it, as if il were the praises of a sister. At this moment Madame Bellog entered, — plain in dress, as the simplest black could make her, but with a figure and countenance which had soiled Minerva, when having taught lessons of wisdom to youth, the goddess changed to her native form, and was receiving the upward motion, lo ascend to her native seat Two of the ladies of (heir coterie, are Madame Siera and her daughter. The mother is a niece of Mirabeau, and distinguished as a woman of genius, and fhe daugh ter will hereafter be, if circumstances favor her. She possesses (he quick sensibility and diflSdence, with the ar dor of genius. This young lady shrunk from some displays of her un common talents in drawing, which al the earnest request 22 250 PARIS. of M. Belloc, were produced during a delightful eve ning, which I spent with Madame Siera. 1 was highly pleased with M. Belloc's remarks on the subject of paint ing, an art in which he highly excels. He is at this time engaged in painting the likeness of his wife. It is by such silent expressive tokens, that one sees with what deep affection Ihey live in each other's hearts. Madame Siera, her daughter, and an interesting sister of Madame B — , accompanied us on the party which was made up, lo show me Ihe institution Cochin. Two gentieinen were with us, one of whom gave mesome in formation on the way, respecting the new sect of the St Simoniens, who are making a good deal of noise I'n Paris. He rather volunteered, for I dare not enquire moch about them, knowing they are Robert Owen people, though 1 am curious to know their leading tenets. These seemed lo me, as he attempted (o explain them, an unin telligible jargon. They talk foolishly of the rights of women, and make much in doctrine, of industry (a good thing if rightly employed ;) — bul they seem lo base eve ry thing upon utility and happiness. How much mis chief has the world suffered from these two words be ing badly connected together. When will man learn that his part in the order of things is his duty ; — the do ing of his Maker's will, the submitting lo his allotments ; that to himself has God reserved the distribution of that happiness which He has promised lo piety and virtue ; and whether it be received here, dr hereafter, it maUers not, so long as the good know whom they trust From Madame Belloc's, where I had breakfasted, which is just south of the Seine, near the Rue St. Ja- ques, our party proceeded on foot through the garden of the Luxembourg, now fresh with Ihe beauties of Spring; — then threading our way through fhe narrow streets of the south-eastern part of Paris, we found, after a very long walk, the object of our search. The ladies, during our walk, had interested me in fhe character of Madame Millet, fhe principal of the school. She had spent some PARIS. 251 months in England, in studying the infant schools, and those where mutual instruction was practised, and she bad arranged (his school much on (he English plan ; but she had found (hat French children have more vivacity, and had been obliged to vary her methods accordingly. The ladies also spoke fo me of ;i li((le girl, in whom the indulgent superin(endent took an interes(. The children hiid (he air of high health and confenlment. The method of teaching those under six, of which (here were about two hundred, was much the same as in our infant schools : in the other two divisions, one of boys, the other of girls, it was similar to thai practised in our schools for mutual instruction. The children appeared orderly, and well instructed. On visiting the girPs school, I asked to see fhe little girl of whom my friends had spoken. Being jileased with her appearance, I fold the benevolenf M.iihime Millet thai I would take her wilh me (o Amcrici, and etlucate her, if (he proposition was accepdible to her friends. Through (he ins(rumentality of (his excellent Woman, the parents have at length consented. Before 1 came to Europe, my feelings bad been touched with sympathy for (he beggars so often de scribed by travellers, and I "had thought if would be a draw-back in fhe satisfaction I h:id in visiting it, that 1 should see so many of the children of want "and sorrow, whom 1 could not relieve. My feelings indeed, have frequently been touched since 1 have been here, by the race of beggars, but quite as often with righteous' in dignation, as with pity ; and 1 do hope that in our country, street begging, will never become, as it is here, settled into atrade,upooaregularsystera. Most of tho bpg.'ars one meets, are as evidently actors, as those we '^oTm. on the stage, though not half so honest. I am told (here IS a place a little out of Paris, called the hotel des mira cles where fhe blind receive their sight, and the lame walk—where they divide their gains, laugh over their old lies and invent new ones. Parents sometimes he.i" with their children when very young, to teach (hem the art of begging. A little rosy cheeked girl of fhiT de! 252 PARIS. scription, sometimes crossed our way as we were going to church, through the Champs Elysees, held out ber little fal hand, and went through her lying lesson, vvilh such a ludicrous contrast between her laughing eyes and her whining voice, that I was quite diverted, until 1 reflect ed what a shocking thing it was thus fo bring up a child. At first 1 gave her a trifle, but al length I (old her to go home, and tell her mother not lo (each her to tell lies, I do not recollect that 1 have seen her since. I make it a general rule, that when beggars wear a composed and cheerful countenance, and sjieak in a na tural voice, to give them a trifle; but when they whine, and are importunate, not a sows. This- first description are thosewho, I observe, are really maimed, and clear ly entitled lo charily. There is one whom we encoun ter every day in crofS'ing the Place Vendome, whose legs are both cut off above the knee, and bis person is otherwise maimed. He has a seat resembling a little wooden boat, in which, by means of his hands, he scrapes himself along the pavement lavvards us. This poor fel low never gives himself the trouble to draw down the corners of his mouth, or utter a whine, bul we find him on the Place, as regularly as we do the column, and with a face as undisturbed. When one finds real objects of charily, they are not generally street acquaintances. When I first came to Pa ris, I had occasion lo buy some articles of a milliner in the Palais Royale. There was an English woman in (he shOp, old, and apparently in delicate heaUb, who brought home my things in a band-box. I told her she looked too fee ble for f.uch services, and gave her a franc ; much the same thing was at various intervals repeated. At length she came to me having been discharged from (he employ of (he milliner, a homeless and a friendless creature. From letters which she showed me, 1 learned that sbe had once been governess in the family of au English Lord. PARIS. -253 LETTER TO MRS. A. H. LINCOLN. CONTINUED. If 1 had moretime, 1 could put my thoughts in better or der ; — I must go back fo friendship. I have yet another friend; a friend, believe me, for lifo — one lo whom I am at tached as sincerely as fo Madame Belloc and M'le Mongol- tier. IfSolomoD were to enquire of me, " who shall find a faithful person ?" Ishould point him to Mrs. D — . She is an American by birth, but going early fo Scotland, sbe married the celebrated Dr. D — of Edinburgh, who, died some years since, after enriching the literature of his country by valuable productions. She bas resided some time in Paris with her children, to give Ihem the French language, and other accomplishmanfs. I was introduced fo her acquaintance by Mr. Warden as a highly respectable lady ; and one who would be efiicient and judicious, in aiding me fo procure fhe teach ers whom I wished to take home. She immediately set about my affairs, as if Ihey had been her own ; and soon through Madame Place, procured me an introduction to Mile de C — , who for many weeks, and through many discouragements thrown in her way by fhe advice of her acquaintances, I have found faithful too. She comes regularly every week to see me. The French teacher secured, Mrs. D — then cast about to find me one for music. Were 1 disposed to write against the French character, I know not how I could do it more effectual ly, than lo give an exact account of the several persons wilh whom, at different times, 1 have been in treaty for this situation.* Sometimes I went so far as to make a positive bargain, and then they would come up with a new condition, or fly off entirely. With a MU« L a young lady of interesting appearance ; and powers of voice, in a considerable degree, like those of Madame Malibran, I was so pleased ; (and withal thinking that if J caught her young, I might influence her future proceed- * One of these was a daughter of the celebrated Talma. I eiclndo her however from the censures here pasbeil. "v-mue 22* 254 PARIS. ings,) that I continued to treat with her after she nail twice changed her ground as lo terms ; — giving, however, reasons respecting her guardian, which if true, had some weight in them ; but the third lime, when she al tered, in a note, the conditions of the contract, which we bad settied in conversation, 1 suspected that the whole was a farce, between her and her guardian, to draw me in to pay a cosiderable sum in advance ; and then the two lo enjoy it in la belle France. I then threw the affair into a shape on purpose lo try Ihem, and found that the grand point was the advance ; — not so much matter what came afterwards. To her fourth proposition made in writing, I returned an answer, giving her to understand Ihatl was quite satisfied with what I had already seen of her, and should not trouble her farther. In all these trials, Mrs. D — was with me, and ever prompt lo serve, as well as ready to aid me by her judicious counsels. 1 remarked in her, a sound judgment in the management of her own affairs, as well as in mine, and a perseverance to the end in whatever she undertook. I was pleased to observe the strength of her attachment to her friends, of whom she has steady and constant ones, among the first minds in Scotland. Thus from gratitude for her disinterested services, respect for her sound intel ligent mind, and esteem for her virtues, set off by the many contrasts I meet with here, 1 came lo be sincere ly and warmly attached to her. If I leave any unfinish ed business affairs in Paris, I shall leave them with her; confiding in her, as entirely as I would in you. Our friend, the Rev. S. Douglas is still in Paris ; and 1 am sorry to say, not well. He bas accompanied me in some of my visits fo my new friends, and enjoys their society. He has also introduced me to a pious and in telligent protestant lady, fhe Countess B— ^, who has lately spent an evening in my room, and I have passed one al her house in sober conversation. She was fhe intimate friend of the celebrated Madame de Genlis, and has shown me letters of hers, in which she proposed. PARIS. 255 tfial Ihey two together, should open a school on a new plan, with the object of giving a belter impulse to female education. I should have found more pleasure in read ing these letters if 1 had never come lo France; Bul it seems lo me that the woman, to elevate the character of her sex, must set them a better example than has the foriner chere amie of a Duke, — even though he were the father of a king. Nor could my feelings flow forth, as otherwise they might, -towards her who was fhe indmate friend of such a woman; knowing as she must her mo ral aberrations. M'j'^ de C — , who is to accompany me home, has in troduced me lo several members of her family, which is highly respectable. Her mother is a lady of whose character, I have been taught, by her writings, lo think well ; as I do of her manners, from a short acquaintance. She has known reverses of fortune, and has borne them like a christian. Once the wife of an oflScer in the army of Bonaparte, then lady of honor to a Queen ; now she aids an infirm friend at Soissons, in a house of education for young ladies. Her stories for the young, deal but little in love, and have therefore a purity about fhem, of which entertaining French books, are too often destitute. Her oldest daughter is married to a surgeon of note in the employ of fhe government ; and Dr. and Madame B are among those whom I set down as the sincere people of Paris. Dr. B — has a favorable opinion of orthopedic. I have been thinking of purchasing one of the bedsteads, especially in reference to a particular case, in which it might be useful. Mrs. D — , also, whom I always con sult, is inclined lo think favorably oflbis method of treat ment, and has found an apparatus, that I can have cheap, at second hand. Dr. and Mrs. B — accompanied me to examine il. I wished to see the patient extended. The littie giri objected, which I did not wonder at Madame B— disappeared for a moment, returned without her hal, and springing, like a playful kitten upon the machine the Dr. arranged the straps and buckles. He however thought the article not a good one ; and I have my doubts 256 PARIS. whether it would be useful with us — for, though French girls are made to submit to such " extreme extremities," for the sake of correcting the figure, I would rather not be the one to practice them on our young Americaines. Adieu, dear Sister. God bless you now, and always.. PARIS. 257 LETTER TO MRS. A. H. LINCOLN. Paris, April 11th, 1831. We are now in serious earnest, making preparations for leaving Paris, intending logo directly lo London ; for which place we mean to set oul in about a week. I wish to preserve, either in my journal, or my li^lters, some reminiscences of what I have seen, whi.h is best worth remembering, of a land 1 never expect to revisit. As it is in writinj; to you that my thoughts flow most freely, I will continue to detail some of my procgfdings, in reference to things and persons, in such order as I may chance lo recollect Ihem. One da3', last week, our party went to vifit the castla of Vincennes. Here vve saw the moat, the dr;nv-l)ridge, the court, and all that completes an ancientfeud.il castle. On presenting ourselves at the gate, we were lold that visiters were not admitted. We sent our serv;int (o say we were foreigners — American ladies. We were then suffered to pass the outer gate. An officer said be would represent our case fo the commandant He returned with a polite apology from the superior, for not doing the honors ofthe place fo the American ladies himself: but directed us to be shown whatever we wished, nam ing in particular (he special object of our curiosity, which was the donjon keep, where had been confinr-d, be fore their in(eres(ing (ri,d, fhe four ministers of Charles X., Polignac, Peyronnet, Chanleiauze, and Gut-rnon de Ranville. We saw in the court a number of recruits, both men and horses, and tbe animals of both kinds were undergo ing a severe drill. The young soldiers, however, were evidently proud of their new finery, though they bore their honors most laughably. Tbe flights of stone s(air3, by which we ascended to the apar(ments, that had been lately occupied by the ministers, were constructed to wind, like the thread of a screw, around a huge pillar, and in the ascent seemed endless. At length, near the height of the lower, wa turned aside into the rooms, recently occupied by IhesQ 258 PARIS. state criminals. Their eating room was in the centre ; and from this led off, in four opposite directions, Ihe cells. All of these, except the room of Guernon de Ranville, (which was octagonal,) were circular, and had the light from four littie apertures through the thick slone wall. Polignac had an apartment, whose narrow windows look ed towards Paris ; and it is said, the same whicb he in habited twenty years before, when he was shut up by Bonaparte, for his project of the infernal machine, by which numbers of unoffending people lost their lives. There was no vestige of furniture remaining in these apartments, but we were lold, tbey had been comforta bly fuf'nished by Ihe prisoners, eacb with a carpel, abed, a secretary, a table, and two chairs, probably at their own expense. Nothing here met our eyes but solid ma sonry — brick beneath, and stone above, — sometimes smoothed over wilh mortar, and the whole of a dirty white. When we had left these gloomy cells, we ascended again, upon the same everlasting stair-way. After mounting awhile, we found ourselves upon a terrace, at the top of the lower, commanding an extensive and beau tiful view of Paris, and the surrounding counlry. On descending, we were taken by our guide lo visit the chapel, a small church, of purely Gothic architecture. The exterior had a great deal of carved work upon it The windows are of elegant stained glass. The interior of this church is stripped of mosl of its ornaments. On theleft hand, as you enter, is the marble monument of the duke D' Enghein. I think it in bad taste, there being a mixture of real and allegorical personages. There stands the young duke, armed cap-a-pie, with his beaver on— his smal Iclothes— stockings and sboes;~-then a figure representing France, with floating draperies, and dishevelled locks, reclining her head upon her arm to weep; while on the other side of the pedestal, stands crime with a dagger. Tbe duke was shot io the moat A littie wooden rail ing, made in imitation of iron, surrounded the place, on which stands a marble column, with a broken shaft. On our return, we paid a visit to the plaister model ofthe enor- PARIS. 259 mous elephant, which, under the direction of Bonaparte, was lo have spouted for the Parisians, an everlasting foun tain of wafer from its trujik ; thus making a place to scat ter abroad, what was once a place to shut up ; for there formerly stood the dreaded Bastile, the key of which I saw last spring in the lITill of Mount \ ernon. An or dinary person standing by this elephant of plaister, reach es in height a little above (he (op of i(s foo(. We also visited the Place Royal, a fine square with a fountain, and an equestrian statue of one of tlie kings ; it was once a fashionable part of Paris — the residence of Madame de Sevign^, and the celebrated Ninon de L' En- clos. One day, ray friend Mrs. D — and myself were ex ploring. We went first to the Flower Market, where we found a great variety of beautiful phnls. We were io the vicinity ofthe Palais de Justice, and as the corridors are public, and in part used as bazaars, we thought we would walk through them. They are large, and exhibit some good specimens of statuary. On remarking, as we looked to the extremity of a long corridor, that the style of architecture changed to Gothic, I said, perhaps we shall find a Gothic chi.pel : so on we went lo find a place by which lo enter it. We descended a flight of hack- Stairs, and at the foot, found an old woman, of whom we asked if vve could enter the Gothic building. She said she would see if she could procure us admission. She directed us fo follow her, which we did, along narrow passages, and up stairs, (ill at length we found ourselves ushered into an imposing presence — a gentieman of port and dignity, surrounded by others, who were wri ting. This was a consummation which we had by no means expected— but there we were. 1 look the word • said we were foreigners, American women, desirous to observe wbat was curious, and should be pleased lo see if proper, the interior ofthe Gothic buildino-. He bow ed with the mingled dignity and politenew of a real French gentieman, sent for another woman, gave her a great key, and directed her to conduct us. We passed again along several corridors, and at length, reached the 260 PARIS. old chapelle, now, lo our surprise, completely covered on all ils sides, vvilh papers filed and labelled, and lo ! the judicial archives of France, the venerable fountain of her history, the original written instruments containing the important mandates of her government! We exam ined the labels on many of the papers, and found that several of them had been instrumental in fhe incarcera tion and death of persons illustrious in history. There were also royal grants of princely possessions; but the prince who gave, and the subjects who received, are now slumbering^ in kindred dust I observed that the upper part ofthe building had a gallery around, in which documents vvere arranged that I had also a curiosity to examine, and I asked if we could see the papers above. The old woman, who shewed a great desire lo entertain us, thought uponthe question, and said, "C" est difficile, mats c'est tres curieux. Je verrai;"* and she left us — then returned, bearing a bunch of great keys, one of which she took off, opened a small side door, whicb showed a nar row stone stair- way, winding around ashaft, of the same fashion as thai which led us up to the donjon in the lower of Vincennes. Mrs. D — was appalled at its appearance, but I was in the spirit of adventure, and must needs go on. We wound round and round, and up and up, fill at length we landed, awe-struck, in an immense gallery, whose long receding sides were divided into recesses, and filled with enormous folios and files of papers — the endless records of accumulating ages. Here, loo, were deposited occa sional relics ofthe olden times, articles of furniture, be longing lo different sovereigns, — chairs of Louis XIV., and some ofthe armour of Francis I.; but vvhen we came to the skull of Ravaillac, and the dagger of another assassin, Mrs. D — , who had followed me in fear, said really she could nol consent to stay any longer in these wild and solitary places. Should we be unable to des cend, none would ever think of looking for us here. She told me, however, Ihal she had taken the keys of the doors which we had passed. It was a wise precaution, and I persuaded her, that with it we must be safe. So * It is difficult, but it is tery curious. I will see. PARIS. 261 we kept on exploring. We saw, among other things, books containing a list of all (he ordinatfces of France, with (heir dates, and a great (olio, in which were pre served the autographs of all the sovereigns. On obser ving the building, after we had left it I thought that this immense repository of records mus( have occupied (he whole of (he upper s(ory ofthe Palais de Justice, stretch ing as it does through several hundred feet. I believe 1 once mentioned to you, Madame S — , whose husband was the physician of the Empress Jose phine, and a celebrated medical writer. He was much older than Madame S — , she being his second wife. At his death, he left a fine fortune lo his widow and chil dren. 1 first mel with her al Mrs. Rives'. This was soon after my arrival in Paris. 1 happened (o sit hy her, and she exerted herself in a most amiable manner to en tertain me. She was of French parentage, but educated in America. She said she would be pleased (o see me again, — that it would be agreeable lo French customs that I should call on her first, but in (his case i( should be as 1 pleased — she would; if I preferred it; wave the custom, and call first on me. She did so, and invited me to ber house. Subsequentiy, she fold me of the commencement of a treaty of marriage for Ml|e S — , her step daughter.* The friends of Mr. G — had made proposals, and having measured fortunes, and finding essential affairs mu(ually agreeable, the next step was for the young people lo meet, and see bow they liked each other, — so a party was made. They met, and declaied themselves mutual ly satisfied. An early day was fixed for tbe wedding. Madame S — sent me a billet de part, which was al the same lime an invitation to attend the marriage cere mony. This billet de part is sent by French people of the bon lon, lo all Iheir acquaintances, on occasions of deaths, births, and marriages, to give information of these events.' * The author of the romance which I often saw on the centre tables of the salons in Pans, with the odd tide of Plik et Plot, was a son of Ur. b— by a former inarriage, and brother to the lady, whose mar riage IS here spoken of. 23 262 PARIS. It is folded like a very large letier, bul contains only a few woids. The phrase faire part (give information) is always used, hence fhe name billet de part. Mine from Madame S — , indicated that ber daughter was to be married, al the parish church at ten. — 1 went at fhe hour, secured a good seat ; and waited till eleven, be fore the bridal party entered. Large chairs, covered with crimson velvet, were prepared for the bride and bridegroom, in front ofthe altar ; and two smaller ones, on each side, for their attendants. When fhe bride was about to enter; the principal door of the church, shut till then, was thrown open, and carpets spread along the way. She had a fine figure. Her dress was a rich white silk, white flowers on her bead, and a blond scarf made, as is common, expressly as a bridal ornament, was fastened with the flowers upon her head, and flow ing down her back. I think any painter would have said that ber dress was in good lasle, — but some French ladies found faults. It was agreed on all sides that Ma dame S — , the young mother in-law, in a lilac silk, white bat and plumes, was parfaitement arrangee,—a praise difiicult of acquirement in Paris, bul f o my ear somewhat vexatious, in cases where much better might with truth be given. Bul fo return to the wedding. The bride did nol ad vance directly from the door to her seat, but turned aside, as I supposed, lo one of the side chapels, which was out of my sight, where she remained, perhaps a quarter of an hour. I was lold that the bride and bridegroom were receiving tbe sacrament. At length Ihey reappeared, ad vanced, and took their seats. The marriage service was mainly performed by the principal priest, but two or three others oflficiated as assistants. Several little boys in white linen robes attended the priests, and occasion ally chanted. The service was in Latin, and performed in that half singing, half saying manner, that to me pre cludes all idea that it can be accompanied by inward de votion. In the course of the service, the bride and bride groom sometimes stood, and sometimes knelt A ring was given and received, and towards the close fhe priesfs held a richly ornamented cloth over their heads. The PARIS. 263 exhortations were solemn and affecting, and 1 mentally prayed that tbe sacred ordinance might be regarded, as the commands of God, and the vital interests of society require. After the bride had received Ihe congratulations of her friends, she relired along (he carpe(ed way, and en tered her new eleganl carriage, which was in waiting. I sent by Mrs. L — , who was going to make a call, an apology for not joining the crowd. By previous invitation, my son and myself, passed a day with a l;idy who has a bouse for female education in theRue Chaillot Champs Elysees. This lady, Mrs. Bray, is an English woman. She occupies a fine situation. We entered by a parte cochere, nnd found a court, of about thirty or forty feet square, entirely pnved. The building surrounds this on three sides. We found the difference of English and French house-keeping, in fhe neatness of the entrance and sfairwiiy. The parlor was up one flight of stairs, and was an elegant room. The cen tre table was ornamented with superb flowers (roni (he garden, which vve overlooked from (he pnrlor windows. It was ex(ensive, and afforded fine grounds for (he exer cise of (he pupils. These windows also gave ns n beauf- liful view of Paris. We descended (o dinner info Ihe lower s(ory. Mrs. Bray had invited (o meet us Mr. Fellenburg, the son of (he celebr;i(ed Swiss (eacher of that name, whom we found highly informed, and very agreeable. Mrs. Bray's pupils are generally from different parts of England. From many of her remarks on (he mental condition in whicb she received them,l was led to form comparisons between the degree of intelligence and in formation of my pupils, and hers, very much in favor of American girls. She particularly spoke of their ignor ance of geography. She hnd some ideas on the sub ject of leaching history, similar to my own. This study is here considered of very great importance. To speak different languages, is also regarded as a very high accom plishment. Every (hing for show and effect,— li((le for innate excellence, little which looks forward to making 264 PARIS. good and intelligent women ; — such is the condition of fe male education here.* Mrs. Bray had in the house, Ihe ortkopedique heUt- stead. A young lady was arranged upon iU in Ihe man ner already described. Her elder sister was the only person in the room with her. Their chamber was next to Mrs. Bray's, and every thing around showed that that lady look a maternal care of ber pupils. She thought the patient nearly cured of a nviil-formation of the spine, with whicb she had been afilicted. When she lay down, she could have her book placed before her, by means of a moveable apparatus attached, al the lime, lo the sides of the bedstead. When she was not in the bed, she had small iron supporters for the spine, placed along her person ; with these she could now do without crutch es. To my surprise, 1 found the young lady bad be come not only reconciled to the use of this bed, but fond of if, though at first she found it disiigreeable. Dh and Madame B — , have hud the goodness to get me permission to visit the honse at Chaillot, for the re ception of these unfortunates, nnd to accompany me thither. They were skipping about the garden on their crutches ; but when 1 saw their beds, and so many in struments for confining them down, stretching sometimes the spine, somelime.s^ a limb, sometimes pushing in a pro tuberant shoulder, I could nol but wonder at their cheer fulness. M. and Madame Morin, express an unfavor able opinion of orthopedic. They say it is lorliirtngfhe subject ; and that the pain, the risk, and trouble, over balance the prospect of advantage. The institulion al Chaillot is in high repute. Every thing was done to advance the education of the pupils which (heir health would admit of. There was here also, Ihe apparatus for keeping a book open before the patient, as she whs placed horizontally. When 1 asked the ladv who shewed the appara(u^, whe(her the giris did notsuffer, she said Ihey generally did at first ; but in * Mrs. Bray was sensible of this, and deplored the necessity which kept her from belter thing,* ; but die will of che parents, the shortness of time allotted to education, were insuperable barriers to her attempt ing much innovation ; still she was evidently making advances. FONTENAYE AUX ROSES. 266 a short time Ihey became reconciled, like the young la dy al Mrs. Bray's, and at length fond of the bed. On the whole, Dr. B— recommends me to purchase a work treating on the subject ; wilh plates, showing the models ofthe iostruments used, and giving a description of them, rather than to think at present of purchasing the apparatus,— and 1 have followed his advice. M. Morin having kindly invited me fo visit his estab lishment at Fontenaye aux Roses, and the party having been previously arranged, his amiable daughter culled for me, in her carriage, on a fine morning. We took up Madame Belloc and Mademoiselle Mongolfier, and after a delightful drive, of perhaps an hour and a half, we found ourselves al the gate ofthe establishment It is laid oul on a large scale, with ample accommoda tions for literary instruction, and domestic convenience. The health and developement of the physical powers, had been with M. Morin, (and very judiciously.) an ob ject of special regard, as was manifested by the large and pleasant grounds given ihem for exercise, and the appa ratus erected for gymnastic games. Here was also a botanical garden. The recitations were nol all heard in the main build ing, where the pupils afe and slept On a sequestered spot vvas a small house, where we found a class of boya receiving instruction from a German professor. Each had his black board, on which be wrote out the phrases dictated by his teacher. We attended within the main building, the recitation of a higher class, in mixed math ematics. These, marked their figures on a standing black board ; demonstrated and explained as they were questioned by their teacher, those principles of mechan ics, which their lesson embraced, lo all this, I gatr nothing different from American teaching. Apologies were made for his class, by fhe teacher, by Madame Belloc, and Mademoiselle Morin ; but truly there needed none. Their performance had struck rae as being good, for the firs! recitation on the subject though the young gentiemen were evidently a littie abashed. We were shown their various extensive and judicious 23* 266 PARIS. arrangements for preparing food, for soap-boiling, and for washing and ironing, upon which no expense had been spared ; and which contain some peculiar inven tions of the superintendent. 1 was, on the whole, much pleased wilh my visit, and thought il was wilh good reason, that Col. and Madame La Fayetie, had selected -this as the place of education for their two sons. These boys, the only grand-children of La Fayette, who bear his name, are promising in ap pearance. Sometime since, our party visited the celebrated royal manufactory ofthe Gobelins, for carpets and tapestry ; and beheld with admiration, Ihe process for imitaling the most difficult historical paintings, both as lo color and ex pression, in thick fabrics of woollen. We went one evening lo the Grand Opera, to hear the astonishing Paganini. To me his music appeared so curious, so wonderful, so unearthly, that I was not cer tain whether I was pleased, or not. It had tbe effect to impress itself strongly on my imagination, and logive me a great desire to hear it again. I make this remark of his peculiar inventions. He gave some specimens of simple plaintive airs, in which the rich soul of music it self was expressed. We visited, in company with Mr. and Mrs. F — , of New-York, the Garde Meuble, the BMiothique Maza rine, and tbe prison of St Pelagie. We went also, for the second time, to the Hotel des Invalides, wi(h i(s magnifi cent dome and its beautiful gardens — its grand library — its long corridors, and extensive accommodations — and again saw its host of maimed veterans. One who showed as the building had been an officer, and almost a worship per of Bonaparte. He conducted' us into two rooms, where were the portraits of eminent men, and comment ed on their military deeds ; but when he came lo those of Bonaparte's generals, he became enthusiastic. With Mr. Douglas, I spent a few hours in that eoorroods library, called le Bibliotheque du Roi. Wilh Mrs. D — I spent a few delightful hours in wandering again amidst the charming walks ofthe Jardin des Plants, now smiling with the freshness of spring. Wilh my soo, I visited for PARIS. 26 T the second time, the cemetieres of Pere la Chaise and Mont Martre. With the amiable Mrs. S— , of Baltimore, I ppssed part ofthe evenitig, previous to her departure for Lon don. She tells me there is a boarding-house, kept at Fitzroy Square, by a Mr. Elsfon, to whicb she intends going, and advises us to do Ihe same. She has received much attention in Paris, nnd from those whose friendship it is an honor to possess. Kind-hearted and sincere, she seems to have found the true secret of making friends, — to be friendly. She is ardently desirous lo return lo her home and country, and her stay in London will be short, In making a few parting visits, I called on Mrs. Rives, who has of late suffered afSiction, by sickness in her family. 1 met there a gentleman who said lo me — " Well madam, I suppose by this time, you are convinc ed, by what you have seen, ofthe changeful and unsta ble character ofthe French ; that a republic is not the government for them." Now I had never maintained that, in their present condition, it was ; and I felt a Iillle piqued by bis assuming it, and so 1 said to him — " Why sir, it is for these very reasons, that they ought to have a republic." " And so it is because the sens are boister ous, and fhe winds variable, that you would put out fo sea wilh your sails nailed to fhe masts and spars ?" " No sir ! ra(her let them be arranged to shift quickly. De pend upon if, (he F-reoch c-haracfer will never be entire ly suited in a government, until they have a republic, whicb permits them lo elect all Iheir officers, at least, as often as once in tiiree months." Adieu. JOURNAL. Tuesday evening, the 12th, I attended for fhe last time, a soiree at Gen. La Fayette's. I was received by the family with great kindness, as il was the first time I had been there since my mourning. The crowd was very great Thursday, 14lh. — Yesterday, and lo-day, have been laboriously employed in Superintending the persons who are packing the various articles which I am to carry home. These were accumulating lo such a degree, that Madame B — has kindly given me, for the time, the use ofthe room corresponding to the salon, two floors above. Before I commenced packing, it was so filled wilh pur chases, that il was regarded in the family as quite a little museum. Madame B — has added to my collection of pictures, a framed engraving of Peyronnet. The men who packed my articles are very skilful in their occupa tion. By the advice of Madame B — , 1 had fhem put up my hats, caps, and best dresses. They place all these things together in large boxes, but so divide them by tapes, passing through the centre, that I am certain they might be carried any distance wilhoul injury. I have much more trouble in packing my wardrobe, because I am obliged lo divide it, reserving a pari for use during my tour in Great Britain, while the remainder, wilh my books, pictures, &c., are to be sent to Havre, consigned to the care of our friend Mr. V — , who has recently re moved to that place. Friday, April 15. — A party had been determined on for St. Germaine en Laye. Our kind English friend Mrs. B — , made use on this occasion, of her own travelling carriao'e, which was very pleasant, but bad only room for two. She invited me to take the seal with her. Luici went on the dicky behind, and a smart postillion ST. GERMAIN EN LAYE. 269 conducted (he horses. The two Ml'f/ B— , Mrs. F. and Miss D--, went in a landau ; while the gentlemen of our party, look seats in the diligence. The day was delight ful, and the country charming. Our roue lay along the valley of the Seine, and on our left as we approach ed Marly, was a succession of fine country seats, one belonging lo M. La Filte ; another, on rising ground of a most inviting appearance, was formerly inlmMted by Madame du Barry. At Marly we stopped fo look at Iha grand works where fhe waters of the Seine, which sup ply fhe fountains of Versailles, are raised by tbe most massive machinery of iron, which I bave ever seen. The chateau of St. Germain, entirely answers (he idea 1 had formed of an old castle. Modern improvement has nol laid its mutilating hand on this remnant of anti quity, which stands by its original strength. The out side is of brick, and in a part of the inside, fhe joisis neatly pinned, and sometimes rudely ornnnientrd, are projecting above our heads. There is, however, a suite of apartments furnished in a style somewhat more mo dern, in which Jamesthe second lived after his abdica tion, and in which he died. The inner court is curious ly shaped, and shows the castle lo have five sides. Close lo one ofthe interior angles of fhe building, a window is exhibited where Ann of Austria, had caused to be placed a projecting iron work, in the sbnpe of a window shutter, lo prevent her young son, afterwards Louis XIV, from exposing his life by jumping across to seek the apartment of M".«. de Valliere. The npnrtmenta of James were neither large norsplendid. W'e particu larly remarked among ihem a Iillle oratoire, and also Ihe dark and private passages around tbem, opening from the walls, of which the doors seemed to form a part. The forest of St Germain is quite extensive. Most of our party, mounted on asses, explored n.]jart of it. For myself, 1 found fhis mode of conveyance utterly abominable, and soon abandoned it for ;i promenade along fhe terrace, which overiooks fhe winding valley of fhe Seine. On our return we passed near to Mal- maison, the retreat of Josephine, after her divorce ; and visited the church of llueil, where she is interred', and 270 PARIS. where her children bave placed a most elegant monu ment lo her memory. She is represented as kneeling, a cushion beneath her, and before her a little cushioned desk, where ties an open book of prayer, in which her devotional attitude and expression, show her to be en gaged. Her dress is in exquisite taste, and is said to be modelled after ihal of her coronation. The statuary is Caoova's, and I never saw any thing finer. 15th.— In the evening I went to Madame Pichon's— and afterwards fo Mrs. Opie's soiree, she having very kind ly come in person to invite me. Gen. La Fayelle was there, and 1 had the pleasure of a long, and particular conversation with him, in which he expressed lo me his views on the present stale of France. Ad instance of his kindness occurred, which, as this was the last lime of my seeing him, remains the more freshly in my memory. I supposed 1 had made an ar rangement with a lady for a music teacher. I was de sirous she should have the recommendation of a per son who 1 knew entertained a very great veneration for him. I asked him to give me « line of introduction lo her, telling him for what reason. He said it would be better that he went with me himself. I would not on any account give him the trouble, bul he insisted on do ing if. He wrote me a line, which 1 received the last day of my stay in Paris, fo arrange this little affair. I had written him that fhe negociation with the lady in she remarked that it was dated some weeks before. I told her 1 should have called, but for fhe unhappy cir cumstance ofthe illnesss and death of a friend. " Oh/'' said she, " then thou art the American lady vvho wrote to Daniel Wilson. Yes, I now recollect fhe name :" — and her countenance at once assumed a cordial expression. She then told me, she was one of Ihe party with whom Mr. Wilson was dining, when Mr. Elsfon carried him my note. 1 felt a great interest in her favorite object, tbe reformation of prison discipline ; — and she in mine, — that of female education ; and we talked an hour in the full flow and mingling of soul. She modestly said the public had given her more credit Ihtm was her due, — she but acted wilh, and was Ihe organ of a society of la dies. She was going Ihal aflernoonte visit a prison-ship, in which women were confined. A man was present when 1 arrived — a m^fhodist, who came to beg for some charitable object, connected wilh his own society. Mrs. Fry thought the object a good one, and gave, but declined making a subscription inhcF own name. She wished to have me come and visit her ; bul hail an engagement in Ihe country for Saturday, and expected to leave London on Monday. She looks as if she possessed soundness of constitution — mental, moral, and physical, — a great and a strong Wo man — and disposed to turn all her strength to good ac count, in the serv.ice of God. and her fellow-beings- We have called also lo see Mr. Wilson. He receiv- ed-us in his library, which was about iwenty-five feel by twenty, wilh a high ceiling, the sides completely cover ed with choice books — in neat, but plain bindings. Tha windows and a glass dooi* showed,- from the library, a gar den at fhe back ofthe house, — and here a sober elegance leemed, as in the house, fo be Ihe prevailing style. This gentleman's behaviour, in the case of my departed friend, Mr. Douglas, will never be forgotten. He not only came every day after knowing his situation, from Isling ton to London, to visit him ; — but when all we could far ther do for him, was to commit " ashes to ashes, dust to dust" — he opened the sanctum sanptorum of his own fapa- 306 LONDON. ily ; and gave, to tbe remains of his American brolher, a place beside those of his own dearest relatives. After these uncommon traits of christian kindness, our party felt an added desjre lo listen to his minislralions from the pulpit ; and found him as we expected, plain in man ner, uncorrupt in doctrine— '' •*• preacher such as Paul, were he on earth, Would own, approve, and bless." Mr. Wilson made enquiries about the condition ofthe ¦church in Ihe United Stales, and expressed an interest in seteral-of the clergy whom he had seen, particulariy the Rev. Dr. Milnor. He presented me with a volume of his works, and sent a copy of one of his sermons lo Mrs. Douglas, the widow of my friend, as containing appro priate consohifion for a mourner. One ofthe persons lo whom 1 had a letter in London, was Mrs. R — . When I called wilh my letter, fhe female servant did not know whelher i could see her or not She returned, saying Mrs. R — was too ill to appear. The next day she called when I was out. As she was .extremely desirous fo see me, she wished I would notify her when I could come again. In this way we arranged matters, and I went at the hour appointed, which was four o'clock in the morning — lime here, as in France, being divided by fhe hour of dinner, info morning and evening. I found a lady of a majestic appearance, ap parently about forty, dressed in good faste, but wilh a certain wildness of eye and countenance, which at tbe first glance, gave me an idea of a fine mind, somewhat disordered. She spoke of her suffering slate in forcible language, — represenled herself as having keen pains in all her nefves, as if she had a sharp loolh-ache all over. She said our common friend had told her, that 1 was a champion for my sex. She then went on with her own ideas of our deplorable condition, until she had gone al together beyond the worst which 1 bad ever thought of it. She spoke of men as of a race of brutal, selfish, un feeling tyrants, and commenced a declamation against marriage. " But you would seem," said I, " to arraign LONiDOIT. ^ 307 the wisdom, or the goodness of God." She could for herself see no evidence of such wisdom and benevolence. From what I had said in favor of the men, and of the happiness of connubial life, she presumed thai I had been, what she had not, a singular case of a happy mar ried Woman ; and that Ibe men of our country, were dif ferent from those of the community in which she had the misfortune fo be placed. " Here," said sbe, " women are divided between vice, and Ibul which is its cause- domestic slavery. There are in this very city, of those thus drfven lo degradation, upwards of one hundred thou sand." As for the men of America, she could not pre tend lo say, — bul for those of her country, they were to women the most] stern of oppressors — despising our understandings — keeping us in ignorance, and under a system of tyrannical laws. " They want reform,"' said she ; " they begin fo feel what it is to be abused and oppressed ; bul Ihey ought Id be ashamed to ask for right, while they so shamelessly wrong us." She said something of Frances Wright, and I now understood bet ter than before, what were the views and feelings which lead women of such superior minds so widely astray. I was shocked — and expressed myself so, in language loo severe for politeness — al the remarks which she made on the want of proof, of the goodness and wisdom of God. From this prime error I thought resulted all ber others. Yet from my soul, I pitied ber. What can be more horrible than for a woman of an intelligent and sensitive mind, loving justice herself, and desiring good, really to believe that there is no benevolence in the government of the universe ; — and that men who have the power lo govern us, and whom our nature obliges us to love, are our tyrants and enemies. No wonder that the whole mind, and the whole body, should become one burning mass of pain. Last week I accepted Mrs. R — 's invitation to spend an evening wilh her. I found two ladies and several- gentiemen, among these last, Robert Owen ! — Never did I meet a man with a smoother face, or a smoother tongue. I saw my sitaation, and determined to avoid if possible, controversial matters, and supposed that for an 308 LONDON. evening I might — but no ; — Mr. Owen, confident in his powers — disposed lo exert them to the utmost, andbacked by his followers, must needs make a proselyte. I en deavored to evade, bul lo no purpose, till al last, roused to an energy that seemed more than my own, I turned and encountered the whole. Owen began by laying down some premises on the subject of educaiion. They were of an artful nature, and 1 saw the conclusions to which they were leading. *' Man," he said, " was the creature of circumstances. The first circnmStance mingling with bis original consti tution, as in the case of chemical affinity, made a new compound, and again it was changed." " 1 agree," said 1, " to no inference drawn from these premises. You make of man a factitious being — you compare the living principles of mind, to the inanimate lumps ofthe laboratory ; and suppose the instructor can mingle them, and be as certain of his operations as the chemist. You do not even allow to man the dignity of a vegetable, which, though il has its changes, is yet some thing of itself; and always the same, whatever may be the soil or the culture by which it is modified. The hawthorn may be stinted or expanded in its growth, but no skill of the gardener can make it a rose. Mr. Owen laid down fhe principle, that all fhe children born in a community, should be educated by the com munity at large— thereby, I perceived, making way for the assertion, that the restraints of marriage were use less. 1 felt that I should be insulted to hear such a sen timent, and 1 said with spirit, that 1 did not agree with bis position in its fuU extent ; thai certainly men, m their legislative capacity, were bound to do all in their power for the advantage of the rising generation ; but that did not at all release parents from that far more binding obligation, and more important care, which each owed fo his own offspring. " But Mr. Owen, , I is useless for you fo wish me to agree fo your views. There is an insurmountable barrier— I am a christian." '¦ Why " said a jack-a-napes behind me, " 1 can dis prove Christianity in two minutes, by a reference to chronology." LONDON. 309 " Sir Isaac Newton," said I, with a sneer, " knew a little something of chronology, and yel he was ii chris tian. " You say," said Mr. Owen, " that you are a chris tian ; that is, you mean you are a christian now, here after you may change. " " No sir. I never shall change — 1 never will change — a chri.aliiin I will live, and a christian I will die." " But Madam, you consider il right lo hold your mind in a St. lie for candid investigation, do you nol ?" " There is, sir, a time lo be investigating, and a time to be decided. VVhen a miithemntici;m has brought the best and miituresl energies of his mind la bear upon a subject — vvhen he bas carefully attended lo what others could say on both sides of the question — when he has thus perfectly satisfied his own mind where the truth lies ; antl when he finds that every thing agrees fo his solution ofthe problem — bis operations on the supposi tion h.ivin;; never f.iiled, his expectations never been de ceived, — is he to go back, and labor through Ihe whole procP.=s of his investigalion, because he may find others who think differently from himself? No sir, I will not reinve.>4ligate the evidences of Christianity, — I shall nev er change my belief. This decided declaration, for a time put a f.fop fo fhis sort of disco'urse, nnd conversation became general Mr. Owen has much information, and he speaks with great intelligence on the details of educaiion. He de- scriberl the gradual manner in which he had found by bis experiments, al Lanark, that very young children might be sent with profit to school, and said I must visit his school al Lanark, when 1 went to Scotland. Mrs. R — complimented me on the eloquence with which I had spoken, and promised lo give me a book. If I had gone off here, every thing would have been well — I was desirous to do so, but had not the power; for my son, who had accompanied me, had left me, fo return with a carriage al a given hour. Mr. Owen in the mean time, had rallied his forces fo a new attack. He said that his opinions were prevailing, — the governments of the world would be obliged to yield to thein. He was 27 310 LONDON. then on his way to meel al Liverpool, delegates from six hundred societies formed on his plan. In short, the world had heretofore gone on from error to error,'both in philosophy and morals.— Sir Isaac Newton, whom I had mentioned ; and others, who like him, had guided the opinions of the multitude, taught ten errors to one truth. " But they thought they were teaching truth, did thev nol, Mr. Owen ?" ¦' "Undoubtedly." "And if human nature in its best estate is thus liable fo error, bow then can Mr. Owen know that/ie is infallible ? He is persuaded he is leaching truth— but what of that ? So was Sir Isaac Newton. And how can we know that Mr. Owen too, is not teaching fen errors fo one truth 1 Does he claim to be favored with direct revela tions from the only snre fountain of truth ?" ^^ This question completely silenced the whole party, and there was a solemn pause. Mr. Owen reddened, and stammered oul an indistinct reply, like a man that spoke in pain. 1 at once changed the conversation, and after a little constrained and uninteresting discourse, my son arrived, and I look my leave.* Mrs. R — sent me next day, the book which she had promised, with a note saying she had not ventured to place her name in it The book was an octavo, dedica ted to her. Truly my heart is pained for her as for an afflicted sister. Commanding in aspect, keen in sensibil ity, eloquent in speech ; if anchored in fhe christian faith, what a noble woman had she been. If instead of railing at the dispensations of God's Providence, or idle declamation about the rights of our sex, she had set her- * I enquired diligenlly at Liverpool, in reference to the great meet ing of six hundred delegates, and could hear nothing of it. At this very time, vvhen Owen was thus playing the agreeable among the la dies oi" London ; his wife, whose funeral obsequies (as I afterwards learned on visiting Lanark) he had Just been to Scotland to attend, had been dead only about a fortnight. We were lold that his vagaries of opinion and of life, had wasted the fine property he received from her father, Mr. Uaje, and at length broken her heart. They spoke very ill of him hero, — said he had now nothing to do wilh the school, or ittanufncturing establishment; though he clearly eon.reyed tp metlte HEMPSTEAD'. 311 self to the work of elevating Iheir standard of morals and intellect, sbe might bave been a blessing lo future generations. Yet far as she bas gone beyond the mark, I should hold myself a traitor to the cause of my seX, did 1 not say, that 1 Ihink there is a degree of truth in her sentiments, as lo the treatment women here receive at the hands of men ; and that the men of England, in their general opinions and practice towards women, hold a course naturally calculated lo drive women who re flect upon it, (and the finest minds are those most prone to reflection) either to a course of deceit — by which art is brought to cope with tyrannical power ; — or to despe ration — IIS in the melancholy case I have described. This morning Mrs. B — -, an interesting and fiishiona- ble American lady, resident in London, with whom I had dined the riny before ; look me to Henipstciid lo see Mr. Coleridge. He was boarding in a fmnily with whom he harl made his abode for a considerable time. Here we found a parlor looking into a garden, from the first floor. Mr. Coleridge, we were told, vvas ill. His pen sion I knew had been withdrawn, since Ihe change in the ministry, and we supposed it probable that he might be out of spirits. Mrs. B — , in sending our names to tbe poet, siiid that 1 was an American lady, and an ad mirer of his works. After a little time he appeared. He bas all tbe poet in his large dark eye, and intellectual face ; and his manners seemed to me, such as suited his portly and dignified peison. 1 was fold that if he became fairly eno^aged in conversation, he vvould need but little re sponse. He found in me a delighted auditor, and he was on subjects thai interested him. The other ladies, (Mrs. B — being an acquaintance of his hostess,) left us, — returned — and left us again, befi)re the conversation was over. Yet, though 1 was delighted at the lime, 1 cannot now recall many of his expressions, or even his ideas. Who that should hear twenty pages of Coleridge's me taphysics, could tell afterwards what it was ; nnd yet who, but would feel that it was passing strange, and very grand. You look intensely for bis ideas, as you look through the dark rolling cloud for the outline of the dis- 312 LONDON- tant mountain. Sometimes you think yon have canghl it, bul then comes another cloud,— and the view wiis too evanescent to iidmil of your miiking a skelch- Yel the clouds themselves are benutiful, and while they make the object behind it indistinct, they increase its apparent grandeur. The subject of his conversation vvas nature, intellec tual an i malprial — the animals and vegetables— the heavens, and man with his noble faculties, lookin;i vvilh faiih to his God and Redeemer, — and last of all — the an gelic figure ihiit took the loveliest light of the picture, was Heaven's best ajift— beaulilul, refined, inl^'lUctnal, woman. How divinely good, ought vve lo become, lo de serve nil thai Ihe poets say of us! On onr return from this visit of respect fo the tnlents of Coleridge, we passed the lordly residence of Ihe duke of St Albans. Afterwiirds vve met, in an elegant barouche and four, fhe hltle dnke and f.it liucbe.'s, both of whom all London abhors andUmghs at, as people both vicious and vulgar. Would Coleridge, sick nnd poor, consent lo be the duke of Si. Allmns ? No I Intelligence is richer than gold — mind is nobler thnn rank. Another of nature's nobles is W'nshinuton Irving. The next day after my letter ol introduction was de livered, he called. As I hnd known and appreciated different members of his excellent fnmily, oitr conver sation took a turn which brought out his warm nttach- ment to his friends nnd country. He spoke of those who were dear to bim ; whose characters, and in some iofltances, whose siluulions, afforded bim subjects of deep and various interest He spoke too of his return to America. 1 had told him Ihal 1 presumed he was not ignoninl, that we Americans were n little jealous of his long slay in Europe, —regarding his literary fame as a national property, which we were unwilling should be alienated. He said nothing was farther from his intention than to remain abroad ; — that he had always been infenfling fo return, and was never without a period fixed for so do ing, as at the close of some certain engagement; — Ihat one unforeseen prospect after another had opened before LONDON. 313 him, and thus his voyage had been postponed, at fiirst for months — then for years. Finally he had determined to break away, and had made every arrangement, when, bis appointment as secretary of Legation, determined bim to remain some little lime longer. Of Mr. McLane be spoke with that calm discriminating praise, which carries conviction of desert In another part of Mr. Irving's conversation, I thought r could perceive the foundation of the prejudice Ihat he was nol American in his feelings ; and vvas pleased to trace it to something, to which candorshould have given an opposite construction. He took occasion lo remark concerning some faults that his countrymen were apt to fall into, in visiting England. They were too much in a way of considering themselves in a state militant, and were sometimes too prompt for battle, if any question, however innocent or trivial, was made touching Ihe su perior excellence of any thing, and every thing Ameri can. This was, in some companies, and on some occa sions, extremely ill-judged. Mr. Irving had probably said fhe same to other Americans — andwhj'? — Because he cared nothing for bis counlry or countrymen ? — pre cisely the reverse. — Because he did care for us, and wished we should make ouiselves, and our nation re spectable and respected, — and because be knew himself to be belter acquainted with the views and feelings of ihe English, than his countrymen, newly arrived, could possi bly be. It wasnot sayingthat the cause of the Americans ~was bad, but that it might be injudiciously maintained. Mr. Irving's name is here spoken wilh enthusiasm. The ladies, al Mr. Elston's on learning that he had been in the house, expressed such regrets fdr their not gettinwith DUMBARTON. 343 a step as light, and countenance as cheerful, as if she was preparing it for a parly of her brothers and sisters. While vve were thus gratified wilh the friendly disposi tion manifested within, my son returned from a little ex cursion in the village, no less delighted wilh what he had observed without He called at a store, and enquired for a guide boolt to the lakes. The young man said he had none, but thought one might be purchased allhe house ofthe pilot. He attempted to direct him thither, but as it was at a considerable distnnce, and several turns were to be made, my son found a difficulty in understand ing clearly, his directions. "You are then a stranger, sir ?" " Yes sir." " Well then as such, 1 consider you have a claim on me," and immediately he locked his store, and went, as a guide to the place, vvhere the books were lo be had. Such an inslnnce of good nnd generous feeling is rnrely to be met with in any country ; and we all appreciated il accordingly. After dispatching our cheerful brenkfnst, we stepped into a comfortable Iillle vehicle provided lo carry us to Loch Lomond. It opened al the lop, like a lnndnu,and had the queer name of a " noddy." Our good landlady in the very spirit of kindness, (for all bills were paid) helped us by carrying out our clonks, and other little af fairs ; and vve set off in fine spirits. The one horse which drew our vehicle, was of substanfinl proportions- — s discreet nnd able-bodied beast, anri he carried his load of'five, along the beautiful and highly cultivated valley of the Leven, as though be travelled for his own pleas ure. Our road lay along the banks ofthe pure stream — the outlet of Loch Lomond — in which the poel Smollelwas wont " to bathe his youthful limbs." The high old mansion of Dalquhurn, where he was born, and the monument erected lo his memory, were pointed oul lo us, as we passed along the delightful way. Here we enjoyed, wilh the recollections of Scottish history, and the beauties of cultivated nature, an appearance of quiet, which reminded me strongly of the pleasant val lies of our own country. On an eminence, near the foot .of Loch Lomond, the landscape is finely ornamented 344 JOURNEY TO LOCH LOMOND. with a castie, and its cultivated grounds, belonging, we were lold, to Mr. Horrocks. It is a recent building, and its castellaled form is, 1 think, in fine taste to suit thesurrounding scenery, — now becoming somewhal more bold. At the fool of the lake, we were joined by several other persons, vvho were waiting to be taken on board the boat, — which lay al a short distance, and to which we were all ferried in a common scow. I was in a humor for conversation, and wished to learn something of the Scots, as well as of Scotland. A grave looking inhabitant who was in the boat, when we enter ed, showed us some quiet altentions, as we were getting on board. 1 asked him questions concerning the sur rounding objects, to all of which I obtained answers high ly satisfactory ; and 1 found that though he was plain in apparel, he was rich in knowledge, especially in the le gendary lore of his country ; — and as we passed some delightful seats situated on the shore, or on points of land projecting into the lake, he often gave me names, or'circumsfances, which called up poetical, or historical associations. Sometimes these local recollections, drew us info the broad field of Scottish history ; and here I found him still at home. Mary Queen of Scots, was mention ed, — "And what do you think of her?" said 1. He shook his head, and sighed. "Ah ! Madam, she was a lovely creature, but she had staid loo long in France. Our nobles were high minded, though fierce, — and Ihey could not brook tbe manners, which she brought from that Court." While I was holding this conversation, I was sifting on the side of the boat nearest the western shore, the scenery in that direction being the mosl beautiful. But as we advanced, a fine bold view was presenting itself on the opposite shore, and 1 left my seat to enjoy it. Every thing around was inspiring, and as I stood by my friend Mr. D — , 1 repealed to him some verses from Scott. A gentleman, whose agreeable figure and social countenance had struck us, when we first came on board, advanced a little, as I was speaking, and asked me in an LOCH LOMOND. 345 agreeable voice, after I had finished, if I recollected, Lord Byron's Loch-na-garr. Here was the beginning of a new acquaintance which lasted till we left the boat, and proved a source of much pleasure to ourwhole party. I lold him I did nol recollect Lord Byron's Loch-na-garr well enough to repeat it, bul said, Ishould be pleased to hear him- Without any ado he began, and went through the first verse in fine slyle. On Ihe second he faltered. " O denr," snid he, " why cannot Irecollect to repeat a piece, which 1 have sung a thousand limes." " Well then, sir," said I, " please sing it again" — and in this request I was vvaimly seconded by my friend Mr. D— . " Why really that will be an exhibition, I little thought of mnking — but since a song will give you pleasure, here itis." Seldom did music find more delighted auditors. It broke forth, a rich, clear, nnd unexpected strain, in na ture's own brond theatre, — amidst her loveliest scenery of mountnins, islands, and waters, — and if came in kind ness from a cheerful heart. When the song wns ended, we manifested our thanks and our pleasure ; but fold the singer, that with such powers of entertainment, as we found, he possessed, we hoped be would not refuse to be taxed again. " Oh," he said, " be was fond of singing, and we must look out that he did not tire us." Our party was now occasionally joined by one or two of that of Dr. S — , (for so our new acquaintance was called,) and we went joyfully on our course, amidst the numberless fairy islands which lay scattered around, (Inch Murrin, the largest, only a mile in length) while the mosl exquisite gratifications which the charms of na ture could give lo the eye, were heightened by the poeti cal associations, which the names ofthe glens and moun tains, were ever and anon bringing to our minds, — and tbey were duly honored, as we passed them, with quota tions recited from the Scottish poets, where their names were found, — or perchance sung in the tuneful airs of his native land, by our new acquaintance. For he was a Scotchman, who had settled in England, — and alter several years absence he was now returning with de- 30 346 LOCH LOMOND. light, to visit the home of his Childhood. He learned that we were Americans, and enjoyed all our admira tion of the Scottish scenery, music, and poetry, and of ten as we asked him for some favorite Scotch song, re peating perhaps two or three ofthe first lines, he would say — " and do you know that ?" We had passed Ihat portion of the lake, where the high, but sloping hills, now covered with the richest verdure of spring — the fine points of projecting land — the many little islands, with the bright waters gleaming between, give to the whole Inndscnpe that exquisite air of beauty, which makes Loch Lomond universally called, the queen of the Scottish lakes. And now Ben Lo-- mond, and the other wild and lofty mountains, on the north, were rising before us, — and tbe scenery assumed an aspect highly sublime : — il wns attractive too, on account of its novelty : the mountains were wholly un wooded, and covered wilh Ihe low heather, which gave to the nearer ones a tinge of brownish green. The na ked heads of these mountains, long bent upon by the storms, and worn by the rains, bad assumed a kind of roundness in their form, uncommon with us. The lake here becomes much narrower, than at the southern part The similarity of this view, with that of the Highlands, in [lassing up the North River, has often been remarked by travellers. This resemblance is found in the bold forms of Ihe successive mountains, and the abruptness wilh which they rise from fhe water. The American scenery has tbe advantage in fhe woods which crown Ihem, and in the craggy appearance of their rocky sides, but the Scottish in their superior height — Ben Lomond, towering four thousand feel above the water, which is more than double that of fhe highest mountain on tbe Hudson. These mountains, too, great ly exceed fhe Highlands in number, and in fhe wildness and variety of their general aspect. Passing along fhe foot of fhe majestic Ben Lomond, we stopped for a short time, some of our party having a curiosily to visit Rob Roy's Cave. The shore is here so bold, that our younger travellers passed to a little projection upon il, on a plank, laid from Ihe boat, as at I^OCH LOMOND. 347 a wharf. Looking at the entrance of the cavern from the boat, there seemed but a short distince to ascend ; but our exploring pnrly, fonnd the ascent more tedious than il nppenred. They described the cnve ns admi rably adnpted to the purposes of concealment. We also cnlled in our upwnrd passnge, nl the starting point for Loch Kntrine, to give infonnnlion thnl we should, on our return, need some ponies to make that excursion. Soon after we descended to a small cnbin, where we partook of n plain, but nenlly prepnred dinner. Hav ing now reached the hend of the hike, we stopped for 0 few moments only, — and nt tbree o'clock, vve hnd retraced the wny to our point of landing. Here we pxchnnged cordial adieus wilh Dr. S — . Before vve pnrted, he spoke to me in rnlhern'low tone of voice, nnd snid he had a question which he much wished to nsk me, nnd hoped I vvould not regard it ns itn[)ertinenl, hut he wnnted to know, as n plain mntterof fact, whether the American women were generally, ns well versed in Scottish litera ture, as 1 wns. Snid he, " our Scotli.-h women don't know hnlf as much about our poets." I told him that the Americnn women, were genernlly well read in the Scottish writers, and mnny of Ihem much better thnn I. I could hnve told bim, thnt lliono;h 1 knew not, how it might be vvilh respect to Scottish Indies. I hnd become very vvell convinced, Ihnt thi^ English writers were by no means so ivell understood by Ihe genernlily of their own country women, ns they nre by ours, — while nt the snme lime, nn egregious ignorance of whatever concerns us, prevails among Ihem. When on shore, we found thnl but one poney was in readiness. The people howevpr, advised us to pro ceed, assuring; us thnl nnother should soon oveitnke us. With this little old grey nnimni, which seemed more fit lo be cnrried, thnn to carry, (Miss D — nnd I, to ride alternately, till the other came up,) we set forward to climb the long, and steep ascent before us ; on which the western sun was now throwing his direct and unobslruc- ted beams. Our guide took upon his shoulders, tbe small portion of our luggage, which we had brought from 348 JOURNEY TO LOCH KATRINE. Greenock, the principal part having been sent fronr thence direct to Edinburgh. The hill wns toilsome, but our hearts were light, — and we found much diversion in the figure cut by the rider. We hnd reached ils lop, and the worst part of our way was p-,ist, vvhen tbe other pony with its odd fnshioned side saddle, rode by a lad of about twelve, mnde its appearance. Lillle Snwney dismounted, and I look his place — he, thenceforward trotting along by my side, for the purpose of Inking back the ponies. I thought as we rode along these heights, winding through hill and dale, thall never felt an air of so agreeable a temperature, or breathed one so invigora ting. Il seemed as if we inhaled wilh it, the very spirit of life and enjoyment The hills were barren and heath-covered, bul the- mountains around, rose iu' fantastic 'shapes, and dashing from Ihem, came many a pure stream into the dales be low. Upon their grnssy banks, flocks of sheep, wilh their frisking lambs were pasturing, and a few rnde-cot- tages were scattered along the vvny. I derived much diversion for myself and my friends, from an occasional dialogue wilh our little (firty Scratch boy, whose yellow elf-locks pointed in all directions from hishead. He bad a brogue like the Irish — a monotony through his senten ces, — Ihen a running up, and sudden fall of the voice at the close, which it was diflScult lo henr without laughing. Coming io sight of the few ruins, which remain of the old castle of Inversnnid, I asked him, " whnt is that, my lad ?" He snid, "and it is the castle of Anver-rsnaw- ede." " And who lives there ?" 1 asked him, pointing to two collages at a distance. " And it is Donnld Mc- TDonald. and Allen McGregor,'* whirring all the r'^s, with his comical cadence on the last word. In this neighborhood we stopped a few moments at a hut where some ofthe relations of Rob Roy McGregor resided, nnd where, during his concealment at the cave, dwell bis spouse, Ihe redoubtable Helen. At our sum mons, a long, large, and rusty fowling piece, Ihe identi cal weapon used by Rob Roy himself^ — was brought forth by a fall, lank, old woman, in shape something like tbe gun she held in her bands. Sbe immediately began with LOCH KATRINE. 349 great volubility, and in very broad Scotch, to relate di vers particulars of Rob Roy and Helen, — and amongst the resti by what mischance it was, thnl Helen, who valued her character, was obliged to make known that ber husband was concealed in the neighborhood. One of tbe young Rob Roy's, probubly saw the light soon after. Al length we begnn fo descend. Loch Katrine, wilh its surrounding mountains, was full in our view, and we soon dismounted on its bnnks, .having cheerily made our over-lnnd journey, of five long Scottish miles. Here was a hut more respectable in its nppenrnnce, than nny we hnd seen in our way from Loch Lomond. Miss D — and myself entered il, while the bnrge was preparing, which was to convey us over the Inke, — but we found it dark, ha ving scarcely a window, nnd intolerably dirty. Here were a couple of very old persons, who spoke in the Gaelic, and could not utter a word of English ; and vvho by the cold looks they threw upon us, il would seem, still retain their prejudice against the Lowland tongue. Our snil across Ihe Inke had nol so much of pomp, as that of Roderic Dhu ; but vve vvere reminded of his clansmen, and their skill al Ihe oar, by the two handsome young Scotchmen in their pinids, who rowed us swiftly along. Al first we were a lillle disappointed in the sce nery of this lake ; but as it turned, and fhe mountains around grew more abrupt, their sides gradually becom ing wooded, we found il delightful, — finely blending the sublime and the beautiful. The trees at first were small, bul appeared larger, as we approached the eastern ex tremity ofthe lake. There was one species of a delicate green; wilh long pensile twigs depending from the branch- gg^ — a graceful tree which, al first, 1 took for the weep ing willow, — but observing some points of difference, I vvas led to inquire, — and learnt thnl il was the birch, called in the Scottish dialect, the birk. Our boatmen, though chary of their conversation, yet in answer to our enquiries, gave us the names of the mountains which were towering high around us; and when they told us that such an one was Ben-Voirlich, such Ben-An, and such Ben-Venue, Ihey seemed to grow 30* 350 somewhat higher with the sound. When' we came to the sjiot where Filz James lost his charger, our boatmen founil Iheir tongues, and lold us the whole story, as if the horse hnd been a renl beast The present proprietor of these grounds has made improvements upon Ihem, and has erected a rustic lodge upon Ellen's Island, after Ihe model ofthat described by Sir Wnlter Scott. The chnrming shores of this island, with nil the witching scenery around, (nol more beauti fully, than justly described by Scott,) were never seen in finer lights, nor al a more lovely season. The sun was an hour high when vve landed on the isl and, wiihin the little bay from which Ellen hnd shot ber skiff, at the supposed call of her fnlher's bugle. We wound up the little path, by which she hnd conducted Filz Jnmes, — the way overshndowed wilh tress, and fra grant fromthe innumerable blossoms of the hare-bell, — ' the modest flower wilh which she hnd cnrelessly decked her hnir,lo soothe old Allan Bnne, when tbe mournful wail ing, came all unbidden from his harp. At length we reached the rustic lodge, around whose walls were bung the trophies of war, and of Ihe chase ; and here we saw what perchance, no other travellers ever hnve. James Douglas, and his daughter Ellen, — in hodily presence ; the real Douglnses ofthe Bleeding Heart, — alive and well, and happy; — as affectionate a father and daughter, as ever hath been said or sung, — in prose or verse. They went with us when we went ; embarked with us when we embarked, yet was our party no whit incrensed. We had remnined about hnlf an hour on this fairy isl and, and we had yet lo be rowed a mile over the lake, before we reached the Trosach's glen, where we landed. Along this way, and viewed from this spot, the scenery was more exquisite, than any thing else I have ever be held. It owed ils magic in part to the mountains, wild and high, and singular in form, and beautifiilly wooded, — sometimes advancing info the lake, and then receding fo give place fo its little bays, — and, partly lo fhe witching light, in which we beheld fhem. The sun, surrounded by a few beautiful clouds, was now concealed from view by Ibe top of a high mountain ; but a rosy light was rest- ing on the suffiihits of others whose base was shaded^ while occnsional lines of tight shot between, and glitter ed upon the glassy bosom of tbe lake. We hnd n mile and a quarter to walk, before reaching our destined place of repose. Yet 1 lingered on fhis spot, nnd turned ngain and agnin, to enjoy ils loveliness. Al length our road wound past nn intervening hill, and we bade Loch Katrine a reluctant adieu. Although we had travelled long and fnr, and seen much this dny, yel so exhil.irnling had been the air, and so- cheering the prospect, thnt our spirits vvere never better, — and there wns thnt evening, leaping ns well as walking nlong the Trosnch's glen, and amusement was found in every novel object, — in the myrinds of black snails ; one of which hnd slretched ils sliii y length on almost every slone which Iny nlong our, way, — ns vvell as in the narrow mountain pnss, sometimes cut through rock — ;m(l the mnny spire-like mountains from which the Trosnchs — signifying the " bristled region," derives its name. At length we reached our inn, which is pleasnnfly sit uated, with the lovely Loch Achray full in view from its front windows. Here every thing was made ns pleas ant to us as we could wish, by the attentions ofthe peo ple ofthe house, and only one circumstance occurred fo annoy us. When we first arrived, we were shown into what, we supposed, wns the public sitting room. We remained there until after tea, which we took about 9 o'clock — and by day light, — when some of our parly, who hnppen- ed to be in the room, were informed by two ladies, ap parently EngHsh travelers, that they considered the room as exclusively theirs, for the night We gave it up wilh oul contest, bul nol without manifesting some disappro bation ofthe rudeness of these pretenders ; — however, we were soon settled by our obliging host, in an apart ment which was perfectly neat, (as every thing was ahout this house.) and fascinated by the scenery, we walked forth, and enjoyed for half an hour, a view by the yet charming twilight, before seeking oor repose. May 27th. — Early Ibis morning we were greeted by 352 CALLENDAR. the sound ofthe Scottish bagpipe, which, coming across the waters of the little Loch Achray, had a very fine effect ; ils harsh sound being mellowed by the distance. When the vehicle which vve had chartered to carry us to Callendar, came to the door, we found that it was a kind of cart, hung upon springs, wilh seals for four persons, who were placedtwo on each side, vis-a-vis, and also a seal for a driver — the whole drawn by one borse. The scenery along our way, had still a wild romantic character ; and the places we saw, were those around which a spell has been cast by the genius of Scott. " Here Vennachar in silver fiowSr There ridge, on ridge, Benledi rose; Ever the hollow path twined on, Beneath steep bank and threat'ning stone." Benledi is 3000 feel high. We passed along this way, and marked that, '* The ruggRd mountain's scanty cloak Was dwarBsh shrubs ol birch and oak — With shingles bare, and cliffs between, And patches bright Of bracken gree.n, - And heather black, that waved so high It held the copse in rivalry. But where the lake slept steep and still Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hilh" This character of scenery continues " as far as Coil- anfogle ford" — but the vale of Callendar beyond, is nar row, fertile, and pleasant I prevailed on our driver to give us two or three specimens of Gaelic songs. Their sound was monotonous, and unmusical — more in the wail ing, than cheerful strain.. Callendnr is beautifully situated on the Teilh. We paid a visit to fhe Roman infrenchments, which are some ofthe most ancient fortifications in Great Britain. Here is a semi-circular mound, rising from ten fo twelve feet above the level ofthe plain, and crowned with a growth of large trees. It embraces an area of several acres. As there is no evidence that the Romans ever penetrated beyond the Grampian hills, il is supposed that it was on this spot, that they received a check from the gallant STIKLINCr. 353 Caledonians, who well knew how to guard the passes of their mountains. As we passed along the main streets of Callendar, to visit the encampment, 1 made acquaintance with some children, who were very ready lo go with us, and show us the object of our search. These lillle Highlanders seemed intelligent and kind' hearted. We departed' in a post chaise foe Stirling. On our route, we left, for a time, the main road, fo pass through the parks and grounds of Sir Evan Murray McGregor, which were finely situated on the banks of the Teilh, and kept in excellent order. Near Stirling there were extensive improvements go ing on in the draining of a large marsh. We reached Stirling at about one o'clock. It is a very old town, situnted on the side of a steep hill. Immediate ly after Inking out dinner we set out for the castle, which is one ofthe most interesting spots io Scotland, both from its historical associations, and because il commands a- view of an extensive and beautiful country. Thevnilpy ofthe Forth, seen from this spot, remind't one ofthe Connecticut, as viewed from Mount Holyoke. The former is not so broad, nor fhe river so large, but it far exceeds the Connecticut in the beauty of its everturn- ing and winding course. Its waters- sparkle like a per petual wave of light, amidst the rich verdure of their banks. Sometimes it goes fnr off from its onward way, and then back upon ils source ; and then returning, makes its convolutions on the other side — ns if the stream was delighted with his meadows, and determined nol lo quit them. Villages too are in the prospect — lordly dwellings wilh their cullivnted grounds, and ancient, venerable edifices — nmong which the ruins of old Cambus-Ken- neth Abbey, are Ihe most remarkable. There are many fields of fame in sight, which will long be celebrated in the Scottish annals ; and regarded by travelers as interesting mementos ofthe brave men, who fell upon them, and ofthe political changes consequent apon the balllee here fought. To the North West, we see Sheriff Muir, where there was a bloody bailie during tbe rebellion of 1745. — To the South Eaist is Falkirkj, 354 STIRLING. where the Scots were defeated by Ed ward I. of England. — Almost under the walls of Ihe cnstle another bailie was fought by the English wilh the Scots under Wallace. — But the mosl remnrknbleis the field of Bnnnockburn, where the Scots who had bled with Wallace, under Bruce freed themselves from the English yoke. The ensile is considered inaccessible except from the side townrds the town. Il is at present garrisoned by a part of a regiment of Highlanders, wearing the national costume — the tartan and the kill. One of them, a very intelligent young man, accompanied us round the castle, and gnve ns considerable local information. We were shown Park Drummond, the former residence of Lord Kames, which is delightfully situated on a side-hill nol far from Stirling. Thetown ofAllowny is lo be seen from here, a distance of only six miles in a direct line ; yel the river Forth winds through twenty-four miles lo reach it. After having remained at the castie as long as our time would permit, we turned our steps towards n very ven erable church just below. We viewed its interior, and then passed into the burial ground adjoining. There were many ancient monuments here, which b-dd interest ing events associated wilh them, as has every thing, old or important, in this vicinity. We perceived the marks of a recent funeral. The sexton was yet employed about the grave, nnd a few persons who had attended, were here and there, looking at a grave-stone. Two men among them, il might be of sixty, ofthat aspect which becomes pious deacons of the church, seemed, as I thought, to linger somewhat longer than the others, from a curiosity which the appearance of our party had ex cited. So there was among us that certain drawing near loench other, which occurs where there is a mutual de sire to he sociable. These good and friendly men (for so 1 doubt nol Ihey were) reminded me strongly of New England fathers. They gave us sundry articles of good advice, and by their direction, we descended Ihe hill by a shaded and solitary walk, which led us winding gently down, along its sleep and grassy margin. From Stirling we took a post chaise for Glasgow. Oa QLAsaow. our way we stopped for a short time on the field of BaiK nockburn, and examined the spot, where il is said Ihat^ the standard of Bruce wns planted during tbe engage ment. It is a cavity a few inches deep, on a rock al the road side. We look a few pebbles from it as a memento. May 28ih. — We arrived at Glasgow last evening — and this morning, Mr. D — , who was formerly for some years a resident in the city, went out to call upon his friends — which produced some civilities to his daughter and my self — and we accepted a cordial invitation for an evening visit In the mean lime, we purchased a plan ofthe city, preparatory lo taking a drive to see it. 1 wns struck wilh the similarity of ils situntion to Paris and London, in respect lo the course of the three rivers, on which these cities are built, — all making a sweep towards the north, and again bending to the south. Tbe course of the Thames is, however, opposite to that ofthe Seine and the Clyde. • This cily is rapidly improving, as appears from the large number of new bouses, and from the building now going on. A number of steam-boats are constanlly ply ing from if, to different parts ofthe kingdom ; and also several canals centre here, which give it important com mercial advantages, by means of this inland nnvigalion. But Glasgow is chiefly known as a manufacturing place. It has many facilities for carrying on extensive manufac tories, especially in the abundant supply of coni from its vicinity ; and these facilities are all employed by its en terprizing citizens. It is the largest town in Scotland, and contains about 200,000 inhabitants. The bustle of business, and the appearance of the shops reminded us of London and Liverpool — especially as we passed along the principal thorough-fare, which is Trongnte and Ar- gyle streets. The houses here, are generally four or five stories high. They are built of stone, which is sup plied in abundance hy quarries, found within the city. We were very hospitably received in the evening by our new acquaintances, who did every thing in their power to render our visit agreeable. The interior of the house was finished differently from any other which 356 GLA.SGOW. I bave ever seen. In place of paper-hangings, or bard- finish, the walls were painted in imitation of oak, and representing a pannel-work of small right-angled trian gles. I bad long been desirous lo see the process of calico printing, and Mr. D. — , by means of his friends, pro cured us permission lo visit one of the establishments. On arriving at the place we did nol find the proprietor, but the paper we brought, procured us every possible al- tention,from the person who had the charge in his absence. We were first shown tbe place where the dyeing was carried on. Here we saw fhe dyes in all the different slates. Next was exhibited the manner in which the cloth was cleared from the down and loose threads, which would, unless removed, destroy the smoothness, and high-finish, which is imparted lo it in their subsequent operations. This process, whicb is called calendaring, is performed by passing the clolh, wilh great rapidity, over an iron cylinder, heated to redness. Both sides of the cloth are thus singed, when il is considered fit to be dyed or stamped. After looking over this part ofthe works, we were taken to the printing room. The calico is either printed with rollers, or stamps. Where there is bul one color to be put 00, and the figure is nol complex, it is done with copper rollers. These rollers are engraved with the figure which is designed to be printed on the clolh. When a roller is wanted for use, it is put info a frame made for it, wilh another roller under il, to facilitate the passage ofthe cloth. When in operation, il is supplied with the coloring, from a refervoir, which is just above il; and only gives off enough to make a clear im pression. If there are a variety of colors to be put upon tbe cloth, it is done by means of stamps. "These stamps, I judged to be about fen inches long, by six wide, with the figures on Ihem raised, instead of being depressed, as in copper. The workman has a shallow pan of coloring matter standing near him, which is constantly agitated by a child, to keep it of a proper consistency. Houses the stamp by dipping it caref\illy into the dye, and after having GLASGOW. 357 placed it exactly as he wishes upon the cloth, he strikes il down wilh nn instrumenl mnde for fhe purpose. When be wishes to have more Ihnn one color, brown nnd yellow for insliince, he hns hisstnmps mnde, so thnl one of them shall make nn impression ofthe brown pnrt of his figure only, nnd the other the yellow. Iflhere nre more than two colors, the process is precisely the snme — the num ber of stamps always correspontiing with the number of colors employed. After stamping, there is still another process lo be gone through wilh, before the cloths nre rendy to be packed — which is thnt of fi.xing the colors, by menus of a liquid mordnnnt. After the cloths are dried, measured and packed lor market, they are sent lo nlmosl every part of the world — mnny lo our own counlry. In this establish ment, Ihe moving power is slenm. Besides Ihe operntioos already mentioned, all Ihe roll ers are engrnved here. Persons nre conslnntiy employ ed in designing new patterns. If they nre so fortnnate as to hit upon one which pleases genernlly, they mnke a large sum bj' il, while they lose on those, which do not happen to tnke. This eslablishrnenl is situated on the opposite side of the river from the town, ns is also the case with quite a number of lnrs;e mnnufactories. The public buildings of Glasgow are respectable, but not genernlly elegant. A new rending room may, how-. ever be excepted, nnd there is one building here, which ranks nmong the finest in Scotland. This is the Cathe dral, which is indeed, the only relic ofthe religious edi fices of former days, that has wholly escaped the pious rage ofthe reformers. It is a venerable pile ofthe Go thic order, 320 feet long, 60 wide, and 90 from the ground lo the top of the wall. It is ornamented with a majestic spire of exquisite proportions.* This edifice was begun in 1136; bul was not completed at the time when the presbyterian religion was here established. Ac- * By using the term Gothic, I donot mean to enter info the discussion whether the pointed style of architecture'is most properly called the Gothic, or the old English. I merely use tills term, because I think it will be, generally, better understood. 31 358 JOURNEY TO EDINBURGH. cording to its original design, il was lo have been built in the form of a cross, but the transepts were not extended to their proper dimensions. The site ofthe Cathedral is high and commanding. Ils interior hns two divisions, enclosed and finished in a more modern slyle, to accom modate two worshipping assemblies ; bul a Inrge space still remnins, where are monuments and tablets inscribed to the illustrious dead. After having made a very rapid survey ofsome ofthe principal objects in Glasgow, vve look our depnrture for Edinburgh, by wny of Lanark. We continued on, or near the banks of ihe Clyde, for a considerable lime after leaving Ibis city. About six miles from Glasgow, we drove through the delightful grounds of Lord Douglas, to visit a mnjestic and interesting ruin on his domains. It is two hundred and fifty feel in length, and one hundred in breadth, — and here the roofless walls of old Bothwell Castle, where once the Stewarts, the Douglases, and the Hepburns, spread the feast, and listened lo the minstrel, — rise, yet proudin desolation, amidst a landscape lovely as the poet's brightest vision. The Clyde, by a fine bend, sur rounds the Castle on two sides ; bul ils vyalers flow many feel beneath ; and its banks, though verdant and sloping, are yel sleep. That opposite the Caslle, is thickly wood ed with beautiful frees. Above these, and surmounting a high and almost perpendicular cliff, rises the ruins of the ancient Priory of Blanty re — so near, that according fo Sir Walter Scott, " When Blantyre hymned its holiest lays. Then Bothwell's bards flung back the praise." No object disagreeable to the sight, or unpleasant lo the tread, can here be found. All around the ruin — and even wiihin it — where warriors once trode its oaken floors, is now spread a soft carpel of fine thick grass. On the side of the Castle opposite lo the river, are ex tensive lawns, where io some places we may see lone and stately trees ; in others, clusters of those more light and graceful ; while blossoms of every hue, were shedding their fragrance from the many shrubs, scattered promis cuously around, or shading the gravel walks. These, JOURNEY TO EDINBURGH. 359 however, are more frequently found near fheTesidence ofthe proprietoi, nt some little distance from the ruin. Of this, 1 mnde a sketch, wishing to preserve some memento of a scene, which had so delighted me. It is built of red sand-stone, in nppearance plain, bul elegant, composed of two principnl stories, and an attic. On the lower story, there nre four windows on each side the front door, and of course nine on each slory nbove. i We lingered in these shades, and I gnlhered some specimens from rnre shrubs. One which I thought so, was at n little distnnce from me. It rose lo the height of twelve or fifteen feet, and wns covered with a profu sion of thick while blossoms. 1 .•ippronched it, and found it to be nn old fnvorite of my nntive walks. It grew lowly there, — bul here, ns if by keeping lordly compnny, it vvas so lifted up in the world, thnt at first I did not recognize my old ncqunintnnce. It wns ihe elder, cullivnted as an ornnmeiitnl shrub, and I then recollected to hnve seen it on other ornnmented grounds. I should nol think, however, Ihnt cultivntion rould have mnde nil this differ ence ill its nppenrnnce, but that il must hnve been nnother species. The woody pnrls seemed firmer, and more branching, — Ihe lenves thicker nnd smnller.* We pnssed Bothwell bridge, so well known in Scottish story, ns Bothwell brig, vvhere tbe bloody encounter took pince between Ibe covennnlers, nnfl the troops under Grahnme of Clnverbouse, .A few miles beyond, we stop ped at n snug inn, in ihe lillle town of Hnmilton. Here we mnde "ncqir.iinlnnce vvilh our Inndlord, a portly and sensible man, who proffered his services to conduct us in a walk, of perhnps three quarters of a mile, to visit the pnlnce nnd gnninds of Ihe Duke of Hnmilton. Brond nnd level Inwns, with here nnd there n mnjestic tree, jiresentn quiet scene of rural beniil}' ; but neither in point of nnlurni situntion, or of fine remnants of anli- quity, — can these grounds bear nny comparison vvilh those of Lord Douglas. But Ihe pnlnce itself is iidmira- •I think the botanical description of ^he Sambucus nigra, applies to thi.=i shrub, called here the elder-tree, — but it seems a singular effect of cultivaiion, tliat while the woody part.-^ greatly increase in size, and become more branching ; ihe cyme and leafets should become smaller It may be ofthe variety tacimala. 360 JOURNEY TO EDINBURGH. ble, and is, I believe, genernlly considered the most mag nificent reside nee in Scotlnnd. It is composed of two parts, the one old, the other new, nnd scarcely yet com pleted. The front of the building is of white mnrble, two hundred nnd sixty-three feet in length, nnd rising through a basement story —n lofty central one — nnd nn nltic — to the height ofsixly feet A flight ofsteps which renches to tbe principnl story, nnd stnnds forth in bold relief, — leads lo a noble portico, where twelve Corinthian pillars in two tirtrs, ench pillnr composed of a single stone, are elevnted ihrnugh the vvhole height of the building, and ornamented by a benutiful pediment, on the centre of which is sculptured Ihe arms ofthe fnmily. Pnssing round lo the renr.of this splendid edifice, we perceived whit perhnps might hnve been two long wings of Ihe old buildins;, nt right angles lo the new, and connected wilh if, though not at the ends ; and enclosing, in nn area opening 'on one side, n beautifiil portion ofthe Inwn. On our return to Ihe inn, wisbina: to know a little the opinion ofthe Scottish people, in reference lo the stale of politicnl nffnirs, 1 nsked our landlord some questions, touchinijlnte disfnrbnnces in Edinburgh, in them-itlerof the election. 1 found him full ofthe old Scotch .'pirit of independence. He snid thnt tbey were premeditnted, and mnd:; f)r the purpose of convincing Ihe English gov ernment, ofthe falsity of representnlions given by certain polilicnl men, thnl the Scoitish people were indifferent fo Ihe passage ofthe reform bill, or unfriendly to it. The Duke of H.imi ton, 1 am told, is liberal in his politicnl sen timents, nnd n friend to the interests ofthe people. When those who are nol high-born, ndvntnle'such views, they are hut supposed to plead their own cause. High-birth in such n case, is truly an advnntnge — giving a tnnn an opportunity of proving lo the world, that he possesses the higher nttribiites ofjustice and benevolence. Approaching fhe carringe to resume our sents, we were diverted lo hear our coachman scolding in Scotch at n clown, with whom be hnd left bis horses, for fniling to block the wheels. Snid he—" why dinna ye pit a slane? — Ye're aye lukio up." Our way continued through the beautiful valley ofthe LANARK. 361 Clyde. The residence of Mr. Lockharl vvas pointed out to us ; one of the mnny plensnnt seals which we saw. Just at evening we came to the fnlls ofStonebyres, and clambered down a rugged pnlh, to get as good n view of Ihem, ns the twilight hour would permit But the strenm seemed narrow, nnd the fall less grnnd, Ihnn vve had expected. We did not arrive nl Lanark, until the evening hnd Inirly closed in. M;iy29ih. — We visited early in the morning, fhe vii- lage of New Lanark, formerly the pro|)erty of Robert Owen, The whole village consists of m.inut'iclories, chiefly for cotton thread, with dwellings for the work men, and a school houie. Every thing here, hns the np- pear.mce of comfort nnd nenlness. We were shown through tbe factories, by a person who nppenred to be one of the principnl clerks, nnd by whom we were treat ed with much civility. From the fncfory we went to the school room, where our conductor showed us maps and chnrts, nnd other np- pnrntus, used in Ihe plan of educntion here pursued^. The children are taken quite young, and pinced n pnrt of their time in the fnclory, and n pnrt in the school. Here they are instructed in the different branches of a common English educntion, and nlso in botany, music and dancing. There certainly appenrs to be much to admire in tbe regulations here, which combine profita ble industry, with physical and mental improvement. I conversed with our coniliicfor, and others, respect ing Owen, and found ihiil his present sentiments, pur- ticulnrly as opposed to the cbrislinn religion, are un popular, and his bile-conduct much censured. We proceeded next to visit the ufipcr fnlls of the Clyde. A part of our route was perfbrmed on foot The heal was somewhnt oppressive, and we glndly reach ed the little tem[de, which the tnsteful and benevolent proprietor, has erected on nn eminence overlooking Cop ra Linn, the finest of these falls, — and as I reposerl in this little temple, and looked beneath and nrounil, the full feeling of admiration rose in my soul. It is a scene of picturesque beauty, — with much of wildness and sub limity ; the while foam of the water dashing down three 31* 362 FALLS or THK CLYDE. unequal leaps, is before you ; and around dark rocks, fantastically grouped, rise wild and high, — and tangled woods are growing between, or above them. On a bold rock above the falls, is the ruins of the ancient castie of Corra. Smitten wilh the mnjesty of nature — cooled by the breezes from the woods around — lulled by the solemn music of Ihe walerfnll— the hour which I passed on this spot, was delicious. 1 neither wished lo speak, or move — 1 neither cared lo examine the common place books, or view the mimic falls in the mirror which hung above. I wished to commune here wilh my own spirit, with nature, and with God. I wns unwillingly drawn away lo visit other scenes, — but the charm which would hnve bound me here being broken, 1 found the next views which presented them selves, highly interesling; and I enjoyed them with a feeling less intense, bul more social. Our walk lay along the vvooded margin ofthe Clyde, and continued nearly a mile before we reached its main object, vvbich was the falls of Bonnington ; but something new, or wild, or singular, met us al every turn. Here the rapid stream, compressed between high perpendicular banks of rock, — and there a curious cnve ; — here a rude seat by our nicely cleared foot path, — and there a marble ba sin, carved in fhe form of a shell fo receive the cool clear waters of a spring, while a little cup, depending from an overhanging bough, invited us to stop, and quench our thirst Bonnington, is the upper fall of the series, whicb con tinues about five miles to Stonebyres. The Clyde falls here, not more than thirty feel ; but every object in the scenery around, has the picturesque grandeur of prime val wildness, though in a less degree than al Corra Linn. Having viewed these falls, we retraced the charming fool way, by which we had approached them. Recent improvements appeared to me to have been made, not by intruding in ihese poetical haunts of nature, paltry works of arl,--bul by removing every disagreeable ob- jeci which might annoy the eye, or the foot of the visit er, — and where in Some cases nature seems to have inten ded to produce a certain effect, — as a cavern, or a pleas- EDINBURGH. 363^ ant seat by the way side, — art bad aided her to complete her design. In pursuing our way from Lanark to Edinburg, we found few objects, to gratify either taste or curiosity. Having little to take up our attention in the present, we bad leisure lo look back, and enjoy tbe past. We con gratulated each other on having seen, under the most fa vorable auspices, Ibe finest scenery in Scotland. The heavens had been propitious — the weather having been brilliantly fine, — the earth had smiled forth in all the gay and delicate tints of spring i — this was the season too of the singing of birds — and many a little wnrbler ofthe wood became familiar lo the strangers, by its song and its note. Among Ihese birds was the mavis> which we particularly admired. It was pleasant loo, as we wandered along the hills, among Ihe bnnks and braes of Ihe streams, — to distinguish the hare bell, the heath flower, the gowan, — and many a blossom, whose name Scottish poetry had made familiar to our ears. Yet for the bonnie lasses o' Scotland so Inuded by their poets, 1 would they had been cleaner. As we pass tbe dwellings of the Scotch peasantry, we should be led to suppose that ihey were not only far lessnenl, but less industrious, than the English. It would seem to be a kind of custom for aged persons of both sexes, fo place themselves conspicuously al the fronts of the houses, with no other occupation Ihan to gaze al the passing stranger — nol reflecting that they give bim a sorry spe cimen, of the inhnbitnnls of their country. We reached Edinburg al eight in the evening, and took lodgings al Simpson's hotel in G^ueen street, a de lightful location in the new city. EDINBURGH. 365 LETTER TO MRS. A. H. LINCOLN. Edinburgh, June 2d, 1831. Dear Sister : To-morrow I leave Edinburgh — I might sny, tenr my self awny from il, — for 1 nm completely fnsciiinled by its wild and wcnderlul scenery, nnd with ihegfnernl lone of society which I hnve mel here, — combining the heart's warmth in nil Us best nffections, vvilh high intelligence, and wit, nnd shrewdness, in all common nffnirs. Then too, there are so many associations, almost ns fnmiliar as the home of my infnncy, connecled with Ihe various objects, which every where present themselves lo my view. The very grnves of some of the fnlhere of my mind, vvho here repose, awaken feelings which I have never experienced on similar occasions, — except it might have been in visiting Ihe tombof Washington, — nnd con vince me of whnt I hnve never thought of before, that I cherish n more intimate affection for the Scottish, than the English writers, though nol a livelier ndniirntion. I do not refer so much to the living, ns the dead, — nor to the authors of our sex, as of the other. 1 hnve tnken somiB pnins to trace this difference of feeling to ils source : nnd think il proceeds from Ihe dif ferent treatment, which women have received from these writers. 1 perceive also, the same difference in this respect, in the living manners of these two countrirs. It is true that Ihnve been but n short time on the LInnd, — but a sensitive eye. quickly distinguishes between dnrkness and light — a sensitive pnlnte, between sour nnd sweet Eng lishmen are afrnid women will know loo much, and con sider that Ihe perfection ofour nnture is to amuse them, or to do meninl services for their convenience; — but for us to claim to be something in, nnd of ourselves, — to think we have higher morni obligations than those we owe lo their sex, — lo assert our equnl right lo intellectuni culti vation ; — this is all very shocking fo an Englishman. There is a certain something in his manner when be ad dresses you, which makes you feel that you are a lady, 366 EDINBURGH. accosted by a gentleman, — a woman, spoken to by a man — one of nature's lords. In Scotland, when men converse wilh you, you are permitted lo feel that you are a hu man being, in communion wilh those of your own kind. The subject of public schools for our sex, seems here, as in France and England, lo have failed of exciting that attention which its importance demands, and which might haye been expected in these limes, when reforms of so many kinds are thought of Though the faults of board ing school education, — the flippant manners, and shallow learning of a boarding school Miss, — have long been bye words ; yet nothing appears bul that these things are considered evils, equally necessary wilh faults of the climate. On enquiring for improvements in education, I was ndvised by all means, fo visit Mr. Wood's sessional school for boys. Accordingly I took a carringe and went, accompanied by a gentleman of my acquaintance ; but the only satisfaction 1 received from my visit, was in fhe agreeable conversation of my companion ; and a little touch of Scotch independence, which gratified my re publican feelings. As our carriage stopped at the school house, a person, wbom 1 supposed to have been Mr. Wood himself, came to the door. The gentleman who conducted rae, alighted, and spoke for a moment, but in so low a tone, that 1 could not understand his words. The reply was, " 1 regret sir, that 1 must be obliged lo refuse your request, but we have of late had so many visiters, as to impede the progress of our pupils ; and have therefore, been obliged to deny all similar applica tions, except on public days, for seeing company. I have Ibis morning refused tbe Duchess of Gordon, who has just left here." " But," said my atiendant, " Mrs. Wil- lard's claims are superior to fhe Duchess of Gordon's ; she can come again." I shall not be able with all my endeavors, to see half the bewitching scenery about Ibis city, nor half the ob jects, interesting from poetical or historical associations — though you may judge that 1 am very industrious, when I tell you that I enjoyed a sunrise view of Edinburgh EDINBURGH. 367 from the castle, having walked there this morning, from our delightful location in Queen street. 1 was accompanied by Mr. B — , who together with his wife, linve long been the intimate acquaintances of Mr. D — . 1 feel my heart warmed to these excellent people. They seem to bave wit and wisdom — wilhnl thnt wisdom which comes from above — and lo be abundnnt in that faith which works by love, nnd shows itself in unaffect ed kindness. The attachment of Ihis couple is very manifest, though they rally ench other vvilh a great deal of humor. Perhaps I relished this the more, for a rea sonable mixture of that dialect, to which the Magician of fhe North has imparted a charm, by making it a medi um for the noble and pathetic sentimentsof Jeanie Deans, and the wil of Edie Ochiltree. They have bul one child — n pretty girl of twelve — who attends Ihe school of the Miss W — 's, said to be one of the first for young ladies in the cit}'. This afternoon Miss I — , (who has been infrodnced Itr us by Mrs. B — ¦) MissD — , and myself, prepared for ao excursion fo Leith. We called on our way at Mrs, B — 's. She had an indispensable engagement al home, and we invited her little daughter, to take the vacant seat in our carringe. The mother carefully prepared her to accompnny us — looked after her with eyes full of ten derness — and just as we were about to drive fromthe door, she snid fo Miss 1 — , " Bring me back me bairn.'* Our route lay northerly through Leith Walk — a broad and level street — often presenting us with beautiful, or interesting objects, — and al its termination, the expanse of the Frith of Forth, On our return we look a circuit ous route, which led us over a beautiful hill, where we enjoyed a magnificent prospect of Edinburgh. There is a witchery about fhe views of this city, which 1 think arises chiefly from this circumstance — that the fine objects which compose it, entirely change their aspect with the points in which you behold fhem — and thus the charm of perpetual novelty is kept up. The principal objects loo, unlike the scenery of other cities might be represented, in a picture, as the hills in a rural landscape, taking large masses of light and shade, — and 368 EDINBURGH. tbey are wild, and singular, and remarkably contrasted with each other. Al a bird's eye view, you would have the New Cily situated on a sloping eminence, rising abruptiy from the north. The houses here are built of a fine light slone, and so put together, in straight or circular ranges, as to. resemble a collection of palaces. Interspersed wilh these, are extensive and delightful grounds, laid out in the garden style, with trees of various kinds, flowering plants, and shrubs, tastefully disposed in knots, or skirt ing walks of gravel. This city of palaces and gardens continues, until to wards tbe south, it terminates in what was once the bed of a lake, and il now bears the appellation of the North Loch — but garden plants grow green where the waters once stood. Towards the west, it is crossed by a broad earthen mound, and towards the east by a bridge. On the southern side of the North Loch, rise boldly up, the dark-looking, twelve-story houses of the old town, — and a little to the south-west, in perpendicular masses lo the height of three hundred feet, the castle rock — once a lofty promontory in the Jake. About a mile to the north-east of this, lowers the bold eminence Gallon Hill crowned with the Observatory, aud wilh monuments to the illustrious dead. There is still another equally large portion of the city, extending in a direction southerly from the old town, 'and entirely different in ils general appearance, both from Ihal, and the new. This is, as you view it from the castle, a delightful portion of the landscape, — there are here beautiful streets, and fine public buildings, among w'hich, Herriol's hospital mosl distinctly impres sed itself upon my memory. From Gallon hill, you descend towards tbe-east, in to a deep romantic valley, on the other side of which, Salisbury Craig rises wild and high. It vvas in this val ley that the Scottish kings, " kept court in Holyrood." Beyond Salisbury Craig, and a deep intervening valley, towers up more majestically, the singular mountain called " Arthur's seat," which throws ils bold outline over the sky, and closes the prospect in that direction. EDINBURGH. 369 But in the north you have, in fine contrast wilh these singular objects, the broad Frith of Forth, stretching away and opening in':o the Northern Ocean, — and be yond, blue in the distance, the bills of Fife. Now you can easily conceive, that the grand objects which make up the tout ensemble of this prospect, must forever seem shifting their relative positions as you change yonr own; while new varieties are iirparfed hy the changes of light aud shade. The lops of the hills are at morning and evening lighted wilh the sun, when all beneath is shade; and the shadows of the clouds are often seen to move, amidst sunshine, over the sides of Salisbury Craig, and Arthur's seat. The inhabilantsof Edinburgh seem lo appreciate these peculiarities of their prospect, and say thai frequently they find some spot where the whole landscape assumes an appearance new, even to them. My first view of Edinburg from the Caslle, was a sun-rise view ; — my first from Gallon Hill, was during a delightful walk near the close ofthe day. On my return from Leith, the suu-lighl was occasionally in terrupted by the shadows of clouds moving across the scene, and rendering ils beauties still more picturesque. Amoug other interesting objects which we passed on this drive, was the Manufactory of oil Gas, built in the form of a Moorish Castle, and planned by the taste of Sir Waller Scott, the proprietor havinga laudable desire to adorn the commanding eminence on which it stands. Bul il is said that the project has much better answered the purposes of beauty, than utility. We passed also the fine botanical garden, and was sorry that the lateness of the hour prevented our entering the grounds. :|iMiss I — lold me that her father, who is a physician, said (in speaking of the progress of refinement here,) that the first name given to the garden, was the Doctor's Yard. I have been much pleased wilh the sprightiiness and intelligence of this lady's conversation, as v/ell as with the kindness and frankness, of her manner. The general strain of her discourse, both as to style and sen timent, seemed of a piece; wilh the compositions of the Scotch writers, on the subjects in question ; and was 32 STO EDINBURGH. evidence to me, that she had held communion with fhem^ through their books, or in social life. From the tittle opportunity I have had of judging of the interior of things here, I can see no marked differ ences in the Scottish mode of living, and the English, , (and I might add with a few exceptions, the American too) — there seems to be the same general style of apartments, and furniture. There is however one arrangement which bears more resemblance to the French, than to the English mode. In some of the large houses, the different stories are di vided into what are called flats, each flat coniaining all the variou? apartments necessary for family uses, — such as a dining room, parlor, bed room, kitchen, &c. But the several families, inhabiting these, have not, as at Paris, a porter's lodge at the common entrance, — and a few years ago, visitors passed without cere mon}', the common stairs, and rung at the door of the family. This would naturally allow the door al the common entrance, to stand open; and thus interlopers would get in. To remedy this inconvenience, each family now has its own bell, and a wire lo raise ils own latch. But there is after all, less safety in this arrangement, than in the constant attendance of a faithful porter. The ordi nary height of these houses, being tbree stories, each with two flats, one on either side the common stairs- — there are frequently six bells communicating wilh a sin gle front door. We are al Simpson's hotel, which is considered not inferior to any in the city, in point of situation, or ac- comraipdation. Our parlor windows look across Queen- slreel, upon the beautifully ornamented gaiden grounds of Abercrombie place. This parlor is a large front room, on the ground floor. The sleeping apartment of Miss D — and myself, communicates wilh il, and is the largest with which we have been furnished during our travels. The servants are attentive and respectful, aud our food is prepared in fine slyle. We have had a little, Ihougb not half the lime we wished for, lo visit public places. Al old Holyrood, we Jieard over the whole account of the curiosities, from 0,71 those who have Ihem hy heart, and say their pieces for pay. You may read it, and I dare say have, in forty books. I should like dearly lo take some shadowy twi light hour for rambling over these halls, and musing amidst the ruins of the ancient chapel, when my imagi nation vvas rife with the visions of the past, and could conjure up the forms which once inhabited the palace, and knelt around the altar. This venerable pile seems now almost regarded as the monument of the beautiful Mary — (I vvould I could say too the prudent, and the virtuous)--\vhile the high-souled Jamesslrugglinga;;ainst aristocratic tyranny, and many others of worthy dt^eds, who once dwelt here, are nol now remembered. 1 have remarked much the same thing with regard to Marie Antoinelle of France. Thus does the fascination of fe male beauty and accomplishments extend even to pos terity. This is in the nature of things ; and it is in vain to rail at wha:i Providence ordains. The gift of beauty our sex should prize, and cultivate ; but they need in tellectual and moral strength, that ihey may turn it to account in His service who gave it ; aud not allow il lo be a snare to their own souls. We had hoped to see the exiled king of France, as he usually rid.-s out at the hour of our visit lo the pal ace ; but he did not appear. We saw the rocjm filling up for the reception ofthe peerage of Scotland, whom, i( we could stay two days long4'r, we might see here assembled, as Ihey are to elect a ceitain number of their body, lo represent them in the British Parliament In the exterior of ils public edifices, Edinburgh is riot remarkable. Bul nature has made here, her own bold towers ; and no architecture seems to me, so vvell to suit Ihem, as the old castellated style. This has been with fine effect employed, in ihe recent erection of a prison, on an eminence, on the south side of Gallon hill. If I had the " open sesame," of a mine of wealth, aud was lo spend it in decorating Edinburgh— the very first thing 1 would do, wouid be lo pull down "the straight- work, uncaslle-like affair, forming a pari of what is call- 372 EDINBURGH. ed the castie, and put up in ils place areal, noble caslle in the old Scoitish style. We spent some hours in the various rooms of the Royal Institution ; and savv many interesling objects, particularly in those of the antiquarian society. The gallery of paintings, tiiough not very large, presents a good sel'^cfion. The old town is interesling to the reader of Scottish annals. Indeed the names cf the places themselves, ever remind us of some interesling narrative. Here is the Grass Market, the Lawn Market, the Canongale, tht- Cowgate, and all the other gates, which the atild Scotch used lo ging. In the burying ground in the vicini ty of Grey Friar's Church, I savv the slab with the inscrip tion to the Covenanters, of which you have doubtless often heard. One thing which pleased me in Edinburgh is, thai in general it is men of letters, not men of blood, who are honored, in" their death. Some of the proudest monu ments of the city are, however, exceptions ; rising in memory of those, not remarkable for enlightened minds, who had more valor than virtue, — more influence than honesty. I spent, with deep interest, some hours in the general assembly, now in session. This body is composed of divines, and lay members, from the several presbyteries of Scotland — and there were present on this occasion, eminent men, with whose names aud characters, I had before been acqu-.tiuled. Lord Belhaven, the King's Commissioner, bad an elevated seat resembling a throne, and beautiful little boys as pages, were hovering about to do his bidding. But the office of fhe Commissioner seems to be here little more than a mere pageant, as the assembly basils own moderator. Mr. Wall-ace of White- kirk, officiated as such, on this occasion. The subject of discussion when I entered, was that, which of ail others, I would have chosen — the state of education in Scotland. The report ofthe venerable Dr. Baird vvas read, concerning tiie improved condition ofthe schools, in the remote parts of the kingdom, along the Highlands, and in the islands on the coast. Their im- _..,„„„„... 373 provement was then ascribed lo the exertions of this be nevolent divine. Allusions were made to his lale excur sion to visit them, and finally a paper was read, contain ing the thanksof the assembly previously voted. There was something touching, in the truly religious aspect of this good man, as he meekly stood up to hear the praises he so vvell deserved. After some minor affairs, another subject was started, as if it were done at this time to gratify my curiosity, already awakened. It was the subject of Mr. Irving's heresy, which not only interested my feelings, but those of the members themselves ; — brought forth their di visions of sentiment — produced sound reasonings — and struck out fine flashes of oratory. The orthodox partv, the leader of which seems to be Mr. McFnrland, prin cipal of the College of GIssgow, were in favor of silenc ing the accused ; while the liberal parly, at the head of whom appears lo be i\Ir. Cooke, (I believe the celebra ted lawyer of Edinburgh,) were for more moderate mea sures. A clergyman, whom I vvas lold was a Mr. Wight- man, and ofthe orthodox party, clothed his ideas in beautiful language. " Though the fruits of heresy," said he, " are fair lothe eye, yet its roots are bitter, and its shade is poisonous-" In answer to a position assumed by the friends of Mr Irving, that the assembly had no right fo silence bim, he being out of their precincts — Mr. Geddes of Pais ley spoke with great clearness and energy. " Our right to silence, or censure," said he, " is co-extensive wilh our right to ordain. We ordain ministers for other coun tries — and are held responsible for their doctrines wher ever they go ; — and must the sanction of our ordination remain, whatever strange and destructive heresies its subjects may choose to adopt.? Then never will I con sent lo lay hands upon another." In the midst of this animated discussion, suddenly there was a deep groan. I turned, and beheld an el- deriy, and a very large man, fall back in a fit Con fusion prevailed, and the assembly was broken up. Besides those I have mentioned, there were present in the assemby, Mr. Wilson, the well known poet of 32* 374 EDINBURGH. the "Isle of Palms," and Dugald Stewart's successor in the chair of moral philosophy, at the college of Edin burgh. I had also the satisfaction of seeing Dr. Chal mers, and of marking the expression of his countenance as he spoke in low tones lo a person near him. I found him, as others have described him, inelegant in exterior. Had I marked his physiognomy, merely in a quiescent stale, I am not cerlain I should have detected the hid den fire within ; but from the play of his features in speech, I could cleariy discern the marks of his genius and benevolence. Having a great desire lo hear him converse — wilh the Bdvice of my friends, and taking in my carriage Miss I — . who was to introduce me — I went to pay bim a visit — but much lo my regret, he wasnot al his house. Among other intelligent and agreeable people, whom I have seen here, are the Miss W — s. They received me politely at their house ; aud conversed sensibly on the subject of education. At my request, they have sent me a list ofthe works used in their school. I think the Scotch sometimes treat the King's English rather queerly. I do not speak of the variations of their native dialect, which often expresses a thought or feeling more concisely and humorously, than the corresponding English expressions. But, for example, what do you think they call an endowment fo a public institution.'' Why a " mortification." Herriol's hospital they say has a large mortification. — And what do you think a hospi tal is .' Why in this case, il is a place in which hale and hearty young men receive a useful, and considera bly accomplished education. One would think that with two such words tacked lo their place of instruction, the mortification would belong lo the young men and not to the house : but on the contrary, it is, I am lold, es teemed an honorable privilege lo be admitted there, which none but the sons of those who have the freedom of the cily, cnn obtain. But while mortification is made honorable, humanity is abused. — Humanity, you must know, is the Latin Language. — Who can dispute the authority of Edin burgh College .' The Professor of humanity there, is EDINBURGH. 375 the professor of the Latin language — ergo, humanity is the La'in language. Without this piece of learning, I should have opined that if there was a professor of humanity in this city, it must he George Combe. Through the kindness of Mrs. D — I have been intro duced to that eminent philosopher, so well know lo the public, as the president of the phrenological society, and by his elegant and forcible productions, on the nature, and constitution of man, and the physical developement of his intellectual powers. During my stay in Paris, Mrs. D — had, from time to time, given me little inci dents respecting him, which had excited in my mind a respect for his private character, equal lo the admiration which I had long entertained for his high powers of thought and expression, I found his conversation re plete with original ideas, and these often like the scene ry around — brought together in novel and singular con trasts and relations — iu some instances, so very singular that I could not avoid laughing outright. His manner appeared to me as original as his thoughts ; if I should study upon it a fortnight, I do not think I could tell why I laughed, or whether his discourse was intended lo produce this effect; — he did not laugh himself, but he did not appear al all displeased that I should. His con versation seemed intended lo be, what it really vvas, in structive — but his manner of putting together his ideas was amusing, and in a slyle altogether his own. In re gard lo his opinions, some struck me as true, the mo ment he announced them, — with respect lo others, I was not prepared to judge ; and therefore had nothing lo do, hullo admire — and lo laugh. If he could have determin ed characters as well by the teeth, as by the cranium, I am certain he must have discerned tbe whole of mine. In short, Mr Combe's discourse has left upon my mind an impression, similar lo that of Paganini's violin, which is, a great desire to hear more of it. And so it seems lobe wilh every thing here. Yet in the midst of the gratification half completed, of former curiosity — and with a still greater stock on hand, which is newly awakened, — I must pack it all up in a bundle 376 LONDON. together, and carry il home. This, duty requires — but I feel now that the odds is, that it may, some day or other, bring me back again across the All.intic. LETTER TO MRS. A. H. LINCOLN. London, June 6th. De.^r Sistf.r : This is the third day since we reached London, and having now recruited from the fatigues of our rapid jour ney from Edinburgh, and completed ourpreparationsfor leaving London to-morrow, I snatch a littie lime lo give }ou a hasty account of our progress, since I wrote last. In leaving Edinburgh, my son and myself found anoth er trial, besides that of quilling a place v^'ilh which we were so much charmed. This was in parting with our dear friends, Mr. and Miss D — , so long the compan ions of our way. They have indispensable avocations which must detain them sometime longer in Scotland, and I am determined, if the Lord will, lo be with you al the time which I fixed for my return, when I left home. To secure this, as far as lies in my own power, I bave allowed eight weeks for my homeward passage. I must lake lo myself some credit for my resolution. Mr. D — al first laughed at it, as a lady's whim, which when the lime of trial came, would vanish before the temptations of unsatisfied curiosity. But when he found that I made il a serious matter of duty ; he not only aid-« ed my arrangements by his judicious counsels; bul turn ed aside from his own, lo accompany my son and my self lo Edinburgh, lo .show us the city,- and introduce us to his friends there. Since we bave travelled together, I know not that a reproachful look, or a reproachful thought, has been amongst our party. Not but that Mr. D — gives fre quent occasion ; for he is always so bent on sacrificing bis own conveniences lo others, that it requires care on the part of his friends (more I am afraid than I have LONDON. 377 always given,) to keep the balance of justice atall even. Neither my dear E — , nor myself will soon for get the hours of friendly counsel which vve took to gether the night bel'ore our separation, nor will the shak ing of hands be soon forgotten, which look place on the morning after, vvhen ray son aud myself were sealed in the mail coach for London. This wns on the 2d of June, at seven o'clock in the morniug. Our route lay, for a considerable disl-mce, on the co.ist of the German Ocean. AVe were eleva ted some hundreds of feei above il, and enjoyed a mag nificent view, of its shores and waters. The d.iy vvas clear, and the air bracing. There is sometliiiig loo in the motion of an English mail coach, moving over a fine road at the rale of eleven or twelve miles an hour, that is calculated, especially at the first, to give buoy ancy to tlie spirits. The first town we passed of any note was Hadding ton ; but vve had no time to examine it, for the mail coach is like time and tide, which waits fbi no man. A lillle north of Berwick, upon the Tweed, vve passed fhe dividing line between Engf.nd and Scotland. At Alnwick, vve were tantalized by a rapid glance at the castle and grounds, of the Duke of Northiinibcrlaud. Our way continued on, through Morpeth, to Xl \v Castle upon the Tyne, where we halted long enou'ih to lake tea. The appciirance of the country thiough which we had been travelling, during the day, was gi^nerally that of a highly cultivated, agricultural district Bul in the vicinity of New Caslle, fires vvere blazing all around us from the steam engines, which were employed in rais ing coal from the mines. In the course of the night we passed Durham, and several other places of Ilss impor tance, aud in the morning of June 3d, al five o'clock, found ourselves in York. As soon as we had ascertained that we might remain here for an hour, we procured a boy from the Hotel to conduct us ; and set out with all speed, to visit the old cathedral — York Minster. The grandeur of this edifice will be apparent from considering ils dimensions. Ils length from east to west, is five hundred and twenty- 378 LOW DON. four feel, — its greatest breadih, two hundred and twenty' two, and its height two hundred and thirty-five. The largest window is seventy-five feet, by ihirty-lwo. The view struck us as admirable, and highly sublime. Yet we saw its interior under great disadvantages, as it was undergoing repairs from the damages occasioned by the well known attempt lo burn it ; and we were obliged lo make our examination in a very hurried manner. We almost ran back to the Hotel — took a hasty break fast, and the coach was again on ils way. In the course of this day's drive, particularly in the afternoon, we travelled through a mosl delightful farming' country. One lovely village afteranother passed in quick succes sion before us — its dwellings often of stone — clustering in rural beauty around an antique church ; whose spire rose up in the midst ; while a luxuriant growth of the various race of vegetables, seemed to the village, like an ample emerald, inclosing a beautiful pearl. Doncaster particularly pdeased us, although it presents a character of scenery somewhat less romantic. Il is situated oh an ex-tensive plain, near the river Don. Its bouses are, many of Ihem, new and modern, giving an idea of wealth, and comfort We passed in ils vicinity a beautiful race ground, and saw preparations going on for tiie sporting season. I was glad il had nol commenced, for I-consider these borse racings as schools of immorality ; and sincerely hope they may never become a prevailing occupation in our country.* We passed through Peterborough, and other places of consequence^in the night The morning of June 4th, at four o'clock we arrived at London, having travelled a dislance of four hundred miles iu forty-five hours without stopping, except for * Sjieaking of my admiration of Doni'nster after my return to Lon don, one of 'iiir gi-iitlnmeii at Mr EI.sumi's, related an aneodnie, -which fur the sake of tlie church, one couM wish uiiirue. A young dandy ol aclei-gvman iu Yuikshire, told the cltrk, '-do not forget to say there willhe no service ne.xt Sundiiv— You know I shad uani to go to the Douca.^ler rices," Accordingly the ( lerk befur^ the second sing ing announced in a son^nous voice-—" Be no service next Sunday— bekaze a.-s luiw, the meuster vvanis lo goto the Doncasler racea. Let 113 sing ihe hundi edtli Fsol-m." LONDON. 373 Our meals ;— and the time for these was very limited. For brealrfast, they allowed us half an hour, for din ner, three-quarters ; for tea, twenty minutes, and the same for a supper al midnight The morning after our arrival at London, we had ma ny of the miseries of human life lo encounler. A raw morning — difficulty in getting a hackney coach — a bro ken down affair vvhen vve got it — a disobliging driver — Mr. Elston's family not astir — of course our rooms not prepared, though vve were half dead with fatigue, and waul of sleep ; — however, by means of patience, that only remedy for all such evils, things came right after a while. But we could do little on that day, except to rest from our fatigues. A large packet, left during my absence, vvas handed me from JMiss Edgeworlh, which showed how much ?ains that benevolent lady had been taking to oblige me. I contained notes from two distinguished persons toher (one of whom was Lady Davy, the widow of Sir Hum phrey,) in answer to those she had written, to enquire of them, which they considered the first ladies schools in London. — It contained also, a list of these schools, lo the number of six.— And lastly, a general introduction, which she had kindly and generously written for me, lo the ladies at fhe head of them. On the following morning, after purchasing a new hat for the occasion, and furnishing myself wilh suitable equipage and altendauls, I look along with me Miss M — , a sensible and genteel young lady of our family, and went with my note of introduction to visit the lady, whose name and address stood first on Miss Edgeworth's list My servant enquired al the door for Miss A — (so I choose to call her here — al another time I will give you her real name.) We were lold she was at home, and conducted into her parlor. Il was ample in size, and fitted up with an air of taste and luxury, as if to make it au agreeable place for a lounge: — bul nothing appear ed to mark it, as the entrance lo the temple of the sci ences, or, that I recollect, even of the fine arts. This we had leisure to remark, as it was sometime before its mis- 380 LONDON. tress entered. At length she appeared, and greeted us with a graceful salutation. Her dress was a tasteful morning costume ; her person fine; her features regular; but her physiognomy and manners prepared me to ex pect what followed. A few remarks on indifferent sub jects passed between us, in which she was exceedingly courteous. I then handed her Miss Edgeworth's note of introduction, which was as follows: "The bearer ofthis note is Mrs. E. Willard, an Ameri- Ciin lady, who has a celebrated establishment for the education of young people near New York ; and who is well known by her literary publications, especially her History of the United States. " She has been travelling on the continent for the pur pose of seeing the establishments for educaiion in Paris ; and is now anxious to see the best schools for young la dies in London. "Miss Edgeworth (Maria E.) presuming, as a writer on educaiion (she hopes not too much) — that her name may be known to those who are engaged in similar pur suits, ventures lo beg admittance for a foreigner, from the liberality of her countrywomen, aud feels assured that they will afford this distinguished American lady, the means which she has politely received in Paris, of seeing the best establishments for female education. Maria Edgeworth." I marked the expression of Miss A — 's features as she went on reading this note^ — losing at first that set com placency to which she had adjusted Ihem before enter ing the room, as artificially, I then thought, as her pret ty turban — till, by degrees, her countenance assumed an air of spite and vexation. When she had finished, she handed me the note, and said in a sour fidgelty man ner. "I don't know what Miss Edgeworth expects melo do." Prepared for something like this, I took it as a mat ter of course, and determined not lo lose my object, without a further trial; so I said toher — " Neither Miss Edgeworth, or myself. Madam, have the least wish to put you to inconvenience. You are aware, that we 381 of America, area recent people — and il is natural that we should wish to improve our instilulioiis, by learning someibing of yours. I then spoke of my visits to the schools in France. 1 endeavored to wile her out of her ill humor, by telling her ofsome things that 1 had learned there, which I thought she might be glad lo know, — and then beg. in by asking her such questions, as I thought she would be able, nnd willing to answer. She spoke very well on 'he subject of avoiding, or corroding de formities of the figure. She said they had in the Eng lish schools, left off nil bruces and backbonrds. The English surgeons did nol approve ihe French method of orthopedic. After some chat of this description, 1 ventured lo ask her a question, concerning the literary and scientific sub jects, in which her pupils were instructed. She nssiired me that all branches vvere laiighl in her school. I told ber th.it as 1 vvas desirous to make a collection of lh« school books used in England, 1 would be mnch obliged if she vvould give me Ihe title of some of the works, whicb she used. "Oh! as for that mailer," she snid, " the books she used were such ns could be found no where else but in her school ; and none could hnve tha benefit of them, but such as became her pupils." "You remarked, Mndnm," snid 1, " thnt nil brunches were tnught in your school. Do your jiupils lenrn Ih* malbemnlics ?" To Ihis she made me such a reply, that 1 vvas nol cerlain whelher she hnd heard or comprehend ed my question ; though what she said amounted to an affinnntive, and 1 rejoined, " They study Euclid's Geometry, I suppose ?" " Oh dear yes 1 Ihey learn many of the books of Euclid." I was tempted to laugh at this reply, but the improva- menl of my sex, in whatever country Ihey tmy be, is ti> me a serious subject 1 hnd now played learner al long as il seemed to me lo be profitable, and I felt quite disposed lo pay in kind for the scanty instruction 1 had received. So 1 began by saying, Ihal I supposed as ber name stood first on the list, which Miss Edgeworlh had given me, that sbe must have been for sometime engaged 33 382 ±j\ji.i±j\j in her present occupation ; and il was therefore natural to suppose thntshe was fond of it. She replied, " I have, it is true, been several years engaged in il, bnt il is be cause I tind it Ihe most agreeable and genteel wny of supporting myself, in my power. If I hnd the means, I should of course live without it, as I suppose everyone else would." "Oh! no Madam — there you are mistaken, — lam myself one, among other instances, to the contrary. Though my means are equal to my limited wishes, yel I labor zealously and devotedly lor Ihe improve ment of my sex, from a sense of duly'. Our Maker has not placed us in this world lo be idle or useless, or fo seek merely our own gratification. I consider that great evils have arisen heretofore in society, from the bad conditionof public schools for our sex ; and that we, who now have the care of them, can in no way be more honorably employed, or better serve our Maker, than in striving to correct and improve them." I then left her, in doubt, as I presumed from tbe ex pression of her countenance, whether 1 was a fanatic, or a hypocrite. 1 felt that it was dropping the seed of truth in dry ground — but 1 withheld not my hand — ho ping, that at some future lime, il might spring up and prosper. My companion. Miss M — , was much vexed al my re ception, and thought that I might well be satisfied, of what 1 had seen of a London boarding school. But not easily discouraged, 1 directed my coachman to drive, according lo the name and address next on my list, — a distance of about two miles. Miss M — fold me on the way. many anecdotes of these city schools, nol at all cal culated to raise them in ray estimation. She had her self been educated by a-lady in fhe country, whose ar rangements and plans for the improvement of her pupils, I had before heard her detail. I thought Ihem judicious, tbough limited, and that the instructress possessed the true spirit of her calling — and 1 hoped yel lo find those in London, of whom 1 might say the same. Our coachman drove us a little oul of ihe cily, and at length slopped at a house surrounded by a wall, which London. ""'' enclosed fine grounds, ornamented with trees and shrub bery. .And here, leaning against the wall, al some little dis tance from the gnle, I saw a figure, whose iinnge is left as strongly upon my mind, ns Sterne's monk wns upon his ; — like Sterne too, I hnd my predeterminnlinns not to give much lo wny-sirle ncqunintnnces — but ibis was evidenlly no begijnr, — it wns n delicnle nnd bi-niililiil girl, of perhnps sixteen — simple nnd nenl in dress and np penrnnce. Her tignre was in a degree em.icinled, nnd she seemed lo lean ngninsl the wall from feebleness ; occasioned, ns il nppenred 10 me, not from di-^ense, but from vvnnt of food. As I alighted nenr hor. she turned her hend from me. Bly feelini;? were touched — I pnused for a moment — 'hen nppronchnd, nnri offered hi-r money — she hesititc'd — then renched forth a pnlo hnnd — nnd as she took it, she raised her lenrfnl eyes to mine, with an exfiression of mingled agony nnd ihnnks. On enqiiirins; for the Indy of the hoine, I wns lold she was nol nl home ; bul thnt if 1 wished, I conld see the head-goveniess. Things here, hnd somewhnt less the appenrnnce of modish elegnnce than iil Mi*« A — "s, nnd books nnd pnintings were lo be seen, Mi-s V — , the head governess, soon entered. Her cnnnlinnnce nnd the piny of her fentures in spenking, iniprcssi'd me with an iden thnt she possessed strength of mind nnd clinrnc- ter, with kindiip,-s of heart. I snw thnt .-he wns no nc- tress, nnd I delermined at once lo pl.iy no part vvilli her. From whnt I hnd seen nnd gnthert'd. in one qn.irler nnd another, I felt that I nlrendy understood ihe slnte ol London boarding schools. 1 wns grieved when I thought of the condition of so mnny of the young ; nl lovely entrusted to the care of those, who hnd no hio-her views than lo gnin, by quackery, a genteel living. I begnn by showing MissY — , Miss Edgeworth's note - and her list of boarding schools, made out with the id- vice of distinguished ladies. I stntcd lo her some par ticulars of my visit to Ibe lady who stood nt the hearl of this list. I told her frankly that this hnd but confirmed the impressions I had before received, — and expressed B»y opinion plainly, though 1 hope politely, as lo what 384 LONDON. ought, and what ought not lo be — in eclucating fhe youth of our sex. She listened with deep attention, and asked me many questions concerning ray own school. She wnnted me lo come agnin, and converse with the amiable and interesling lady in whose employ she wns. Thia was impossible, as 1 wns so soon to Ifeave London. Miss Y — came the next dny fo see me, and brought with her a Scotch lady of high intelligence. They urged nie fo prolong my stay in the cily. Miss Y — hnd inter ested the superintendent of the school, in which she was located, in my behalf; nnd hnd brought me, as a token from her, a valuable book written by one of the teach ers of her school. 1 told Miss Y — that I regretted lo eny, 1 must depart af the time fixed, but thnl 1 had en gaged lo Madame Belloc tTl Paris, and the Miss D — 's in Liverpool, fo express in wriling Ihe sentiments, of which those ladies, as vvell as herself, had kindly mani- festeil their approbation. Were it possible for me to remain longer in England, I would endeavor to bring the subject of public schools for females, before Lord Brougham. From tbe com mencement of his politicnl career, 1 have ever regard ed him as one destined lo do much good ; hut he has been so often represented as stern in manner, that I have not thought of appealing this subject to him. Since I hnve seen his face, and heard his voice, I am impressed with a belief, that though he mny be terrible in the strife of vvords.yet thai benevolence has in reality the greater share of his character ; and if once be could view fhis subject in all its bearings, I think his clear mind would comprehend its importance — his heart might then dic tate, and his power effect changes in the condition of schools, for the public education of his young counlry- vvoinen ; for which future generations would remember, and bless his name. Indeed, he is already considered as the patron of education and improvement, bul this particular department seems nol yel lo have mel a due consideration among the friends ofthe rising generation, either in Great Britain, or France. Since my return from Edinburgh, I called again to see Mrs. Fry. She was not at home, bul I met with a cor- LONDON. 385 dini reception from her son. His mother naturally be came the topic of our conversation, I bad heard, (nnd indignnntly combniled the accusntion) Ihnt Mrs. Fry'« own children, hn. I chnrged her wilh bting a negligent mother; — anil for the purpose of tlrnvving oul her son on this subject I remarked, thnt when women were in any vvny distinguished before the public, there were nl- wnys those who were ready to attribute lo ihem some failure in domestic virtues. He snid thnl ns to his moth er, so fnr wns this from being the cnse, thnt she wns dis tinguished for uncommon nltention and kindness lo her household, nnd privnte friends. In her neighborhood, as well as in her fnmily, if there was any misfortune or malndy, by night or dny, — it was her knowledge, benevo lence, and activity, that were appealed to, and never in vain. I regret thnt Miss Edgeworlh, and Mrs. W — have led London. By Ihe way, I came very nenr meeting Basil Hiill and Tom Moore, at Mrs. U' — 's, but I would give more to see Miss Edgeworth's shndow, than both of them, I wish she could be persunded to visit America. She and myself would, I am certain, harmonize in feel ing on one subject — her lovely sister. By whnt chnrm it is, that this Indy, of vvhom 1 hnve seen so little, so often returns, like some sweet angel spirit, to my mu sings, 1 cannot fell. Perhnps it i.s, ihat 1 fincied in some traits, a resemblance in character to our lost M.iry. Had Mary lived to part wilh a portion of her diffiilen'-e in fhe polish of elegant society, — had she been situnted as Mrs, W — has been, she might, I think, have been what she is ; — and she vvould have been lo me, what Mrg. W — is to Miss Edgeworth, my happiness and my pride, -—yel loving best herself; thoie vvho loved me mosl. 33* JOURNET TO SOUTHAMPTON. 387 LETTER TO MRS. A. H. LINCOLN. Havre, June nth, 1831. Dear Sister : On the morning ofthe 7fh insf. we parted from our kind fiienils at Mr> Elston's, one of whom, Dr. H — , (whose porlrnif 1 have all nlong been intptiding lo draw, for it well desi^rves a place nmong those I senrl you,) ac companied us on our chilly drive lo the stnge office. This is but one among the hospitable nets, by which ihe Doctor has done the honors of his country to us ns strnn- gers, He is one, whom 1 excuse from any pnrt or lot, in the remarks which 1 hnve mnde, on Ihe illibernlity of opinion, townrds my country and my sex, wliich most of the Eiiglislimpo whom 1 hnve met, suffer lo peep out, here and there, in iheir actions and discourse, if not to stand forth in bold rKlieft But 1 forget Ihat 1 am waiting of n rnw morning for a stage conch. My son nnd myself bein,; well ^e ited in it, we shook n cordial parting hnnd vvilh tiu" Doctor, a!»d soon li'fl L mdon behind. We slopped nt B , to tnke up Miss G— , whom 1 found an agreeable nnil intelligent compani n. The scenery between London and Snnlhamplon did not apprnr very nttrnclive, having recenlly seen much that was finer. The cnlhcdml of iIim old lovvn of Win chester, is an ornament to the Inndscnpe. We hnd some fine vievvs of Southampton, from ils rumnnlic rnvirons. We rpncbed this place nl five o'cloi k, nnd located ourselves at the Dolphin. The stenmbonl lor Havre was nol to leave till the next afternnon. nnd we hnd the intervening lime for mnking observnlii.n^. I could say much if I hnd leisure, on the benuties oflbis pInce. The ruin of old Netley Abbey, three mile-f di-;lnnt from the town, is grand. Its lolly and crumbling vvnils, sinnd in the mid-il of rich fields, vvhere Ihe grn** grows high, and tbe grnin, wilh the scarlet poppy inli-riiiinglpd, waves thick around. These ancient venernlile w ills nrp so ex tensive, Ihat you might fnncy ihem Ihe ruins of a city. The luxuriant ivy clusters round their sides, and ffaunts 388 SOUTHAMPTON. upon their very lops. They have stood thus, so long, that great trees have grown up from the places, where once vvas the hall for the social repast, and the chapel for prayer. Bul a truce lo ruins — for time presses. A vexatious affair opened upon us at Soutiinmplon, w th which we are still annoyed. Our luggage, including Miss G — 's, was considered to.o bulky fo be all laken by the stage coach ; so two days before lenv'ing London, fhe greater part of it was regulnrly consigned to a forw irding line, lo be sent on to Southnmpton, that we might find it there on our arrival. The people in London lold my son that il had been sent, and showed him the pinces where it bad stood, that he might be sure il hnd been removed ; but the wagons arrived nl Southampton without it. Our passnge wns engnged in Ihe Sully, which wns expected lo sail from Havre on fhe tenth, and but one steamboat trip wns fo be made from Southampton in ihe lime. I determined to go, trunks, or no trunks,— so after having written to our friends in London, and leaving our direc tions vvilh a proper' person al Southnmpton, to have our property forwarded lo onr friend Mr. V-—, al Havre, that it might follow us lo New-York in the next packet, we look our departure in the slearobont for this place. The dny w;i5 fine, and fhe const of England, with the green shoresof the Isle of Wight, presented us a charm ing succession of beautiful views, as vv-e suited smoothly along; The Inst objects which vve saw distinctly, were the houses, docks, and sliipping of Porlsmoulb ; where our boat slopped for a few moments lo take in passen gers. On our entering the boat at Southampton, we found so many passengers already on board, thai Miss G — and myself could wilh diflicuhy find a seal on deck. A lady, who by the manner in which she wns accosted, appeared to be a person of consequence, spoke to some gentlemen that were sitting on a settee beside her, who thereupon gave up their seats for our accommodnlion.. We found this lady sociable, and pleasing in her manners, some times conversing with us,, and sometimes wilh Ihe gen tlemen of her acquaintance. After -we had been, on ^^.,.xtjyi^ Al jnAVRE. 389 board for some time, sbe spoke of an intended sea voy age, and said soj^lhing of America. " Are you then going to sail soon for America ?" " I am, in a few days." " In what vessel?" " In the Sully." " Then we are to brave the dangers ofthe ocean to gether." After this introduction, you may be cerfan that there was no lack of subjects for discourse among us, and I have no doubt that Ihe agreeable acquaintance which we here made, will contribute lo our mutual enjoyment during our sea voyage. This Indy is the Countess de Choiseul. She is an English woman by birth, bul was married very young to the Count, vvho wns nephew to the Dnke de Choiseul, and ofthe ancient fimily of thai name, of which we so often read in French history. Arrived nt Havre, we look lodgings at Ihe hotel de I'Europe, wilh our former hostess, Madame le Bourg. It appears to me, thnt things have a. less animated appear ance here, thnn when vve first landed. The charm of novelty, il is true, is lost to us ; bul this is not alL The French in this cily are staunch liberals, and political changes bave evidently affected their spirits. Mademoi selle de C-— , and my profog^j of Ihe iostitntion Cochin, accompanied by the excellent- Madame Millet, are, by the care of Mrs. D — , here also ; and our friend, Mr. V—, has received all our Paris boxes in good order. We shall not sail so soon by a few dnys as was expected. We have been on board the Sully, to which our luggage has mainly been conveyed — and mnde our little arrange ments for the voynge. 1 mel there Mndnme de Choi seul, who has introduced me lo her husbnnd — a highly accomplished gentleman. He vvas, at Ihe late revolution, Governor of Corsica. Having now a desire fo visit America, he has obtained from fhe French government the appointment of consul lo Charleston. They lake wilh them their whole family, consisting of two charm ing daughters, and their son, — a frolicksome young lad. The ladies' cabin has but four state rooms: two on each 390 HAVRE. side — and these are to be shared between the two par ties of iVladnme de Choiseul, and tnymJf. Four nuns are to be located near us, in a small cabin, tilled up express ly for their use. We are pnrlicularly pleased with tbe nppearance of Capt Pell. His manners are dignified, yet courteous and amiable. Thus we have every reason to expect a pleasant voyage.* Mrs. V — is, I nm sorry fo sny, confined fo her room with an indisposition, from which she is, however, recov ering, Notwiihslnndinglhis, they hnve invited me^wiih my whole train, to dine, and pnss n dny al their chni ming re treat, just without Ihe cily. Their house, which is quite a little pnlnce, is nppronchednn fhe side, by n superb ave nue of lime trees, and in front hnsa fine Inwn, skirted by a variety of trees nnd flowering slirnbs. 1 cnnnol but remark how the whole aspect of a place is changed, by feeling thnl one has friends within il ; and 1 shnll soon, with God's bles. VIRTUE. By these, lei us lest contending claims for su periority. Where England and France excel us here, let us go and be instructed by them ; — vvhere in these, we are their superiors, let them come and learn of us. Farewell. 3 9002 00499 7616