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THE

IDLER IN FRANCE.

VOL. I.

THE IDLER

FRANCE.

THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON.

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.

LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1841.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY MOVES AND BARCLAY, CASTLE STREET,
LEICESTER SQUARE.

THE

IDLER IN FRANCE.

CHAPTER I.

NISMES.

I HAVE omitted to notice the route to this
place, having formerly described the greater
portion of it. I remarked a considerable im
provement in the different towns we passed
through : the people look cleaner, and an air
of business has replaced the stagnation that
used to prevail, except in Marseilles and
Toulon, which were always busy cities.
Nismes surpasses my expectations, although
they had been greatly excited, and amply
repays the long detour we have made to
visit it.
VOL. I. B

% THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
When I look round on the objects of anti
quity that meet my eye on every side, and
above all on the Amphitheatre and Maison
Carree, I am forced to admit that Italy has
nothing to equal the two last : for if the
Coliseum may be said to surpass the amphi
theatre ill dimensions, the wonderful state of
preservation of the latter renders it more in
teresting ; and the Maison Carree, it must be
allowed, stands without a competitor. WeU
might the Abbe Barthelmi, in his Voyage
d' Anacharsis, call it the masterpiece of ancient
architecture and the despair of modern !
The antiquities of Nismes have another
advantage over those of Italy : they are kept
wholly free from the disgusting entourage
that impairs the effect of the latter ; and in
examining them in the interior or exterior,
no risk is incurred of encountering aught
offensive to the olfactory nerves, or injurious
to the chaussure.
We devoted last evening to walking round

NISMES. 3
the town, and so cloudless was the sky, so
genial the air, and so striking the monuments
of Roman splendour, that I could have fancied
myself again transported to Italy.
Our inn, the Hotel du Midi, is an ex
cellent one ; the apartments good, and the
cuisine soignee. In this latter point the
French hotels are far superior to the Italian ;
but in civility and attention, the hosts of Italy
have the advantage.
We had no sooner dined than half-a-dozen
persons, laden with silk handkerchiefs and
ribands, brocaded with gold and silver, and silk
stockings, and crapes, all the manufacture of
Nismes, came to display their merchandise.
The specimens were good, and the prices
moderate ; so we bought some of each, much to
the satisfaction of the parties selling, and also
of the host, who seemed to take a more than
common interest in the sale, whether wholly
from patriotic feelings or not, I will not pre
tend to say.

4 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
The Maison Carrie, of all the buildings of
antiquity I have yet seen, is the one which
has most successfully resisted the numerous
assaults of time, weather, Vandalism, and the
not less barbarous attacks of those into whose
merciless hands it has afterwards fallen. In
the early part of the Christian ages it was
converted into a church, and dedicated to St.
Etienne, the martyr ; and in the eleventh cen
tury it was used as the H6tel-de- Ville. It was
then given to a certain Pierre Boys, in ex
change for a piece of ground to erect a new
hotel-de- ville ; and he, after having degraded it
by using a portion of it as a party-wall to a
mean dwelling he erected adjoining it, disposed
of it to a Sieur Bruyes, who, still more bar-
barous than Pierre Boys, converted it into
a stable. In I67O, it was purchased by the
Augustin monks from the descendants of
Bruyes, and once more used as a church ; and,
in 1789, it was taken from the Augustin
monks for the purposes of the administration

NISMES.

of the department. From that period, every
thing has been done for its preservation.
Cleared from the mean houses which had been
built around it, and enclosed by an iron pa
lisade, which protects it from mischievous
hands, it now stands isolated in the centre of a
square, or place, where it can be seen at every
side. Poldo d'Albenas, a quaint old writer,
whose book I glanced over to-day, attributes
the preservation of the Maison Carree to the
fortunate horoscope of the spot on which it
stands. His lamentations for the insults
offered to this building are really passionate.
The Maison Carree is not square, though its
denomination might lead one to suppose it to
be so, being nearly eighty feet long, and only
thirty-eight feet wide. Elevated on a base
of cut stone, it is ascended by a flight of steps,
which extends the length of the base in front.
The walls of the building are of a fine white
stone, and are admirably constructed.

6 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
The edifice has thirty fluted columns, with
Corinthian capitals beautifully sculptured, on
which rests the architrave, with frieze and
cornice. This last is ornamented with sculp
ture •, and the frieze, with foliage finely exe
cuted. The entrance is by a portico, open on three
sides, and supported by two columns, included
in the thirty already named, of which six form
the front, and extend to the fourth, when
commences the wall of the building, in which
the other columns are half imbedded, being
united in the building with its architrave.
The fronton, which is over the portico, has
no ornament in the centre ; neither has the
frieze nor architrave: but some holes mark
where the bronze letters of an inscription
were once inserted.
This inscription has been conjectured, by the
ingenious mode of placing on paper the exact
dimensions of the holes which formerly con-

NISMES. 7
tained the letters of it, and is now said to be as
follows : —
C. C^SARI AUGUSTI. F. COS. L. CiESARI AUGUSTI.
F. cos. DESIGNATO PRINCIPIBUS
JUVENTUTES.
But as more holes are found than would be
filled by these letters, the conclusion does not
seem to me to be justified.
At the far end of the portico is the door of
entrance, the only opening by which light is
admitted to the building. It is very lofty, and
on each side is a pilaster ; beneath the cornice
are two long cut stones, which advance like a
kind of architrave, pierced by a square hole
of above twelve inches, supposed to have been
intended to support a bronze door.
The original destination of this beautiful
edifice still furnishes a subject for discussion
among the antiquaries ; some asserting it to
have been erected by the Emperor Adrian in
honour of Plotina, while others maintain it to
have been a forum.

o THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
At present, it is used as a museum for the
antiquities discovered at Nismes, and contains
some admirable specimens. Among these are a
torso in marble of a Roman knight, in a cuirass,
and another colossal torso, with a charming little
draped statue seated in a curiale chair, and
holding a cornucopia in the left hand ; a ci-
nery monument, enriched with bassi-relievi,
representing a human sacrifice; a bronze head
of Apollo, much injured; and a Janus.
A funereal monument found in the neigh
bourhood of Nismes in 1824, offers a very
interesting object, being in a good state of
preservation. It is richly decorated, and by
the inscription is proved to have been that
of Marcus Attius, aged twenty -five years,
erected to him by his mother Cceha, daughter
of Sextus Paternus.
So fine is the proportion, so exquisite is the
finish, and so wonderful is the preservation
of the Maison Carree, that I confess I had
much more pleasure in contemplating its ex-

NISMES. 9
terior, than in examining all that it contains,
though many of these objects are well worth
inspection. I should like to have a small model of it exe
cuted in silver, as an ornament for the centre
of a table ; but it would require the hand of
a master to do justice to the olive leaves of
the capitals of the columns ; that is, if they
were faithfuUy copied from the original.
It was, if I remember rightly. Cardinal Albe
roni who observed that this beautiful building
ought to be preserved in a golden 6tui; and
its compactness and exquisite finish prove that
the implied eulogium was not unmerited.
I have nowhere else noticed the introduction
of olive leaves in Corinthian capitals instead
of those of the acanthus ; the effect of which is
very good. A design was once formed of remov
ing the Maison Carree to Versailles. Colbert
was the originator of this barbarous project,
which, however, was fortunately abandoned
from the fear of impairing, if not destroying.

10 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
the beauty of the building. The Emperor
Napoleon is said to have entertained a similar
notion, and meant to grace Paris with this
model of architectural perfection; but it was
found to be too solidly built to admit of re
moval, and he who could shake empires, could
not stir the Maison Carree,
The transportation of antiquities from
their original site can never be excused,
except in cases where it was the only means
of insuring their preservation. All the power
of association is lost when they are transferred
to other places ; and the view of them ceases
to afford that satisfaction experienced when
beheld where they were primarily destined to
stand. I can no more fancy the Maison Carrie
appropriately placed in the bustle and gaiety
of Paris, than I could endure to see one of
the temples at Paestum stuck dovra at Charing
Cross. One loves, when contemplating such precious
memorials of antiquity, to look around on the

NISMES. 11
objects in nature, still wearing the same as
pect as when they were reared. The hills
and mountains, unlike the productions of
man, change not; and nowhere can the frag
ments of a bygone age appear to such ad
vantage as on the spots selected for their
erection, where their vicinity to peculiar
scenery had been taken into consideration.
We spent a considerable time in examining
the Amphitheatre, and so well is it preserved,
that one can hardly bring one's self to believe
that so many centuries have elapsed since it
was built ; and that generation after genera
tion has passed away, who have looked on this
edifice which now meets my view, so little
changed by the ravages of that ruthless con
queror Time, or the still more ruthless Visi
goths who converted it into a citadel, flanking
the eastern door with two towers. In 7^7
Charles Martel besieged the Saracens, and set
fire to it, and after their expulsion it continued
to be used as a citadel.

12 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
The form of this fine building is elliptical,
and some notion of its vast extent may be
formed, when it is stated to have been capable
of containing above 17,000 spectators.
Its fa9ade consists of two rows of porticoes,
forming two galleries one over the other,
composing sixty arcades, divided by the same
number of Tuscan pilasters in the first range,
and of Doric columns in the upper, and an
attic, which crowns all. Four principal doors,
fronting the four cardinal points, open into
the amphitheatre, divided at nearly equal
distances one from the other.
The attic has no arcades, pilasters, or
columns ; but a narrow ledge runs along it,
which was probably used for the purpose of
approaching the projecting consoles, 120 in
number, placed in couples at equal distances
between two columns, and pierced with a
large hole, which corresponds with a similar
one in the cornice, evidently meant for secur
ing the awnings used to prevent the spectators

NISMES. 13
from being inconvenienced by the rain or
sun. These awnings did not extend to the arena,
which was usually left open, but were uni
versally adopted in all the Roman amphi
theatres, after their introduction by Q. Catul
lus. The vast extent and extraordinary com-
modiousness of the amphitheatres erected by
the Romans, prove not only the love of the
sports exhibited in them entertained by that
people, but the attention paid to their health
and comfort by the architects who planned these
buildings. The numerous vomitories were
not amongst the least important of these com
forts, securing a safe retreat from the theatre
in all cases of emergency, and precluding those
fearful accidents that in our times have not
unfrequently occurred, when an alarm of fire
has been given. The mode of arrangements,
too, saved the spectators from aU the de
leterious results of impure air, while the ve-

14i THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
larium preserved them from the sun. But
not only were the spectators screened from
too fervid heat, but they could retreat at
pleasure, in case of rain or storm, into the
galleries, where they were sheltered from the
rain. Our superior civilization and refinement
have not led to an equal attention to safety
and comfort in the mode of our ingress and
egress from theatres, or to their ventilation ;
but perhaps this omission may be accounted
for by the difference of our habits from
those of the Romans. Public amusements
were deemed as essential to their comfort, as
the enjoyment of home is to ours ; and, conse
quently, while we prefer home — and long may
we continue to do so — our theatres will not
be either so vast or so commodious as in those
times and countries, where domestic happiness
was so much less understood or provided
for. The erection of this magnificent edifice is

NISMES. 15

attributed to Vespasian, Titus, or Domitian,
from a fragment of an inscription discovered
here some fourteen or fifteen years ago, of
which the following is a transcript : —

VIII. TRi. po ,

And as only these three filled the consulate eight
times since Tiberius, in whose age no amphi
theatre had been built in the Roman provinces,
to one of them is adjudged its elevation.
Could I only remember one half the erudition
poured forth on my addled brain by the ci
cerone, I might fill several pages, and fatigue
others nearly as much as he fatigued me; but
I will have pity on my readers, and spare them
the elaborate details, profound speculations,
ingenious hypotheses, and archaiological lore
that assailed me, and wish them, should they
ever visit Nismes, that which was denied me —
a tranquil and uninterrupted contemplation of
its interesting antiquities, free from the verb
iage of a conscientious cicerone, who thinks

16

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

himself in duty bound to relate aU that he has
ever heard or read relative to the objects he
points out.
Even now my poor head rings vnth the names
of Caius and Lucius Caesar, Tiberius, Trajan,
Adrian, Diocletian, and Heaven only knows
how many other Roman worthies, to whom
Nismes owes its attractions, not one of whom
did this learned Theban omit to enumerate.
Many of the antiquities of Nismes, which
we went over to-day, might well command
attention, were they not in the vicinity of two
such remarkable and well-preserved monu
ments as the Amphitheatre and Maison
Carree. The Gate of Augustus, which now serves
as the entrance to the barracks of the gen
darmerie, is worthy of inspection. It consists
of four arches — two of equal size, for the
admittance of chariots and horsemen, and
two less ones for pedestrians. The centres
of the two larger arches are decorated by the

NISMES. 17
head of a bull, in alto-relievo ; and above each
of the smaller arches is a niche, evidently
meant for the reception of a statue.
A Corinthian pilaster divides the larger
arches from the less, and a similar one
terminates the building on each side ; while
the two larger arches are separated by a small
Ionic column, which rests on a projecting
abutment whence the arches spring. The
Gate of France has but one arch, and is said
to have been flanked by towers ; of which,
however, it has little vestige.
The inhabitants of Nismes seem very
proud of its antiquities, and even the humbler
classes descant with much erudition on the
subject. Most, if not all of them, have
studied the guide-books, and like to display
the extent of their savoir on the subject.
They evince not a little jealousy if any
preference seems accorded to the antiquities
of Italy over those of their town ; and ask,
VOL. I. c

18

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

with an air of triumph, whether any thing
in Italy can be compared with their Maison
Carree, expressing their wonder that so few
English come to look at it.
La Tour-Magne stands on the highest of the
hills, at the base of which is spread the town.
It is precisely in the state most agreeable to
antiquaries, as its extreme dilapidation per
mits them to indulge those various conjectures
and hypotheses relative to its original des
tination, in which they delight. They see in
their " mind's eye " all these interesting
works of antiquity, not as they really are,
but as it pleases them to imagine they once
were; and, consequently, the less that actuaUy
remains on which to base their suppositions,
the wider field have they for their favourite
speculations. This tower is said by some to have been
intended for a lighthouse; others assert it
to have been a treasury; a third party de-

NISMES. 19
clares it to be the remains of a palace ; and,
last of all, it is assumed to have been a
mausoleum. Its form, judging from what remains, must
have been pyramidical, composed of several
stages, forming octagons, retreating one above
the other. It suffered much from Charles
Martel in 737> who wished to destroy it,
owing to its offering a strong military position
to the Saracens ; and still more from the
ravages of a certain Francis Trancat, to whom
Henry IV. granted permission to make ex
cavations in the interior of it, on condition
that three parts of the product should be
given up to the royal coffer.
The result did not repay the trouble or
expense ; and one cannot help being rejoiced
that it did not, as probably, had it been
otherwise, the success would have served as
an incentive to destroy other buildings.
In the vicinity of the Tour-Magne are the
fountain, terrace, and garden, the last of which

20

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

is well planted, and forms a very agreeable
promenade for the inhabitants of Nismes.
The fountain occupies the site of the ancient
baths — many vestiges of which having been
discovered have been employed for this useful,
but not tasteful, work.
It was not until the middle of the eighteenth
century, that it was suspected that the water
which served to turn a mill in the immediate
vicinity had been obstructed by the ruins
which impeded its course. This obstruction
led to excavations, the result of which was
the discovery of the remains of bmldings,
columns, statues, inscriptions, and fragments
of rare marbles.
The obstructions being thus removed, and
the town enriched by the precious objects
found, the persons to whom the direction
of the excavation was confided, instead of
vigorously pursuing the task, were content
with what they had already discovered, and
once more closed up the grave in which so

NISMES. '21
many treasures of antiquity were still in
terred — using many of the materials disin
terred for the formation of the terraces which
now cover it.
The architect selected to execute this work
was Philip Marcehal, an engineer, never pre
viously employed, except in military archi
tecture : a fact to which may be attributed
the peculiar st_yle that he has exhibited —
bastions and trenches being adopted, instead
of the usual and more appropriate forms
generaUy used for terraces and canals.
To these are subjoined ornaments of the
period in which the work was completed —
the fitness of which is not more to be com
mended than that of the work itself: the
whole offering a curious mixture of military
and 7-ococo taste.
It was in the freshness of early morning
that I, yesterday, again visited the garden of
the fountain and its fine chestnut trees and
laurel roses ; the latter, growing in great

-<''' THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
luxuriance, looked beautiful, the sun having
not yet scorched them. The fountain, too,
in its natural bed, which is not less than
seventy -two French feet in diameter, and
twenty feet in depth, was pellucid as crys
tal, and through it the long leaves that
nearly cover the gravel appeared green as
emerald. The hiU above the fountain has been taste
fully planted vrith evergreen trees, which shade
a delicious walk, formed to its summit.
This improvement to the appearance, as
well as to the agrSmens, of Nismes, is due to
Monsieur d'Haussey,* prefect, whose popu
larity is said to be deservedly acquired,
by his unremitting attention to the inter
ests of the city, and his urbanity to its in-
habitants. Nismes is a gay town, if I may judge by
the groups of weU- dressed women and men
we have observed at the promenade. It has
* Now Baron d'Haussey.

NISMKS. 23
a considerable garrison, and the officers are
occasionally seen passing and repassing ; but
not, as I have often remarked in England,
lazily lounging about as if anxious to kill
time, but moving briskly as if on business.
The various accomplishments acquired by
young men in France offer a great resource
in country quarters. Drawing, in which most
of them have attained a facility, if not excel
lence, enables them to fill albums with clever
sketches ; and their love of the fine arts
leads them to devote some hours in most days
to their cultivation.
This is surely preferable to loitering in
news-rooms, sauntering in the shops of pretty
miUiners, breaking down the fences of farmers,
or riding over young wheat — innocent pas
times, sometimes undertaken by young officers
for mere want of some occupation.
The Temple of Diana is in the vicinity of
the fountain, which has given rise to the con
jecture that it originally constituted a portion

24* THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
of the ancient baths. Its shape is rect
angular, and a large opening in the centre
forms the entrance.
Twelve niches, five of which open into the
partition of the temple, and two on the right
and left of the entrance, are crowned by fron
tons alternately circular and triangular, and
are said to have contained statues. This is one
of the most picturesque ruins I ever saw. Si
lence and solitude reign around it, and vdld
fig-trees enwreath with their luxuriant foliage
the opening made by Time, and half conceal
the wounds inflicted by barbarian hands.
I could have spent hours in this dese
crated temple, pondering on the brevity of
life, as compared with its age. There is
something pure and calm in such a spot, that
influences the feelmgs of those who pause in
it ; and by reminding them of the inevitable
lot of aU sublunary things, renders the cares
incidental to all who breathe, less acutely felt
for the time.

NISMES. 25
Is not every ruin a history of the fate of
generations, which century after century has
seen pass away? — generations of mortals like
ourselves, who have been moved by the same
passions, and vexed by the same griefs ; like
us, who were instinct with life and spirit, yet
whose very dust has disappeared. Nevertheless,
we can yield to the futile pleasures, or to the
petty ills of life, as if their duration was to be
of long extent, unmindful that ages hence,
others will visit the objects we now behold,
and find them little changed, while we shall
have in our turn passed away, leaving behind
no trace of our existence.
I never see a beautiful landscape, a noble
ruin, or a glorious fane, without wishing that
I could bequeath to those who will come to
visit them when I shall be no more, the tender
thoughts that filled my soul when contem
plating them ; and thus, even in death, create a
sympathy.

CHAPTER IL

AELES.

We stopped but a short time at Beaucaire,
where we saw the large plain on the banks of
the Rhone, on which are erected the wooden
houses for the annual fair which takes place in
July, when the scene is said to present a very
striking effect.
These wooden houses are fiUed with articles
of every description, and are inhabited by the
venders who bring their goods to be disposed
of to the crowds of buyers who flock here from
all parts, offering, in the variety of their cos-
tumes and habits, a very animated and showy
picture. The public walk, which edges the grassy

.VRLES. 27

plain allotted to the fair, is bordered by large
elm-trees, and the vicinity to the river insures
that freshness always so desirable in summer,
and more especially in a climate so warm
as this.
The town of Beaucaire has little worthy of
notice, except its H6tel-de-Ville and church,
both of which are handsome buildings. We
crossed the Rhone over the bridge of boats,
from which we had a good view, and arrived
at Tarascon.
The chateau called the Castle of King
Rene, but which was erected by Louis IL,
count of Provence, is an object of interest to
all who love to ponder on the olden time,
when gallant knights and lovely dames assem
bled here for those tournaments in which the
good Rene delighted.
Alas for the change! In those apart
ments in which the generous monarch loved to
indulge the effusions of his gentle muse, and
where fair ladies smiled, and belted knights

28 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
quaffed ruby wine to their healths, now dweU
reckless felons and hopeless debtors ; for the
chateau is converted into a prison.
In the Church of St. Martha we saw a
relic of the barbarism of the dark ages, in
the shape of a grotesque representation of a
dragon, caUed the Tarasque. This image is
formed of wood, rudely painted in gaudy
colours. Twice a-year it is borne through the streets
of Tarascon, in commemoration of the de
struction of a fabulous monster that long fre
quented the Rhone, and devoured many of the
inhabitants of the surrounding country, but
was at length vanquished by St. Martha; who,
having secured it round the neck by her veil,
delivered it to the just vengeance of the Ta-
rascons. This legend is received as truth by
common people, and our guide informed us
that they warmly resent any doubt of its au
thenticity. The monument of St, Martha is shewn in

ARLES. 29
the church dedicated to her, and her memory
is held in great reverence at Tarascon.
The country between this place and Ta
rascon is fertile and weU cultivated, and the
cheerfulness of its aspect presents a striking
contrast to the silence and solitude of the
tovra. The streets, however, are as clean as
those of Holland, and the inhabitants are neat
and tidy in their attire.
The houses are for the most part old and
dilapidated, looking in nearly as ruined a
condition as the fragments of antiquity which
date so many centuries before them. Neverthe
less, some of the streets and dwellings seem to
indicate that a spirit of improvement is abroad.
Our hotel is a large, crazy, old mansion,
reminding me of some of those at Shrewsbury ;
and its furniture appears to be coeval with it,
as nothing can be more homely or misshapen.
Oak and walnut-tree chairs, beds, and tables
form the chief part, and these are in a very
rickety condition ; nevertheless, an air of

30 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
cleanliness and comfort pervades the rooms,
and with the extreme rusticity of the ameuble-
ment, give one the notion of being in some
huge old farm-house.
Nor is the manner of the good hostess cal
culated to dispel this iUusion. When our
three carriages drove to her door, though
prepared for our arrival by the courier, she
repeatedly said that her poor house had no
accommodation for such guests, and we had
some difficulty in persuading her that we were
easily satisfied.
She had donned her fete dress for our re
ception, and presented a very picturesque ap
pearance, as she stood smUing and bustling
about at the door. She wore a high cap re
minding me of those of the women in Nor
mandy: brown stays; linsey-woolsey, volumi
nous petticoats; handkerchief and apron trim
med with rich old-fashioned lace; and long
gold ear-rings and chain ofthe same material,
twisted at least ten times round her neck.

ARLES. 31
She explained to us, in a patois not easily
understood, that her house was only frequented
by the farmers, and their wives and daughters,
who attended the fetes, or occasionally by a
stray traveller who came to explore the an
tiquities. Before I had travelled much on the Conti
nent, I confess that the appearance of this
dweUing would have rather startled me as a
sejour for two days, but now I can relish its
rusticity; for cleanliness, that most indispensa
ble of all requisites to comfort, is not wanting.
The furniture is scrubbed into brightness,
the small diamond - shaped panes of the old-
fashioned casements are clean as hands can
make them ; the large antique fireplace is filled
with fresh flowers; and the walnut-tree tables
are covered vdth white napkins.
No sooner had we performed our ablutions,
and changed our travelling dresses for others,
than our good hostess, aided by three active
young country maidens, served up a plentiful

32 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
dinner, consisting of an exceUent pot au feu,
foUowed by fish, fowl, and flesh, sufficient to
satisfy the hunger of at least four times the
number of our party.
Having covered the table until it Uterally
"groaned with the weight of the feast," she
seated herself at a Kttle distance from it, and
issued her commands to her handmaidens
what to serve, and when to change a plate,
what wine to offer, and which dish she most
recommended, with a good-humoured attention
to our wants, that really anticipated them.
There was something as novel as patriarchal
in her mode of doing the honours, and it
pleased us so much that we invited her to
partake of our repast; but she could not be
prevailed on, though she consented to drink
our healths in a glass of her best wine.
She repeatedly expressed her fears that our
dinner was not sufficiently rSchercM, and hoped
^ye would allow her to prepare a good supper.
When wc were descending the stairs, she

ARLES. 33
met us with several of her female neighbours
en grande toilette, whom she had invited to
see the strangers, and who gazed at us with
as much surprise as if we were natives of
Otaheite, beheld for the first time. Cordial
greetings, however, atoned for the somewhat
too earnest examination to which we had been
subjected ; and many civil speeches from our
good hostess, who seemed not a little proud
of displaying her foreign guests, rewarded the
patience with which we submitted to the in
spection. One old lady felt the quality of our robes,
another admired our trinkets, and a third was
in raptures with our veils. In short, as a
Frenchwoman would say, we had un grand
succes; and so, our hostess assured us.
We went over the Amphitheatre, the dimen
sions of which exceed those of the Amphitheatre
at Nismes. Three orders of architecture are
also introduced in it, and it has no less than
sixty arcades, with four large doors; that on
VOL. I. D

34 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
the north side has a very imposing effect. The
corridor leading to the arena exhibits aU the
grandeur peculiar to the public buildmgs of
the Romans, and is well worthy of attention ;
but the portion of the edifice that most inter
ested me was the subterranean, which a num
ber of workmen were busily employed in
excavating, under the superintendence of the
Prefect of Aries, a gentleman with whose know
ledge of the antiquities of his native town,
and urbanity towards the strangers who visit
them, we have every reason to be satisfied.
Under his guidance, we explored a consi
derable extent of the recently excavated sub
terranean, a task which requires no slight
devotion to antiquities to induce the visitor
to persevere, the inequalities of the ground
exposing one continually to the danger of a
fall, or to the stiU more perilous chance— as
occurred to one of our party— of the head
coming in contact with the roof.
We saw also fragments of a theatre in the

ARLES. 35
garden of the convent of La Misericorde,
consisting of two large marble columns and
two arches.
In the ancient church of St. Anne, now
converted into a museum, are collected all
the fragments of antiquity discovered at Aries,
and in its vicinity ; some of them highly inter
esting, and bearing evidences of the former
splendour of the place.
An altar dedicated to the Goddess of Good ;
the celebrated Mithras with a serpent coiled
round him, between the folds of which are
sculptured the signs of the zodiac ; Medea
and her children; a mile-stone, bearing the
names of the Emperors Theodosius and Valen-
tinian; a basso-relievo of the Muses; several
sarcophagi, votive altars, cornices, pillars,
mutilated statues, and inscriptions, are here
carefully preserved : but nothing in the col
lection equals the statue known by the title
of the Venus of Aries, found here, and which
is so deservedly admired at the Louvre.

36 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
An obelisk of granite, about sixty feet high,
said to be the only antique one in France,
stands on the place of the H6tel-de- Ville.
Discovered in 1389, it was not disinterred
from the earth in which it was embedded
until the reign of Charles IX., and was erected
on its present site in I676, vsdth a dedication
to the then reigning sovereign, Louis XIV.
A globe, ornamented withfleurs de lis placed
on its point, deteriorates, in my opinion, from
the beauty of its effect. It was originally in
one block, but it was broken in two by its
overturn. Many houses in the streets have portions of
columns, friezes, and cornices embedded in
their walls; and one of them, occupied by a
barber, had a column in front, to which
the insignia of his profession were attached.
Ruins, said to be those of the palace of
Constantine, were pointed out to us, as weU
as fragments of a forum and baths.
Aries is certainly one of the most interest-

ARLES. 37
ing towns I have ever seen, whether viewed
as a place remarkable for the objects of an
tiquity it contains, or for the primitive man
ners of its inhabitants and its picturesque
appearance. The quays are spacious and well built,
presenting a very different aspect to the streets;
for the former are very populous, being fre
quented by the boatmen who ply their busy
commerce between Lyons and Marseilles —
depots for the merchandise being erected
along them, while the latter are compara
tively deserted.
With this facility of communication with
two such flourishing tovras, it is extraordinary
that Aries should have so long retained the
primitive simplicity that seems to pervade it,
and that a good hotel has not yet been esta
blished here.
Our good hostess provided nearly as sub
stantial a supper for us last night as the early
dinner served up on our arrival, and again

38

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

presided at the repast, pressing us to eat, and
recommending, with genuine kindness, the
various specimens of dahities set before us.
Our beds, though homely, were clean ; and I
have seldom, in the most luxurious ones, re
posed equaUy soundly.
When our courier asked for the biU this
morning, the landlady declared she " knew
not what to charge, that she never was in
the habit of making out biUs, and that we
must give her what we thought right."
The courier urged the necessity of having
a regular bill, explaining to her that he was
obliged to file aU bills, and produce them every
week for the arrangement of his accounts, —
but in vain : she could not, she declared,
make one out ; and no one in her house was
more expert than herself.
She came to us, laughing and protesting,
and ended by saying, " Pay what you like ;
things are very cheap at Aries. You have
eaten very little ; really, it is not worth

ARLES. 39
charging for." But, when we persisted on
having her at least name a sum, to our in
finite surprise she asked, if a couple of louis
would be too much ? — And this for a party
of six, and six servants, for two days !
We had some difficulty in inducing her to
accept a suitable indemnification, and parted,
leaving her proclaiming what she was pleased
to consider our excessive generosity, and re
iterating her good wishes.

CHAPTER IIL

ST. REMY.

The town of St. Remy is delightfully situ
ated in a hollow that resembles the crater of
an extinct volcano, and is surrounded by luxu
riant groves of olive. The streets, though
generally narrow, are rendered picturesque by
several old houses, the architecture of which
is striking; and the place — for even St. Remy
has its Place Publique and H6tel-de- Ville — is
not without pretensions to ornament. In the
centre of this place is a pretty fountain, of a
pyramidal form.
The antiquities which attracted us to St.
Remy are at a short distance from the town,
on an eminence to the south of it, and are
approached by a road worthy the objects to

ST. RfeMY. 41
which it conducts. They consist of a tri
umphal arch, and a mausoleum, about forty-
five feet asunder.
Of the triumphal arch, all above the archi-
vault has disappeared, leaving but the portico,
the proportions of which are neither lofty
nor wide. On each side of it are two fluted
columns, said to have been of the Corinthian
order, but without capitals, and the inter-
columniations, in each of which are figures of
male and female captives.
A tree divides the male from the female ;
their hands are tied, and chained to the tree ;
and a graceful drapery faUs from above the
heads down to the consoles on which the
figures stand.
On the eastern side of the arch are also
figures, representing two women, by the side
of two men. One of the women has her
hand on the arm of a chained warrior, and
the other has at her feet military trophies ;
among which bucklers, arms, and trumpets.

42 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
may be seen. The pilasters that bound the
intercolumniations are of the Doric order,
and their capitals support the arch.
The cornice and astragals form a frieze,
in which military emblems and symbols of
sacrifice are intermingled. The archivault is
ornamented on each side with sculptured
wreaths of ivy, pine cones, branches of grapes
and olives, interlaced with ribands. The
ceiUng of the portico is divided into hexagons
and squares, enriched by various designs in
the shape of eggs and roses, finely executed.
This interesting monument appears to have
been ornamented with equal care and rich
ness on every side, but its decorations have
not enabled any of the numerous antiquaries
who have hitherto examined it to throw any
Ught on its origin; and the destruction of its
architecture must have caused that of its
inscription, if, indeed, it ever bore one.
The mausoleum is even more curious
than the arch, as being the only building

ST. REMY. 43
of a similar character of architecture to be
seen. Placed on a large square pediment, ap
proached by two steps, the edifice rises vdth
unequalled lightness and beauty against the
blue sky, forming two stages supported by
columns and pilasters, united by a finely
sculptured frieze. The first stage retreats
from the pediment ; and the second, which
is of a round form, and terminated by a
conical -shaped top, is less in advance than
the first, giving a pyramidal effect.
The four fronts of the pediment are nearly
covered by bassi-relievi, representing battles
of infantry ; the figures of which are nearly
as large as life, and admirably designed.
On the north front is a combat of cavalry ;
on the west, an engagement, in the midst of
which the body of a man is lying on the
ground, one party of soldiers endeavouring
to take possession of it, while another band
of soldiers are trying to prevent them.

44 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
The basso-relievo ofthe south front repre
sents a field of battle, strewed with the dead
and wounded, and mingled with warriors on
horseback and on foot. On one side is seen
a wUd boar between the legs of the soldiers ;
and on the other, a female figure, quite nude,
prostrate on the earth before a rearing horse,
which some soldiers are endeavouring to
restrain. In the centre of the basso-relievo is an old
man expiring, surrounded by several persons ;
and at one end a soldier, bearing arms on his
shoulder, has been left unfinished by the
sculptor; there not being sufficient space for
the figure, which is partly designed on the
adjoining pilaster.
On the east front is a winged female bearing
the attributes of Victory, with several women
and warriors, and an aUegorical personage
said to represent a river, because it holds in
one hand a symbol of water. This last figure,
also, is partly sculptured on the contiguous

ST. REMY. 45
pilaster, as is the one previously noted, which
proves that these ornaments were not executed
at the time of the erection of the edifice.
The pediment has a simple cornice around
it, and the angles are finished by voluted pilas
ters without a base, but with Ionic capitals,
which have an extraordinary effect. Above
the basso-relievo is a massive garland, sup
ported by three boys, at equal distances ; and
between them are four heads of old men, as
hideously grotesque as the imaginations of the
sculptors could render them.
The first stage of the mausoleum which
rises from this pedestal is pierced by an arch
on each side, in the form of a portico, and
their archi vaults are ornamented by foliage
and scrolls.
The arches rest on plain pilasters, with
capitals more resembling the Doric than any
other order of architecture. On the key
stone of each arch is the mark of a youthful
male head, surmounted by two wings. The

46

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

four angles of the first stage are finished by a
fluted column, with a capital charmingly exe
cuted, like, but not quite, the Corinthian. These
columns sustain an entablature or two, which
terminate this stage, and its frieze is enriched
with sculpture representing winged sea-mon
sters and sirens with sacrificial instruments.
Above the first stage rises the second,
which is of a round form, with ten fluted
columns, which support its circular entabla
ture ; the capitals of these columns are similar
to those of the first stage, and the frieze is
ornamented with foUage delicately sculptured.
A round cupola terminates this buUding,
through which the light shines in on every side,
although two male statues in togas occupy the
centre of it.
To view the height at which these figures
are placed, one would suppose they were safe
from the attacks of the mischievous or the
curious; nevertheless, they did not escape,
for, many years ago, during the night, their

ST. REMY. 47
heads were taken off, and those that replaced
them refiect little credit on the taste or skiU of
the modern sculptor who executed the task.
On the architrave of the entablature of the
first stage, and on the north front, is the fol
lowing inscription : —
SEX. L. M. JVLIEI. C. F. PARENTIBVS . SVEIS.
Various are the opinions given by the
writers who have noticed this monument as
to the cause for which, and person, or persons
for whom, it was erected. Some maintain that
the triumphal arch from its ^•icinity has a
relation to the mausoleum, while others assert
them to have been built at different epochs.
The inscription has only served to base the
different hypotheses of antiquaries, among
which that of the Abbe Barthelemy is con
sidered the most probable ; namely, that in the
three first words are found two initials, which
he considers may be rendered as follows : —
SEXTVS • LUCIVS * MARCVS ;

48 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
and the two other initials, c. f., which follow
the word jvliei, may be explained in the
same manner to signify Caii Filii, and, being
joined to Juliei, which precedes, may be re
ceived to mean Julii Caii Filii.
Mantour's reading of the inscription is,
Caius SExtius Lucius, Maritus Juli^ In-
comparabilis, Curavit Fieri Parentibus suis ;
which he translates into Caius Sextius Lu
cius, Husband of Julia, caused this Monument
to be erected to the Memory of his Ancestors,
and the victories achieved by them in Pro-
vence, which on different occasions had been
the theatre of war of the Romans.
Bouche's version of it is, —
r Lucius, 1
Sextus < Laslius, > Maritus Julias.
L Liberius, J
Istud Cenotaphium, i
or, I Fecit Parentibus Suis :
Intra Circulum, I
which he asserts to mean,— Sextus, in honour
of his Father and Mother, buried in this place.

ST. REMY. 49
and represented by the two statues surrounded
by columns in the upper part of the mau
soleum. Monsieur P. Malosse, to whose work on the
antiquities of St. Remy I am indebted for the
superficial knowledge I have attained of these
interesting objects, explains the inscription to
mean, —
SEXTVS • LVCIVS ' MARCVS ' JVLIEI ' CVKAV "
ERUNT • FIERI ' SVEIS ;
which he translates into Sextus, Lucius, Marcus
(all three), of the race of Julius, elevated this
monument to the glory of their relations.
M. Malosse believes that the mausoleum
was erected to Julius, and the arch to Au
gustus Caesar — the first being dead, and the
second then living ; and that the statues in
the former, in the Roman togas, were in
tended to represent the two.
He imagines that the subjects of the bassi-
relievi on the four fronts of the mausoleum
VOL. I. K

50 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
bear out this hypothesis. That of the east,
he says, represents the combat of the Romans
with the Germans on the bank of the Rhine,
(of which river the one on the basso-relievo is
the emblem), and the triumph of Caesar over
Ariovistus, whose women were taken prisoners.
The basso-reUevo on the south front repre
sents Caesar's conquest of the Allobroges,
and the capture of the daughter of Orgetorix,
one of the most powerful men of the country,
and instigator of the war. The basso-relievo
on the north front, representing a combat of
cavalry, refers to the victory over the Britons ;
and that of the west front, to the battle gained
by the Romans over the Gauls, in which the
general of the latter was killed in the midst
of his soldiers, who endeavoured to prevent
his being seized by the enemy.
Passages from the Commentaries of Cossar
favour this ingenious interpretation of M. P.
Malosse ; but the abbreviations adopted in the
inscription, while well calculated to give rise

ST. REMY.

51

to innumerable hypotheses, will for ever leave
in doubt, by whom, and in honour of whom,
these edifices were erected, as well as the
epoch at which they were built.
Who could look on these monuments with
out reflecting on the vanity of mortals in thus
offering up testimonials of their respect for
persons of whose very names posterity is
ignorant ? For the identity of those in whose
honour the Arch of Triumph and Mausoleum
of St. Remy were raised puzzles antiquaries
as much as does that of the individual for
whom the pyramid of Egypt was built. Vain
effort, originating in the weakness of our
nature, to preserve the memory of that which
was dear to us, and which we would fain
beUeve will insure the reverence of asres
unborn for that which we venerated!

52 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
ON THE TRIUMPHAL ARCH AND MAUSO
LEUM AT ST. REMY.
1.
Yon stately tomb that seeks the sky,
Erected to the glorious dead,
Through whose high arches sweeps the sigh
The night winds heave when day has fled ;
2.
How fair its pillared stories rise
'Gainst yon blue firmament so pure ;
Fair as they met admiring eyes,
Long ages past, they still endure.
3.
Yes, many a race hath left the earth
Since first this Mausoleum rose ;
So many, that the name, or birth,
Of dead, or founder, no one knows.
4.
The sculptured pictures, all may see.
Were by a skilful artist wrought ;
But, Time ! the secret rests with thee.
Which to unravel men have sought.

ST. RilMY. 53

5.

Of whom were they, the honoured dead,
Whose meni'ry Love would here record ?
Lift up the veil, so long o'erspread,
And tell whose dust yon fane doth guard.

Name those whose love outlived the grave
And sovight to give for aye to fame
Mementos of the good and brave.
Of whora thou hast effaced the name.

We know but that they lived and died,-
No more this stately tomb can tell :
Here come and read a lesson, Pride,
This monument can give so well.

They lived— they hoped— they suffered— loved —
As all of Earth have ever done ;
Were oft by wild Ambition moved,
And basked, perchance, 'neath glory's Sun.

54 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

They deemed that they should leave behind
Undying names. Yet, mark this fane,
For whom it rose, by whom designed,
Learned antiquaries search in vain.
10.
Still doth it wear the form it wore
Through the dim lapse of by-gone age ;
Triumph of Art in days of yore.
Whose Hist'ry fills the classic page.
11.
To honour Victors it is said
'T was raised, though none their names can trace ;
It stands as monument instead,
Unto each long-forgotten race,
12.
Who came, like me, to gaze and brood
Upon it in this lonely spot —
Their minds with pensive thoughts imbued.
That Heroes could be thus forgot.

ST. R]6my. 55
13.
Yet still the wind a requiem sighs.
And the blue sky above it weeps ;
The Sun pours down its radiant dyes,
Though none can tell who 'neath it sleeps.
14.
And seasons roll, and centuries pass.
And still unchanged thou keep'st thy place ;
While we, like shadows in a glass.
Soon glide away, and leave no trace.
15.
And yon proud Arch, the Victor's meed,
Is nameless as the neighbouring Tomb :
Victor, and Dead, the Fates decreed
Your memory to oblivion's gloom.

CHAPTER IV.
LYONS.
I SEE little alteration at Lyons since I for
merly passed through it. Its manufactories
are, nevertheless, flourishing, though less im
provement than could be expected is visible
in the external aspect of the place.
This being Sunday, and the File de Dieu,
the garrison, with flags flying, drums beating,
trumpets sounding, and aU in gala dress,
marched through the streets to attend Divine
worship. The train was headed by our old
acquaintance General Le Paultre de la Motte,
(whom we left at Lyons on our route to
Italy), and his staff; wearing all their mili
tary decorations, attended by a vast procession.

LYONS. 57
including the whole of the clergy in their
rich attires and all the different religious
communities in the town.
The officers were bare - headed — their
spurred heels and warlike demeanour ren
dering this homage to a sacred ceremony
more picturesque. The gold and silver
brocaded vestments and snowy robes of the
priests glittering in the sun, as they marched
along to the sound of martial music, looked
very gorgeous ; and this mixture of eccle
siastical and miUtary pomp had an imposing
effect. The streets through which the procession
passed were ornamented with rich draperies
and flowers, reminding me of Italy on similar
occasions ; and the intense heat of a sun
glowing like a fiery furnace, aided the recol
lection. Since I have been on the continent, it has
often struck me with surprise, that on solemn

58 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
occasions like the present, sacred music has
not been performed instead of military. Nay,
I have heard quadrilles and waltzes played,
fruitful in festive associations little suited to
the feelings which ought to have been excited
by solemn ceremonials.
Knowing, by experience, the effect pro
duced on the mind by sacred music, it is
much to be wished that so potent an aid to
devotional sentiment should not be omitted,
maigre whatever may be said against any
extraneous assistance in offering up those
devotions which the heart should be ever
prompt to fulfil without them.
I leave to casuists to argue whether, or how
far, music, sculpture, or painting, may he
employed as excitements to religious fervour ;
but I confess, although the acknowledgment
may expose me to the censure of those who
differ with me in opinion, that I consider
them powerful adjuncts, and, consequently,

LYONS. 50
not to be resigned because some — and happy,
indeed, may they be deemed — stand in no
need of such incitements to devotion.
Who that has heard the " Miser ire" in
the Sistine chapel at Rome, and seen, while
listening to it, " The Last Judgment," by
Michael Angelo, on its walls, without feeling
the powerful influence they exercised on the
feehngs ?

CHAPTER V.

PARIS.

June, 1828 — A fatiguing journey, over
dusty roads, and in intensely hot weather,
has brought us to Paris, with no accident
save the failure of one of the wheels of our
large landau — a circumstance that caused the
last day's travelling to be any thing but agree
able ; for though our courier declared the
temporary repair it received rendered it per
fectly safe, I was by no means satisfled on the
point. We have taken up our abode in the Hotel
de Terrasse, Rue de Rivoli, are well-lodged, hut
somewhat incommoded by the loud reverbera
tion of the pavement, as the various vehicles

PARIS. 61
roll rapidly over it. We were told that " it
would be nothing when we got used to it" —
an assertion, the truth of which, I trust, we
shall not remain sufficiently long to test ; for
I have a peculiar objection to noise of every
kind, and a long residence in Italy has not
conquered it.
So here we are, once more, at Paris, after
six years' absence from it ; and I find all that
has hitherto met my eyes in it in statu quo.
How many places have I seen during that
period ; how many associations formed ; how
many and what various impressions received ;
and here is every thing around looking so
precisely as I left them, that I can hardly
bring myself to beUeve that I have indeed
been so many years absent!
When we bring back with us the objects
most dear, and find those we left unchanged,
we are tempted to doubt the lapse of time ;
but one link in the chain of affection broken,
and every thing seems altered.

62 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
On entering Paris, I felt my impatience
to see our dear friends there redouble ; and,
before we had despatched the dinner awaiting
our arrival, the Due and Duchesse de Guiche
came to us. How warm was our greeting ;
how many questions to be asked and an
swered ; how many congratulations and plea
sant plans for the future to be formed ; how
many reminiscences of our mutual sejour in
dear Italy to be talked over !
The Duchesse was radiant in health and
beauty, and the Due looking, as he always
does, more distingue than any one else —
the perfect beau ideal of a nobleman.
We soon quitted the salle a manger; for
who could eat during the joy of a first meet
ing with those so valued ? — Not I, certainly ;
and aU the rest of our party were as little
disposed to do honour to the repast com
manded for us.
It was a happy evening. Seated in the
salon, and looking out on the pleasant gardens

PARIS. 63
ofthe Tuilleries, the perfume of whose orange-
trees was wafted to us by the air as wc talked
over old times, and indulged in cheerful anti
cipations of new ones, and the tones of voices
familiar to the ears thus again restored, were
heard with emotion.
Yes, the meeting of dear friends atones for
the regret of separation ; and like it so much
enhances affection, that after absence one
wonders how one has been able to stay away
from them so long.
Too excited to sleep, although fatigued, I
am writing down my impressions; yet how
tame and colourless they seem on paper when
compared with the emotions that dictate them !
How often have I experienced the impos
sibility of painting strong feelings during their
reign! [_Mem — We should be cautious in giving
impUcit credit to descriptions written with
great power, as I am persuaded they indicate
a too perfect command of the faculties of the

64 THE IDLER IN PARIS.
head to admit the possibiUty of those of the
heart having been much excited when they
were written.
This belief of mine controverts the assertion
of the poet —
" He best can paint them who has felt them most."
Except that the poet says who has felt ; yes it
is after, and not when most felt that sentiments
can^be most powerfully expressed. But to bed!
to bed !]
I have had a busy day ; engaged during the
greater portion of it in the momentous occu
pation of shopping. Every thing belonging to
my toilette is to be changed, for I have dis
covered — "tell it not in Gath" — that my
hats, bonnets, robes, mantles, and pelisses, arc
totally passee de mode, and what the modistes
of Italy declared to be la derniire mode de
Paris is so old as to be forgotten here.
The woman who wishes to be a phUosopher
must avoid Paris ! Yesterday I entered it.

THE IDLER IN FRANCE. 65
caring or thinking as little of la Mode as if
there were no such tyrant ; and lo ! to-day, I
found myself ashamed, as I looked from the
Duchess de Guiche, attired in her becoming
and pretty peignir a la neige and chapeau de
dernier gout, to my own dress and bonnet,
which previously I had considered very wear
able, if not very tasteful.
Our first visit was to Herbault's, the high-
priest of the Temple of Fashion at Paris ; and
I confess, the look of astonishment which he
bestowed on my bonnet did not help to re
assure my confidence as to my appearance.
The Duchesse, too quick-sighted not to ob
serve his surprise, explained that I had been
six years absent from Paris, and only » -rived
the night before from Italy. I saw the words
a la bonheur hovering on the lips of Herbault,
but he was too weU-bred to give utterance to
them, and immediately ordered to be brought
forth the choicest of his hats, caps, and turbans.
Oh, the misery of trying on a new mode for
VOL. I. F

66 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
the first time, and before a stranger ! The eye
accustomed to see the face to which it apper
tains enveloped in a chapeau more or less
large or small, is shocked at the first attempt
to wear one of a different size ; and turns from
the contemplation of the image presented in
the glass with any thing but self-complacency,
listening incredulously to the flattering enco
miums of the not disinterested marchand de
modes, who avers that " Ce chapeau sied
parfaitement a Madame la Comtesse, et ce
bonnet lui va a ravir."
I must, however, render M. Herbault the
justice to say, that he evinced no ordinary
tact in suggesting certain alterations in his
chapeaux and caps, in order to suit my face ;
and, aided by the inimitable good taste of the
Duchesse, who passes for an oracle in affaires
de modes a Paris, a selection was made that
enabled me to^ leave M. Herbault's, looking
a little more Uke other people.
From his Temple of Fashion we proceeded to

PARIS.

67

the lingere a la mode, Mdlle. La Touche, where
canezus and robes de matin were to be chosen
and ordered ; and we returned to the Hotel
de la Terrasse, my head filled with notions of
the importance of dressing a lu mode, to which
yesterday it was a stranger, and my purse
considerably lightened by the two visits I had
paid. Englishwomen " .o have not made their
purchases at the houses of the marchandes de
modes considered the most rechercJie at Paris,
have no idea of the extravagance of the
charges. Prices are demanded that really
make a prudent person start ; nevertheless, she
who wishes to attain the distinction so gene
rally sought, of being perfectly well dressed,
which means being in the newest fashion, must
submit to pay largely for it.
Three hundred and twenty francs for a
crape hat and feathers, two hundred for a
chapeau dfieurs, one hundred for a chapeau
neglige de matin, and eighty-five francs for an

68 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
evening-cap composed of tulle trimmed with
blonde and flowers, are among the prices asked,
and, to my shame be it said, given.
It is true, hats, caps, and bonnets may be
had for very reasonable prices in the shops in
the Rue Vivienne and elsewhere at Paris, as
I and many of my female compatriots found out
when I was formerly in this gay capital ; but
the bare notion of wearing such would posi
tively shock a lady of fashion at Paris, as much
as it would an English one, to appear in a hat
manufactured in Cranbourn Alley.
Here Fashion is a despot, and no one dreams
of evading its dictates.
Having noticed the extravagance of the
prices, it is but fair to remark the elegance
and good taste of the millinery to be found at
Monsieur Herbault's. His chapeaux look as
if made by fairy fingers, so fresh, so Ught,
do they appear ; and his caps seem as if the
gentlest sigh of a summer's zephyr would bear
them from sight, so aerial is their texture.

PARIS.

69

and so delicate are the flowers that adorn them,
fresh from the ateliers of Natier, or Baton.
Beware, O ye uxorious husbands ! how ye
bring your youthful brides to the dangerous
atmosphere of Paris, while yet in that para
dise of fools ycleped the honey-moon, ere you
have learned to curve your brows into a froMTi,
or to lengthen your visages at the sight of
a long bill.
In that joyful season, when having pleased
your eyes and secured your hearts, your fair
brides, with that amiability which is one of the
peculiar characteristics of their sex, are anx
ious to please all the world, and from no
other motive than that your choice should
be admired, beware of entering Paris, except
en passant. Wait until you have recovered
that firmness of character which generaUy
comes back to a Benedict after the first year
of his nuptials, before you let your vsdves
wander through the tempting mazes of the
magasin de modes of this intoxicating city.

70 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
And you, fair dames, "with stinted sums
assigned," in the shape of pin-money, beware
how you indulge that taste for pretty bonnets,
hats, caps, and turbans, with which all bounti
ful Nature has so liberally gifted you; for,
alas ! " beneath the roses fierce Repentance
rears her snaky crest " in form of a bill, the
payment of which will "leave you poor in
deed " for many a long day after, unless your
liege lord, melted by the long-drawn sighs
heaved when you remark on the wonderfully
high prices of things at Paris, opens his purse-
strings, and, with something between a pshaw
and a grunt, makes you an advance of your
next quarter's pin-money; or, better still, a
present of one of the hundred pounds with
which he had intended to try his good luck
at the club.
Went yesterday to the Rue d'Anjou, to
visit Madame Craufurd. Her hotel is a
charming one, entre cour et jardin ; and she
is the most extraordinary person of her age

p.viiis. 71
I have ever seen. In her eightieth year,
she does not look to be more than fifty-five ;
and possesses aU the vivacity and good
humour peculiar only to youth.
Scrupulously exact in her person, and
dressed with the utmost care, as well as good
taste, she gives me a notion of the appear
ance which the celebrated Ninon de I'EncIos
must have presented at the same age, and has
much of the charm of manner said to have
belonged to that remarkable woman.
It was an interesting sight to see her sur
rounded by her grand-children and great-
grand-children, aU remarkable for their good
looks, and affectionately attached to her,
while she appears not a little proud of them.
The children of the Due de Guiche have
lost nothing of their beauty since their sejour
at Pisa, and are as ingenuous and amusing
as formerly.
I never saw such handsome children before,
nor so well brought up. No trouble or ex-

72 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
pense is spared in their education ; and the
Due and Duchesse devote a great portion
of their time to them.
All our friends are occupied in looking
out for a house for us ; and I have this
day been over, at least, ten — only one of
which seems likely to suit.
I highly approve the mode at Paris of
letting unfurnished houses, or apartments,
with mirrors and decorations, as well as all
fixtures (with us, in England, always charged
separately), free of any extra expense. The
good taste evinced in the ornaments is in
general remarkable, and far superior to what
is to be met with in England ; where, if
one engages a new house lately papered or
painted, one is compelled to recolour the rooms
before they can be occupied, owing to the
gaudy and ill - assorted patterns originally
selected. The house of the Marechal Lobeau, form
ing the corner of the Rue de Bourbon, is the

P.iRIS. "73
one I prefer of all those I have yet seen,
although it has many desagrcmens for so
large an establishment as ours. But I am
called to go to the review in the Champ de
Mars, so allons for a spectacle militaire,
which, I am told, is to be very fine.
The review was well worth seeing; and
the troops performed their evolutions with
great precision. The crowd of spectators was
immense ; so much so, that those only who
formed part of the royal cortege could reach
the Champ de Mars in time to see its com
mencement. No carriages, save those of the
court, were allowed to enter the file.
The dust was insupportable ; and the
pretty dresses of the ladies suffered from it
nearly as much as did the smart uniforms
of the officers.
The coup d'oeil from the pavilion - (where
we had, thanks to our chaperon, the Du
chesse de Guiche, front seats) was very fine.
The various and splendid uniforms, floating

74 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
standards, waving plumes, gUttering arms,
and prancing steeds, gave to the vast plain
over which the troops were moving a most
animated aspect, while the sounds of martial
music exhUarated the spirits.
Nor was the view presented by the interior
of the pavUion without its charms. A num
ber of ladies, some of them young and hand
some, and aU remarkably well-dressed, gave
to the benches ranged along it the appear
ance of a rich parterre, among the flowers
of which the beautiful Duchesse de Guiche
shone pre-eminent.
I was seated next to a lady, with large
lustrous eyes and a pale olive complexion,
whose countenance, from its extreme mobility,
attracted my attention ; at one moment, light
ing up with intelligence, and the next, soften
ing into pensiveness.
A remarkably handsome young man stood
behind her, holding her shawl, and lavishing
on her those attentions pecuUar to young

PARIS. 15
Benedicts. The lady proved to be the Mar
chioness de Louie, sister to the King of
Portugal ; and the gentleman turned out to be
her husband, for whose beaux yeux she con
tracted what is considered a mhaUiance,
The simplicity of her dress, and unaffected-
ness of her manner, invested her with new
attractions in my eyes ; which increased when
I reflected on the elevated position she had
resigned, to foUow the more humble fortunes
of her handsome husband.
How strange, yet how agreeable too, must
the change be, from the most formal court,
over which Etiquette holds a despotic sway,
to the freedom from such disagreeable con
straint permitted to those in private life,
and now enjoyed by this Spanish princess !
She appears to enjoy this newly acquired
liberty with a zest in proportion to her past
enthralment, and has proved that the daugh
ter of a King of Portugal has a heart, though

76 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
the queens of its neighbour, Spain, were in
former days not supposed to have legs.
During the evolutions, a general officer
was thrown from his horse; and a universal
agitation among a group of ladies evinced
that they were in a panic. Soon the name of
the general. Count de Bourmont, was heard
pronounced ; and a faint shriek, followed by
a half swoon from one of the fair dames,
announced her deep interest in the accident.
Flacons and vinaigrettes were presented
to her on every side, all the ladies present
seeming to have come prepared for some
similar catastrophe ; but in a few minutes a
messenger, despatched by the general, assured
Madame la Comtesse of his perfect safety;
and tears of joy testified her satisfaction at
the news.
This little episode in the review shewed
me the French ladies in a very atniable point
of view. Their sensibiUty and agitation during

PARIS. 77
the uncertainty as to the person thrown,
vouched for the liveliness of their conjugal
affection ; and their sympathy for Madame
la Comtesse de Bourmont when it was ascer
tained that her husband was the sufferer, bore
evidence to the kindness of their hearts, as
well as to their facility in performing the little
services so acceptable in moments Uke those
I had just witnessed.
Charles X., the Dauphin and Dauphine,
and the Duchesse de Berri, were present —
the two latter in landaus, attended by their
ladies. The king looked weU, his grey hair
and tall thin figure giving him a very
venerable aspect.
The Dauphine is much changed since I
last saw her, and the care and sorrow of
her chUdhood have left their traces on her
countenance. I never saw so melancholy a
face, and the strength of inteUect which cha
racterises it renders it stiU more so, by indi
cating that the marks of sorrow so visible

78 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
were not indented on that brow without
many an effort from the strong mind to
resist the attacks of grief.
I remember reading years ago of the melan
choly physiognomy of King Charles I., which
when seen in his portrait by a Florentine
sculptor, to whom it was sent in order that
a bust should be made from it, drew forth
the observation that the countenance indicated
that its owner would come to a violent death.
I was reminded of this anecdote by the face
of the Duchesse d'Angouleme ; for though I do
not pretend to a prescience as to her future
fate, I cannot help arguing from it that, even
should a peaceful reign await her, the fearful
trials of her youth have destroyed in her
the power of enjoyment; and that on a throne
she can never forget the father and mother
she saw hurried from it, to meet every insult
that maUce could invent, or cruelty could de
vise, before a violent death freed them from
their sufferings.

PARIS. 79
Who can look on this heroic woman without
astonishment at the power of endurance that
has enabled her to Uve on under such trials ?
Martyr is written in legible characters on
that brow, and on those Ups ; and her attempt
to smUe made me more sad than the tears
of a mourner would have done, because it
revealed " a grief too deep for tears."
Must she not tremble for the future, if not
for the present, among a people so versatile
as those among whom she is now thrown?
And can she look from the windows of the
palace she has been recalled to inhabit, with
out seeing the spot where the fearful guillotine
was reared that made her an orphan?
The very plaudits that now rend the skies
for her uncle must remind her of the shouts
that followed her father to the scaffold : no
wonder, then, that she grows pale as she
hears them; and that the memory of the ter
rible past, written in characters of blood, gives
a sombre hue to the present and to the future.

80 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
The sight of her, too, must awaken dis
agreeable recollections in those over whom
her husband may be soon called to reign,
for the history of the crimes of the Revolution
is stamped on her face, whose paUid tint and
rigid muscles teU of the horror and affliction
imprinted on her youth; the reminiscence
of which cannot be pleasant to them.
The French not only love their country
passionately, but are inordinately proud of it ;
hence, aught that reminds them of its sins —
and cruelty is one of a deep dye — must be
humiliating to them; so that the presence of
the Duchesse d'Angouleme cannot be flatter
ing to their amor patrice or amour propre. I
thought of all this to-day, as I looked on the
face of Madame la Dauphine; and breathed
a hope that the peace of her life's evening
may console her for the misfortunes of its
morning and its noon.
The Duchesse de Berri has an animated
and peculiarly good-natured expression of coun-

PARIS. 81
tenance. Her restored gaiety makes thc French
forget why it was long and cruelly over
clouded, and aids the many good qualities
which she possesses, in securing the popu
larity she has so generally acquired in thc
country of her adoption.
House -hunting again, and still unsuited.
Dined yesterday at the Duchesse de Guiche's ;
a very pleasant party, increased by some agree
able people in the evening. Our old acquaint
ance, WiUiam Lock, was among the guests
at dinner, and is as good-looking and light-
hearted as ever.
The Marquis I'Esperance de I'Aigle was
also present, and is a perfect specimen of the
fine gentleman of La Vieille Cour — a race
now nearly extinct. Possessing all the gaiety
and vivacity of youth, with that attention to
the feelings of others peculiar only to maturity
and high -breeding, the Count I'Esperance de
I'Aigle is universally beloved.
He can talk over old times with the grand-
VOL. I. Q

82 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
mother with all the wit that we read of,
oftener than we meet with ; give his opi
nion of la dernier mode to the youthful
mother, with rare tact and good taste ; dance
with the young daughter as actively and
gracefully as any gargon des dix~huit ans
in Paris ; and gallop through the Bois de
Boulogne with the young men who pride
themselves on their riding, without being
ever left behind. I had frequently heard
his praises from the Duchesse de Guiche,
and found that her description of him was
very accurate.
The house of the Due de Guiche is a
picture of English comfort and French ele
gance united ; and that portion of it appro
priated to its fair mistress is fitted up with
exquisite taste. Her salons and boudoir
are objects of vertii, bijouterie, and vases
of old Sevre, enough to excite envy in those
who can duly appreciate such treasures, and
tempt to the violation of the tenth com-

PARIS. 83
mandment. Order reigns in the whole ar
rangement of the establishment, which, possess
ing all the luxurious appliances of a maison
montie, has all the scrupulous cleanliness of
that of a Quaker.
Went to the Opera last night, where I
saw the debut of the new danseuse Taglioni.
Hers is a totally new style of dancing; grace
ful beyond all comparison, wonderful light
ness, an absence of all violent effort, or at
least of the appearance of it, and a modesty
as new as it is delightful to witness in her
art. She seems to fioat and bound like a
sylph across the stage, never executing those
tours de force that we know to be difficult
and wish were impossible, being always
performed at the expense of decorum and
grace, and requiring only activity for their
achievement. She excited the most rapturous applause,
and received it vdth a " decent dignity," very
unlike the leering smiles with which, in

84

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

general, a danseuse thinks it necessary to
advance to the front of the proscenium,
shewing all her teeth, as she lowly courtesies
to the audience.
There is a sentiment in the dancing of this
charming votary of Terpsichore that elevates
it far beyond the Ucentious style generally
adopted by the ladies of her profession, and
which bids fair to accomplish a reformation
in it.
The Due de Cazes, who came in to
the Duchesse de Guiche's box, was enthu
siastic in his praises of Mademoiselle Tag
lioni, and said hers was the most poetical
style of dancing he had ever seen. Another
observed, that it was indeed the poetry of
motion. I would describe it as being the
epic of dancing.
The Due de Cazes is a very distinguished
looking man, with a fine and inteUigent
countenance, and very agreeable manners.
A propos of manners, I am struck with the

PARIS. 8.5
wreat difference between those of Frenchmen
and Englishmen, of the same station in life.
The latter treat women with a politeness that
seems the result of habitual amenity ; the
former with a homage that appears to be
inspired by the peculiar claims of the sex,
particularised in the individual woman, and
is consequently more flattering.
An Englishman seldom lays himself out
to act the agreeable to women ; a French
man never omits an opportunity of so doing :
hence, the attentions of the latter are less
gratifying than those of the former, because a
woman, however free from vanity, may suppose
that when an EngUshman takes the trouble
— and it is evidently a trouble, more or less,
to aU our islanders to enact the agreeable —
she has really inspired him with the desire
to please.
In France, a woman may forget that she
is neither young nor handsome; for the
absence of these claims to attention does not

86

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

expose her to be neglected by the male
sex. In England, the elderly and the ugly
" could a tale unfold" of the nazvete with
which men evince their sense of the im
portance of youth and beauty, and their ob
livion of the presence of those who have
neither. France is the paradise for old women,
particularly if they are spirituelle; but Eng
land is the purgatory.
The Comtesses de Bellegarde called on me
to - day, and two more warm - hearted or
enthusiastic persons I never saw. Though
no longer young, they possess all the gaiety
of youth, without any of its thoughtlessness,
and have an earnestness in their kindness
that is very pleasant.
Dined yesterday at Madame Craufurd's —
a very pleasant party. Met there the Due
de Gramont, Due and Duchesse de Guiche,
Colonel and Lady Barbara Craufurd, and
Count Valeski.

PARIS. 87
The Due de Gramont is a fine old man
who has seen much of the world, without
having been soured by its trials. Faithful
to his sovereign during adversity, he is affec
tionately cherished by the whole of the present
royal famUy, who respect and love him; and
his old age is cheered by the unceasing de
votion of his children, the Due and Duchesse
de Guiche, who are fondly attached to him.
He gives up much of his time to the culture
of flowers, and is more interested in the
success of his dahlias than in those scenes of
courtly circles in which he is called to fiU
so distinguished a part. It pleased me to
hear him teUing his beautiful daughter-in-law
of the perfection of a flower she had procured
him with some trouble; and then adding: "A
propos of flowers, how is our sweet Ida, to-day?
There is no flower ui my garden like her! 
Ay, she will soon be two years old."
There is something soothing to the mind
in the contemplation of a man in the evening

88 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
of life, whose youth was spent in all the
splendour of a court, and whose manhood
has been tried by adversity, turning to Nature
for her innocent pleasures, when the dis
covery of the futility of all others has been
made. This choice vouches for the purity
of heart and goodness of him who has
adopted it, and disposes me to give ample
credit to all the commendation the Duchesse
de Guiche used to utter of him in Italy.
Lady Barbara Craufurd is an excellent spe
cimen of an English woman. Pretty, without
vanity or affectation; gentle, without insi
pidity; and simple, yet highly poUshed, in
manners. She has, too, a low, " sweet voice,
an exceUent thing in woman," and, to me,
whose ears offer even a more direct road to
the heart than do the eyes, is a pecuUar
attraction. Colonel Craufurd seems to be the quintes-
sence of good nature and of good sense. Count
Valeski is an intelligent young man, greatly

PARIS. 89
a la mode at Paris, and wholly unspoilt by this
distinction. Handsome, well-bred, and agree
able, he is very popular, not only among the
fine ladies but fine gentlemen here, and ap
pears worthy of the favour he enjoys.
Several people of both sexes came in the
evening to Madame Craufurd's, and we had
some exceUent music. Madame C. does the
honours of her salon with peculiar grace.
She has a bright smile and a kind word for
every guest, without the slightest appearance
of effort.
Still house-hunting ; continually tempted by
elegantly decorated salons, and as continually
checked by the want of room and comfort of
the rest of the apartments.
We have been compeUed to abandon the
project of taking the Marechal Lobeau's house,
or at least that portion of it which he wishes
to dispose of, for we found it impossible to
lodge so large an establishment as ours in it ;
and, though we communicated this fact with

90

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

aU possible courtesy to the Marechal, we have
received a note in answer, written in a dif-
ferent style, as he is pleased to think that,
having twice inspected his apartments, we
ought to have taken them.
In England, a person of the Marechal's
rank who had a house to let would not
show it in propria persona, but would
delegate that task, as also the terms and
negotiations, to some agent ; thus avoiding
all personal interference, and, consequently,
any chance of offence : but if people will
feel angry without any just cause, it cannot
be helped ; and so Monsieur le Marechal
must recover his serenity and acquire a tem
per more in analogy with his name ; for,
though a brave and distinguished officer, as
well as a good man, which he is said to be,
he certainly is not Bon comme un mouton,
which is his cognomen.
Paris is now before us, — where to choose is
the difficulty. We saw to-day a house in the

PARIS. 91
Rue St. Honore, entre cour et jardin, a few
doors from the English embassy. The said
garden is the most tempting part of the affair;
for, though the salons and sleeping-rooms are
good, the only entrance, except by a passage
derobe for servants, is through the salle a
manger, which is a great objection.
Many of the houses I have seen here have
this defect, which the Parisians do not seem
to consider one, although the odour of dinner
must enter the salons, and that in the even
ing, visitors must find servants occupied in re
moving the dinner apparatus, should thev,
as generaUy happens, come for the prima
sera, French people, however, remain so short a
time at table, and dine so much earUer than
the EngUsh people do, that the employment of
their salle a manger as a passage does not
annoy them.
Went to the opera last night, and saw the
Muette de Portici. It is admirably got up.

92 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
and the costumes and scenery, as well as the
tarantulas, transported me back to Naples —
dear, joyous Naples — again. Neurit enacted
" Massaniello," and his rich and flexible voice
gave passion and feeling to the music. Noblet
was the " Fenella," and her pantomime and
dancing were good ; but Taglioni spoils one for
any other dancing.
The six years that have flown over Noblet
since I last saw her have left little trace of
their flight, which is to be marvelled at, when
one considers the violent and constant exercise
that the profession of a danseuse demands.
When I saw the sylph-like TagUoni float
ing through the dance, I could not refrain
from sighing at the thought that grace and
elegance like hers should be doomed to know
the withering effect of Time ; and that those
agile Umbs should one day become as stiff and
helpless as those of others.
An old danseuse is an anomaly. She is
like an old rose, rendered more displeasing by

PARIS. 93
the recollection of former attractions. Then
to see the figure bounding in air, habit and
effort effecting something like that which the
agility peculiar to youth formerly enabled her
to execute almost con aniore ; while the hag
gard face, and distorted smile revealing yeUow
teeth, tell a sad tale of departed youth. Yes,
an old danseuse is a melancholy object ; more
so, because less cared for than the broken-
down racer, or worn-out hunter.
Went to Tivoli last night, and was amused
by the scene of gaiety it presented. How
unlike, and how superior to, our Vauxhall!
People of all stations, of aU ages, and of both
sexes, threading the mazy dance with a
sprightliness that evinced the pleasure it
gave them.
We paused to look at group after group,
aU equally enjoying themselves; and the
Duchesse de Guiche, from her perfect know
ledge of Paris, was enabled, by a glance, to
name the station in life occupied by each :

94 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
a somewhat difficult task for a stranger, as the
remarkably good taste of every class of women
in Paris in dress, precludes those striking
contrasts between the appearance of a modiste
and a marquise, the wife of a boutiquier and
a duchesse, to be met with in all other
countries. But it is not in dress alone that a simi
larity exists in the exteriors of Parisian women.
The air comme il faut, the perfect freedom
from all gaiMherie, the ease of demeanour,
the mode of walking, and, above all, the
decent dignity equally removed from mauvaise
honte and effrontery, appertain nearly alike to
all. The class denominated grisettes alone
offered an exception, as their demonstrations
of gaiety, though free from boisterousness,
betrayed stronger symptoms of hilarity than
were evinced by women belonging to a more
elevated class in society.
The dancing, too, surprised as weU as
pleased me ; and in this accompUshment the

PARIS. 95
French stiU maintain their long-acknowledged
superiority, for among the many groups I did
not see a single bad dancer.
Around one quadrille party a more nume
rous audience was collected than around the
others, and the entrechats of one of the
gentlemen were much applauded. Nods and
smiles passing between the dancers and the
Duchesse de Guiche, revealed to me that
they were among the circle of her acquaint
ance ; and, approaching nearer, I recognised
in the gentleman whose entrechats were so
much admired, my new acquaintance the
Marquis I'Esperance de I'Aigle, of whose ex
cellence in the mazy dance I now had an
opportunity of seeing that Fame had not said
too much.
The ladies who formed the quadrille were
la Marquise de Marmier, the Vicomtesse
de NoaiUes, and Madame Standish; aU ex
cellent dancers, and attired in that most
becoming of aU styles of dress, the demi-

96 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
toilette, which is peculiar to France, and
admits of the after-dinner promenades or
unceremonious visits in which French ladies
indulge. A simple robe of organdie, with long
sleeves, a canezou of net, a light scarf, and
a pretty chapeau of paille de ris, form this
becoming toilette, which is considered a suit
able one for all theatres, except the Opera,
where ladies go in a richer dress.
On our return from Tivoli, we had a smaU
party to drink tea, and remained chatting
tUl one o'clock — a late hour for Paris.
Among the guests was our old friend Mr.
T. Steuart, the nephew of Sir WiUiam
Drummond, who continues to be as clever
and original as ever. His Uvely remarks
and brilUant saUies were very amusing.
Having complained of the want of a com
fortable chair last evening, I found a chef
d'ceuvre of Rainguet's in my salon this morn
ing, sent me by my thoughtful and ever -kind
friend the Due de Guiche. A connoisseur

PARIS. 97
in chairs and sofas, being unhappily addicted
to "taking mine ease" not only in "mine inn,"
but wherever I meet these requisites to it,
I am compelled to acknowledge the supe
riority of Rainguet over any that I ha\e
previously seen; and my only fear is, that
this luxurious chair will seduce me into the
stiU greater indulgence of my besetting or
besitting sin, sedentary habits.
At length, we have found a house to suit
us, and a delightful one it is ; once the pro
perty of the Marechal Ney, but now belonging
to the Marquis de Lillers. It is situated in
the Rue de Bourbon, but the windows of
the principal apartments look on the Seine,
and command a deUghtful view of the Thuil-
lerie Gardens. It is approached by an avenue
bounded by fine trees, and is enclosed on
the Rue de Bourbon side by high walls, a
large parte cochere, and a porter's lodge ;
which give it aU the quiet and security of
a country house.
VOL. I. H

98 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
This hotel may be viewed as a type of the
splendour that marked the dwellings of the
imperial noblesse, and some notion of it may
be conceived from the fact that the decorations
of its waUs alone cost a miUion of francs.
These decorations are stiU — thanks to the
purity of the air of Paris — as fresh as if
only a year painted, and are of great beauty;
so much so, that it wiU be not only very ex
pensive but very difficult to assort the furni
ture to them; and, unfortunately, there is not
a single meuble in the house.
The rent is high, but there are so many
competitors for the hotel, which has only
been three days in the market, that we con
sider ourselves fortunate in having secured it.
A small garden, or rather terrace, with
some large trees and plenty of flowers, sepa
rates the house from the Quai d'Orsay, and
runs back at its left angle. The avenue ter
minates in a court, from which, on the right,
a gate opens into the stable offices; and a

PARIS. 90
vestibule, fitted up as a conservatory, forms an
entrance to the house. A flight of marble
steps on each side of the conservatory, leads
to a large ante-room, from which a window of
one immense plate of glass, extending from
the ceiling to the floor, divides the centre,
permitting the pjTamids of flowers to be seen
through it. A glass door on each side opens
from the vestibule to the steps of the con
servatory. The vestibule, lofty and spacious, is lighted
also by two other windows, beyond the con
servatory, and is ornamented with pilasters
with Corinthian capitals.
On the right hand is the salle a manger,
a fine room, Ughted by three windows lookmg
into the court-yard, and architecturally ar
ranged with pUasters, a rich cornice and ceil
ing : the hall is stuccoed, painted in imitation
of marble, and has so fine a poUsh as readily
to deceive the eye. In the centre of this
apartment is a large door between the pUas-

100

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

ters, opening into a drawing-room, and at
the opposite end from the door that opens
from the vestibule is that which leads to the
kitchen offices, and by which dinner is served.
Vis-d-vis to the salle a manger, and divided
from it by the large vestibule, is a dressing
and bed-chamber with an alcove, both rooms
being ornamented with columns and pilasters,
between which are mirrors of large dimensions
inserted in recesses. A corridor and escalier
derobe at the back of these two apartments
admit the attendance of servants, without
their passing through the vestibule.
In the centre of this last, and opposite to
the large plate of glass that divides it from the
conservatory, large folding doors open into the
principal drawing-room, which is lighted by
three large and lofty windows, the centre one
exactly facing the folding doors, and, like
them, supported by pilasters.
This room is of large dimensions, and finely
proportioned ; the sides and ends are divided

PARIS.

101

by fluted pilasters with Corinthian capitals
richly gilt. At one extremity is a beautifully
sculptured chimney-piece of Parian marble,
over which is a vast mirror, bounded by
pilasters, that separate it from a large panel
on each side, in the centre of which are exqui
sitely designed allegorical groups.
At the opposite end, a mirror, of similar
dimensions to that over the chimney-piece,
and resting Uke it on a white marble slab,
occupies the centre, on each side of which are
panels with painted groups. Doors at each
end, and exactly facing, lead into other
salons ; opposite to the two end windows are
large mirrors, resting on marble slabs, bounded
by narrow panels with painted figures, and be
tween the windows are also mirrors to corre
spond. The pictorial adornments in this salon
are executed by the first artists of the day, and
with a total disregard of expense, so that it is
not to be wondered at that they are beautiful.
MiUtary trophies are mingled with the deco-

102 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
rations, the whole on a white ground, and
richly ornamented with gilding. The Seine,
with its boats, and the gay scene of the
Thuillerie Gardens, are reflected in the mir
rors opposite to the windows, while the groups
on the panels are seen in the others.
Nothing can exceed the beauty of this room,
in which such fine proportion, architectural
decoration, and exquisite finish reign, that
the eye dwells on it with delight, and can
trace no defect.
The door on the right-hand end, on enter
ing, opens to a less richly ornamented salon,
inside which are two admirable bed-chambers
and dressing-rooms, communicating by an esca
lier derobe with a suite of servants' apartments.
The door on the left-hand end of the large
salon opens into a beautiful room, known as the
Salle de la Victoire, from its being decorated
hy paintings allegorical of Victory. This apart
ment is lighted by two large windows, and
opposite to them is a deep recess, or alcove.

PARIS. 103
A cornice extends around the room, about
four feet beneath the ceiling, and is supported
by white columns, projecting into the chamber,
on each of which stands a figure of Victory
offering a wreath of laurels. This cornice
divides the room from the recess before
mentioned. The chimney-piece is in a recess, with
columns on each side ; and the large mirror
over it, and which is finished by the cornice,
is faced by a similar one, also in a recess,
with white columns, standing on a plinth on
each side. The windows are finished by the
former cornice, that extends round the rooms,
and have similar columns on each side with
Victories on them, and a mirror between.
The room is white and gold, with deUcate
arabesques, and medaUions exquisitely painted.
This salon communicates with a corridor
behind it, which admits the attendance of
servants without the necessity of their passing
through the other apartments. Inside this

104 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
salon is a chambre a coucher, that looks as if
intended for some youthful queen, so beautiful
are its decorations. A recess, the frieze of
which rests on two white columns with silvered
capitals, is meant to receive a bed.
One side ofthe room is panelled with mirrors,
divided by pilasters with silver capitals ; and
on the opposite side, on which is the chimney,
similar panels occupy the same space. The
colour of the apartment is a light blue, with
silver mouldings to all the panels, and delicate
arabesques of silver. The chimney-piece and
dogs for the wood have silvered ornaments to
correspond. Inside this chamber is the dressing-room,
which is of an octagon shape, and panelled
likewise with mirrors, in front of each of which
are white marble slabs to correspond with that
of the chimney-piece. The mouldings and
architectural decorations are silvered, and
arabesques of flowers are introduced.
This room opens into a salle de bain of an

PARIS. 105
elliptical form ; the bath, of white marble, is
sunk in the pavement, which is tessellated.
From the ceiling immediately over the bath
hangs an alabaster lamp, held by the beak of a
dove ; the rest of the ceiUng being painted
with Cupids throwing flowers. The room is
paneUed with alternate mirrors and groups of
aUegorical subjects finely executed ; and is
lighted by one window, composed of a single
plate of glass opening into a little spot of
garden secluded from the rest. A small libraiy
completes the suite I have described, all the
apartments of which are on the ground floor.
There are several other rooms in a wing in the
court-yard, and the whole are in perfect order.
I remembered to-day, when standing in the
principal drawing-room, the tragic scene nar
rated to me by Sir Robert Wilson as having
taken place there, when he had an interview
with the Princesse de la Moskowa, after the
condemnation of her brave husband.
He told me, years ago, how the splendour

106 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
of the decorations of the salon — decorations
meant to commemorate the miUtary glory of
the Marechal Ney — added to the tragic effect
of the scene in which that noble-minded
woman, overwhelmed with horror and grief,
turned away with a shudder from objects
that so forcibly reminded her of the brilUant
past, and so fearfully contrasted with the
terrible present.
He described to me the silence, broken only
by the sobs that heaved her agonised bosom ;
the figures of the few trusted friends permitted
to enter the presence of the distracted wife,
moving about with noiseless steps, as if fearful
of disturbing the sacredness of that grief to
offer consolation for which they felt their
tongues could form no words, so deeply did
their hearts sympathise with it.
He told me. that the images of these
friends in the vast mirrors looked ghostly
in the dim twiUght of closed Winds, the very
light of day having become insupportable

PARIS. 107
to the broken-hearted wife, so soon to be
severed for ever, and by a violent death, from
the husband she adored. Ah, if these walls
could speak, what agony would they reveal !
and if mirrors could retain the shadows replete
with despair they once reflected, who dare
look on them ?
1 thought of all this to-day, until the tears
came into my eyes, and I almost determined
not to hire the house, so powerfully did the
recollection of the past affect me : but I re
membered that such is the fate of mankind ;
that there are no houses in which scenes of
misery have not taken place, and in which
breaking hearts have not been ready to prompt
the exclamation "There is no sorrow Uke
mine." How is the agony of such moments increased
by the recollection that in the same chamber
where such bitter grief now reigns, joy and
pleasure once dwelt, and that those who shared
it can bless us no more ! How like a cruel

108 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
mockery, then, appear the splendour and
beauty of all that meets the eye, unchanged as
when it was in unison with our feelings, but
which now jars so fearfully with them !
I wonder not that the bereaved wife fled
from this house, where every object reminded
her of a husband so fondly loved, so fearfully
lost, to mourn in some more humble abode
over the fate of him who could no more resist
the magical influence of the presence of that
glorious chief, who had so often led him to
victory, than the war-horse can resist being
animated by the sound of that trumpet which
has often excited the proud animal into ardour.
Peace be to thy manes, gaUant Ney ; and
if thy spirit be permitted to look down on
this earth, it wiU be soothed by the know
ledge that the wife of thy bosom has remained
faithful to thy memory; and that thy sons,
worthy of their sire —brave, noble, and gene
rous-hearted—are devoted to their country, for
which thou hadst so often fought and bled !

CHAPTER VL
To my surprise and pleasure, I find that a
usagfe exists at Paris which I have nowhere
else met with, namely, that of letting out
rich and fine furniture by the quarter, half,
or whole year, in any quantity required for
even the largest estabUshment, and on the
shortest notice.
I feared that we should be compeUed to
buy furniture, or else to put up with an in
ferior sort, Uttie imagining that the most
costly can be procured on hire, and even a
large mansion made ready for the reception
of a family m forty-eight hours. This is
really like Aladdin's lamp, and is a usage
that merits being adopted in aU capitals.
We have made an arrangement, that if

110 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
we decide on remaining in Paris more than
a year, and wish to purchase the furniture,
the sum agreed to be paid for the year's
¦ hire is to be allowed in the purchase -money,
which is to be named when the inventory
is made out.
We saw the house for the first time yes
terday ; engaged it to-day for a year ; to
morrow, the upholsterer will commence placing
the furniture in it ; and to-morrow night we
are to sleep in it. This is surely being very
expeditious, and saves a world of trouble as
well as of waiting.
Spent last evening at Madame Craufurd's.
Met there the Prince and Princesse Castelci
cala, with their daughter, who is a very hand
some woman. The Prince was a long time
Ambassador from Naples at the Court of St.
James, and he now fills the same station at
that of France.
The Princesse is sister to our friend Prince
Ischetella at Naples, and, like all her country-

PARIS. Ill
women, appears sensible and unaffected. She
and Mademoiselle Dorotea speak English per
fectly well, and profess a great liking to Eng
land and its inhabitants. The Dowager Lady
Hawarden, the Marquise de Brehan, the Ba
roness d'Echlingen, Madame d'Ocaris, Lady
Barbara Craufurd, and Lady Combermere,
composed the rest of the female portion of
the party.
Lady Hawarden has been very pretty :
what a melancholy phrase is this same has
been ! The Marquise de Brehan is still a
very fine woman ; Lady Combermere is very
agreeable, and sings with great expression ;
and the rest of the ladies, always excepting
Lady Barbara Craufurd, who is very pretty,
were very much like most other ladies of a
certain time of life — addicted to silks and
blondes, and well aware of their relative
prices. Madame Craufurd is very amusing. With
all the naivete of a child, she possesses a quick

112 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
perception of character and a freshness of
feeling rarely found in a person of her ad
vanced age, and her observations are full of
originality. The tone of society at Paris is very agree
able. Literature, the fine arts, and the general
occurrences of the day, furnish the topics for
conversation, from which ill-natured remarks
are exploded. A ceremoniousness of manner,
reminding one oiLa Vieille Cour, and probably
rendered a la mode by the restoration of the
Bourbons, prevails ; as well as a strict observ
ance of deferential respect from the men towards
the women, while these last seem to assume
that superiority accorded to them in manner,
if not entertained in fact, by the sterner sex.
The attention paid by young men to old
women in Parisian society is very edifying,
and any breach of it would be esteemed
nothing short of a crime. This attention is
not evinced by any flattery, except the most
deUcate — a profound silence when these beUes

PARIS. 113
of other days recount anecdotes of their own
times, or comment on the occurrences of ours,
or by an alacrity to perform the little services
of picking up a fallen mouchoir de poche,
bouquet, or fan, placing a shawl, or handing
to a carriage.
If flirtations exist at Paris, they certainly
are not exhibited in public ; and those be
tween whom they are supposed to be estab
lished observe a ceremonious decorum towards
each other, weU calculated to throw discredit
on the supposition. This appearance of re
serve may be termed hypocrisy ; nevertheless,
even the semblance of propriety is advan
tageous to the interests of society ; and the
entire freedom from those marked attentions,
engrossing conversations, and from that fami-
Uarity of manner often permitted in England,
without even a thought of evU on the part of the
women who permit these indiscretions, leaves
to Parisian circles an air of greater dignity
and decorum, although I am not disposed to
VOL. I. T

114 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
admit that the persons who compose them
really possess more dignity or decorum than
my compatriots.
Count Charles de Mornay was presented to
me to-day. Having heard of him only as 
" The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
The observed of all observers,"
I was agreeably surprised to find him one of
the most witty, well-informed, and agreeable
young men I have ever seen. Gay without
levity, well-read without pedantry, and good-
looking without vanity. Of how few young
men of fashion could this be said! But I am
persuaded that Count Charles de Mornay is
made to be something better than a raere
man of fashion.
Spent all the morning in the Hotel Ney,
superintending the placing of the furniture.
There is nothing so like the magicians we
read of as Parisian upholsterers ; for no
sooner have they entered a house, than, as if

PARIS.

115

touched by the hand of the enchanter, it
assumes a totally different aspect. I could
hardly believe my eyes when I entered our
new dweUing, to-day.
Already were the carpets — and such car
pets, too — laid down on the salons ; the cur
tains were hung ; consoles, sofas, tables, and
chairs placed, and lustres suspended. In
short, the rooms looked perfectly habitable.
The principal drawing-room has a carpet
of dark crimson with a gold-coloured border,
on which is a wreath of flowers that looks as
if newly culled from the garden, so rich,
varied, and bright are their hues. The cur
tains are of crimson satin, vnth embossed bor
ders of gold-colour ; and the sofas, bergires,
fauteuils, and chairs, richly carved and gilt,
are covered with satin to correspond with the
curtains. GUt consoles, and chiffonniSres, with white
marble tops, are placed wherever they could

116

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

be disposed ; and, on the chimney pieces, are
fine pendules.
The next drawing-room, which I have ap
propriated as my sitting-room, is furnished
with blue satin, with rich white flowers. It has
a carpet of a chocolate-coloured ground with a
blue border, round which is a wreath of bright
flowers, and carved and gilt sofas, bergires,
and fauteuils, covered with blue satin like the
curtains. The recess we have lined with fluted blue
silk, with a large mirror placed in the centre
of it, and five beautiful buhl cabinets around,
on which I intend to dispose aU my treasures
of old sivre china, and ruby glass.
I was told by the upholsterer, that he had
pledged himself to 7nilord that miladi was not
to see her chambre a coucher, or dressing-
room, untU they were furnished. This I well
knew was some scheme laid by Lord B, to
surprise me, for he delights in such plans.

PARIS.

117

He wiU not tell me what is doing in the
rooms, and refuses aU my entreaties to enter
them, but shakes his head, and says he
thinks I will be pleased when I see them ;
and so I thuik, too, for the only complaint I
ever have to make of his taste is its too great
splendour — a proof of which he gave me
when I went to JMountjoy Forest on my mar
riage, and found my private sitting-room hung
with crimson Genoa silk velvet, trimmed
with gold bulUon fringe, and all the furniture
of equal richness — a richness that was only
suited to a state room in a palace.
We feel like children with a new plaything,
in our beautiful house ; but how, after it,
shaU we ever be able to reconcile ourselves
to the comparatively dingy rooms in St.
James's Square, which no furniture or de
coration could render any thing like the Hotel
Ney? The Due and Duchesse de Guiche leave
Paris, to my great regret, in a few days, and

118 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
will be absent six weeks. He is to command
the encampment at Luneville, and she is to
do the honours — giving dinners, baUs, con
certs, and soirees, to the ladies who accom
pany their lords to "the tented field," and
to the numerous visiters who resort to see it.
They have invited us to go to them, but we
cannot accept their kindness. They are
" On hospitable thoughts intent,"
and will, I doubt not, concUiate the esteem
of all with whom they come in contact.
He is so well bred, that the men pardon
his superiority both of person and manner ;
and she is so warm-hearted and amiable, that
the women, with a few exceptions, forgive her
rare beauty. How we shall miss them, and
the dear children, too !
Drove in the Bois de Boulogne yesterday,
with the Duchesse de Guiche : met my old
acquaintance. Lord Yarmouth, who is as
amusing and original as ever.

PARIS.

119

He has great natural talent and knowledge
of the world, but uses both to Uttie purpose,
save to laugh at its slaves. He might be any
thing he chose, but he is too indolent for
exertion, and seems to think lejeu ne rant pas
la chandelle. He is one of the many clever
people spoilt by being born to a great fortmie
and high rank, advantages which exclude the
necessity of exercising the talents he possesses.
It is, however, no trifling merit, that born
to immense wealth and high station, he should
be whoUy free from arrogance, or ostentation.
At length, the secret is out, the doors of my
chambre a coucher and dressing-room are
opened, and I am deUghted with both. The
whole fitting up is in exquisite taste, and, as
usual, when my most gaUant of aU gaUant
husbands that it ever feU to the happy lot of
woman to possess, interferes, no expense has
been spared.
The bed, which is silvered, instead of gUt,
rests on the backs of two large silver swans.

120 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
SO exquisitely sculptured that every feather
is in alto-relievo, and looks nearly as fleecy as
those of the living bird. The recess in which
it is placed is lined with white fluted silk,
bordered with blue embossed lace ; and from
the columns that support the frieze of the
recess, pale blue silk curtains, Uned with
white, are hung, which, when drawn, conceal
the recess altogether.
The window curtain is of pale blue silk, with
embroidered muslin curtains, trimmed with
lace inside them, and have borders of blue
and white lace to match those of the recess.
A silvered sofa has been made to fit the
side of the room opposite the fire-place, near
to which stands a most inviting bergire. An
Scritoire occupies one panel, a book-stand
the other, and a rich coffer for jewels, forms
a pendant to a similar one for lace, or India
shawls. A carpet of uncut pile, of a pale blue, a
silver lamp, and a Psyche glass, the ornaments

si

P.\RIS. 1-1
dvered to correspond with the decorations of
the chamber, complete the furniture. The
hangings of the dressing-room are of blue silk,
covered with lace, and trimmed with rich friUs
of the same material, as are also the dressing-
stools and chaise tongue, and the cai'pet and
lamp are similar to those of the bed -room.
A toilette table stands before the window,
and smaU jardinieres are placed in front of
each panel of looking-glass, but so low as not
to impede a fuU view of the person dressincr in
this beautiful Utile sanctuarv.
The salle de bain is draped with white musUn
trimmed with lace, and the sofa and hers-ere
are covered with the same. The bath is of
white marble, inserted in the floor, with which
its surface is level. On the ceiUng over it, is
a painting of Flora scattermg flowers with one
hand, whUe from the other is suspended an
alabaster lamp, in the form of a lotos.
A more tasteful or elegant suite of apart
ments cannot be imaghied; and aU this per-

122 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
fection of furniture has been completed in
three days ! Lord B. has all the merit of the
taste, and the upholsterer that of the rapidity
and exceUence of the execution.
The effect of the whole suite is chastely
beautiful; and a queen could desire nothing
better for her own private apartments. Few
queens, most probably, ever had such tasteful
ones. Our kind friend, Charles MiUs, has ar
rived from Rome — amiable and agreeable as
ever. He dined with us yesterday, and we
talked over the pleasant days spent in the
Vigna Palatina, his beautiful vUla.
Breakfasted to-day in the Rue d'Anjou, a
take-leave repast given to the Due and Du
chesse de Guiche by Madame Craufurd.
Lady Barbara and Colonel Craufurd were of
the party, which was the only triste one I have
seen in that house. The Due de Gramont
was there, and joined in the regret we aU felt
at seeing our dear friends drive away.

PARIS.

V23

It was touching to behold ]\Iadame Crau
furd, kissing again and again her grandchUdrcn
and great-grandchUdren, the tears streaming
down her cheeks, and the venerable Due de
Gramont, scarcely less moved, embracing his
son and daughter-m-law, and exhorting the
latter to take care of her health, whUe the
dear Uttie Ida, his grandaughtcr, not yet
two years old, patted his cheeks, and smiled
in his face.
It is truly delisfhtful to witness the warm affec-
tion that subsists between relatives in France,
and the dutiful and respectful attention paid by
children to their parents. In no instance have
I seen this more strongly exempUfied than in
the Due and Duchesse de Guiche, whose
unceasing tenderness towards the good Due
de Gramont not only makes his happiness,
but is gratifying to aU who behold it, as is
also their conduct to Madame Craufurd.
I wish the encampment was over, and these
dear friends back again.

CHAPTER VII.
Took possession of our new house to
day, and are delighted with it. Its repose
and quiet are very agreeable, after the noise
and bustle of the Rue de Rivoli. Spent seve
ral hours in superintending the arrangement
of my books, china, bijouterie, and flowers,
and the rooms look as habitable as if we had
lived in them for weeks. How fortunate we
are to have found so charming an abode !
A chasm here occurs in my journal, oc
casioned by the arrival of some dear rela
tives from England, with whom I was too
much occupied to have time to journaUse.
What changes five years effect in young

PARIS. V25
people! The dear girls I left children are
now grown into women, but are as artless
and affectionate as in childhood. I could
hardly believe my eyes when I saw them, yet
I soon traced the same dear countenances, and
marvelled that though changed from the round,
dimpled ones of infancy, to the more delicate
oval of maidenly beauty, the expression of
gaiety and innocence of their faces is still
the same.
A week has passed rapidly by, and now that
they have returned to England, their visit
appears like a dream. I wish it had been
longer, for I have seen only enough of them
to wish to see a great deal more.
The good Mrs. W. and her Uvely, clever,
and her pretty daughter, Mrs. R., dined
with us yesterday. They are en route for
England, but give many a sigh to dear Italy.
It was pleasant to talk over the happy days
passed there, which we did with that tender

126 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
regret with which the past is always referred
to by those who have sensibility, and they pos
sess no ordinary portion of this lovable qua
lity. Les Dames Bellegarde also dined with
us, and they and our English friends took a
mutual fancy to each other. I like the Belle-
gardes exceedingly.
Our old friend. Lord Lilford, is at Paris,
and is as amiable and kind-hearted as ever.
He dined with us yesterday, and we talked
over the pleasant days we spent at Florence.
Well-educated, and addicted to neither of the
prevalent follies of the day, racing nor gaming,
he only requires a little ambition to prompt
him to exertion, in order to become a useful,
as well as an agreeable member of the com
munity, but with a good fortune and rank, he
requires an incentive to action.
Met last evening at Madame Craufurd's
the Marquis and Marquise Zamperi of Bo
logna. She is pretty and agreeable, and he is

PARIS. 127
original and amusing. They were very civil,
and expressed regret at not having been at
Bologna when we were there.
Had a visit from Count Alexander de la
Borde to-day. His conversation is lively
and entertaining. Full of general information
and good sense, he is no niggard in imparting
the results of both to those with whom he
comes in contact, and talks fluently, if not
always faultlessly, in Italian and English.
The Marquis de Mornay and his brother
Count Charles de Mornay dined here yester
day. How many associations of the olden
time are recalled by this ancient and noble
name, Mornay du Plessis !
The Marquis is agreeable, sensible, well-
informed, and well-bred. Though justly
proud of his high descent, the consciousness
of it is never rendered visible by any symptom
of that arrogance too often met with in those
who have less cause for pride, and can only

128 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
be traced by a natural dignity and bearing,
worthy a descendant of the noble Sully.
Count Charles de Mornay is a very re
markable young man. With a briUiant wit,
the saUies of which can " set the table in a
roar ; " it is never used at the expense of
others, and, when he chooses to be grave,
the quickness and justice of his perception,
and the fine tact and good sense which mark
his reflections, betray a mind of no common
order, and give the promise of future dis
tinction. Nothing can be more agreeable than the
mode in which I pass my time here. I read
from nine untU twelve; order the household
arrangements, and inspect the menu at twelve;
write letters or journalise from one untU four;
drive out tiU six or half-past; return home,
dress, dine, pay visits, or receive them at
home, and get to bed at one o'clock.
How much preferable is the French system

PARIS.

IQ9

of evening visits, to the EngUsh custom of
morning ones, which cut up time so abomi
nably! Few who have Uved much abroad
could submit patiently to have their mornings
broken in upon, when evening, which is the
most suitable time for relaxation, can be en
livened by the visits that are irksome at
other hours.
Paris is now nearly as emptv as London is
m September ; aU the elite of French fashion
able society having taken their departure for
their country houses, or for the different bath^
they frequent. I, who Uke not crowds, prefer
Paris at this season to any other, and shaU
be rather sorry than glad when it fiUs again.
Madame Craufurd, Lady Barbara and
Colonel Craufiird, the Dues de Gramont,
Dalberg, and Mouchy, dined with us yester
day. We had music in the evening. The
Due Dalberg is agreeable and weU bred, and
his manner has that suavity, mingled with
reserve, said to be peculiar to those who
VOL. I. K

130 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
have lived much at courts, and filled diplo
matic situations.
The Due was Minister Plenipotentiary from
Baden at Paris, when Napoleon was First
Consul, and escaped not censure on the occa
sion of the seizure of the unfortunate Due
d'Enghien; of the intention of which it was
thought he ought to have apprised his court,
and so have prevented an event which has
entailed just blame on all concerned in it,
as well as on some who were innocent.
There is nothing in the character of the
Due Dalberg to warrant a belief of his being
capable of lending himself to aught that was
disloyal, for he is an exceUent man in all the
relations of life, and is esteemed and re
spected by as large a circle of friends as
most persons who have filled high situations
can boast of.
The Due de Mouchy is a very amiable
as well as high-bred man ; he has been in
England, and speaks English with fluency.

PARIS. 131
Letters from the camp of Luneville, received
from our dear friends to-day, give a very
animated description of their doings there.
The Due de Mouchy told me yesterday that
they were winning golden opinions from all
with whom they came in contact there, by
their urbanity and hospitality. He said that
people were not prepared to find the hand
somest and most fashionable woman at Paris,
" the observed of aU observers," and the
brightest ornament of the French court, doing
the honors to the wives of the officers of the
camp with an amiability that has captivated
them aU. The good Due de Gramont was
delighted at hearing this account, for never
was there a more affectionate father.
Went vdth a party yesterday to Mont
morency. Madame Craufurd, the Comtesse
de Gand, the Baronne d'EtUngen, Comte
F. de Belmont, and our own circle, formed
the party. It was gratifying to witness how
much dear Madame Craufurd enjoyed the

132 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
excursion ; she even rode on a donkey through
the woods, and the youngest person of the
party did not enter into the amusement
with more spirit and gaiety. Montmorency
is a charming place, but not so the road to
it, which, being paved, is very tiresome.
We visited the hermitage where Rousseau
wrote so many of his works, but in which this
strange and unhappy man found not that
peace so long sought by him in vain, and to
which his own wayward temper and suspicious
nature offered an insurmountable obstacle.
As I sat in this humble abode, and looked
around on the objects once familiar to his
eyes, I could not resist the sentiment of pity
that filled my breast at the recollection that
even in this tranquil asylum, provided by
friendship,* and removed from the turmoil of
the busy world, so repugnant to his taste, the
* The hermitage was lent him by Madame D'Epinay,
to whom his subsequent ingratitude forms a dark page
in her Mhnoires.

PARIS. 133
jealousies, the heart-burnings, and the sus
picions, that empoisoned his existence followed
him, rendering his life not only a source of
misery to himself, but of pain to others ; for
no one ever conferred kindness on him with
out becoming the object of his suspicion, if
not of his aversion.
The life of Rousseau is one of the most
humUiating episodes in the whole history of
literary men, and the most calculated to bring
genius into disrepute : yet the misery he en
dured more than avenged the wrongs he
inflicted; and, while admiring the productions
of a genius, of which even his enemies could
not deny him the possession, we are more than
ever compelled to avow how unavaUing is this
glorious gift to confer happiness on its ovraer,
or to secure him respect or esteem, if unaccom
panied by goodness.
Who can reflect on the life of this man
without a sense of the danger to which Genius
exposes its children, and a pity for their suf-

134 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
ferings, though too often self-inflicted? Alas !
the sensibility which is one of the most in
variable characteristics of Genius, and by
which its most glorious efforts are achieved,
if excited into unhealthy action by over-ex
ercise, not unseldom renders its possessor un
reasonable and wretched, while his works are
benefiting or delighting others, and while the
very persons who most highly appreciate them
are often the least disposed to pardon the
errors of their author.
As the dancer, by the constant practice of
her art, soon loses that roundness of contour
which is one of the most beautiful peculiarities
of her sex, the muscles of the legs becoming
unnaturally developed at the 'expense of the
rest of the figure, so does the man of genius,
by the undue exercise of this gift, acquire an
irritability that soon impairs the temper, and
renders his excess of sensibility a torment to
himself and to others.
The solitude necessary to the exercise of

PARIS.

135

Genius is another fruitful source of evil to
its children. Abstracted from the world, they
are apt to form a false estimate of themsehcs
and of it, and to entertain exaggerated expecta
tions from it. Their morbid feelings are little
able to support the disappointment certain to
ensue, and they either rush into a reprisal of
imaginary wrongs, bv satire on others, or in
flict torture on themselves by the belief, often
erroneous, of the injuries they have sustained.
I remembered in this abode a passage in
one of the best letters ever written by Rous
seau, and addressed to Voltaire, on the subject
of his poem, entitled Sur la Loi Naturelle, et
sur le Desastre de Lishonne ; in which, refer
ring to an assertion of Voltaire's, that few
persons would wish to live over again on the
condition of enduring the same trials, and
which Rousseau combats by urging that it
IS only the rich, fatigued by their pleasures,
or literary men, of whom he writes— "Des
gens de lettres, de tous les ordres d'hommes le

136

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

plus sedentaire, le plus mal sain, le plus re-
flechissant, et, par consequent, le plus malheu-
reux," who would decline to live over again,
had they the power.
This description of men of letters, written by
one of themselves, is a melancholy, but, alas !
a true one, and should console the enviers of
genius for the want of a gift that but too often
entails such misery on its possessors.
The church of Montmorency is a good spe-
ciinen of Gothic architecture, and greatly em
bellishes the little town, which is built on
the side of a hill, and commands a delicious
view of the chestnut forest and valley, clothed
with pretty viUas, that render it so much
and so justly admired.
It was amusing to Usten to the diversity
of opinions entertained by our party relative
to Rousseau, as we wandered through the
scenes which he so often frequented ; each m-
dividual censuring or defending him, accord
ing to the bias of his or her disposition. On

PARIS.

137

one point aU agreed; which was, that, if
judged by his actions, Uttie could be said in
mitigation of the conduct of him who, while
writing sentiments fraught with passion and
tenderness, could consign his offspring to a
foundUng hospital !
Having visited every object worthy of atten
tion at Montmorency, we proceeded to En-
ghien, to examine the baths estabUshed there.
The building is of vast extent, containing no
less than forty chambers, comfortably fur
nished for the accommodation of bathers ; and
a good restaurateur furnishes the repasts.
The apartments command a beautiful view,
and the park of St. Gratien offers a deUghtful
promenade to the visitors of Enghien.
Our route back to Paris was rendered very
agreeable by the lively and clever conversation
of the Comtesse de Gand. I have rarely
met with a more amusing person.
With a most retentive memory, she pos
sesses the tact that does not always accompany

138 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
this precious gift — that of only repeating what
is perfectly a propos and interesting, with a
fund of anecdotes that might form an inexhaust
ible capital for a professional diner-out to set
up with ; an ill-natured one never escapes her
lips, and yet — hear it all ye who believe, or
act as if ye believe, that malice and wit are
inseparable aUies! — it would be difficult to find
a more entertaining and lively companion.
Our old friend. Col. E. Lygon, came to
see us to-day, and is as amiable as ever. He
is a specimen of a military man of which
England may well be proud.
The Dues de TaUeyrand and Dino, the
Marquis de Mornay, the Marquis de Dreux
Breze, and Count Charles de Mornay, dined
here yesterday. The Marquis de Breze is a
clever man, and his conversation is highly
interesting. Well-informed and sensible, he
has directed much of his attention to poUtics
without being, as is too often the case with
poUticians, wholly engrossed by them. He

PARIS. 139
appears to me to be a man likely to distinguish
himself in public Ufe.
There could not be found two individuals
more dissimilar, or more formed for furnishing
specimens of the noblemen of la Vieille Cour
and the present time, than the Due de Talley
rand and the Marquis de Dreux Breze. The
Due, well-dressed and well-bred, but offering in
his toilette and in his manners irrefragable
evidence that both have been studied, and his
conversation bearing that high polish and
urbanity which, if not always characteristics
of talent, conceal the absence of it, represents
I'ancien regime, when les grands seigneurs
were more desirous to serve les belles dames
than their country, and more anxious to be
distinguished in the salons of the Faubourg
St. Germain than in the Chambre de Par
liament, The Marquis de Dreux Breze, well-dressed
and well-bred, too, appears not to have studied
either his toilette or his manners: and, though

140 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
by no means deficient in polite attention to
women, seems to believe that there are higher
and more praiseworthy pursuits than that of
thinking only how to please them, and bestows
more thought on the Chambre des Pairs than
on the salons a la mode.
One is a passive and ornamental member of
society, the other a useful and active politician.
I have remarked that the Frenchmen of high
birth of the present time aU seem disposed
to take pains in fitting themselves for the
duties of their station. They read much and
with profit, travel much more than formerly,
and are free from the narrow prejudices
against other countries, which, while they
prove not a man's attachment to his own, offer
one of the most insurmountable of aU barriers
to that good understanding so necessary to be
maintained between nations.
Dined yesterday at St. Cloud with the
Baron and Baroness de Ruysch ; a very agree
able and intellectual pair, who have made a

PARIS. 141
little paradise around them in the shape of
an English pleasure-ground, blooming with
rare shrubs and flowers.
Our old friend, Mr. Douglas Kinnaird —
"the honourable Dug," as poor Lord Byron
used to called him — paid me a visit to-day.
I had not seen him for seven years, and these
same years have left their traces on his brow.
He is in delicate health, and is only come
over to Paris for a very few days.
He has lived in the same scenes and in the
same routine that we left him, wholly en
grossed by them, while
" I've taught me other tongues, and in strange eyes
Have made me not a stranger ; "
and wonder how people can be content to
dwell whole years in so circumscribed, how
ever useful, a circle.
Those who live much in London seem to
me to have tasted the lotus which, according
to the fable of old, induced forgetfulness of the

142 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
past, SO wholly are they engrossed by the
present, and by the vortex in which they find
themselves plunged.
Much as I like England, and few love it
more dearly, I should not like to pass all
the rest of my life in it. All, all : it is thus we
ever count on futurity, reckoning as if our
lives were certain of being prolonged, when we
know not that the all on which we so boldly
calculate may not be terminated in a day,
nay, even in an hour. Who is there that can
boast an English birth, that would not wish
to die at home and rest in an EngUsh grave ?
Sir Francis Burdett has arrived, and means
to stay some time here. He called on us
yesterday with Colonel Leicester Stanhope,
and is as agreeable and good-natured as ever.
He is mnch fMed at Paris, and receives great
attention from the Due d'Orleans, who has
offered him his boxes at the theatres, and
shews him aU manner of civUities.
Colonel Leicester Stanhope gave me some

PARIS. 143
interesting details of poor Byron's last days
in Greece, and seems to have duly appreciated
his many fine qualities, in spite of the errors
that shrouded but could not eclipse them.
The fine temper and good breeding that
seem to be characteristic of the Stanhope
family, have not degenerated in this branch
of it ; and his manner, as weU as his voice and
accent, remind me very forcibly of my dear
old friend his father, who is one of the most
amiable, as well as agreeable men I ever
knew, and who I look forward with pleasure
to meeting on my return home.
The Marquise Palavicini from Genoa, her
daughter-in-law the Princesse Doria, Sfr Francis
Burdett, and Colonel Leicester Stanhope, dined
with us yesterday. The Marquise Palavicini
is a very sensible and agTeeable woman, and
the Princesse Doria is very pretty and amiable.
Like most of her countrywomen, this young
and attractive person is wholly free from that
affectation which deteriorates from so many

144 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
of the women of other countries ; and the
simplicity of her manner, which is as remote
from gaucherie as it is from affectation, invests
her with a peculiar charm.
We talked over Genoa, where we have
spent so many pleasant days, and the beautiful
gardens of the villa Palavicini, the possession
of which has always tempted me to envy its
owner. I have never passed an hour in the
society of Italian women without feeling the
peculiar charm of their manner, and wishing
that its ease and simplicity were more gene
rally adopted.
The absence of any effort to shine, the
gentleness without insipidity, the liveliness
without levity, and, above all, the perfect good
nature that precludes aught that could be
disagreeable to others, form the distinguishing
characteristics of the manner of ItaUan women
from the princess to the peasant, and are alike
practised by both towards aU with whom they
converse.

PARIS. 145
Lord Darnley and Lord Charlemont dined
here yesterday. It is pleasant to see old and
famiUar faces again, even though the traces
of Time on their brows recall to mind the
marks which the ruthless tyrant must have
inflicted on our own. We all declared that
we saw no change in each other, but the
looks of surprise and disappointment exchanged
at meeting contradicted the assertion.
Mr. Charles Young, the tragedian, dined
here to - day. We were very glad to see
him again, for he is a very estimable as well
as agreeable member of society, and reflects
honour on his profession.
Lord Lansdowne came here with Count
Flahault this evening. It is now seven years
since I last saw him, but time has dealt kindly
with him during that period, as it ever does
to those who possess equanimity of mind and
health of body. Lord Lansdowne has always
appeared to me to be peculiarly formed for a
statesman. VOL. I. L

146

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

With a fortune that exempts him from in
curring even the suspicion of mercenary mo
tives for holding office, and a rank which pre
cludes that of entertaining the ambition of
seeking a higher, he is free from the angry
passions that more or less influence the gene
rality of other men. To an unprejudiced
mind, he joins self-respect without arrogance,
self-possession vdthout efirontery, solid and
general information, considerable power of ap
plication to business, a calm and gentlemanly
demeanour, and an urbanity of manner which,
while it conciliates good will never descends
to, or encourages, familiarity.
A lover and liberal patron of the fine arts,
he is an* encourager of Uterature, and partial
to the society of Uterary men ; irreproachable
in private life, and respected in public, what
is there wanting to render him faultless ?
I, who used to enjoy a good deal of his
society in England, am of opinion, that the
sole thing wanting is the warmth and cor-

PARIS. 147
diality of manner which beget friends and
retain partisans, and without which no minis
ter can count on constant supporters.
It is a curious circumstance, that the poU
tical party to which Lord Lansdowne is op
posed can boast a man among those most
likely to hold the reins of government, to
whom all that I have said of Lord Lansdowne
might, with little modification, be applied. I
refer to Sir Robert Peel, whose acquaintance
I enjoyed in England ; and who is much
younger, and perhaps bolder, than Lord Lans
downe. Happy, in my opinion, is the country which
possesses such men ; though the friends and
admirers of each would probably *feel little
disposed to admit any comparison to be insti
tuted between them, and would deride, if not
assail, any one, for making it.
Sir Francis Burdett dined here yesterday,
and we had the Count Alexandre la Borde
and Count Charles de Mornay, to meet him.

148 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
Several people came in the evening. I have
lent a pUe of books to Sir F. B., who con
tinues to read as much as formerly, and
forgets nothing that he peruses. His in
formation is, consequently, very extensive, and
renders his conversation very interesting. His
thirst for knowledge is insatiable, and leads
him to every scientific resort where it may be
gratified. Spent last evening at Madame Craufurd's.
Met there, the Princesse Castelcicala and her
daughter. Lady Drummond, Mr. T. Steuart,
and various others — among them, a daughter
of the Marquess of Ailesbury, who has mar
ried a French nobleman, and resides in
Paris. Ladv Drummond talked to me a good deal
of Sir William, and evinced much respect for
his memory. She is proud, and she may weU
be so, of having been the wife of such a man ;
though there was but Uttie sympathy between
their tastes and pursuits, and his death can

PARIS. 149
produce so little change in her habits of life,
that she can scarcely be said to miss him.
He passed his days and the greater portion
of his nights in reading or writing, living in a
suite of rooms literally filled vnth books; the
tables, chairs, sofas, and even the floors, being
encumbered with them, going out only for a
short time in a carriage to get a little air,
or occasionally to dine out.
He seldom saw Lady Drummond, except at
dinner, surrounded by a large party. She
passed, as she stiU passes her time, in the
duties of an elaborate toilette, paying or re
ceiving visits, giving or going to fetes, and
playing vnth her lap-dog. A strange wife
for one of the most inteUectual men of his
day! And yet this total dissimilarity produced
no discord between them ; for she was proud
of his acquirements, and he was indulgent
to her less spirituelle tastes.
Lady Drummond does much good at Naples ;
for, while the beau monde of that gay capital

150 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
are entertained in a style of profuse hospi
tality at her house, the poor find her charity
dispensed with a liberal hand in all their
exigencies ; so that her vast wealth is a source
of comfort to others as well as to herself.
I have been reading Vivian Grey — a very
wild, but very clever book, full of genius
in its unpruned luxuriance ; the writer revels
in all the riches of a brilliant imagination, and
expends them prodigally — dazzling, at one mo
ment, by his passionate eloquence, and, at
another, by his touching pathos.
A pleasant dinner-party, yesterday. The
Due de Mouchy, the Marquis de Mornay,
Count Flahault, the Count Maussion, Mons.
de Montrond, and Mr. Standish, were the
guests. Count Flahault is so very agreeable
and gentlemanly a man, that no one can
call in question the taste of the Baroness
Keith in selecting him for her husband.
Mr. Standish has married a French lady,
accompUsh«d, clever, and pretty. Intermar-

PARIS. 151
riages between French and English are now
not unfrequent ; and it is pleasant to observe
the French politeness and bo7i fan ingrafted
on EngUsh sincerity and good sense. Of
this, Mr. Standish offers a verv good example ;
for, while he has acquired all the Parisian
ruse of manner, he has retained all the
English good qualities for which he has
always been esteemed.

CHAPTER VIIL
Charles Kemble dined here yesterday,
and in the evening read to us his daughter
Fanny's Tragedy of Francis the First — a
very wonderful production for so young a girl.
There is considerable vigour in many parts
of this work, and several passages in it re
minded me of the old dramatists. The cha
racter of "Louisa of Savoy" is forcibly (kawn
— wonderfuUy so, indeed, when considered as
the production of so youthful a person. The
constant association with minds deeply imbued
with a love of the old writers, must have
greatly influenced the taste of Miss Kemble.
Francis the First bears irrefragable evi
dence that her reading has lain much among
the old poets, and that Shakspeare is one

p-uiis. 153
of her most favourite ones. "Triboulet,"
the king's jester, may be instanced as an
example of this; and "Margaret of Valois"
furnishes another. " Fran9oise de Foix"
is a more original conception ; timid, yet
fond, sacrificing her honour to save her
brother's life, but rendered wTctched by re
morse ; and not able to endure the presence
of her affianced husband, who, believing her
pure and sinless as he left her, appeals to
her, when "Gonzales" reveals her shame.
This same " Gonzales," urged on by ven
geance, and ready to do aught — nay, more
than " may become a man," — to seek its
gratification, is a boldly drawn character.
The introduction of the poet " Clement
Marot" is no less happy than judicious ; and
Miss Kemble gives him a very beautiful
speech, addressed to his master " Francis the
First," in which the charm that reigns about
the presence of a pure woman is so eloquently
described, as to have reminded me of the ex-

154 the idler in france.
quisite passage in Comus, although there is
not any plagiary in Miss Kemble's speech.
A poetess herself, she has rendered justice
to the character of Clement Marot, whose
honest indignation at being employed to bear
a letter from the amorous " Francis " to the
sister of " Lautree," she has very gracefully
painted. The "Constable Bourbon" is well drawn,
and has some fine speeches assigned to him ;
and "Gonzales" gives a spirited description
of the difference between encountering death
in the battle-field, surrounded by all the
spirit-stirring " pomp and circumstance of
glorious war," and meeting the grisly tyrant
on the scaffold, attended by aU the ignominious
accessories of a traitor's doom.
This Tragedy, when given to the pubhc,
wiU estabUsh Miss Kemble's claims to dis
tinction in the Uterary world, and add another
laurel to those acquired by her family.
There are certain passages in the speeches

PARIS. 155
of "Gonzales," that, in my opinion, require to
be revised, lest they should provoke censures
from the fastidious critics of the present time,
who are prone to detect evil of which the au
thors, whose works they analyse, are quite un
conscious. Innocence sometimes leads young
writers to a freedom of expression from which
experienced ones would shrink back in alarm ;
and the perusal of the old dramatists gives a
knowledge of passions, and of sins, known only
through their medium, but the skilful develope
ment of which, subjects a female writer, and
more particularly a youthful one, to ungenerous
animadversion. It is to be hoped, that the
friends of this gifted girl vnU so prune the
luxuriance of her pen, as to leave nothing to
detract from a work so creditable to her genius.
Charles Kemble rendered ample justice to
his daughter's Tragedy by his mode of reading
it ; and we counted not the hours devoted
to the task. How many reminiscences of the
olden time were called up by hearing him!

156

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

I remembered those pleasant evenings when
he used to read to us in London, hour after
hour, until the timepiece warned us to give
over. I remembered, too, John Kemble — " the
great John Kemble," as Lord Guildford used
to call him — twice or thrice reading to us
with Sir T. Lawrence ; and the tones of
Charles Kemble's voice, and the expression
of his face, forcibly reminded me of our
departed friend.
¦ I have scarcely met with a more high-bred
man, or a more agreeable companion, than
Charles Kemble. Indeed, were I caUed on
to name the professional men I have known
most distinguished for good breeding and
manners, I should name our four tragedians,
—the two Kembles, Young, and Macready.
Sir Francis Burdett dined here yesterday en
famille, and we passed two very pleasant hours.
He related to us many amusing and interesting
anecdotes connected with his poUtical life.
Went to the Opera in the evening, whither

PARIS. 157
he accompanied us. I like my box very
much. It is in the centre of the house,
is draped with pale blue silk, and has very
comfortable chairs. The Parisians are, I
find, as addicted to staring as the English;
for many were the glasses leveUed last night
at Sir Francis Burdett who, totally un
conscious of the attention he excited, was
whoUy engrossed by the " Count Ory," some
of the choruses in which pleased me very
much. A visit to-day from our excellent and valued
friend. Sir A. Barnard, who has promised to
dine with us to-morrow. Paris is now filling
very fast, which I regret, as I dislike crowds
and having my time broken in upon.
I become more convinced every day I live,
that quiet and repose are the secrets of happi
ness, for I never feel so near an approach to
this blessing as when in the possession of them.
General society is a heavy tax on time and
patience, and one that I feel every year less

158 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
inclination to pay, as I witness the bad effect
it produces not only on the habits but on
the mind.
Oh! the weariness of listening for hours to
the repetition of past gaieties, or the anticipa
tion of future ones, to the commonplace remarks
or stupid conversation of persons whose whole
thoughts are engrossed by the frivolous amuse
ments of Paris, which are aU and every thing
to them!
How delicious is it to shut out aU this
weariness, and with a book, or a few rationally
minded friends, indulge in an interchange of
ideas ! But the too frequent indulgence of this
sensible mode of existence exposes one to the
sarcasms of the frivolous who are avoided. •
One is deemed a pedant — a terrible charge
at Paris! — or a bas bleu, which is still worse,
however free the individual may be from any
pretensions to merit such charges.
Paid a visit to the justly celebrated Made
moiseUe Mars yesterday, at her beautiful

PARIS. 159
hotel in the Rue de la Tour des Dames. I
have entertained a wish ever since my return
from Italy, to become acquainted with this re
markable woman ; and Mr. Young was the
medium of accomplishing it.
Mademoiselle Mars is even more attractive
off the stage than on ; for her countenance
beams with intelligence, and her manners
are at once so animated, yet gentle ; so kind,
yet dignified ; and there is such an inex
pressible charm in the tones of her voice,
that no one can approach without being
delighted with her.
Her conversation is highly interesting,
marked by a good sense and good taste that
render her knowledge always available, but
never obtrusive. Her features are regular
and delicate ; her figure, though incUned
to embonpoint, is very graceful ; and her
smile, like the tones of her voice, is irresist
ibly sweet, and reveals teeth of rare beauty.
MademoiseUe Mars, off the stage, owes

160

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

none of her attractions to the artful aid
of ornament ; wearing her own dark hair
simply arranged, and her clear brown com
plexion free from any artificial tinge. In
her air and manner is the rare and happy
mixture of la grande dame et la femme
aimable, without the slightest shade of affect
ation. Mademoiselle Mars' hotel is the prettiest
imaginable. It stands in a court yard, wholly
shut in from the street; and, though not
vast, it has all the elegance, if not the splen
dour, of a fine house. Nothing can evince
a purer taste than this dwelling, with its
decorations and furniture. It contains aU
that elegance and comfort can require, with
out any thing meretricious or gaudy, and is
a temple worthy of the goddess to whom it
is dedicated.
It has been weU observed, that a just notion
of the character of a person can always be
formed by the style of his or her dwelling.

PARIS. 161
Who can be deceived in the house of a nouveau
riche f Every piece of furniture in it vouches,
not only for the wealth of its ovmer, but that
he has not yet got sufficiently habituated
to the possession of it, to be as indifferent
to its attributes as are those to whom custom
has rendered splendour no longer a pleasure.
Every thing in the house of JMademoiselle
Mars bespeaks its mistress to be a woman of
highly cultivated mind and of refined habits.
The boudoir is in the style of Louis XI\'.,
and owes its tasteful decorations to the pencil
of Ciceri. The pictures that ornament it
are by Gerard, and are highly creditable to
his reputation. The library serves also as
a picture - gaUery ; and in it may be ceen
beautiful specimens of the talents of the most
esteemed French artists, offered by them as
a homage to this celebrated woman. Gerard,
Delacroix, Isabey, Lany, Grevedon, and other
distinguished artists, have contributed to this
valuable collection. A fine portrait of Madame
VOL. I. M

162

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

Pasta, and another of Talma, with two exqui
site pictures of the mother of Mademoiselle
Mars, not less remarkable for the rare beauty
of the subject than for the merit of the artists,
complete it.
One book -case in the Ubrary contains only
the presentation copies of the pieces in which
MademoiseUe Mars has performed, magnifi
cently bound by the authors.
On a white marble console in this gallery
is placed an interesting memorial of her bril
liant theatrical career, presented to her by the
most enthusiastic of its numerous admirers.
It consists of a laurel crown, executed in pure
gold ; on the leaves of which are engraved on
one side, the name of each piece in which she-
appeared, and, on the other, the rdle which
she acted in it. A very fine statue of
Moliere is placed in this apartment.
Never did two hours glide more rapidly
away than those passed in the society of this
fascinating woman, whose presence I left pe-

PARIS. 163
netrated with the conviction that no one can
know without admiring her ; and that w hen
she retires from the stage, " we shall not look
upon her like again."
Passed a very agreeable evening, at Madame
Craufurd's. Met there La Duchesse de la
Force, and the usual circle of habitues.
Talking of theatres, some of la Vieille Cour,
who happened to be present, remarked on the
distinction always made between the female
performers of the different ones. Those of
the Theatre Fran9ais were styled " Les
Dames de la Comedie Frangaise; " those of the
Theatre ItaUen, " Les Demoiselles du TJiedtre
Italien;" and the dancers, " Les Filles de
~l' Opera," This last mode of naming les daii-
seuses, though in later times considered as a
reproach, was, originaUy, meant as an honour
able distinction ; the king, on estabUshing
the Academic Royale de Musique, having
obtained the privilege that the performers
attached to it should be exempt from excom-

164

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

taunication. Hence they were named, ''Les
Filles de I' Opera," as persons sometimes said
"Les Filles de la Reine,"
A propos of the Opera, Madame Grassini,
once no less celebrated for her beauty than
for her voice, was of the party last night.
She is, and deservedly, a general favourite
in Parisian society, in which her vivacity,
good-nature, and amiability, are duly appre
ciated. Her lively sallies and naive remarks
are very amusing ; and the frankness and sim
plicity she has preserved in a profession and
position so calculated to induce the reverse,
add to her attractions and give piquancy to
her conversation.
There are moments in which Madame
Grassini's countenance becomes lighted up
with such animation, that it seems to be in
vested with a considerable portion of the rare
beauty for which she was so remarkable.
Her eyes are stUl glorious, and, Uke those
only of the sunny South, can flash with Intel-

PARIS. 165
ligence, or melt with tenderness. It is when
conversing on the grand roles which she filled
as prima donna, that her face lights up as I
have noticed, — as the war-horse, when hearing
the sound of the trumpet, remembers the scene
of his past glory.
When in Italv, some years since, Madame
Grassini's carriage was stopped by brigands,
who having compelled her to descend, ran
sacked it and took possession of her splen
did theatrical wardrobe, and her magnificent
diamonds. She witnessed the robbery with calmness,
until she saw the brigands seize the portrait
of the Emperor Napoleon, presented to her
by his own hand, and set round with large
briUiants, when she appealed to them with
tears streaming dovra her cheeks to take the
settings and all the diamonds, but not to
deprive her of the portrait of her " dear, dear
Emperor ! " When this circumstance was re
ferred to, she told me the story, and her eyes
gUstened with tears whUe relating it.

166 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
Went to Orsay yesterday, and passed a very
agreeable day there. It was a fortified chateau,
and must have been a very fine place before
the Revolution caused, not only its pillage, but
nearly its total destruction, for only one wing
of it now remains.
Built in the reign of Charles VIL, it was
esteemed one of the best specimens of the
feudal chateau fort of that epoch ; and the
subterranean portion of it stUl attests its for
mer strength and magnitude.
It is surrounded by a moat, not of stagnant
water, but supplied by the river Ivette, which
flows at the base of the hill on which the
chateau stands. The water is clear and brisk ;
and the chateau looks as if it stood in a pel
lucid river. The view from the windows is
very extensive, commanding a rich and weU-
wooded country.
The chapel escaped not the ravages of the
sacrilegious band, who committed such havoc
on the chateau ; for the beautiful altar, and
some very interesting monuments, were bar-

PARIS. 167
barously mutilated, and the tomb of the Prin
cesse de Croy, the mother of General Count
d'Orsay, on which a vast sum had been ex
pended, was nearly razed to the ground.
If aught was required to increase my horror
of revolutions, and of the baleful consequences to
which they lead, the sight of this once splendid
chateau, and, above all, of its half-ruined chapel,
in which even the honoured dead were insulted,
would have accompUshed it.
An heiress of one of the most ancient houses
in the Pays Bas, the Princesse de Croy
brought a noble dowry to her husband, himself
a man of princely fortune. Young and beau
tiful, her munificence soon rendered her an
object of almost adoration to the dependents
of her lord ; and when soon after having
given birth to a son and heir, the present
General Comte d' Orsay, she was called to
another world, her remains were followed to
her untimely grave by a long train of weep
ing poor, whose hearts her bounty had often

168 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
cheered, and whose descendants were subse-
quentiy horror-struck to see the sanctity of
her last earthly resting-place invaded.
We passed through the hamlet of Palaiseau,
on our return to Paris; and saw in it the
steeple where the magpie concealed the sUver
spoons he had stolen, and which occasioned
the event from which the drama of La Pie
Voleuse, known in so many languages, has
had its origin.
The real story ended not so happily as
the opera, for the poor girl was executed 
the spoons not having been discovered untU
after her death. This tragedy in humble
life has attached great interest to the steeple
at Palaiseau, and has drawn many persons to
the secluded hamlet in which it stands.
The Due and Duchesse de Guiche re
turned from Luneville yesterday ; and we
spent last evening with them. The good
Duke de Gramont was there, and was in
great joy at their return. They aU dine with

PARIS. 169
US to-morrow ; and Madame Craufurd comes
to meet them.
Never have I seen such children as the
Due de Guiche's. Uniting to the most re
markable personal beauty an intelUgence and
dociUty as rare as they are delightful ; and
never did I witness any thing like the unceasing
care and attention bestowed on their education
by their parents.
Those who only know the Due and Du
chesse in the gay circles, in which they are
universally esteemed among the brightest or
naments, can form little idea of them in the
privacy of their domestic one — emulating each
other in their devotion to their children, and
giving only the most judicious proofs of their
attachment to them. No wonder that the
worthy Due de Gramont doats on his grand
children, and never seems so happy as with
his exceUent son and daughter-in-law.
Went to the Vaudeville Theatre last evening,
to see the new piece by Scribe, so much talked

170 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
of, entitled Avant, Pendant, et AprSs, There
is a fearful vraisemblance in some of the scenes
with all that one has read or pictured to one
self, as daily occurring during the terrible days
of the Revolution ; and the tendency of the
production is not, in my opinion, calculated
to produce salutary effects. I only wonder it
is permitted to be acted.
The piece is divided, as the title announces,
into three different epochs. The first repre
sents the frivolity and vices attributed to the
days of I'ancien regime, and the tableau des
mosurs, which is vividly coloured, leaves no
favourable impression in the minds of the
audience of that noblesse whose sufferings
subsequently expiated the errors said to have
accelerated, if not to have produced, the
Revolution. Nothing is omitted that could cast odium
on them, as a preparation for the Reign of
Terror that follows. The anarchy and con
fusion of the second epoch— the fear and

PARIS. 171
horror that prevail when the voices and
motions of a sanguinary mob are heard in
the streets, and the terrified inmates of the
houses are seen crouching in speechless terror,
are displayed with wonderful truth.
The lesson is an awful, and I think a dan
gerous, one, and so seemed to think many
of the upper class among the audience, for
I saw some fair cheeks turn pale, and some
furrowed brows look ominous, as the scene
was enacted, while those of the less elevated
in rank among the spectators assumed, or
seemed to assume, a certain fierte, if not
ferocity, of aspect, at beholding this vivid
representation of the triumph achieved by
their order over the noblesse.
It is not wise to exhibit to a people, and
above aU to so inflammable a people as the
French, what they can effect ; and I confess
I felt uneasy when I witnessed the deep
interest and satisfaction evinced by many in
the parterre during the representation.

172 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
The Apris, the third epoch, is even more
calculated to encourage revolutionary prin
ciples, for in it was displayed the elevation
to the highest grades in the army and in the
state of those who in the ancien regime would
have remained as the Revolution found them,
in the most obscure stations, but who by
that event had brilliant opportunities afforded
for distinguishing themselves.
Heroic courage, boundless generosity, and
devoted patriotism, are liberally bestowed on
the actors who figure in this last portion of
the drama ; and, as these qualities are known
to have appertained to many of those who
really fiUed the rdles enacted at the period
now represented, the scene had, as might be
expected, a powerful effect on a people so
impressible as the French, and so Uable to be
hurried into enthusiasm by aught that appeals
to their imaginations.
The applause was deafening ; and I venture
to say, that those from whom it proceeded

PARIS. 173
left the theatre with a conviction that a revo
lution was a certain means of achieving glory
and fortune to those who, with all the self-
imagined qualities to merit both, had not been
born to either.
Every Frenchman in the middle or lower
class beUeves himself capable of arriving at
the highest honours. This belief sometimes
half accomplishes the destiny it imagines ;
but even when it fails to effect this, it ever
operates in rendering Frenchmen peculiarly
liable to rush into any change or measure
likely to lead to even a chance of distinction.
As during the performance of Avant, Pen
dant, et Apres, my eye glanced on the faces
of some of the emigrant noblesse, restored
to France by the entry of the Bourbons, I
marked the changes produced on their counte
nances by it. Anxiety, mingled vnth dismay,
was visible, for the scenes of the past were
vividly recalled, while a vague dread of the
future was instilled. Yes, the representation

174 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
of this piece is a dangerous experiment, and
so I fear it will turn out.
I am sometimes amused, but more fre
quently irritated, by observing the mosurs
Parisiennes, particularly in the shop-keepers.
The airs of self-complacency, amounting al
most to impertinence, practised by this class,
cannot fail to surprise persons accustomed to
the civility and assiduity of those in London,
who, whether the purchases made in their
shops be large or small, evince an equal
politeness to the buyers.
In Paris, the tradesman assumes the right
of dictating to the taste of his customers;
in London, he only administers to it. Enter
a Parisian shop, and ask to be shewn velvet,
silk, or riband, to assort with a pattern you
have brought of some particular colour or
quaUty, and the mercer, having glanced at
it somewhat contemptuously, places before
you six or eight pieces of a different tint
and texture.

PARIS. 175
You tell him that they are not similar to
the pattern, and he answers, "That may be;
nevertheless, his goods are of the newest
fashion, and infinitely superior to your model."
You say, " You prefer the colour of your pattern,
and must match it." He produces half-a-
dozen pieces still more unlike what you
require ; and to your renewed assertion that
no colour but the one similar to your pattern
wiU suit you, he assures you, that his goods
are superior to all others, and that what you
require is out of fashion, and a very bad
article, and, consequently, that you had much
better abandon your taste and adopt his.
This counsel is given without any attempt
at concealing the contempt the giver of it
entertains for your opinion, and the perfect
satisfaction he indulges for his own.
You once more ask, " If he has got nothing
to match the colour you require ? " and he
shrugs his shoulders and answers, " Pourtant,
madame, what I have shevm you is much

176 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
superior." " Very possible ; but no colour wUl
suit me but this one," holding up the pattern ;
"for I want to replace a breadth of a new
dress to which an accident has occurred."
" Pourtant, madame, my colours are pre
cisely the same, but the quaUty of the materials
is infinitely better !" and with this answer, after
having lost half an hour— if not double that
time — you are compeUed to be satisfied, and
leave the shop, its owner looking as if he
considered you a person of decidedly bad
taste, and very troublesome into the bargain.
Similar treatment awaits you in every shop;
the owners having, as it appears to me,
decided on shewing you only what they ap
prove, and not what you seek. The women
of high rank in France seldom, if ever, enter
any shop except that of Herbault, who is
esteemed the modiste, par excellence, of Paris,
and it is to this habit, probably, that the
want of bienseance so visible in Parisian
boutiquiers, is to be attributed.

CHAPTER IX.
An agreeable party dined here yesterday —
Lord Stuart de Rothesay, our Ambassador,
the Due and Duchesse de Guiche, the Due
de Mouchy, Sir Francis Burdett, and Count
Charles de Mornay. Lord Stuart de Rothe
say is very popular at Paris, as is also our
Ambassadress; a proof that, in addition to a
vast fund of good -nature, no inconsiderable
portion of tact is conjoined — to please English
and French too, which they certainly do, re
quires no little degree of the rare talent of
savoir vivre.
To a profound knowledge of French society
and its peculiarities, a knowledge not easily
acquired, Lord and Lady Stuart de Rothesay
add the happy art of adopting all that is
VOL. I. N

178 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
agreeable in its usages, without sacrificing
any of the stateliness so essential in the
representatives of our more grave and re
flecting nation.
Among the peculiarities that most strike
one in French people, are the good-breeding
with which they listen, without even a smile,
to the almost incomprehensible attempts at
speaking French made by many strangers,
and the quickness of apprehension with which
they seize their meaning, and assist them
in rendering the sense complete.
I have seen innumerable proofs of this
politeness— a politeness so little understood,
or at least so Uttie practised, among the
EngUsh, that mistakes perfectly ludicrous, and
which could not have failed to set my com
patriots in a titter, if not in a roar, have not
produced the movement of a single risible
muscle, and yet the French are more prone
to gaiety than are the EngUsh.
Mr. D  and Mr. T  dined here

PARIS. 179
yesterday. The former, mild, gentlemanlike,
and unostentatious, seems to forget what so
many would, if similarly situated, remember
with arrogance, namely, that he is immensely
rich; an obliviousness that, in my opinion,
greatiy enhances his other merits.
Mr. T  is little changed since I last
saw him, and is well-informed, clever, and
agreeable, — but his own too-evident conscious
ness of possessing these recommendations pre
vents other people from according him due
merit for them.
In society, one who believes himself clever
must become a hypocrite, and so conceal all
knowledge of his self-complacency, if he
wishes to avoid being unpopular ; for wo
be to him who lets the world see he thinks
highly of himself, however his abUities may
justify his self-approval.
The sight of Mr. T  recalled his amiable
and exceUent mother to my memory. I
never esteemed any woman more highly or

180 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
enjoyed the society of any other person more
than hers. How many pleasant hours have I
passed with her! I so well remember John
Kemble fancying that if I went through a
course of reading Shakspeare with his sister
Mrs. T  , I should make, as he said, a
fine actress ; and we were to get up private
theatricals at Mountjoy Forest.
In compliance with the request of Lord
Blessington, I studied Shakspeare with this
amiable and gifted woman for many months,
which cemented a friendship between us that
ended but with her life. Her method of
reading was admirable ; for to the grandeur
of her sister Mrs. Siddons, she united a
tenderness and softness, in which that great
actress was said to be deficient. I never
open any of the plays of Shakspeare which I
studied with her without thinking I hear
her voice, and I like them better for the
association. To great personal attractions, which even

PARIS. 181
to the last she retained enough of to give
a notion of what her beauty must have been
in her youth, Mrs. T  added a charm
of manners, a cultivation of mind, and a
goodness of heart seldom surpassed ; and, in
aU the relations of Ufe, her conduct was
most praiseworthy. Even now, though six
years have elapsed since her death, the re
collection of it brings tears to my eyes. Good
and gentle woman, may your virtues on
earth find their reward in Heaven !
I passed last evening at Madame Craufurd's,
where I met Lady Charlotte Lindsay and
the Misses Berry. How perfectly they an
swered to the description given of them by
Sir WiUiam Gell; who, though exceedingly
attached to all three, has not, as far as one
interview permitted me to judge, overrated
their agreeability ! Sir WilUam GeU has
read me many letters from these ladies, re
plete with talent, of which their conversation
reminded me.
Francis Hare and his wife dined here

182 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
to-day. They are en route from Germany —
where they have been sojourning since their
marriage — for England, where her accouche
ment is to take place. Francis Hare has
lived with us so much in Italy, that we
almost consider him a member of the domes
tic circle ; and, on the faith of this, he ex
pressed his desire that we should receive
madame son Spouse as if she were an old
acquaintance. Mrs. Hare is well-looking, and agreeable, ap
pears amiable, and is a good musician. I re
member seeing her and her sisters with her
mother. Lady Paul, at Florence, when I had
little notion that she was to be Mrs. Hare. I
never meet Francis Hare without being sur
prised by the versatility of his information:
it extends to the fine arts, hterature, rare
books, the locaUties of pictures and statues ;
in short, he is a moving library that may
always be consulted with profit, and his
memory is as accurate as an index in ren
dering its precious stores avaUable.

PARIS. 183
It is strange, that the prominent taste of
his wife, which is for music, is the only one
denied to him. He afforded an amusing
instance of this fact last night, when Mrs.
Hare, having performed several airs on the
piano-forte, he asked her, " "VMiy she played
the same tune so often, for the monotony
was tiresome?" — an observation that set us
all laughing.
Took Mrs. Hare out shopping — saw piles
of lace, heaps of silk, pyramids of riband,
and aU other female gear. What a multi
plicity of pretty things we women require
to render us what we consider presentable !
And how few of us, however good-looking
we may chance to be, would agree with the
poet, that "loveliness needs not the foreign
aid of ornament, but is, when unadorned,
adorned the most."
Even the fairest of the sex like to enhance
the charms of nature by the aid of dress ;
and the plainest hope to become less so by

184 THE IDLER IN PARIS.
its assistance. Men are never sufficiently
sensible of our humility, in considering it
so necessary to increase our attractions in
order to please them, nor grateful enough
for the pains we bestow in the attempts.
Husbands and fathers are particularly in
sensible to this amiable desire on the parts
of their wives and daughters ; and, when
asked to pay the heavy biUs incurred in
consequence of this praiseworthy humility,
and desire to please, evince any feeling
rather than that of satisfaction.
It is only admirers not called on to pay
these said bills who duly appreciate the
cause and effect, and who can hear of women
passing whole hours in tempting shops, with-
out that elongation of countenance peculiar
to husbands and fathers.
I could not help thinking with the phi
losopher, how many things I saw to-day that
could be done without. If women could be
made to understand that costliness of attire

PARIS.

185

seldom adds to beauty, and often deteriorates
it, a great amelioration in expense could be
accomplished. Transparent muslin, the cheapest of all
materials, is one of the prettiest, too, for
summer's wear, and with the addition of
some bows of deUcate - coloured riband, or
a bouquet of fresh flowers, forms a most
becoming dress. The lowness of the price
of such a robe enables the purchaser to have
so frequent a change of it, that even those who
are far from rich may have half-a-dozen, while
one single robe of a more expensive material
will cost more ; and having done so, the owner
wiU think it right to wear it more frequently
than is consistent with the freshness and
purity that should ever be the distinguishing
characteristics in female dress, in order to
indemnify herself for the expense.
I was never more struck with this fact,
than a short time ago, when I saw two ladies
seated next each other, both young and

186 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
handsome ; but one, owing to the freshness
of her robe, which was of simple organdie,
looked infinitely better than the other, who
was quite as pretty, but who, wearing a robe
of expensive lace, whose whiteness had fallen
into "the sere and yeUow leaf," appeared
faded and passee.
Be wise, then, ye young and fair; and if,
as I suspect, your object be to please the
Lords of the Creation, let your dress, in
summer, be snowy -white muslin, never worn
after its pristine purity becomes problemat
ical; and in winter, let some half-dozen
plain and simple sUk gowns be purchased,
instead of the two or three expensive ones
that generally form the wardrobe, and which,
consequently, soon not only lose their lustre
but give the wearer the appearance of having
suffered the same fate !
And you, 0 husbands and fathers, present
and future, be ye duly impressed with a sense
of your manifold obligations to me for thus

P.IRIS. 187
opening the eyes of your wives and daughters
how to please without draining your purses ;
and when the maledictions of lace, velvet,
and satin - sellers fall on my hapless head,
for counsel so injurious to their interests,
remember they were incurred for yours !
Mr. and Mrs. Hare dined here yesterday.
They brought with them jMadame de la
H  , who came up from near Chantilly
to see them. She is as pretty as I remember
her at Florence, when MademoiseUe D 
and is piquante and spirituelle. Counts
Charles de Mornay and Valeski formed the
party, and Count Maussion and some others
came in the evening.
I observe that few English shine in con
versation with the French. There is a Ught-
ness and briUiancy, a sort of touch and go, if
I may say so, in the latter, seldom, if ever, to
be acquired by strangers. Never dweUing
long on any subject, and rarely entering pro
foundly into it, they sparkle on the surface

188 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
with great dexterity, bringing wit, gaiety, and
tact, into play.
Like summer lightning, French wit flashes
frequently, brightly and innocuously, leaving
nothing disagreeable to remind one of its having
appeared. Conversation is, with the French,
the aim and object of society. All enter it
prepared to take a part, and he best enacts it
who displays just enough knowledge to show
that much remains behind. Such is the tact
of the Parisians, that even the ignorant con-
ceal the poverty of their minds, and might, to
casual observers, pass as being in no way de
ficient, owing to the address with which they
glide in an a propos oui, ou non, and an ap
propriate shake of the head, nod of assent, or
dissent. The constitutional vivacity of the French
depending much on their mercurial tempera
ments, greatly aids them in conversation. A
Ught and playful sally acquires additional
merit when uttered with gaiety; and should

PARIS. 189
a bon mot even contain something calculated
to pique any one present, or reflect on the
absent, the mode in which it is uttered takes
off from the force of the matter ; whereas, on
the contrary, the more grave and sententious
manner peculiar to the EngUsh adds pun
gency to their satire.
Our old and valued friend, Mr. J. Strang
ways, has arrived at Paris, and very glad were
we to see him once more. He passed through
a severe trial since last we parted; and his
conduct under it towards his poor friend,
Mr. Anson, does him credit.
The two companions — one the brother of
the Earl of Ilchester, and the other of Lord
Anson — were traveUing in Syria together.
They had passed through Aleppo, where the
plague had then appeared, and were at the
distance of several days' journey from it, con
gratulating themselves on their safety, when,
owing to some error on the part of those who
examined their firman, they were compelled

190 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
to retrace their steps to Aleppo, where, con
demned to become the inhabitants of a lazaretto
until the imagined mistake could be corrected,
they found themselves tMe-d-t6te.
The first two or three days passed without
any thing to alarm the friends. Engaged in
drawing maps for their intended route, and
plans for the future, the hours gUded away
even cheerfully.
But this cheerfulness was not long to con
tinue ; for Mr. Anson, having one morning
asked Mr. Strangways to hold the end of
his shawl while he twisted it round his head
as a turban, the latter observed, with a degree
of horror and dismay more easily to be im
agined than described, the fatal plague-spot
clearly defined on the back of the neck of his
unfortunate friend.
He concealed his emotion, weU knowing
that a suspicion of its cause would add to the
danger of Mr. Anson, who, as yet, was uncon-
scions of the fearful malady that had already

PARIS. 191
assailed him. TotaUy alone, without aid, save
that contained in their own very limited re
sources, what must have been the feelings of
Mr. Strangways, as he contemplated his luck
less companion ?
He dreaded to hear the announcement of
physical suffering, though he weU knew it
must soon come, and marked with indescrib
able anguish the change that rapidly began
to be manifested in his friend. But even this
most terrible of aU maladies was influenced
by the gaUant spirit of him on whom it was
now preying ; for not a complaint, not a mur
mur, broke from his Ups : and it was not until
Mr. Strangways had repeatedly urged the
most affectionate mquiries that he admitted
he was not quite well.
DeUrium quickly foUowed ; but even then
this noble-minded young man bore up against
the fearful assaults of disease, and thought
and spoke only of those dear and absent
friends he was doomed never again to behold.

192 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
It was a dreadful trial to Mr. Strangways to
sit by the bed of death, far, far away from
home and friends, endeavouring to cool the
burning brow and to refresh the parched lips
of him so fondly loved in that distant land
of which he raved.
He spoke of his home, of those who made
it so dear to him, and even the songs of in
fancy were again murmured by the dying lips.
His friend quitted him not for a minute until
aU was over ; and he was left indeed alone to
watch over the corpse of him whom he had
tried in vain to save.
That Mr. Strangways should have escaped
the contagion, seems Uttie less than miraculous.
I, who have known him so long and so weU,
attribute it to the state of his mind, which was
so wholly occupied by anxiety for his friend
as to leave no room for any thought of self.
Made no entry in my journal for two days,
owing to a slight indisposition, which furnished
an excuse for laziness.

PARIS. 193
Dined at Lointier's vesterday — a splendid
repast given by Count A. De Maussion, in
consequence of a wager, lost on a subject
connected with the fine arts. The party con
sisted of aU those present at our house when
the wager was made. The Due and Duchesse
de Guiche, Mr. and Mrs. Francis Hare, the
Due de TalleyTand, Due de Dino, Count
Valeski, Mr. J. Strangways, and our o«n
large family circle.
The dinner was the most reclierche that
could be furnished : " all the delicacies of
the season," as a London paper would term
it, were provided ; and an epicure, however
fastidious, would have been satisfied with the
choice and variety of the plats ; while a gour
mand would have luxuriated in the quantity.
Nothing in the style of the apartments, or the
service of the dinner, bore the least indication
that we were in the house of a restaurant.
A large and richly furnished salon, well
Ughted, received the company before dinner ;
VOL. I. o

1-94 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
and in a salle a manger of equal dimensions,
and equally weU arranged, the dinner was
served on a very fine service of old plate.
Count de Maussion did the honours of the
dinner a merveille, and it passed off very
gaily. It had been previously agreed that the
whole party were to adjourn to the Porte St.
Martin, at which Count de Maussion had en
gaged three large private boxes; and the ladies,
consequently, with one exception, came en
demie toilette.
The exception was Mrs. Hare, who, not
aware that at Paris people never go en grande
toilette to the theatres, came so smartly
dressed, that, seeing our simple toilettes, she
was afraid of incurring observation if she
presented herself in a rich dress with short
sleeves, a gold tissue turban with a bird-of-
paradise plume, and an aigrette of coloured
stones : so she went to our house, with a few
of the party, while I accompanied the rest to
the theatre.

PARIS. 195
The piece was Faust, adapted from Goethe,
and was admirably performed, more especiaUy
the parts of "Mephistopheles" and " Mar
garet," in which Madame Dorval acts inimit
ably. This actress has great merit ; and the
earnestness of her manner, and the touching
tones of her voice, give a great air of truth
to her performances. The prison-scene was
powerfully acted ; and the madness of " Mar
garet" when stretched on her bed of straw,
resisting the vain efforts of her lover to rescue
her, had a fearful reality.
The character of " Margaret " is a fine
conception, and Goethe has wrought it out
beautifully. The simpUcity, gentleness, and
warm feeUngs of the viUage maiden, excite a
strong interest for her, even when worked
upon by Vanity; that aUoy which, alas for
Woman's virtue and happiness! is too fre
quently found mixed up in the pure ore of
her nature.
The childish delight with which poor

196 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
"Margaret" contemplates the trinkets pre
sented by her lover ; the baleful ascendancy
acquired over her by her female companion;
and her rapid descent in the path of evil when,
as is ever the case, the commission of one sin
entaUs so many, render this drama a very
effective moral lesson.
Of all Goethe's works, Faust is the one I
most Uke ; and, of aU his female characters,
" Margaret " is that which I prefer. A fine
vein of philosophy runs through the whole of
this production, in which the vanity of human
knowledge without goodness was never more
powerfully exemplified.
" Faust," tempted by the desire of acquiring
forbidden knowledge, yields up his soul to the
evil one; yet still retains enough of the hu
manity of his nature to render him vsTctched,
when her he loves, and has drawn ruin on,
suffers the penalty of his crime and of
her love.
Exquisitely has Goethe wrought out the

PARIS. 197
effects of the all-engrossing passion of tlie poor
"Margaret" — a passion that, even in mad
ness, stUl clings to its object with all woman's
tenderness and devotion, investing even in
sanity with the touching charm of love. How
perfect is the part when, endeavouring to pray,
the hapless "Margaret" fancies that she hears
the gibbering of enl spirits interrupting her
supphcations, so that even the consolation of
addressing the Divinity is denied her!
But the last scene — that in the prison —
is the most powerful of aU. Never was mad
ness more touchingly delineated, or woman's
nature more truly developed ; — that nature
so Uttie understood by those who are so prone
to pervert it, and whose triumphs over its
virtues are always achieved by means of the
excess of that propensity to love, and to
beUeve in the truth of the object beloved,
which is one of the most beautiful character.
istics m woman; though, wo to her! it is but
too often used to her undoing.

198 THE IDLER IN FRANCE,
The feeUngs of poor "Margaret" are those
of aU her sex, ere vice has sulUed the nature
it never can wholly subdue.
Mr. and Mrs. Hare left Paris to-day. I
regret their departure ; for she is lively and
agreeable, and I have known him so long,
and Uke him so weU, that their society
afforded me pleasure.
A large party at dinner, yesterday ; among
whom, was Mr. M  , who has acquired a
certain celebrity for his bon mots. He is
said to be decidedly clever, and to know the
world thoroughly ; appreciating it at its just
value, and using it as if formed for his peculiar
profit and pleasure. He is lately returned
from England, where he has been received
with that hospitaUty that characterises the
EngUsh, and has gone a round of visits to
many of the best houses.
He spoke in high terms of the hospitaUty
he had experienced, but agreed in the opinion
I have often heard Lord Byron give, that the

PARIS. 199
society in English country-houses is any thing
but agreeable.
I had heard so much of Mr. M  , that I
Ustened to his conversation with more interest
than I might have done, had not so many
reports of his shrewdness and wit reached mo.
Neither seem to have been overrated ; for
nothing escapes his quick perception ; and
his caustic wit is unsparingly and fearlessly
appUed to aU subjects and persons that excite
it into action.
He appears to be a privileged person — an
anomaly seldom innoxiously permitted in so
ciety : for those who may say all they please,
rarely abstain from saying much that may dis
please others ; and, though a laugh may be
often excited by their wit, some one of the
circle is sure to be wounded by it.
Great wit is not often alUed to good-nature,
for the indulgence of the first is destructive to
the existence of the second, except where the
wit is tempered by a more than ordinary share

200 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
of sensibility and refinement, directing its ex
ercise towards works of imagination, instead
of playing it off, as is too frequently the case,
against those with whom its owner may come
in contact.
Byron, had he not been a poet, would have
become a wit in society ; and, instead of de
lighting his readers, would have wounded his
associates. Luckily for others, as well as for
his own fame, he devoted to literature that
ready and brilliant wit which sparkles in so
many of his pages, instead of condescending to
expend it in bon mots, or repartees, that might
have set the table on a roar, and have been
afterwards, as often occurs, mutilated in being
repeated by others.
The quickness of apprehension pecuUar to
the French, joined to the excessive amour
propre, which is one of the most striking of
their characteristics, render them exceedingly
susceptible to the arrows of wit ; which, when
barbed by ridicule, inflict wounds on their

PARIS. 201
vanity difficult to be healed, and which they
are ever ready to avenge.
But this very acuteness of apprehension in
duces a caution in not resenting the assaults
of wit, unless the wounded can retort with
success by a similar weapon, or that the attack
has been so obvious that he is justified in re
senting it by a less poetical one. Hence arises
a difficult position for him on whom a vnt is
pleased to exercise his talent ; and this is one
of the many reasons why privUeged persons
seldom add much to the harmony of society.
Went last night to the Porte St. Martin,
and saw Sept Heures represented. This piece
has excited a considerable sensation at Paris ;
and the part of the heroine, " Charlotte Cor
day," being enacted by Madame Dorval, a very
clever actress, it is very popular.
"Charlotte Corday" is represented in the
piece, not as a heroine actuated purely by
patriotic motives in seeking the destruction
of a tyrant who inflicted such wounds on her

202 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
country, but by the less sublime one of aveng
ing the death of her lover. This, in my
opinion, lessens the interest of the drama, and
atones not for the horror always inspired by a
woman's arming herself for a scene of blood.
The taste of the Parisians has, I think,
greatly degenerated, both in their light litera
ture and their dramas. The desire for ex
citement, and not a decrease of talent, is the
cause ; and this morbid craving for it will,
I fear, lead to injurious consequences, not only
in literature, but in other and graver things.
The schoolmaster is, indeed, abroad in
France, and has in all parts of it found apt
scholars — perhaps, too apt; and, like all such,
the digestion of what is acquired does not
equal the appetite for acquisition : conse
quentiy, the knowledge gained is as yet some
what crude and unavailable. Nevertheless,
the people are making rapid strides in im
provement ; and ignorance will soon be more
rare than knowledge formerly was.

PARIS. 203
At present, their minds are somewhat un
settled by the reeentness of their progress ;
and in the exuberance consequent on such a
state, some danger is to be apprehended.
Like a room from which light has been
long excluded, and in which a large window
is opened, all the disagreeable objects in it so
long shrouded in darkness are so fuUy re
vealed, that the owner, becoming impatient to
remove them and substitute others in their
place, often does so at the expense of appro
priateness, and crowds the chamber with a
heterogeneous melange of furniture, which,
however useful in separate parts, are too incon
gruous to produce a good effect. So the minds
of the French people are now too enlightened
any longer to suffer the prejudices that for
merly filled them to remain, and have, in their
impatience, stored them with new ideas and
opinions — many of them good and useful, but
too hastily adopted, and not in harmony with
each other to be productive of a good result.

204 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
until time has enabled their ovraers to class
and arrange them.
I am every day more forcibly struck with
the natural quickness and intelligence of the
people here : but this very quickness is a
cause that may tend to retard their progress
in knowledge, by inducing them to jump at
conclusions, instead of marching slowly but
steadily to them ; and conclusions so rapidly
made are apt to be as hastily acted upon, and,
consequently, occasion errors that take some
time to be discovered, and still more to be
corrected, before the truth is attained.

CHAPTER X.
Made the acquaintance of the celebrated
Dr. P  , to-day, at Madame C  's. He
is a very interesting old man ; and, though
infirm in body, his mind is as fresh, and his
vivacity as unimpaired, as if he had not
numbered forty instead of eighty summers.
I am partial to the society of clever medical
men, for the opportunities afforded them of
becoming acquainted vnth human nature, by
studying it under aU the phases of iUness,
convalescence, and on the bed of death, when
the real character is exposed unveiled from
the motives that so often shadow, if not give
it a false character, in the days of health,
render their conversation very interesting.
I have observed, too, that the knowledge of
human nature thus attained neither hardens

206 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
the heart nor blunts the sensibility, for some
of the most kind-natured men I ever knew
were also the most skilful physicians and
admirable surgeons. Among these is Mr.
Guthrie, of London, whose rare dexterity in
his art I have often thought may be in a great
degree attributed to this very kindness of
nature, which has induced him to bestow a
more than usual attention to acquiring it, in
order to abridge the sufferings of his patients.
In operations on the eye, in which he has
gained such a justly merited celebrity, I have
been told by those from whose eyes he had
removed cataracts, that his precision and
celerity are so extraordinary as to appear to
them little short of miraculous.
Talking on this subject with Dr. P  to
day, he observed, that he considered strength
of mind and kindness of heart indispensable
requisites to form a surgeon ; and that it was
a mistake to suppose that these qualities had
any other than a salutary influence over the
nerves of a surgeon.

PARIS. 207
"It braces them, Madame," said he^ "for
pity towards the patient induces an operator
to perform his difficult task con amore, in
order to reUeve him."
Dr. P  has nearly lost his voice, and
speaks in a low but distinct whisper. TaU
and thin, with a face pale as marble, but full
of intelligence, he looks, when bending on his
gold -headed cane, the very beau ideal of
a physician of la Vieille Cour, and he still
retains the costume of that epoch. His
manner, half jest and half earnest, gives an
idea of what that of the Philosopher of Ferney
must have been when in a good humour, and
adds piquancy to his narrations. Madame
C  , who is an especial favourite of his, and
who can draw him out in conversation better
than any one else, in paying him a delicate
and weU-timed compliment on his celebrity,
added, that few had ever so weU merited it.
" Ah ! Madame, celebrity is not always
accorded to real merit," said he, smiling.

208 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
" I h^ve before told Madame that mine
— if I may be permitted to recur to it
— was gained by an artifice I had recourse to,
and without which, I firmly beUeve I should
have remained unknown."
" No, no ! my dear doctor," replied Madame
C  ; "your merit must have, in time,
acquired you the great fame you enjoy." The
Doctor laughed heartily, but persisted in deny
ing this ; and the lady urged him to relate to
me the plan he had so successfully pursued in
abridging his road to Fortune. He seemed
flattered by her request, and by my desire for
his compliance with it, and commenced as
follows : —
" I came from the country, Mesdames,
with no inconsiderable claims to distinction
in my profession. I had studied it con amore,
and, urged by the desire that continually
haunted me of becoming a benefactor to
mankind — ay ! ladies, and stiU more anxious
to relieve your fair and gentie sex from

PARIS.

209

those ills to which the delicacy of your
frames and the sensibiUty of your minds
so pecuUarly expose you — I came to Paris
with Uttie money and few friends, and those
few possessed no power to forward my
interests. " It is true they recommended me to such
of their acquaintance as needed advice ; but
whether, owing to the season being a peculiarly
healthy one, or that the acquaintances of my
friends enjoyed an unusual portion of good
health, I was seldom called on to attend
them; and, when I was, the remuneration
offered was proportioned, not to the relief
afforded, but to the want of fame of him
who lent it.
" My purse diminished even more rapidly
than my hopes, though they, too, began to
fade; and it was with a heavy heart that I
took my pen to write home to those dear
friends who believed that Paris was a second
VOL. I, p

210 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
El Dorado, where aU who sought — must
find — Fortune.
" At length, when one night stretched on
my humble bed, and sleepless from the cares
that pressed heavily on my mind, it occurred
to me that I must put some plan into action
for getting myself known; and one suggested
itself, which I next day adopted.
" I changed one of the few remaining
louis d'or in my purse, and, sallying forth
into one of the most popular streets, I wrote
dovra the addresses of some of the most
respectable - looking houses, and going up to
a porter, desired him to knock at the doors
named, and inquire if the celebrated Doctor
P  was there, as his presence was imme
diately required at the hotel of the Due de  .
" I despatched no less than twenty mes
sengers through the different streets on the
same errand, and having succeeded in per
suading each that it was of the utmost im-

PARIS. 211
portance that the celebrated Doctor P 
should be found, they persuaded the owners
of the houses of the same necessity.
" I persevered in this system for a few
days, and then tried its efficacy at night,
thinking that, when knocked up from their
beds, people would be sure to be more im
pressed with the importance of a doctor in
such general request.
" My scheme succeeded. In a few days,
I was repeatedly called in by various patients,
and liberal fees poured into the purse of the
celebrated Dr. P  . Unfortunately my
practice, although every day multiplying even
beyond my most sanguine hopes, was entirely
confined to the bourgeoisie ; and though they
paid well, my ambition pointed to higher
game, and I longed to feel the pulses of
la Jmute noblesse, and to ascertain if the fine
porcelain of which I had heard they were
formed was indeed as much superior to the

212 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
delf of which the bourgeoisie are said to
be manufactured, as I was led to believe.
" Luckily for me, the femme de chambre
of a grand lady fancied herself ill, mentioned
the fancy to her friend, who was one of my
patients, and who instantly advised her to
consult the celebrated Dr. P  , adding
a lively account of the extent of my practice
and the great request I was in.
" The femme de chambre consulted me,
described symptoms enough to baffle all the
schools of medicine in France, so various and
contradictory were they; and I, discovering
that she really had nothing the matter with
her, advised what I knew would be very
palatable to her,— namely, a very nutritious
regime, as much air and amusement as was
possible in her position, and gave her a pre
scription for some gentie medicine, to prevent
any evU effect from the luxurious fare I had
recommended.

PARIS. 213
" I was half tempted to refuse the fee she
slipped into my hand, but I recollected that
people never value what they get for nothing,
and so I pocketed it.
" In a few days, I was sent for to the
Hotel  to attend the Duchesse de 
the mistress of the said femme de chambre.
This was an event beyond my hopes, and I
determined to profit by it. I found the
Duchesse suffering under a malady — if malady
it could be caUed — to which I have since
discovered grand ladies are pecuUarly subject ;
namely, a superfluity of embonpoint, occa
sioned by luxurious habits and the want of
exercise. " 'I am very much indisposed. Doctor,' lisped
the lady, ' and your prescription has done my
femme de chambre so much good, that I
determined to send for you. I am so very
Ul, that I am fast losing my shape ; my face,
too, is no longer the same ; and my feet and
hands are not to be recognised.'

214 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
" I drew out my watch, felt her pulse,
looked grave, inquired — though it was use
less, her embonpoint having revealed it —
what were her general habits and regime;
and then, having written a prescription, urged
the necessity of her abandoning caf6 au tail,
rich consommes, and high - seasoned entrees ;
recommended early rising and constant exer
cise ; and promised that a strict attention to
my advice would soon restore her health,
and with it her shape.
" I was told to call every day until further
orders ; and I, pleading the excess of occupa
tion which would render my daily visits
to her so difficult, consented to make them,
only on condition that my fair patient was
to walk with me every day six times around
the garden of her hotel; for I guessed she
was too indolent to persevere in taking exer
cise if left to herself.
" The system I pursued with her succeeded
perfectly. I was then a very active man.

PARIS. 215
and I walked so fast that I left the Duchesse
every day when our promenade ended bathed
in a copious perspiration ; which, aided by
the medicine and sparing regime, soon re
stored her figure to its former symmetry.
" At her hotel, I daily met ladies of the
highest rank and distinction, many of whom
were suffering from a similar cause, the same
annoyance for which the Duchesse consulted
me ; and I then discovered that there is no
malady, however grave, so distressing to your
sex, ladies, or for the cure of which they
are so wiUing to submit to the most dis
agreeable regime, as for aught that impairs
their personal beauty.
" When her female friends saw the im
provement effected in the appearance of the
Duchesse by my treatment, I was consulted
hy them all, and my fame and fortune rapidly
increased. I was proclaimed to be the most
wonderful physician, and to have effected
the most extraordinary cures; when, in truth.

216

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

I but consulted Nature, and aided her
efforts. " Shortly after this period, a grand lady,
an acquaintance of one of my many patients
among the noblesse, consulted me; and here
the ease was wholly different to that of the
Duchesse, for this lady had grown so thin,
that wrinkles — those most frightful of all
symptoms of decaying beauty — had made their
appearance. My new patient told me that, hear
ing that hitherto my great celebrity had been
acquired by the cure of obesity, she feared it
was useless to consult me for a disease of so
opposite a nature, but even still more distressing.
" I inquired into her habits and regime.
Found that she took violent exercise ; was
abstemious at table ; drank strong green tea,
and coffee without cream or milk ; disliked
nutritious food; and, though she sat up late,
was an early riser.
" I ordered her the frequent use of warm
baths, and to take aU that I had prohibited the

PARIS. 217
Duchesse ; permitted only gentle exercise
in a carriage; and, in short, soon succeeded
in rendering the thin lady plump and rosy,
to the great joy of herself, and the wonder
of her friends.
" This treatment, which was only what
any one possessed of common sense would
have prescribed in such a case, extended
my fame far and wide. Fat and thin ladies
flocked to me for advice, and not only libe
rally rewarded the success of my system, but
sounded my praises in all quarters.
" I became the doctor a la mode, soon
amassed an independence, and, though not
without a confidence in my own skiU — for
I have never lost any opportunity of improve
ment in my profession — I must confess that
I StiU retain the conviction that the celebrated
Doctor P  would have had little chance,
at least for many years, of acquiring either
fame or wealth, had he not employed the
means I have confessed to you, ladies."

218 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
I cannot do justice to this spirituel old man's
mode of telling the story, or describe the
finesse of his arch smile whUe recounting it.
Mr. P. C. Scarlett, a son of our exceUent
and valued friend Sir James Scarlett,* dined
here yesterday. He is a fine young man,
clever, well-informed, and amiable, with the
same benignant countenance and urbanity of
manner that are so remarkable in his father.
I remember how much struck I was with
Sir James Scarlett's countenance when he
was first presented to me. It has in it such
a happy mixture of sparkling intelligence
and good -nature that I was immediately
pleased with him, even before I had an
opportunity of knowing the rare and excel
lent quaUties for which he is distinguished,
and the treasures of knowledge with which
his mind is stored.
I have seldom met any man so weU versed
in Uterature as Sir James Scarlett, or with
* The present Lord Abinger.

PARIS. ~^-'
a more refined taste for it; and when one
reflects on the arduous duties of his pro
fession—duties which he has ever fulfiUed
with such credit to himself and advantage
to others— it seems Uttie short of miraculous
how he could have found time to have made
himself so intimately acquainted, not only with
the classics, but with aU the elegant Uterature
of England and France.
How many pleasant days have I passed in
the society of Lord Erskine and Sir James
Scarlett! Poor Lord Erskine! never more
shaU I hear your eloquent tongue utter
bon mots in which wit sparkled, but iU-nature
never appeared; nor see your luminous eyes
flashing with joyousness, as when, surrounded
by friends at the festive board, you rendered
the banquet indeed " the feast of reason
and the flow of soul!"
Mr. H  B  dined here yesterday,
and he talked over the pleasant days we had
passed in Italy. He is an exceUent specimen

220 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
of the young men of the present day. WeU-
informed, and with a mind highly cultivated,
he has travelled much in other countries,
without losing any of the good quaUties and
habits peculiar to his own.
Went to the Theatre Italien, last night,
and heard Madame Malibran sing for the
first time. Her personation of " Desdemona "
is exquisite, and the thrilling tones of her
voice were in perfect harmony with the deep
sensibility she evinced in every look and
movement. I have heard no singer to please me com
parable to Malibran : there is something
positively electrical in the effect she pro
duces on my feelings. Her acting is as ori
ginal as it is effective ; Passion and Nature
are her guides, and she abandons herself to
them con amore.
The only defect I can discover in her
singing is an excess of fiorituri, that some
times destroys the vraisemblance of the role

PARIS. 221
she is enacting, and makes one think more
of the wonderful singer than of " Desdemona."
This defect, however, is atoned for by the
bursts of passion into which her powerful
voice breaks when some deep emotion is to
be expressed, and the accomplished singer
is forgotten in the impassioned " Desdemona."
Spent last evening at Madame C  's, and
met there la Duchesse de la Force, la Mar
quise de Brehan, and the usual habitues de la
maison. La Duchesse is one of I'ancien
regime, though less ceremonious than they
are in general said to be, and appears to be
as good-natured as she is good-humoured.
The Marquise de B  told me some
amusing anecdotes of the Imperial Court,
and of the gaiety and love of dress of the
beautiful Princesse PauUne Borghese, to whom
she was much attached.
The whole of the Buonaparte family seem
to have possessed, in an eminent degree, the
happy art of coneiUating good -will in those

222 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
around them — an art necessary in all persons
filling elevated positions, but doubly so in those
who have achieved their ovra elevation. The
family of the Emperor Napoleon were remark
able for the kindness and consideration they
invariably evinced for those who in any way
depended on them, yet a natural dignity of
manner precluded the possibility of familiarity.
The Marquise de B  having mentioned
the Duchesse d'Abrantes, Madame C 
inquired kindly for her, and the Marquise
told her that she had been only a few days
before to pay her a visit.
Anxious to learn something of a woman
who filled so distinguished a position during
the imperial dynasty, I questioned Madame
de B  , and learned that the Duchesse
d'Abrantes, who for many years lived in a
style of splendour that, even in the palmy
days of her husband's prosperity, when, go
vernor of Paris, he supported almost a regal
establishment, excited the surprise, if not

PARIS. 223
envv, of his contemporaries, is now reduced
to so limited an income that many of the
comforts, if not the necessaries of life, are
denied her.
" She supports her privations cheerfully,"
added the Marquise ; " her conversation
abounds in anecdotes of remarkable people,
and she relates them with a vivacity and
piquancy peculiar to her, which render her
society very amusing and interesting. The
humanity, if not the policy, of the Bourbons
may be questioned in their leaving the widow
of a brave general in a state of poverty that
must remind her, vnth bitterness, of the
altered fortunes entailed on her and many
others by their restoration."
When indemnities were granted to those
whom the Revolution, which drove the royal
family from France, nearly beggared, it would
have been well if a modest competency had
been assigned to those whose sons and hus
bands shed their blood for their country.

224 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
and helped to achieve for it that military
glory which none can deny it.
Went over the Luxembourg Palace and
Gardens to-day. The only change in the
former since I last saw it, is that some
pictures, painted by French artists at Rome,
and very creditable to them, have been added
to its collection.
I like these old gardens, with their formal
walks and prim parterres; I like also the
company by which they are chiefly frequented,
consisting of old people and young children.
Along the walk exposed to the southern
aspect, several groups of old men were saunter
ing, conversing with an animation seldom seen
in sexagenarians, except in France ; old women,
too, many of them holding lapdogs by a riband,
and attended by a female servant, were taking
their daily walk; while, occasionally, might
be seen an elderly couple exhibiting towards
each other an assiduity pleasant to behold,
displayed by the husband's arranging the

PARIS. 225
shawl or cloak of his wife, or the wife gently
brushing away with her glove the silken
threads left on his sleeve by its contact with
hers. No little portion of the love that united
them in youth may still be witnessed in these
old couples. Each has lost every trace of the
comeliness that first attracted them to each
other ; but they remember what they were, and
memory, gilding the past, shews each to the
other, not as they actually are, but as they
were many a long year ago. No face, how
ever fair, — not even the blooming one of their
favourite granddaughter, seems so lovely to
the uxorious old husband as the one he re
members to have been so proud of forty years
ago, and which stUl beams on him with an
expression of tenderness that reminds him of
its former beauty. And she, too, with what
complacency does she Usten to his oft-repeated
reminiscences of her youthful attractions, and
how dear is the bond that stiU unites them !
VOL. I, Q

226

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

Plain and uninteresting in the eyes of
others, they present only the aspect of age ;
alas ! never lovely : but in them at least other
gleams of past good looks recall the past,
when each considered the other peerless,
though now they alone remember that " such
things were, and were most sweet."
Their youth and their maturity have been
passed together ; their joys and their sorrows
have been shared, and they are advancing
hand in hand towards that rapid descent in
the mountain of life, at whose base is the
grave, hoping that in death they may not be
divided. Who can look at those old couples, and not
feel impressed with the sanctity and blessed
ness 0^ marriage, which, binding two destinies
in one, giving the same interests and the same
objects of affection to both, secures for each a
companionship and a consolation for those
days which must come to all, when, fallen into
the sere and yeUow leaf, the society of the

PARIS. 227
young and gay can no longer charm them, and
the present requires the recollections of the
past to render it less cheerless ; recollections
only to be found in those who have grown
old together ?
Yonder old man, leaning on the arm of a
middle-aged woman, who seems less like his
housekeeper than his domestic tyrant, offers
an example of the fate of those who have
lived in what is commonly called a state of
single blessedness. A youth and maturity of
pleasure have been followed by an old age of
infirmity. He had a thousand pleasantries ready to
utter on the subject of marriage whenever it
was mentioned ; could cite endless examples of
unhappy couples (forgetting to name a single
one of the happy) ; and laughed and shook his
head as he declared that he never would be
caught. As long as health remained, and that he
could pass his evenings in gay society, or at

228 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
the theatres, he felt not the want of that
greatest of all comforts, home ; a comfort
inseparable from a wife to share, as well as to
make it. But the first attack of iUness that
confined him to his room, with no tender
hand to smooth his pillow, no gentle voice to
inquire into his wants, or to minister to them ;
no one to anticipate his wishes almost before
he had framed them ; no loving face to look
fondly and anxiously on him ; made him feel
sensible, that though a bachelor's life of plea
sure may pass agreeably enough during the
season of health, it is a most cheerless and
dreary state of existence when deprived of it.
The discovery is, alas ! made too late. AU
that he had ever heard or urged against
matrinjony applies tenfold to cases where it
is contracted in old age. He can still admire
youth and beauty, but he knows that with
such there can never exist any reciprocity
with his own feelings.
The young beauty who would barter her

PARIS. 229
charms for his wealth, would be, he knows,
no suitable companion for his fire-side ; and
to wed some staid dame whose youth has been
passed with some dear, kind, first husband
— of whom, if not often speaking, she might
in aU human probability be sometimes think
ing — has something too repugnant to his feel
ings to be thought of.
An elderly maiden with a lap-dog, or a
parrot, would be even more insupportable ;
for how could one who has never had to con
sult the pleasure or wishes of aught save self
be able to study his ? No ! it is now too late
to think of marriage, and what, therefore, is
to be done ? In this emergency, a severe
attack of rheumatism confines him to his
chamber for many days. His valet is, found
out to be clumsy and awkward in assisting him
to put on his flannel gloves ; the housekeeper,
who is called up to receive instructions about
some particular broth that he requires, is
asked to officiate, and suggests so many little

230 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
comforts, and evinces so much sympathy for his
sufferings, that she is soon installed as nurse.
By administering to his wants, and still
more by flattery and obsequiousness, she soon
renders herseK indispensable to the invaUd.
She is proclaimed to be a treasure, and her
accounts, which hitherto had been sharply
scrutinised and severely censured, are hence
forth allowed to pass unblamed, and, conse
quently, soon amount to double the sum which
had formerly, and with reason, been found
fault with. The sUghtest symptom of illness
is magnified into a serious attack by the sup
posed affectionate and assiduous nurse, until
her master, in compliance with her advice,
becomes a confirmed hypochondriac, whom she
governs despoticaUy under a show of devoted
attachment. She has, by slow but sure degrees, aUenated
him from aU his relatives, and banished from
his house the few friends whom she believed
possessed any influence over him. Having

PARIS. 231
rendered herself essential to his comfort, she
menaces him continuaUy with the threat of
leaving his service ; and is only induced to
remain by a considerable increase to her salary,
though not, as she asserts, by any interested
motive.
^^ She lately informed her master, that she
was "very sorry — very sorry, indeed — but it
was time for her to secure her future comfort;
and M.  , the rich grocer, had proposed
marriage to her, and offered a good settlement.
It would be a great grief to her to leave so
kind a master, especiaUy as she knew no one
to whom she could confide the care of him ;
but a settlement of 4000 francs a-year was not
to be refused, and she might never again
receive so good an offer."
The proposal of the rich grocer, which never
existed but in her own fertile brain, is rejected,
and her continuance as housekeeper and nurse
secured by a settlement of a similar sum made
on her by her master ; who congratulates him-

232 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
self on having accomplished so advantageous
a bargain, while she is laughing with the
valet at his credulity.
This same valet, finding her influence to be
onmipotent with his master, determines on
marrying her secretly, that they may join in
plundering the valetudinarian, whose infirmities
furnish a perpetual subject for the coarse
pleasantries of both these ungrateful menials.
She is now giving him his daily walk on
the sunny side of the Luxembourg Gardens.
See how she turns abruptly down an alley, in
despite of his request to continue where he
was : but the truth is, her Argus eyes have
discovered his niece and her beautiful children
walking at a distance ; and, as she has not
only prevented their admission to his house,
but concealed their visits, intercepted their
letters, making him believe they are absent
from Paris and have forgotten him, she now
precludes their meeting; while to his querulous
murmurs at being hurried along, she answers

PARIS. 233
that the aUey she has taken him to is more
sheltered. It is true the invalid sometimes half sus
pects, not only that he is governed, but some
what despotically, too, by the worthy and
affectionate creature, whose sole study it is to
take care of his health. He considers it hard
to be debarred from sending for one of his
old friends to play a party at picquet, or a
game at chess with him, during the long
winter evenings ; and he thinks it would be
pleasanter to have some of his female relatives
occasionally to dinner : but as the least hint
on these subjects never fails to produce ill-
humour on the part of the "good Jeanette,"
who declares that such unreasonable indul
gence would inevitably destroy the precious
health of Monsieur, he submits to her wiU ;
and while whoUy governed by an ignorant
and artful servant, can stiU smile that he is
free from being henpecked by a wife.

CHAPTER XL
In no part of Paris are so many children
to be seen as in the gardens of the Luxem
bourg. At every step may be encountered
groups of playful creatures of every age, from
the infant slumbering in its nurse's arms, to
the healthful girl holding her Uttie brother
or sister by the hand as her little charge
toddles along ; or the manly boy, who gives
his arm to his younger sister with aU the
air of protection of manhood.
What joyous sounds of mirth come from
each group — the clear voices ringing plea
santly on the ear, from creatures fair and
blooming as the flowers of the rich parterres
among which they wander ! How each group
examines the other — half-disposed to join in

PARIS.

235

each other's sports, but withheld by a vague
fear of making the first advances — a fear
which mdicates that even aheady civihsation
and the artificial habits it engenders, have
taught them the restraint it imposes !
The nurses, too, scrutinise each other, and
their little masters and misses, as they meet.
They take in at a glance the toilettes of each,
and judge with an extraordinary accuracy the
station of Ufe to which they appertain.
The child of noble birth is known by the
simpUcity of its dress and the good manners
of its bonne ; while that of the parvenu is at
once recognised by the showiness and ex-
pensiveness of its clothes, and the superciUous-
ness of its nurse, who, accustomed to the
purse-proud pretensions of her employers,
values nothing so much as aU the attributes
that indicate the possession of wealth.
The Uttie children look wistfully at each
other every time they meet; then begin to
smUe, and at length approach, and join,

236 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
half-timidly, half-laughingly, in each other's
sports. The nurses, too, draw near, enter
into a conversation, in which each endeavours
to insinuate the importance of her young
charge, and consequently her own; whUe the
children have already contracted an intimacy,
which is exemplified by running hand-in-hand
together, their clear jocund voices being min
gled. It is a beautiful sight to behold these gay
creatures, who have little more than passed
the first tw^o or three years of life, with the
roses of health glowing on their dimpled cheeks,
and the joyousness of infancy sparkling in their
eyes. They know naught of existence but its
smiles ; and, caressed by doating parents,
have not a want unsatisfied. Entering life
all hope and gaiety, what a contrast do they
offer to the groups of old men who must so
soon leave it, who are basking in the sunshine
so near them ! Yet they, too, have had their

PARIS.

237

hours of joyous infancy ; and, old and faded
as they are, they have been doated on, as they
gamboUed like the happy Uttie beings they
now pause to contemplate.
There was something touching in the con
trast of youth and age brought thus together,
and I thought that more than one of the old
men seemed to feel it as they looked on the
happy children.
I met my new acquaintance, Dr. P  ,
who was walking with two or three savans ;
and, having spoken to him, he joined us in
our promenade, and greatly added to its plea
sure by his sensible remarks and by his cheerful
tone of mind. He told me that the sight of
the fine children daily to be met in the Lux
embourg Gardens, was as exhilarating to his
spirits as the gay flowers in the parterre ; and
that he had frequently prescribed a walk here
to those whose minds stood in need of such a
stimulant. The General and Countess d'Orsay arrived

238 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
yesterday from their chateau, in Franche
Comte. A long correspondence had taught
me to appreciate the gifted mind of Madame,
who, to solid attainments, joins a sparkUng
wit and vivacity that render her conversation
delightful. The Countess d'Orsay has been a cele
brated beauty; and, though a grandmother,
still retains considerable traces of it. Her
countenance is so spirituelle and piquant, that
it gives additional point to the clever things
she perpetually utters ; and what greatly en
hances her attractions is the perfect freedom
from any of the airs of a belle esprit, and the
total exemption from affectation that distin
guishes her.
General d'Orsay, known from his youth as
Le Beau d'Orsay, still justifies the appel
lation, for he is the handsomest man of his
age that I have ever beheld. It is said that
when the Emperor Napoleon first saw him, he
observed that he would make an admirable

PARIS. 239
model for a Jupiter, so noble and commanding
was the character of his beauty.
Like most people remarkable for good
looks. General d'Orsay is reported to have
been wholly free from vanity ; to which, per
haps, may be attributed the general assent
accorded to his personal attractions which,
while universally admitted, excited none of
the envy and ill-will which such advantages
but too often draw on their possessor. There
is a calm and dignified simplicity in the
manners of General d'Orsay, that harmonises
well with his lofty bearing.
It is very gratifying to witness the affection
and good intelUgence that reign in the do
mestic circles in France. Grandfathers and
grandmothers here meet with an attention
from their chUdren and grandchUdrcn, the
demonstrations of which are very touching;
and I often see gay and brilliant parties aban
doned by some of those with whom I am
in the habit of daily intercourse, in order that

240 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
they may pass the evenings with their aged
relatives. Frequently do I see the beautiful Duchesse
de Guiche enter the salon of her grandmother,
sparkling in diamonds, after having hurried
away from some splendid J^^e, of which she
was the brightest ornament, to spend an hour
with her before she retired to rest; and the
Countess d'Orsay is so devoted to her mother,
that nearly her whole time is passed with her.
It is pleasant to see the mother and grand
mother inspecting and commenting on the
toilette of the lovely daughter, of whom they
are so justly proud, while she is whoUy occu
pied in inquiring about the health of each,
or answering their questions relative to that of
her children.
The good and venerable Due de Gramont
examines his daughter-in-law through his eye
glass, and, with an air of paternal affection,
observes to General d'Orsay, " How weU our
daughter looks to-night! "

PARIS. 241
Madame Craufurd, referring to her great
age last evening, said to me, and a tear stole
dovra her cheek while she spoke : " Ah, my
dear friend ! how can I think that I must soon
leave all those who love me so much, and
whom I so dote on, without bitter regret?
Yes, I am too happy here to be as resigned as
I ought to be to meet death."
Saw Potier in the Ci-devant Jeune Homme
last night. It is an excellent piece of acting,
from the first scene where he appears in aU
the infirmity of age, in his night-cap and
flannel dressing-gown, to the last, in which he
portrays the would-be young man. His face,
his flgure, his cough, are inimitable ; and
when he recounts to his servant the gaieties
of the previous night, the hollow cheek,
sunken eye, and hurried breathing of the
" Ci-devant Jeune Homme" render the scene
most impressive.
Nothing could be more comic than the
metamorphose effected in his appearance by
VOL. I. R

242 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
dress, except it were his endeavours to assume
an air and countenance suitable to the juven
ility of his toilette ; while, at intervals, some
irrepressible symptom of infirmity reminded
the audience of the pangs the effort to appear
young inflicted on him. Potier is a finished
actor, and leaves nothing to be wished, except
that he may long continue to perform and
delight his audience as last night.
Dined yesterday at the Countess d'Orsay's,
with a large family party. The only stranger
was Sir Francis Burdett. A most agreeable
dinner, followed by a very pleasant evening.
I have seldom seen any Englishman enjoy
French society as much as the worthy baronet
does. He speaks the language with great
facility, is well acquainted with its Uterature,
and has none of the prejudices which miU-
tate so much against acquiring a perfect know
ledge of the manners and customs of a foreign
country. French society has decidedly one great

PARIS. 243

superiority over English, and that is its free
dom from those topics which too often engross
so considerable a portion of male conversation,
even in the presence of ladies, in England.
I have often passed the evening previously and
subsequentiy to a race, in which many of the
men present took a Uvely interest, without ever
hearing it made the subject of conversation.
Could this be said of a party in England, on a
similar occasion ?
Nor do the men here talk of their shooting
or hunting before women, as with us. This
is a great reUef, for in England many a woman
is doomed to Usten to interminable tales of
slaughtered grouse, partridges, and pheasants ;
of hair-breadth "'scapes by flood and field,"
and venturous leaps, the descriptions of which
leave one in doubt whether the narrator or his
horse be the greater animal of the two, and
render the poor Ustener more fatigued by the
recital than either was by the longest chase.
A dissertation on the comparative merits

244 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
of Manton's, Lancaster's, and Moore's guns,
and the advantage of percussion locks, it is
true, generally diversifies the conversation.
Then how edifying it is to hear the pedi
grees of horses — the odds for and against the
favourite winning such or such a race — the
good or bad books of the talkers — the hedg
ing or backing of the bettors I Yet all this
are women condemned to hear on the eve
of a race, or during the shooting or hunting
season, should their evil stars bring them into
the society of any of the Nimrods or sports
men of the day, who think it not only aUow-
able to devote nearly aU their time to such
pursuits, but to talk of little else.
The woman who aims at being popular in
her county, must not only Usten patiently,
but evince a lively interest in these intellectual
occupations ; whUe, if the truth was confessed,
she is thoroughly ennuyee by these detaUs of
them : or if not, it must be inferred that she
has lost much of the refinement of mmd and

PARIS. 245
taste peculiar to the well-educated portion of
her sex.
I do not object to men liking racing, hunt
ing, and shooting. The first preserves the
breed of horses, for which England is so justly
celebrated, and hunting keeps up the skill
in horsemanship in which our men excel.
What I do object to is their making these
pursuits the constant topics of conversation
before women, instead of selecting those more
suitable to the tastes and habits of the
latter. There is none of the affectation of avoiding
subjects supposed to be uninteresting to women
visible in the men here. They do not utter
with a smile — half pity, half condescension, —
" we must not talk politics before the ladies ; "
they merely avoid entering into discussions,
or exhibiting party spirit, and shew their
deference for female society by speaking on
literature, on which they politely seem to take
for granted that women are well informed.

246

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

Perhaps this deferential treatment of the
gentler sex may not be wholly caused by the
good breeding of the men in France ; for I
strongly suspect that the women here would
be very Uttie disposed to submit to the non
chalance that prompts the conduct I have
referred to in England, and that any man
who would make his horses or his field-sports
the topic of discourse in their presence, would
soon find himself expeUed from their society.
Frenchwomen still think, and with reason,
that they govern the tone of the circles in
which they move, and look with jealousy on
any infringement of the respectful attention
they consider to be their due.
A few nights ago I saw the Duchesse de
Guiche, on her return from a reception at
court, sparkling in diamonds, and looking so
beautiful that she reminded me of Burke's
description of the lovely and unfortunate
Marie Antoinette. To-day I thought her
still more attractive, when, wearing only a

PARIS. 247
simple white peignoir, and her matchless hair
bound tightly round her elassicaUy shaped
head, I saw her enacting the part of garde
malade to her children, who have caught the
measles. With a large, and well-chosen nursery-esta-
bUshment, she would confide her precious
charge to no care but her own, and moved
from each little white bed to the other with
noiseless step and anxious glance, bringing
comfort to the dear little invalid in each. No
wonder that her children adore her, for never
was there so devoted a mother.
In the meridian of youth and beauty, and
filling so brUliant a position in France, it is
touching to witness how whoUy engrossed this
amiable young woman's thoughts are by her
domestic duties. She incites, by sharing, the
studies of her boys ; and already is her little
girl, owing to her mother's judicious system,
cited as a model.
It was pleasant to see the Due, when re-

248 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
leased from his attendance at court, hurrying
into the sick chamber of his children, and
their languid eyes, lighting up with a mo
mentary animation, and their feverish lips
relaxing into a smile, at the sound of his
weU-known voice. And this is the couple
considered to be " the glass of fashion and
the mould of form," the observed of all ob
servers, of the courtly circle at Paris !
Who could behold them as I have done,
in that sick room, without acknowledging that,
despite of all that has been said of the dele
terious influence of courts on the feelings of
those who Uve much in them, the truly
good pass unharmed through the dangerous
ordeal ?
Went to the Theatre des Nouveautes last
night, where I saw La Maison du Rempart.
The Parisians seem to have a decided taste
for bringing scenes of riot and disorder on
the stage ; and the tendency of such exhi
bitions is any thing but salutary with so in-

PARIS. 249
flammable a people, and in times like the
present.
One of the scenes of La Maison du Rempart
represents -an armed mob demolishing the
house of a citizen — an act of violence that
seemed to afford great satisfaction to the
majority of the audience ; and, though the
period represented is that of the Fronde, the
acts of the rabble strongly assimilated with
those of the same class in later times, when
the revolution let loose on hapless France the
worst of all tyrants — a reckless and san
guinary mob. I cannot help feeling alarmed
at the consequences likely to result from such
performances. Sparks of fire flung among
gunpowder are not more dangerous. Shewing
a populace what they can effect by brutal force
is a dangerous experiment; it is like letting
a tame Uon see how easily he could over
power his keepers.
Mr. Cuthbert and M. Charles Laffitte
dined here yesterday. Both are exceUent

250 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
specimens of their countries ; the former being
well-informed and agreeable, and the latter
possessing all the good sense we believe to
be peculiar to an Englishman, with the high
breeding that appertains to a thoroughly well-
educated Frenchman.
The advance of civilization was evident
in both these gentlemen — the EngUshman
speaking French with purity and fluency,
and the Frenchman speaking English like a
born Briton. Twenty years ago, this would
have been considered a very rare occurrence,
while now it excites little remark. But it
is not alone the languages of the different
countries that Mr. Cuthbert and M. Charles
Laffitte have acquired, for both are weU ac
quainted with the Uterature of each, which
renders their society very agreeable.
Spent last evening in the Rue d'Anjou,
where I met Lady Combermere, the Dowager
Lady Hawarden, and Mrs. Masters. Lady
Combermere is Uvely and agreeable, un peu

PARIS. 251
rom.anesque, which gives great originality to
her conversation, and sings Mrs. Arkwright's
beautiful baUads with great feeling.
Mr. Charles Grant* dined here yesterday.
He is a very sensible man, possessing a vast
fund of general information, with gentle and
highly-polished manners. What a charm there
is in agreeable manners, and how soon one
feels at ease with those who possess them I
Spent, or mispent, a great portion of the
day in visiting the curiosity shops on the
Quai Voltaire, and came away from them with
a lighter purse than I entered. There is no
resisting, at least I find it so, the exquisite por
celaine de Sevres, off which the dainty dames
of the reign of Louis the Fourteenth feasted,
or which held their bouquets, or pot pourri.
An etui of gold set with oriental agates and
brilliants, and a fiacon of rock crystal, both of
which once appertamed to Madame de Sevigne,
vanquished my prudence.
* Now Lord Glenelg.

252 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
Would that with the possession of these
articles, often used by her, I could also inherit
the matchless grace with which her pen could
invest every subject it touched! But, alas ! it
is easier to acquire the beautiful bijouterie,
rendered stiU more valuable by having be
longed to celebrated people, than the talent
that gained their celebrity; and so I must
be content with inhaling esprit de rose from
the flacon of Madame de Sevigne, vnthout
aspiring to any portion of the esprit for which
she was so distinguished.
I am now rich in the possession of objects
once belonging to remarkable women, and I
am not a Uttie content with my acquisitions.
I can boast the gold and enamelled pincushion
of Madame de Maintenon, heart-shaped, and
stuck as full of pins as the hearts of the
French Protestants were with thorns by the
revocation of the Edict of Nantes; to which
she is said to have so greatly contributed by
her counsel to her infatuated lover, Louis the

PARIS. 253
Fourteenth. I can indulge in a pinch of snuff
from the tabatiire of the Marquise de Ram
bouillet, hold my court-plaster in the bolte a
mouche of Ninon de I'EncIos, and cut ribands
with the scissors of Madame du Deffand.
This desire of obtaining objects that have
belonged to celebrated people may be, and
often is, considered puerile; but I confess to
the weakness, and the contemplation of the
Uttie memorials I have named awakens recol
lections in my mind fraught with interest.
I can fancy Madame de Sevigne, who was
as amiable as she was clever, and whose
tenderness towards her daughter is demon
strated so naturaUy and touchingly in the
letters she addressed to her, holding the
flacon now mine to the nostrils of Madame
de Grignan, in whose health she was always
so much more interested than in her ovra.
I can see in my mind's eye the precise and
demure Madame de Maintenon taking a pin
from the very pincushion now before me, to

254 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
prevent the opening of her kerchief, and so
conceal even her throat from the prying eyes
of the aged voluptuary, whose passions the
wily prude is said to have excited by a con
cealment of a portion of her person that had,
in all probability, ceased to possess charms
enough to produce this effect, if revealed.
This extreme reserve on the part of the
mature coquette evinced a profound know
ledge of mankind, and, above all, of him on
whom she practised her arts. The profuse
display of the bust and shoulders in those
days, when the ladies of the court left so
little to the imagination of the amorous
monarch on whose heart so many of them had
designs, must have impaired the effect meant
to have been achieved by the indeUcate ex
posure ; for — hear it ye fair dames, with whose
snowy busts and dimpled shoulders the eyes of
your male acquaintance are as familiar as with
your faces!— the charms of nature, however
beautiful, faU short of the ideal perfection ac-

PARIS. 255
corded to them by the imagination, when un
seen. The clever Maintenon, aware of this fact,
of which the less wise of her sex are ignorant
or forgetful, afforded a striking contrast in her
dress to the women around her, and piquing
first the curiosity, and then the passions, of
the old libertine, acquired an influence over
him when she had long passed the meridian
of her personal attractions, which youthful
beauties, who left him no room to doubt
their charms, or to exaggerate them as ima
gination is prone to do, could never accom
plish. This very pincushion, with its red velvet
heart stuck with pins, was probably a gift
from the enamoured Louis, and meant to be
symbolical of the state of his own ; which, in
hardness, it might be truly said to resemble.
It may have often been placed on her table
when Maintenon was paying the penalty of
her hard-earned greatness by the painful
task of endeavouring — as she acknowledged

256 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
— to amuse a man who was no longer amus-
able. Could it speak, it might relate the weari
some hours passed in a palace (for the
demon Ennui cannot be expelled even from
the most brilliant; nay, prefers, it is said, to
select them for his abode); and we should
learn, that while an object of envy to thousands,
the mistress, or unacknowledged wife of le
Grand Monarque, was but little more happy
than the widow of Scarron when steeped in
poverty. Madame de Maintenon discovered what
hundreds before and since have done — that
splendour and greatness cannot confer hap
piness ; and, while trying to amuse a man
who, though possessed of sovereign power,
had lost all sense of enjoyment, must have
reverted, perhaps vnth a sigh, to the little
chamber in which she so long soothed the
sick bed of the vntty octogenarian, Scarron;
who, gay and cheerful to the last, could make

PARIS. 257
her smile by his sprightly and spirituel sal
lies, which neither the evils of poverty nor
pain could subdue.
Perhaps this pincushion has lain on her
table when Madame de Maintenon listened
to the animating conversation of Racine, or
heard him read aloud, with that spirit and
deep pathos for which his reading was so
remarkable, his Esther and Athalie, pre
viously to their performance at St. Cyr.
That she did not make his peace with the
king, when he offended him by writing an
essay to prove that long wars, however likely
to reflect glory on a sovereign, were sure to
entail misery on his subjects, shews that
either her influence over the mind of Louis
was much less powerful than has been be
lieved, or that she was deficient in the feeUngs
that must have prompted her to exert it by
pleading for him.
The ungenerous conduct of the king in
banishing from his court a man whose genius
VOL. I. s

258

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

shed a purer lustre over it than aU the battles
Boileau has sung, and for a cause that
merited praise instead of displeasure, has
always appeared to me to be indicative of
great meanness as well as hardness of heart ;
and while lamenting the weakness of Racine,
originating in a morbid sensibiUty that ren
dered his disgrace at court so painful and
humiliating to the poet as to cause his death,
I am still less disposed to pardon the sovereign
that could thus excite into undue action a
sensibility, the effects of which led its victim
to the grave.
The diamond - mounted tabatidre now on
my table once occupied a place on that of
the Marquise de Rambouillet, in that hotel
so celebrated, not only for the efforts made by
its coterie towards refining the manners and
morals of her day, but the language also,
until the affectation to which its members
carried their notions of purity, exposed them
to a ridicule that tended to subvert the in-

PARIS. 259
fluence they had previously exercised over
society. Moliere — the inimitable Moliere — may have
been permitted the high distinction of taking
a pinch of snuff from it, while planning his
Precieuses Ridicules, which, maigre his disin
genuous disavowal of the satire being aimed at
the Hotel RambouiUet, evidently found its
subject there. I cannot look at the snuff
box without being reminded of the briUiant
circle which its former mistress assembled
around her, and among which Moliere had
such exceUent opportunities of studying the
peculiarities of the class he subsequently
painted. Little did its members imagine, when he
was admitted to it, the use he would make
of the privilege ; and great must have been
their surprise and mortifleation, though not
avowed, at the first representation of the
PrScieuses Ridicules, in which many of them
must have discovered the resemblance to

260

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

themselves, though the clever author professed
only to ridicule their imitators. Les Femmes
Savantes, though produced many years sub
sequently, also found the originals of its
characters in the same source whence Moliere
painted Les Precieuses Ridicules,
1 can fancy him slily listening to the theme
proposed to the assembly by Mademoiselle
Scudery — the Sarr aides, as she was styled
— " Whether a lover jealous, a lover despised,
a lover separated from the object of his tender
ness, or him who has lost her by death, was
to be esteemed the most unhappy?"
At a later period of his life, Moliere might
have solved the question from bitter personal
experience, for few ever suffered more from
the pangs of jealousy, and assuredly no one
has painted with such vigour — though the
comic often prevails over the serious in his
delineations — the effects of a passion any
thing but comic to him. Strange power of
genius, to make others laugh at incidents

PARIS.

261

which had often tormented himself, and to be
able to give humour to characters in various
comedies, actuated by the feelings to which
he had so frequently been a victim!
I can picture to myself the fair Julie
d'Angennes, who bestowed not her hand on
the Due de Montaiisier until he had served
as many years in seeking it as Jacob had
served to gain that of Rachel, and until she
had passed her thirtieth year (in order that
his passion should become as purified from
all grossness, as was the language spoken
among the circle in which she Uved), re
ceiving vnth dignified reserve the finely painted
flowers, and poems to illustrate them, which
formed the celebrated Guirlande de Julie, pre
sented to her by her courtly admirer.
I see pass before me the fair and elegant
dames of that galaxy of wit and beauty,
Mesdames de Longueville, Lafayette, and de
Sevigne, fluttering their fans as they listened
and repUed to the gallant compUments of

262 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
Voiture, Menage, Chapelain, Desmarets, or
De Reaux, or to the spirituelle causerie of
Chamfort. What a pity that a society, no less useful
than brilliant at its commencement, should
have degenerated into a coterie, remarkable
at last but for its fantastic and false notions
of reflnement, exhibited in a manner that
deserved the ridicule it called down !

CHAPTER XIL
Spent last evening in the Rue d'Anjou :
met there la Marquise de Pouleprie, and the
usual habitues. She is a deUghtful person ;
for age has neither chilled the warmth of her
heart, nor impaired the vivacity of her manners.
I had heard much of her ; for she is greatly
beloved by the Duchesse de Guiche and all
the De Gramont family ; and she, knowing
their partiaUty to me, treated me rather as
an old than as a new acquaintance.
Talking of old times, to which the Due de
Gramont reverted, the Marquise mentioned
having seen the celebrated Madame du Barry
m the garden at Versailles, when she (the
Marquise) was a very young girl. She de
scribed her as having a most animated and

264 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
pleasant countenance, un petit nez retrousse,
brilliant eyes, full red lips, and as being
altogether a very attractive person.
The Marquise de Pouleprie accompanied the
French royal family to England, and remained
with them there during the emigration. She
told me that once going through the streets of
London in a carriage, with the French king,
during an election at Westminster, the mob,
ignorant of his rank, insisted that he and his
servants should take off their hats, and cry
out " Long live Sir Francis Burdett ! " which
his majesty did with great good humour, and
laughed heartily after.
Went last night to see Mademoiselle Mars,
in "Valerie." It was a finished performance,
and worthy of her high reputation. Never
was there so musical a voice as hers ! Every
tone of it goes direct to the heart, and its
intonations soothe and charm the ear. Her
countenance, too, is peculiarly expressive. Even
when her eyes, in the rdle she enacted last

PARIS.

265

night, were fixed, and supposed to be sightless,
her countenance was still beautiful. There
is a harmony in its various expressions that
accords perfectly with her clear, soft, and
liquid voice ; and the united effect of both
these attractions renders her irresistible.
Never did Art so strongly resemble Nature
as in the acting of this admirable artiste.
She identifies herself so completely with the
part she performs, that she not only believes
herself for the time being the heroine she
represents, but makes others do so too. There
was not a dry eye in the whole of the female
part of the audience last night — a homage to
her power that no other actress on the French
stage could now command.
The style, too, of Mademoiselle Mars'
acting is the most difficult of all ; because
there is no exaggeration, no violence in it.
The same difference exists between it and
that of other actresses, as between a highly
finished portrait and a glaringly coloured

266 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
transparency. The feminine, the graceful,
and the natural, are never lost sight of for
a moment. The French are admirable critics of acting,
and are keenly alive to the beauties of a chaste
and finished style, like that of Mademoiselle
Mars. In Paris there is no playing to the
galleries, and for a simple reason : — the occu
pants of the galleries here are as fastidious
as those of the boxes, and any thing like
outraging nature would be censured by them :
whereas, in other countries, the broad and the
exaggerated almost invariably find favour with
the gods.
The same pure and refined taste that cha
racterises the acting of MademoiseUe Mars
presides also over her toilette, which is always
appropriate and becoming.
Accustomed to the agreeable mixture of
literary men in London society, I observe,
with regret, their absence in that of Paris.
I have repeatedly questioned people why this

PARIS.

267

is, but have never been able to obtain a satis
factory answer. It tells much against the
good taste of those who can give the tone to
society here, that literary men should be left
out of it ; and if the latter will not mingle
with the aristocratic circles they are to blame,
for the union of both is advantageous to the
interests of each.
Parisian society is very exclusive, and is
divided into small ooteries, into which a
stranger finds it difficult to become initiated.
Large routes are rare, and not at all suited
to the tastes of the French people ; who com
ment with merriment, if not vnth ridicule, on
the evening parties in London, where the
rooms being too smaU to contain half the
guests invited, the stairs and ante-rooms are
fiUed by a crowd, in which not only the
power of conversing, but almost of respiring,
is impeded.
The French ladies attribute the want of
freshness so remarkable in the toilettes of

268 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
Englishwomen, to their crowded routes, and
the knowledge of its being impossible for a
robe, or at least of a greater portion of one
than covers a bust, to be seen ; which induces
the fair wearers to economise, by rarely in
dulging in new dresses.
At Paris certain ladies of distinction open
their salons, on one evening of each week, to a
circle of their acquaintance, not too numerous
to banish that ease and confidence which form
the delight of society. Each lady takes an
evening for her receptions, and no one in
terferes with her arrangements by giving a
party on the same night. The individuals of
each circle are thus in the habit of being con
tinually in each other's society ; consequently
the etiquette and formality, so genant among
acquaintances who seldom meet, are banished.
To preserve the charm of these uncere
monious reunions, strangers are seldom ad
mitted to them, but are invited to the baUs,
dinners, or large parties, where they see

PARIS. 269
French people en grande tenue, both in dress
and manner, instead of penetrating into the
more agreeable parties to which I have re
ferred, where the graceful negligee of a demi-
toilette prevails, and the lively causerie of the
habituSs de maison supersedes the constraint
of ceremony.
Such a society is precisely the sort of one
that literary men would, I should suppose,
like to mingle in, to unbend their minds from
graver studies, and yet not pass their time
unprofitably ; for in it, polities, literature,
and the fine arts, generally furnish the topics
of conversation : from which, however, the
warmth of discussion, which too frequently
renders politics a prohibited subject, is ex
cluded, or the pedantry that sometimes spoils
literary causerie is banished.
French people, male and female, talk weU ;
give their opinions with readiness and vivacity ;
often striking out ideas as original as they
are briUiant; highly suggestive to more pro-

270 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
found thinkers, but which they dispense with
as much prodigality as a spendthrift throws
away his small coin, conscious of having more
at his disposal. Quick of perception, they
jump, rather than march, to a conclusion, at
which an Englishman or a German would ar
rive leisurely, enabled to tell aU the particulars
of the route, but which the Frenchman would
know little of from having arrived by some
shorter road. This quickness of perception
exempts them from the necessity of devoting
much of the time and study which the English
or Germans employ in forming opinions, but
it also precludes their being able to reason as
justly or as gravely on those they form.
Walked in the gardens of the Tuileries to
day. What a contrast their frequenters offer
to those of the Luxembourg! In the Tui
leries, the promenaders look as if they only
walked there to display their tasteful dresses
and pretty persons.
The women eye each other as they pass,

PARIS. 271
and can tell at a glance whether their respect
ive chapeaux have come from the atelier of
Herbault, or the less recherche magasin des
modes of some more humble modistes. How
rapidly can they see whether the Cashmere
shawl of some passing dame owes its rich but
sober tints to an Indian loom, or to the fabric
of M. Terneaux, who so skilfully imitates the
exotic luxury ; and what a difference does the
circumstance make in their estimation of the
wearer! The beauty of a woman, however
great it may be, excites less envy in the minds
ofher own sex in France, than does the pos
session of a fine Cashmere, or a garniture of
real Russian sable — objects of general desire
to every Parisian belle.
I met few handsome women to-day, but
these few were remarkably striking. In Ken
sington Gardens I should have encountered
thrice as many ; but there I should also have
seen more plain ones than here. Not that
EngUshwomen en masse are not better-looking

272 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
than the French, but that these last are so
skilful in concealing defects, and revealing
beauties by the appropriateness and good
taste in their choice of dress, that even the
plain cease to appear so ; and many a woman
looks piquant, if not pretty, at Paris, thanks
to her modiste, her couturiSre, and her cor-
dojinier, who, without their "artful aid," would
be plain indeed.
It is pleasant to behold groups of well-
dressed women walking, as only French
women ever do walk, nimbly moving their
little feet bien chausse, and with an air half
timid, half espiigle, that elicits the admiration
they affect to avoid. The rich and varied
material of their robes, the pretty chapeaux,
from which peep forth such coquettish glances,
the modest assurance — for their self-possession
amounts precisely to that — and the ease and
elegance of their carriage, give them at
tractions we might seek for in vain in the
women of other countries, however superior

PARIS. 273
these last may be in beauty of complexion or
roundness of contour, for which French
women in general are not remarkable.
The men who frequent the gardens of the
TuiUeries are of a different order to those met
with in the Luxembourg. They consist chiefly
of military men and young fashionables, who
go to admire the pretty women, and elderly
and middle-aged ones, who meet in knots
and talk politics with all the animation pecu
liar to their nation. Children do not abound
in the walks here, as in the Luxembourg; and
those to be seen are evidently brought by some
fond mother, proud of exhibiting her boys and
girls in their smart dresses.
The Tuilleries Gardens, so beautiful in sum
mer, are not without their attractions in win
ter. The trees, though leafless, look weU,
rearing their taU branches towards the clear
sky, and the statues and vases seen through
vistas of evergreen shrubs, with the gilded
railing which gives back the rays of the bright,
VOL. I. T

274 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
though cold sun, and the rich velvets of every
hue in which the women are enveloped, giving
them the appearance of moving parterres of
dahlias, all render the scene a very exhila
rating one to the spirits.
I observe a difference in the usages de
mosurs at Paris, and in those of London, of
which an ignorance might lead to give offence.
In England, a lady is expected to bow to a
gentleman before he presumes to do so to her,
thus leaving her the choice of acknowledging
his acquaintance, or not ; but in France it is
otherwise, for a man takes off his hat to every
woman whom he has ever met in society,
although he does not address her, unless she
encourages him to do so.
In Paris, if two men are walking or riding
together, and one of them bows to a lady of
his acquaintance, the other also takes off his
hat, as a mark of respect to the lady knovm
to his friend, although he is not acquainted
with her. The mode of salutation is also

PARIS. 275
much more deferential towards women in
France than in England. The hat is held
a second longer off the head, the bow is
lower, and the smile of recognition is more
aimable, by which, I mean, that it is meant
to display the pleasure experienced by the
meeting. It is true that the really well-bred English
men are not to be surpassed in politeness and
good manners by those of any other country,
but aU are not such ; and I have seen instances
of men in London acknowledging the presence
of ladies, by merely touching, instead of taking
off, their hats when bowing to them ; and
though I accounted for this solecism in good
breeding by the belief that it proceeded
from the persons practising it wearing wigs,
I discovered that there was not even so
good an excuse as the fear of deranging
them, and that their incivility proceeded
from ignorance, or nonchalance, while the
glum countenance of him who bowed betrayed

276 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
rather a regret for the necessity of touching
his beaver, than a pleasure at meeting her for
whom the salute was intended.
Time flies away rapidly here, and its flight
seems to me to mark two distinct states of
existence. My mornings are devoted wholly
to reading history, poetry, or belles lettres,
which abstract me so completely from the
actual present to the past, that the hours so
disposed of appear to be the actual life, and
those given up to society the shadowy and
unreal. This forcible contrast between the two por
tions of the same day, gives charms to both,
though I confess the hours passed in my
library are those which leave behind them the
pleasantest reflections. I experienced this
sentiment when in the hey-day of youth, and
surrounded by some of the most gifted persons
in England ; but now, as age advances, the
love of solitude and repose increases, and a
life spent in study appears to me to be the

PARIS. 277
one of all others the most desirable, as the
enjoyment of the best thoughts of the best au
thors is preferable even to their conversation,
could it be had, and, consequently to that of
the cleverest men to be met with in society.
Some pleasant people dined here yesterday.
Among them was Colonel Caradoc, the son of
our old friend Lord Howden. He possesses
great and versatile information, is good-look
ing, well-bred, and has superior abilities ; in
short, he has all the means, and appliances to
boot, to make a distinguished figure in life, if
he lacks not the ambition and energy to use
them ; but, born to station and fortune, he
may want the incitement which the absence of
these advantages furnishes, and be content to
enjoy the good he already has, instead of
seeking greater distinction.
Colonel Caradoc's conversation is brilliant
and epigrammatic ; and if occasionally a too
evident consciousness of his ovra powers is
suffered to be revealed in it, those who know

278 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
it to be well-founded will pardon his self-com
placency, and not join with the persons, and
they are not few, whose amour propre is
wounded by the display of his, and who ques
tion, what really is not questionable, the foun
dation on which his pretensions are based.
The clever, like the handsome, to be par
doned for being so, should affect a humility
they are but too seldom in the habit of feeling;
and to acquire popularity must appear un
conscious of meriting it. This is one of the
many penalties entailed on the gifted in mind
or person.
January 1st, 1829- — There is always some
thing grave, if not awful, in the opening of a
new year ; for who knows what may occur
to render it memorable for ever ! If the by
gone one has been marked by aught sad, the
arrival of the new reminds one of the lapse
of time ; and though the destroyer brings
patience, we sigh to think that we may have
new occasions for its difficult exercise. Who

PARIS. 279
can forbear from trembling lest the opening
year may find us at its close with a lessened
circle. Some, now dear and confided in, may
become estranged, or one dearer than life may
be snatched away whose plaoe never can be
supplied! The thought is too painful to be
borne, and makes one look around with in
creased affection on those dear to us.
The custom prevalent at Paris of offering
an exchange of gifts on the first day of
the new year was, perhaps, originally intended
to banish the melancholy reflections such an
epoch is calculated to awaken.
My tables are so crowded with gifts that I
might set up a petit Dunkerque of my ovra, for
not a single friend has omitted to send me a
present. These gifts are to be acknowledged
by ones of similar value, and I must go and put
my taste to the test in selecting cadeaux to send
in return.
Spent several hours yesterday in the gallery
of the Louvre. The collection of antiquities.

280

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

though a very rich one, dwindles into insig
nificance, when compared with that of the
Vatican, and the halls in which it is arranged
appear mean in the eyes of those accustomed
to see the numerous and splendid ones of the
Roman edifice. Nevertheless, I felt much
satisfaction in lounging through groups of sta
tues, and busts of the remarkable men and
women of antiquity, with the countenances of
many of whom I had made myself familiar
in the Vatican, the Musee of the Capitol, or
in the collection at Naples, where facsimiles
of several of them are to be found.
Nor had I less pleasure in contemplating
the personifications of the beau ideal of the
ancient sculptors, exhibited in their gods
and goddesses, in whose faultless faces the
expression of all passion seems to have been
carefully avoided. Whether this pecuUarity
is to be accounted for by the desire of the
artist to signify the superiority of the Pagan
divinities over mortals, by this absence of

PARIS.

281

any trace of earthly feelings, or whether it
was thought that any decided expression
might deteriorate from the character of
repose and beauty that marks the works of
the great sculptors of antiquity, I know not,
but the effect produced on my mind by the
contemplation of these calm and beautiful
faces, has something so soothing in it, that
I can well imagine with what pleasure those
engaged in the turmoils of war, or the scarcely
less exciting arena of politics, in former ages,
must have turned from their mundane cares
to look on these personations of their fabled
deities, whose tranquil beauty forms so sooth
ing a contrast to mortal toils.
I have observed this calmness of expression
in the faces of many of the most celebrated
statues of antiquity. In the Aristides at
Naples, I remember being struck with it,
and noticing that he who was banished
through the envy excited by his being styled
the Just, was represented as unmoved as if

282 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
the injustice of his countrymen no more
affected the even tenour of his mind, than
the passions of mortals disturb those of the
mythological divinities of the ancients.
A long residence in Italy, and a habit of
frequenting the galleries containing the finest
works of art there, engender a love of
sculpture and painting, that renders it not
only a luxury but almost a necessary of Ufe to
pass some hours occasionally among the all
but breathing marbles and glorious pictures
bequeathed to posterity by the mighty artists
of old. I love to pass such hours alone, or
in the society of some one as partial, but
more skilled in such studies than myself;
and such a companion I have found in the
Baron Cailleux, an old acquaintance, and now
Under - Director of the Musee, whose know
ledge of the fine arts equals his love for them.
The contemplation of the chefs-d'oeuvre of
the old masters begets a tender melancholy in
the mind, that is not without a charm for those

PARIS. 283
addicted to it. These stand the results of
long lives devoted to the developement of the
genius that embodied these inspirations, and
left to the world the fruit of hours of toil and
seclusion, — hours snatched from the tempting
pleasures that cease not to court the senses,
but which they who laboured for posterity
resisted. The long vigils, the solitary days,
the hopes and fears, the fears more frequent
than the hopes, the depression of spirits, and
the injustice or the indifference of contempo
raries, endured by all who have ever devoted
their lives to art, are present to my mind when
I behold the great works of other times.
What cheered these men of genius during
their toils and enabled them to finish their
glorious works? Was it not the hope that
from posterity they would meet with the ad
miration, the sympathy, denied them by their
contemporaries? — as the prisoner in his gloomy
dungeon, refused all pity, seeks consolation

284 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
by tracing a few lines on its dreary walls,
in appeal to the sympathy of some future
inhabitant who may be doomed to take his
place. I seem to be paying a portion of the debt
due by posterity to those who laboured long
and painfully for it, when I stand rapt
in admiration before the works of the great
masters of the olden time, my heart touched
with a lively sympathy for their destinies;
nor can I look on the glorious faces or glow
ing landscapes that remain to us, evincing
the triumph of genius over even time itself,
by preserving on canvass the semblance of
all that charmed in nature, without expe
riencing the sentiment so naturally and beau
tifully expressed in the celebrated picture, by
Nicolas Poussin, of a touching scene in Arca
dia, in which is a tomb near to which two shep
herds are reading the inscription, " I, too, was
an Arcadian."

PARIS. 285
Yes, that which delighted the artists of
old, they have transmitted to us with a tender
confidence that when contemplating these
bequests we would remember with sympathy
that they, like us, had felt the charms they
delineated.

CHAPTER XIIL
Went to see the Hotel d'Orsay, to-day.
Even in its ruin it still retains many of the
vestiges of its former splendour. The salle
a manger, for the decoration of which its
ovraer bought, and had conveyed from Rome,
the columns of the Temple of Nero, is now —
hear it, ye who have taste! — converted into
a stable ; the salons, once filled with the most
precious works of art, are now crumbled to
decay, and the vast garden where bloomed
the rarest exotics, and in which were several
of the statues that are now in the gardens
of the Tuilleries, is now turned into paddocks
for horses.
It made me sad to look at this scene of
devastation, the result of a revolution which
plunged so many noble famiUes from almost

PARIS. 287
boundless wealth into comparative poverty, and
scattered collections of the works of art that
whole lives were passed in forming. I remem
ber Mr. MilUngen, the antiquary, teUing me
in Italy that when yet little more than a boy
he was taken to view the Hotel d'Orsay, then
one of the most magnificent houses in Paris,
and containing the finest coUection of pictures
and statues, and that its splendour made such
an impression on his mind that he had never
forgotten it.
With an admirable taste and a princely
fortune. Count d'Orsay spared neither trouble
nor expense to render his house the focus of
aU that was rich and rare ; and, with a spirit
that does not always animate the possessor
of rare works of art, he opened it to the
young artists of the day, who were permitted
to study in its gaUery and salons.
In the state drawing-rooms a fanciful notion
of the Count's was carried into effect and was
greatly admired, though, I believe, owing to

288 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
the great expense, the mode was not adopted
in other houses, namely, on the folding -doors
ofthe suite being throvra open to admit com
pany, certain pedals connected with them were
put in motion, and a strain of music was pro
duced, which announced the presence of guests,
and the doors of each of the drawing-rooms
when opened took up the air, and continued
it until closed.
Many of the old noblesse have been de
scribing the splendour of the Hotel d'Orsay
to me since I have been at Paris, and the
Due de Talleyrand said it almost realised
the notion of a fairy palace. Could the owner
who expended such vast sums on its decora
tion, behold it in its present ruin, he could
never recognise it; but such would be the
ease vnth many a one whose stately palaces
became the prey of a furious rabble, let
loose to piUage by a revolution — that most
fearful of all calamities, pestUence only ex
cepted, that can befall a country.

PARIS. 289
General Ornano, his stepson Count Waleski,
M. Achille la Marre, General d'Orsay, and
Mr. Francis Baring, dined here yesterday.
General Ornano is agreeable and well-
mannered. We had music in the evening,
and the lively and pretty Madame la H 
came. She is greatly admired, and no wonder;
for she is not only handsome, but clever and
piquant. Hers does not appear to be a
well - assorted marriage, for M. la H 
is grave, if not austere, in his manners ; while
she is fuU of gaiety and vivacity, the demon
strations of which seem to give him any thing
but pleasure.
I know not which is most to be pitied,
a saturnine husband whose gravity is only
increased by the gaiety of his wife, or the
gay wife whose exuberance of spirits finds
no sympathy in the Mentor -like husband.
Half, if not aU, the unhappy marriages,
accounted for by incompatibility of humour,
might with more correctness be attributed to
VOL. I. u

290 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
a total misunderstanding of each other's cha
racters and dispositions in the parties who
drag' a heavy and galling chain through life,
the links of which might be rendered light
and easy to be borne, if the wearers took
but half the pains to comprehend each other's
peculiarities that they in general do to re
proach or to resent the annoyance these pecu
liarities occasion them.
An austere man would learn that the
gaiety of his wife was as natural and excus
able a peculiarity in her, as was his gravity
in him, and consequently would not resent
it; and the lively wife would view the saturnine
humour of her husband as a malady demand
ing forbearance and kindness.
The indissolubiUty of marriage, so often
urged as an additional cause for aggravating
the sense of annoyance experienced by those
wedded but unsuited to each other, is, in
my opinion, one of the strongest motives for
using every endeavour to render the union

PARIS. 2!)1
supportable, if not agreeable. If a dwelling
known to be unaUenable has some defect
which makes it unsuited to the taste of its
owner, he either ameliorates it, or, if that be
impracticable, he adopts the resolution of
supporting its inconvenience with patience ;
so should a philosophical mind bear all that
displeases in a union in which even the most
fortunate find " something to pity or forgive."
It is unfortunate that this same philosophy,
considered so excellent a panacea for enabling
us to bear ills, should be so rarely used that
people can seldom judge of its efficacy when
required !
Saw La Gazza Ladra last night, in which
Malibran enacted "Ninetta," and added new
laurels to the vn-eath accorded her by public
opinion. Her singing in the duo, in the
prison scene, was one of the most touching
performances I ever heard; and her acting
gave a fearful reaUty to the picture.
I have been reading the Calamities of Au-
tJiors aU the morning, and find I like the book

292 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
even better on a second perusal — no mean
praise, for the first greatly pleased me. So
it is with all the works of Mr. D'Israeli, who
writes con amore; and not only with a pro
found knowledge of his subjects, but with a
deep sympathy, which peeps forth at every
line, for the literary men whose troubles or
peculiarities he describes.
His must be a fine nature — a contempla
tive mind imbued with a true love of litera
ture, and a kindness of heart that melts and
makes those of others melt, for the evils to
which its votaries are exposed.
How much are those who like reading, but are
too idle for research, indebted to Mr. D'Israeli,
who has given them the precious result of a
long life of study, so admirably digested and
beautifully conveyed that in a few volumes
are condensed a mass of the most valuable
information! I never peruse a production
of his without longing to be personally ac
quainted vnth him; and, though we never
met, I entertain a regard and respect for

PARIS. 293
him, induced by the many pleasant hours
his works have afforded me.
Met the Princesse de Talleyrand last night
at Madame C  's. I felt curious to see
this lady, of whom I had heard such various
reports; and, as usual, found her very dif
ferent to the descriptions I had received.
She came en princesse, attended by two
dames de compagnie, and a gentleman who
acted as chambellan. Though her embon
point has not only destroyed her shape but
has also deteriorated her face, the small
features of which seem imbued in a mask
much too fleshy for their proportions, it is
easy to see that in her youth she must have
been handsome. Her complexion is fair ; her
hair, judging from the eye-brows and eye
lashes, must have been very Ught; her eyes
are blue; her nose, retroussS ; her mouth
small, with fuU lips ; and the expression of her
countenance is agreeable, though not intel
lectual.

294 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
In her demeanour there is an evident
assumption of dignity, which, falling short
of the aim, gives an ungraceful stiffness to
her appearance. Her dress was rich but
suited to her age, which I should pronounce
to be about sixty. Her manner has the
formality peculiar to those conscious of occu
pying a higher station than their birth or
education entitles them to hold; and this
consciousness gives an air of constraint and
reserve that curiously contrasts with the
natural good -humour and naivete that are
frequently perceptible in her.
If ignorant — as is asserted — there is no
symptom of it in her language. To be sure,
she says little ; but that little is expressed
with propriety: and if reserved, she is scru
pulously polite. Her dames de compagnie
and chambellan treat her with profound
respect, and she acknowledges their attentions
with civility. To sum up all, the impression
made upon me by the Princesse Talleyrand

PARIS. 295
was, that she differed in no way from any
other princesse I had ever met, except by
a greater degree of reserve and formality
than were in general evinced by them.
I could not help smiling inwardly when
looking at her, as I remembered Baron
Denon's amusing story of the mistake she
once made. Allien the Baron's work on
Egypt was the topic of general conversation,
and the hotel of the Prince Talleyrand was
the rendezvous of the most distinguished
persons of both sexes at Paris, Denon being
engaged to dine there one day, the Prince
wished the Princesse to read a few pages
of the book, in order that she might be
enabled to say something complimentary on
it to the author. He consequently ordered
his librarian to send the work to her apart
ment on the morning of Ihe day of the
dinner; but, unfortunately, at the same time
also commanded that a copy of Robinson
Crusoe should be sent to a young lady, a

296 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
protegee of hers, who resided in the hotel.
The Baron Denon's work, through mistake,
was given to MademoiseUe, and Robinson
Crusoe was delivered to the Princesse, who
rapidly looked through its pages.
The seat of honour at table being assigned
to the Baron, the Princesse, mindful of her
husband's wishes, had no sooner eaten her
soup than, smiling graciously, she thanked
Denon for the pleasure which the perusal
of his work had afforded her. The author
was pleased, and told her how much he
felt honoured ; but judge of his astonish
ment, and the dismay of the Prince Talley
rand, when the Princesse exclaimed, " Yes,
Monsieur le Baron, your work has delighted
me ; but I am longing to know what has
become of your poor man Friday, about
whom I feel suc^ an interest ? "
Denon used to recount this anecdote with
great spirit, confessing at the same time that
his amour propre as an author had been for a

PARIS. 297
moment flattered by the commendation, even
of a person universally known to be incom
petent to pronounce on the merit of his book.
The Emperor Napoleon heard this story, and
made Baron Denon repeat it to him, laughing
immoderately all the time, and frequently after
he would, when he saw Denon, inquire " how
was poor Friday ? "
When the second restoration of the Bour
bons took place, the Prince Talleyrand, anxi
ous to separate from the Princesse, and to
get her out of his house, induced her, under
the pretence that a change of air was abso
lutely necessary for her health, to go to
England for some months. She had only
been there a few weeks when a confidential
friend at Paris vn-ote to inform her that from
certain rumours afloat it was quite clear the
Prince did not intend her to take up her
abode again in his house, and advised her to
return without delay. The Princesse in
stantly adopted this counsel, and arrived most

298 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
unexpectedly in the Rue St. Florentin, to
the alarm and astonishment of the whole es
tablishment there, who had been taught not
to look for her entering the hotel any more ;
and to the utter dismay of the Prince, who,
however anxious to be separated from her,
dreaded a scene of violence still more than
he wished to be released from his conjugal
chains. She forced her admission to his presence,
overwhelmed him with reproaches, and it
required the exercise of all his diplomatic
skill to allay the storm he had raised. The
affair became the general topic of conversa
tion at Paris ; and when, the day after the
event, the Prince waited on Louis the
Eighteenth on affairs of state, the King, who
loved a joke, congratulated him on the unex
pected arrival of Madame la Princesse.
Prince Talleyrand felt the sarcasm, and
noticed it by one of those smiles so pecuUar
to him — a shake of the head and shrug of

PARIS. 299
the shoulders, while he uttered " Que voulez-
vous, sire — chacun a son vingt Mars?" re
ferring to the unexpected arrival of the Em
peror Napoleon.
I have been reading Yes and No, a very
clever and interesting novel from the pen of
Lord Normanby. His writings evince great
knowledge of the world, the work-o'-day world,
as well as the beau monde ; yet there is no
bitterness in his satire, which is always just
and happily pointed. His style, too, is easy,
fluent, and polished, without being disfigured
by the slightest affectation or pedantry.
Had a long visit to-day from Dr. P  ,
who has lent me the works of Biehat and
Broussais, which he recommends me to read.
He is a most agreeable companion, and as
vivacious as if he was only twenty. He
reminds me sometimes of my old friend Lady
Dysart, whose juvenility of mind and manner
always pleased as much as it surprised me.
Old people like these appear to forget, as

300 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
they are forgotten by, time ; and, like trees
marked to be cut dovra, but which escape
the memory of the marker, they continue to
flourish though the lines traced for their
destruction are visible.
The more I see of Count Waleski the more
I am pleased with him. He has an acute
mind, great quickness of perception, and ex
ceedingly good manners. I always consider
it a good sign of a young man to be partial
to the society of the old, and I observe that
Count Waleski evinces a preference for that
of men old enough to be his father. People
are not generaUy aware of the advantages
which agreeable manners confer, and the in
fluence they exercise over society. I have
seen great abilities fail in producing the effect
accomplished by prepossessing manners, which
are even more serviceable to their owner than
is a fine countenance, that best of all letters
of recommendation.
Half the unpopularity of people proceeds

PARIS. 301
from a disagreeable manner ; and though we
may be aware of the good qualities of persons
who have this defect, we cannot conceal from
ourselves that it must always originate in a
want of the desire to please — a want, the
evidence of which cannot fail to wound the
self-love of those who detect, and indispose
them towards those who betray it. By a dis
agreeable manner I do not mean the awk
wardness often arising from timidity, or the
too great familiarity originating in untutored
good nature : but I refer to a supercUious-
ness, or coldness, that marks a sense of su
periority ; or to a habit of contradiction, that
renders society what it should never be — an
arena of debate.
How injudicious are those who defend their
absent friends, when accused of having dis
agreeable manners, by saying, as I have often
heard persons say — "I assure you that he
or she can be very agreeable with those he
or she likes :" an assertion which, by implying

302 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
that the person accused did not like those
who complained of the bad manner, converts
them from simple disapprovers into something
approaching to enemies.
I had once occasion to notice the fine tact
of a friend of mine, who, hearing a person
he greatly esteemed censured for his disagree
able manner, answered, " Yes, it is very true :
with a thousand good qualities his manner
is very objectionable, even with those he likes
best : it is his misfortune, and he cannot help
it ; but those who know him well will pardon it."
This candid admission of what could not
be refuted, checked all further censure at the
moment, whereas an injudicious defence would
have lengthened it ; and I heard some of the
individuals then present assert, a few days
subsequently, that Lord  ¦ was not, after
all, by any means to be disliked : for that his
manners were equally objectionable even with
his most esteemed friends, and consequently
meant nothing uncivil to strangers.

PARIS. 303
I tried this soothing system the other day
in defence of  , when a whole circle were
attacking him for his rude habit of contradict
ing, by asserting, with a grave face, that he
only contradicted those whose talents he sus
pected, in order that he might draw them
out in discussion.
 came in soon after, and it was posi
tively amusing to observe how much better
people bore his contradiction. Madame  ¦
only smiled when, having asserted that it was
a remarkably fine day, he declared it to be
abominable. The Due de  looked gra
cious when, having repeated some political
news,  said he could prove the contrary
to be the fact ; and the Comtesse de 
looked archly round when, having extrava
gantly praised a new novel, he pronounced
that it was the worst of aU the bad ones of
the author.
 will become a popular man, and have
to thank me for it. How angry would he be

304 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
if he knew the service I have rendered him,
and how quickly would he contradict aU I said
in his favour!  reminds me of the En
glishman of whom it was said, that so great
was his love of contradiction, that when the
hour of the night and state of the weather
were announced by the watchman beneath his
window, he used to get out of bed and raise
both his easement and his voice to protest
against the accuracy of the statement.
Read Pelham ; commenced it yesterday, and
concluded it to-day. It is a new style of novel,
and, like all that is very clever, will lead to
many copyists. The writer possesses a fe
licitous fluency of language, profound and just
thoughts, and a knowledge of the world rarely
acquired at his age, for I am told he is a very
young man.
This work combines pointed and pungent
satire on the foUies of society, a deep vein of
elevated sentiment, and a train of philosophical
thinking, seldom, if ever, aUied to the ten-

PARIS. 305
derness which pierces through the sentimental
part. The opening reminded me of that
of Anastatius, without being in the slightest
degree an imitation ; and many of the passages
recalled Voltaire, by their wit and terseness.
I, who don't like reading novels, heard so
much in favour of this one — for all Paris talk
of it — that I broke through a resolution
formed since I read the dull book of  ,
to read no more ; and I am glad I did so, for
this clever book has greatly interested me.
Oh, the misery of having stupid books pre
sented to one by the author!  , who is
experienced in such matters, told me that
the best plan in such cases was, to acknow
ledge the receipt of the book the same day
it arrived, and civilly express the pleasure
anticipated from its perusal, by which means
the necessity of praising a bad book was
avoided. This system has, however, been
so generally adopted of late, that authors
are dissatisfied with it; and, consequently, a
VOL. L X

306

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

good-natured person often feels compelled to
write commendations of books which he or
she is far from approving ; and which, though
it costs an effort to write, are far from satisfying
the exigeant amour propre peculiar to authors.
I remember once being present when the
merits of a book were canvassed. One person
declared it to be insufferably dull, when an
other, who had published some novel, observed,
with rather a supercilious air, " You know not
how difficult it is to write a good book ! "
" I suppose it must be very difficult," was
the answer, " seeing how long and how often
you have attempted, without succeeding."
How these letters of commendations of bad
books, extorted from those to whom the au
thors present them, will rise up in judgment
against the writers, when they are "gone to
that bourne whence no traveller returns ! " I
tremble to think of it! What severe ani
madversions on the bad taste, or the want of
candour of the writers, and aU because they

PARIS. 307
were too good-natured to give pain to the
authors !
Went to the Theatre Italien last night, and
saw Malibran in La Cenerentola, in which
her acting was no less admirable than her
singing. She sang " Non piu Mesta " better
than I ever heard it before, and astonished
as well as delighted the audience. She has
a soul and spirit in her style that carries away
her hearers, as no other singer does, and ex
cites an enthusiasm seldom, if ever, equalled.
Malibran seems to be as little mistress of
her own emotions when singing, as those are
whom her thrilling voice melts into softness,
or wakes into passion. Every tone is preg
nant with feeUng, and every glance and atti
tude instinct with truthful emotion.
A custom prevails in France, which is not
practised in Italy, or in England, namely, les
lettres de faire part, sent to announce deaths,
marriages, and births, to the circle of ac
quaintances of the parties. This formality is

308

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

never omitted, and these printed letters are
sent out to all on the visiting lists, except
relations, or very intimate friends, to whom
autograph letters are addressed.
Another custom also prevails, which is that
of sending bon-bons to the friends and ac
quaintances of the accouchee. These sweet
proofs d'amitiS come pouring in frequently,
and I confess I do not disUke the usage.
The godfather always sends the bon-bons and
a trinket to the mother of the child, and also
presents the godmother with a corbeille, in
which are some dozens of gloves, two or three
handsome fans, embroidered purses, a smeUing-
bottle, and a vinaigrette ; and she offers him,
en revanche, a cane, buttons, or a pin — in short,
some present. The corbeilles given to god
mothers are often very expensive, being suited
to the rank of the parties ; so that in Paris the
compliment of being selected as a godfather
entails no trifling expense on the chosen. The
great prices given for wedding trousseaux in

PARIS. 309
France, even by those who are not rich, sur
prise me, I confess.
They contain a superabundance of every
article supposed to be necessary for the toi
lette of a nouvelle mariee, from the rich robes
of velvet down to the simple peignoir de ma
tin. Dresses of every description and material,
and for all seasons, are found in it. Cloaks,
furs. Cashmere shawls, and all that is required
for night or day use, are liberally supplied ;
indeed, so much so, that to see one of these
trousseaux, one might imagine the person for
whom it was intended was going to pass her
Ufe in some far-distant cUme, where there
would be no hope of finding similar articles,
if ever wanted.
Then comes the corbeille de mariage, well
stored with the finest laces, the most delicately
embroidered pocket handkerchiefs, ^%S\s, fichus,
chemisettes and canezous, trinkets, smelling-
bottles, fans, vinaigrettes, gloves, garters ; and
though last, not least, a purse well fiUed to

310 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
meet the wants or wishes of the bride, — a
judicious attention never omitted.
These trousseaux and corbeilles are placed
in a salon, and are exhibited to the friends the
two or three days previously to the wedding;
and the view of them often sends young maid
ens — ay, and elderly ones, too — away with
an anxious desire to enter that holy state
which ensures so many treasures. It is not
fair to hold out such temptations to the un
married, and may be the cause why they are
generally so desirous to quit the pale of single
blessedness.

CHAPTER XIV.
Count Charles de Mornay dined here
yesterday, en famille. How clever and amusing
he is ! Even in his Uveliest sallies there is
the evidence of a mind that can reflect deeply,
as well as clothe its thoughts in the happiest
language. To be witty, yet thoroughly good-
natured as he is, never exercising his wit at
the expense of others, indicates no less kind
ness of heart than talent.
I know few things more agreeable than
to hear him and his cousin open the armoury
of their wit, which, like summer lightning,
flashes rapidly and brightly, but never wounds.
In England, we are apt to consider vrit and

312 the idler in france.
satire as nearly synonymous; for we hear
of the clever sayings of our reputed wits,
in nine eases out of ten, aUied to some ill-
natured bon mot, or pointed epigram. In
France this is not the case, for some of the
most witty men, and women too, whom I
ever knew, are as remarkable for their good
nature as for their cleverness. That wit
which needs not the spur of malice is cer
tainly the best, and is most frequently met
with at Paris.
Went last evening to see Mademoiselle
Mars in Henri 777. Her acting was, as usual,
inimitable. I was disappointed in the piece,
of which I had heard much praise. It is
what the French caU decousue, but is inter
esting as a picture of the manners of the times
which it represents. There is no want of
action or bustle in it; on the contrary, it
abounds in incidents: but they are, for the
most part, puerile. As in our own Othello, a

PARIS. 313
pocket handkerchief leads to the denoument,
reminding one of the truth of the verse, —
" What great events from trivial causes spring I "
The whole court of Henry the Third are
brought on the scene, and with an attention to
costume to be found only in a Parisian theatre.
This strict attention to costume, and to all the
other accessories appertaining to the epoch, mis
en seine, is very advantageous to the pieces
brought out here ; but, even should they fail
to give or preserve an illusion, it is always
highly interesting as offering a tableau de cos
tume, et des mceurs des siicles passes. The
crowd brought on the stage in Henri IIL,
though it adds to the splendour of the scenic
effect, produces a confusion in the plot ; as
does also the vast number of names and titles
introduced during the scenes, which fatigue
the attention and defy the memory of the
spectators. The fierce "Due de Guise," the slave at once

314 the idler in france.
of two passions, generaUy considered to be the
most incompatible. Love and Ambition, is
made to commit strange inconsistencies. "Saint
Megrin" excites less interest than he ought;
but the "Duchesse de Guise," whose beautiful
arm plays a grand role, must, as played by
Mademoiselle Mars, have conquered all hearts
vi et armis.
Henri IIL has the most brilliant success,
and, in despite of some faults, is full of genius,
and the language is vigorous. Perhaps its
very faults are to be attributed to an excess,
rather than to a want, of power, and to a mind
overflowing with a knowledge of the times he
wished to represent ; which led to a dilution
of the strength of his scenes, by crowding into
them too much extraneous matter.
A curious incident occurred during the
representation. Two ladies — gentlewomen
they could not be correctly styled — being
seated in the bakon, were brought in closer
contact, whether by the crowd, or otherwise.

PARIS. 315
than was agreeable to them. From remon
strances they proceeded to murmurs, not only
"loud, but deep," and from murmurs — "tell
it not in Ascalon, publish it not in Gath" — to
violent pushing, and, at length, to blows. The
audience were, as well they might be, shocked ;
the gens d'armes interfered, and order was
soon restored. The extreme propriety of con
duct that invariably prevails in a Parisian
audience, and more especially in the female
portion of it, renders the circumstance I have
narrated remarkable.
Met Lady C, Lady H., and the usual circle
of habitues last night at Madame C  's.
The first-mentioned lady surprises me every
time I meet her, by the exaggeration of her
sentiments and the romantic notions she en
tertains. Love, eternal love, is her favourite
topic of conversation ; a topic unsuited to dis
cussion at her age and in her position.
To hear a woman, no longer young, talking
passionately of love, has something so absurd

316 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
in it, that I am pained for Lady C, who is
really a kind-hearted and amiable woman.
Her definitions of the passion, and descrip
tions of its effects, remind me of the themes
furnished by Scudery, and are as tiresome as
the tales of a traveller recounted some fifty
years after he has made his voyage. Lady H.,
who is older than Lady C, opens wide her
round eyes, laughs, and exclaims, " Oh, dear I
— how very strange ! — well, that is so funny ! "
until Lady C. draws up with all the dignity of
a heroine of romance, and asserts that "few,
very few, are capable of either feeling or com
prehending the passion." A fortunate state
for those who are no longer able to inspire it !
To grow old gracefully, proves no ordinary
powers of mind, more especially in one who
has been (oh, what an odious phrase that
same has been is!) a beauty. WeU has it
been observed by a French vn-iter, that women
no longer young and handsome should forget
that they ever were so.

PARIS. 317
I have been reading Wordsworth's poems
again, and I verily believe for the fiftieth time.
They contain a mine of lofty, beautiful, and
natural thoughts. I never peruse them with
out feeling proud that England has such a
poet, and without finding a love for the pure
and the noble increased in my mind. Talk
of the ideal in poetry ! what is it in comparison
with the positive and the natural, of which
he gives such exquisite delineations, lifting
his readers from Nature up to Nature's God ?
How eloquently does he portray the feelings
awakened by fine scenery, and the thoughts
to which it gives birth !
Wordsworth is, par excellence, the Poet of
Rehgion, for his productions fiU the mind
with pure and holy aspirations. Fortunate
is the poet who has quaffed inspiration in
the purest of all its sources. Nature ; and
fortunate is the land that claims him for
her own.
The influence exercised by courts over the
habits of subjects, though carried to a less

318

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

extent in our days than in past times, is still
obvious at Paris in the display of religion
assumed by the upper class. Coroneted car
riages are to be seen every day at the doors
of certain churches, which it is not very un
charitable to suppose might be less frequently
beheld there if the King, Madame la Dau
phine, and the Dauphin were less religious;
and hands that have wielded a sword in
many a well-fought battle-field, and hold the
baton de marechal as a reward, may now be
seen bearing a lighted cierge in some pious
procession, — the military air of the intrepid
warrior lost in the humility of the devotee.
This general assumption of religion on the
part of the courtiers reminds me forcibly of
a passage in a poetical epistle, written, too,
by a sovereign, who, unlike many monarchs,
seemed to have had a due appreciation of the
proneness of subjects to adopt the opinions of
their rulers.
" L'exemple d'un monarque ordonne et se fait suivre :
Quand Auguste buvoit, la Pologne etoit ivre ;

PARIS. 319
Quand Louis Ie Grand bridoit d'un tendre amour,
Paris devint Cythere, et tout suivoit la oour;
Lorsqu'il devint devot, et ardent a la priere,
Ses laches courtisans marmotterent leur breviaire.''
Should the Due de Bordeaux arrive at
the throne whUe yet in the hey-day of youth,
and with the gaiety that generally accom
panies that period of Ufe, it will be amusing
to witness the metamorphosis that vrill be
effected in these same courtiers. There are
doubtless many, and I am acquainted with
some persons here, whose religion is as sin
cere and as fervent as is that of the royal
personages of the court they frequent ; but I
confess that I doubt whether the general mass
of the upper class would afiUcher their piety as
much as they now do if their regular attendance
at divine worship was less likely to be known
at the Tuilleries. The influence of a pious sove
reign over the religious feelings of his people
must be highly beneficial when they feel, instead
of affecting to do so, the sanctity they profess.

320 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
When those in the possession of supreme
power, and all the advantages it is supposed
to confer, turn from the enjoyment of them
to seek support from Heaven to meet the
doom allotted to kings as well as subjects,
the example is most salutary ; for the piety
of the rich and great is even more edifying
than that of the poor and lowly, who are
supposed to seek consolation which the pro
sperous are imagined not to require.
The Duchesse de Berri is very popular at
Paris, and deservedly so. Her natural gaiety
harmonises with that of this lively people ; and
her love of the fine arts, and the liberal patron
age she extends to them, gratify the Parisians.
I heard an anecdote of her to-day from
an authority which leaves no doubt of its
truth. Having commanded a brilUant pte,
a heavy faU of snow drew from one of her
courtiers a remark that the extreme cold
would impede the pleasure of the guests, who

PARIS. 321
would suffer from it in coming and departing,
" True," replied the Duchesse ; " but if they
in comfortable carriages, and enveloped in
furs and cashmeres, can suffer from the
severity of the weather, what must the poor
endure?" And she instantly ordered a large
sum of money to be forthwith distributed,
to supply fuel to the indigent, saying —
" While I dance, I shall have the pleasure of
thinking the poor are not without the means
of warmth."
Received a long and delightful letter from
Walter Savage Landor. His is one of the
most original minds I have ever encountered,
and is joined to one of the finest natures.
Liring in the delightful soUtude he has chosen
near Florence, his time is passed in reading,
reflecting, and writing ; a life so blameless
and so happy, that the philosophers of old,
with whose thoughts his mind is so richly
imbued, might, if envy could enter into such
hearts, entertain it towards him.
VOL, I. Y

322 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
Landor is a happy example of the effect
of retirement on a great mind. Free from
the interruptions which, if they harass not,
at least impede the continuous flow of thought
in those who live much in society, his mind
has developed itself boldly, and acquired a
vigour at which, perhaps, it might never have
arrived, had he been compelled to live in
a crowded city, chafed by the contact with
minds of an inferior calibre.
The Imaginary Conversations could never
have been written amid the vexatious inter
ruptions incidental to one mingling much in
the scenes of busy life ; for the voices of the
sages of old with whom, beneath his own
vines, Landor loves to commune, would have
been inaudible in the turmoU of a populous
town, and their secrets would not have been
revealed to him. The friction of society may
animate the man of talent into its exercise,
but I am persuaded that solitude is essential
to the perfect developement of genius.

PARIS. 323
A letter from Sir William Gell, and, like
all his letters, very amusing. Yet how dif
ferent from Lander's ! Both written beneath
the sunny sky of Italy, both scholars, and
nearly of the same age, nevertheless, how
widely different are their letters !
Gell's, filled with lively and comic details
of persons, seldom fail to make me laugh ;
Lander's, wholly devoted to literary subjects,
set me thinking. GeU would die of ennui
in the solitude Landor has selected ; Landor
would be chafed into irritation in the constant
routine of visiting and dining-out in which
Gell finds amusement. But here am I at
tempting to draw a paraUel where none can
be established, for Landor is a man of genius,
Gell a man of talent.
Was at the Opera last night, and saw the
Due d'Orleans there with his family. They
are a fine-looking flock, male and female, and
looked as happy as they are said to be.
I know no position more enviable than that

324 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
of the Due d'Orleans. Blessed with health,
a princely revenue, an admirable wife, fine
children, and many friends, he can have
nothing to desire but a continuance of these
blessings. Having experienced adversity, and
nobly endured the ordeal, he must feel with
an increased zest the happiness now accorded
to him, — a happiness that seems so full and
complete, that I can fancy no addition pos
sible to it.
His vast wealth may enable him to exercise
a generosity that even sovereigns can rarely
practise ; his exalted rank, while it places
him near a throne, precludes him from the
eating cares that never faU to attend even
the most soUdly estabUshed one, and leaves
him free to enjoy the happiness of domestic
Ufe in a family circle said to contain every
ingredient for creating it.
The fondest husband, father, and brother,
he is fortunate beyond most men in his domes
tic relations, and furnishes to France a bright

PARIS. 325
example of irreproachable conduct and well-
merited felicity in them all. In the posses
sion of so many blessings, I should, were I
in his position (and he probably does, or ho
is not the sensible man I take him to be),
tremble at the possibiUty of any event that
could call him from the calm enjoyment of
them to the giddy height and uneasy seat
of a throne.
The present king is in the vale of ycars,
the Dauphin not young, and the Due de
Bordeaux is but a child. Should any thing
occur to this child, then would the Due
d'Orleans stand in direct line after the
Dauphin. I thought of this contingency last
night as I looked on the happy family, and
felt assured that were the Due d'Orleans
called to reign in France, these same faces
would look less cloudless than they did then,
for I am one of those who believe that
" uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."
With a good sense that characterises the

326

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

Due d' Orleans, he has sent his sons to public
schools — a measure well calculated not only
to give them a just knowledge of the world,
so often denied to princes, but to render
them popular. The Due de Chartres is an
exceedingly handsome young man, and his
brothers are fine youths. The Princesses are
brought up immediately under the eye of
their mother, who is aUowed by every one
to be a faultless model for her sex.
The Due d'Orleans is said to be wholly
engrossed in the future prospects of his
children, and in insuring, as far as human
foresight can insure, their prosperity.
I have been reading Shelley's works, in
which I have found many beautiful thoughts.
This man of genius — for decidedly such he
was — has not yet been rendered justice to;
the errors that shroud his poetry, as vapours
rising from too rich a soil spread a mist
that obstructs our view of the flowers that
also spring from the same bed, have hindered

PARIS. 327
US from appreciating the many beauties that
abound in Shelley's writings. Alarmed by the
poison that lurks in some of his wild specu
lations, we have slighted the antidote to be
found in many others of them, and heaped
obloquy on the fame of a poet whose genius
and kindness of heart should have insured
our pity for the errors of his creed.
He who was all charity has found none
in the judgment pronounced on him by his
contemporaries ; but posterity w ill be more
just. The wild theories and fanciful opinions
of Shelley, on subjects too sacred to be ap
proached lightly, carry with them their own
condemnation; and so preclude the evil which
pernicious doctrines, more logically reasoned,
might produce on weak minds. His theories
are vague, dreamy, always erroneous, and
often absurd: but the imagination of the
poet, and the tenderness of heart of the man,
plead for pardon for the false doctrines of
the would-be philosopher; and those who

328

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

most admire his poetry wiU be the least dis
posed to tolerate his anti-religious principles.
As a proof that his life was far from being
in accordance with his false creed, he enjoyed,
up to his death, the friendship of some of
the most excellent men, who deplored his
errors but who loved and valued him.
WUliam Spencer, the poet, dined here yester
day. Alas ! he has " fallen into the sere and
yellow leaf," for though sometimes uttering
brilliant thoughts, they are " like angel visits,
few and far between ; " and total silence, or half-
incoherent rhapsodies, mark the intervals.
This melancholy change is accounted for
by the effects of an indulgence in wine, had
recourse to in consequence of depression of
spirits. Nor is this pernicious indulgence
confined to the evening, for at a dejeunS a
la fourchette at two o'clock, enough wine is
drunk to duU his faculties for the rest of
the day. What an unpoetical close to a Ufe
once so briUiant!

PARIS. 329
Alas, alas, for poor human nature ! when,
even though illumined by the ethereal spark,
it can thus sully its higher destiny. I thought
of the many fanciful and graceful poems so
often perused with pleasure, written by Mr.
Spencer amid the brilliant fetes in which
he formerly passed his nights, and where he
often found his inspirations. His was ever a
courtly Muse, but without the hoop and train
— a ball-room belle, with alternate smiles and
sentimentaUty, and witty withal. No out-burst
ing of passion, or touch of deep pathos, inter
rupted the equanimity of feeUng of those
who perused Spencer's verses; yet was their
absence unmissed, for the fancy, wit, and senti
ment that marked them aU, and the graceful
ease of the versification, rendered them pre
cisely what they were intended for, — les vers
de societe, the fitting volume elegantly bound
to be placed in the boudoir.
And there sat the pet poet of gUded salons,
whose sparkling saUies could once deUght

330 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
the fastidious circles in which he moved.
His once bright eyes, glazed and lustreless,
his cheeks sunken and pale, seeming only
conscious of the presence of those around
him when offered champagne, the excite
ment of which for a few brief moments
produced some flashing bon mot a propos de
rien passing at the time, after which his
spirits subsided even more rapidly than did
the bubbles of the wine that had given them
their short excitement.
It made me sad to contemplate this wreck ;
but most of those around him appeared un
conscious of there being any thing remark
able in his demeanour. They had not known
him in his better days.
I am often amused, and sometimes half-
vexed, by witnessing the prejudices that stiU
exist in France with regard to the EngUsh.
These prejudices prevaU m aU ranks, and
are, I am disposed to think, incurable.
They extend to tririal, as well as to more

PARIS. 331
grave matters, and influence the opinions
pronounced on all subjects. An example of
this prejudice occurred a few weeks ago, when
one of our most admired belles from London
haring arrived at Paris, her personal appear
ance was much canvassed. One person found
her too tall, another discovered that she had
too much embonpoint, and a third said her
feet were much too large. A Frenchman,
when appealed to for his opinion, declared
"Elle est tris bien pour une Anglaise," I
ought to add, that there was no EngUsh
person present when he made this ungallant
speech, which was repeated to me by a French
lady, who laughed heartUy at his notion.
If an Englishwoman enters a glover's, or
shoemaker's shop, these worthies wUl only
shew her the largest gloves or shoes they
have in their magasins, so persuaded are
they that she cannot have a smaU hand or
foot ; and when they find their wares too
large, and are compelled to search for the

332 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
smallest size, they seem discomposed as well
as surprised, and inform the lady that they
had no notion " une dame Anglaise could
want small gloves or shoes."
That an Englishwoman can be witty, or
brilliant in conversation, the French either
doubt or profess to doubt; but if convinced
against their wiU they exclaim, " C'est drole,
mais madame a I'esprit eminemment Fran-
gais," Now this no Englishwoman has, or,
in my opinion, can have ; for it is peculiar,
half-natural and half-acquired.
Conversation, in France, is an art success
fully studied ; to excel in which, not only much
natural talent is required, but great fluency
and a happy choice of words are indispensable.
No one in Parisian society speaks ill, and
many possess a readiness of wit, and a facUity
of turning it to account, that I have never
seen exemplifled in women of other countries.
A Frenchwoman talks weU on every sub
ject, from those of the most grave political

PARIS. 333
importance, to the derniire mode. Her talent
in this art is daily exercised, and consequently
becomes perfected ; while an Englishwoman,
with more various and solid attainments,
rarely, if ever, arrives at the ease and self-
confidence which would enable her to bring
the treasures vrith which her mind is stored
into play. So generally is the art of con
versation cultivated in France, that even those
with abilities that rise not beyond mediocrity
can take their parts in it, not only without ex
posing the poverty of their inteUects, but with
even a show of talent that often imposes on
strangers. An Englishwoman, more concentrated in
her feelings as weU as in her pursuits, sel
dom devotes the time given by Frenchwomen
to the superficial acquisition of a versatility of
knowledge, which, though it enables them to
converse fluently on various subjects, she
would dread entering on, unless weU versed
in. My fair compatriots have consequently

334 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
fewer topics, even if they had equal talent,
to converse on ; so that the esprit styled, par
excellence, I'esprit eminemment Frangais, is
precisely that to which we can urge the fewest
pretensions. This does not, however, dispose me to de
preciate a talent, or art, for art it may be
called, that renders society in France not only
so brilliant but so agreeable, and which is
attended with the salutary effect of banishing
the ill-natured observations and personal re
marks which too often supply the place of
more harmless topics with us.

CHAPTER XV.
Much as I deplore some of the consequences
of the Revolution in France, and the atrocities
by which it was stained, it is impossible not to
admit the great and salutary change effected
in the habits and feelings of the people since
that event. Who can live on terms of in
timacy vrith the French, without being struck
by the difference between those of our time,
and those of whom we read previously to that
epoch? The system of education is totally
different. The habits of domestic life are
whoUy changed. The relations between hus
band and wife, and parents and children, have

336

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

assumed another character, by which the bonds
of affection and mutual dependanees are drawn
more closely together ; and home, sweet home,
the focus of domestic love, said to have been
once an unknown blessing, at least among
the haute noblesse, is now endeared by the
discharge of reciprocal duties and warm sym
pathies. It is impossible to doubt but that the Revo
lution of 1789, and the terrible scenes in the
reign of terror which followed it, operated in
producing the change to which I have re
ferred. It found the greater portion of the
noblesse luxuriating in pleasure, and thinking
only of selfish, if not of criminal indulgence, in
pursuits equally marked by puerility and vice.
The corruption of the regency planted the
seeds of vice in French morals, and they
yielded a plentiful harvest. How well has
St. Evremond described that epoch in his
playful, but sarcastic verses ! —

PARIS. 337
" Une politique indulgente,
De notre nature innocente,
Favorisait tous les desirs ;
Tout gout paraissait legitime,
La douce erreur ne s'appellait point crime,
Les vices delicats se nommaient des plaisirs."
But it was reserved for the reign of Louis
the Fifteenth to develope still more exten
sively the corruption planted by his prede
cessor. The influence exercised on society
by the baleful example of his court had not
yet ceased, and time had not been allowed for
the reign of the mild monarch who succeeded
that gross voluptuary to work the reform in
manners, if not in morals, which his own per
sonal habits were so weU calculated to pro
duce. It required the terrible lesson given
by the Revolution to awaken the natural
feelings of affection that had so long slum
bered supinely in the enervated hearts of
the higher classes in France, corrupted
hy long habits of indulgence in selfish
VOL. L . 7

338 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
gratifications. The lesson at once awoke even
the most callous ; whUe those, and there were
many such, who required it not, furnished the
noblest examples of high courage and self-
devotion to the objects dear to them.
In exile and in poverty, when all extraneous
sources of consolation were denied them, those
who if still plunged in pleasure and splendour
might have remained insensible to the bless
ings of family ties, now turned to them with
the yearning fondness with which a last com
fort is clasped, and became sensible how little
they had hitherto estimated them.
Once awakened from their too long and
torpid slumber, the hearts purified by affiic-
tion learned to appreciate the blessings still
left them, and from the fearful epoch of the
Revolution a gradual change may be traced in
the habits and feelings ofthe French people.
Terrible has been the expiation of their former
errors, but admirable has been the result ; for
nowhere can be now found more devoted

PARIS. 339
parents, more dutiful children, or more at
tached relatives, than among the French
noblesse. If the lesson afforded by the Revolution to
the upper class has been attended «ith a salu
tary effect, it has been scarcely less advan
tageous to the middle and lower; for it has
taught them the dangers to be apprehended
from the state of anarchy that ever follows on
the heels of popular convulsions, exposing
even those who participated in them to in
finitely worse evils than those from which they
hoped to escape by a subversion of the legiti
mate govemment.
These reflections have been suggested by a
description given to me, by one who mixed
much in Parisian society previously to the
Revolution, of the habits, modes, and usages of
the haute noblesse of that period, and who is
deeply sensible of the present regeneration.
This person, than whom a more impartial
recorder of the events of that epoch cannot be

340 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
found, assured me that the accounts given in
the memoirs and publications of the state of
society at that epoch were by no means ex
aggerated, and that the domestic habits and
affections at present so universally cultivated
in France were, if not unknown, at least
neglected. Married people looked not to each other
for happiness, and sought the aggrandizement,
and not the felicity, of their children. The
acquisition of wealth and splendour and the
enjoyment of pleasure occupied their thoughts,
and those parents who secured these advan
tages for their offspring, however they might
have neglected to instil sentiments of morality
and religion into their minds, believed that
they had fully discharged their duty towards
them. It was the want of natural affection
between parents and children that led to the
cynical observation uttered by a French phi
losopher of that day, who explained the par
tiaUty of grandfathers and grandmothers to-

PARIS. 341
wards their grandchildren, by saying these
last were the enemies of their enemies, — a
reflection founded on the grossest selfishness.
The habit of judging persons and things
superficially, is one of the defects that most fre
quentiy strike me in the Parisians. This defect
arises not from a want of quickness of apprehen
sion, but has its source in the vivacity peculiar
to them, which precludes their bestowing suffi
cient time to form an accurate opinion on what
they pronounce. Prone to judge from the
exterior, rather than to study the interior
qualifications of those with whom they come
in contact, the person who is perfectly well-
dressed and well-mannered will be better
received than he who, however highly recom
mended for mental superiority or fine quali
ties, happens to be iU-dressed, or troubled
with mauvaise honte.
A woman, if ever so handsome, who is not
dressed a la mode, will be pronounced plain in
a Parisian salon ; while a really plain woman

342 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
wearing a robe made by Victorine and a
cap by Herbault, wiU be considered Iris bien,
ou au moins bien gentille. The person who
can converse fluentiy on aU the ordinary topics,
though never uttering a single sentiment or
opinion worth remembering, will be more
highly thought of than the one who, with a
mind abounding with knowledge, only speaks
to elicit or convey information. Talent, to be
appreciated in France, must be — like the
wares in its shops — fully displayed ; the French
give no credit for what is kept in reserve.
I have been reading Devereux, and like it
infinitely, — even more than Pelham, which I
estimated very highly. There is more thought
and reflection in it, and the sentiments
bear the stamp of a profound and elevated
mind. The novels of this writer produce a
totally different effect on me to that exercised
by the works of other authors ; they amuse
less than they make me think. Other novels
banish thought, and interest me only in the

PARIS. 343
fate of the actors; but these awaken a train
of reflection that often withdraws me from the
story, leaving me deeply impressed with the
truth, beauty, and originality of the thoughts
with which every page is pregnant.
All in Paris are talking of the esclandre
of the late trial in London ; and the comments
made on it by the French prove how different
are the riews of morality taken by them
and us.
Conversing with some ladies on this sub
ject last night, they asserted that the in-
frequency of elopements in France proved the
superiority of morals of the French, and that
few examples ever occurred of a woman being
so lost to rirtue as to desert her children
and abandon her home. " But if she should
have rendered herself unworthy of any longer
bemg the companion of her children, the
partner of her home," asked one of the circle,
" would it be more moral to remain under the
roof she had dishonoured, and with the husband

344 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
she had betrayed, than to fly, and so incur the
penalty she had drawn on her head ? " They
were of. opinion that the elopement was the
most criminal part of the affair, and that
Lady  was less culpable than many other
ladies, because she had not fled; and, conse
quently, that elopements proved a greater
demoralisation than the sinful liaisons carried
on without them.
Lady C  endeavoured to prove that the
flight frequently originated in a latent sense
of honour and shame, which rendered the
presence of the deceived husband and innocent
children insufferable to her whose indulgence
of a guilty passion had caused her to forfeit
her right to the conjugal home; but they
could not comprehend this, and persisted in
thinking the woman who fled with her lover
more guilty than her who remained under the
roof of the husband she deceived.
One thing is quite clear, which is, that the
woman who feels she dare not meet her

PARIS. 345
wronged husband and children, if she dis
honours them, wiU be more deterred from sin
by the consciousness of the necessity of flight,
which it imposes, than will be the one who
sees no such necessity, and who dreads not the
penalty she may be tempted to incur.
Lady C  maintained that elopements
are not a fair criterion for judging of the
morality of a country; for that she who sins
and flies is less hardened in guilt than she who
remains and deceives : and the example is also
less pernicious, as the one who has forfeited
her place in society serves as a beacon to warn
others ; while she whose errors are knovni,
yet still retains hers, is a dangerous instance
ofthe indulgence afforded to hardened dupli
city. It is not the horror of guilt, but the
dread of its exposure, that operates on the
generality of minds ; and this is not always
suffipient to deter from sin.
Les Dames de B  dined with us yester
day. They are very clever and amusing, and.

346

THE IDLER IN FRANCE.

what is better, are exceUent women. Their
attachment to each other, and devotion to
their nephew, are edifying ; and he appears
worthy of it. Left an orphan when yet an
infant, these sisters adopted their nephew,
and for his sake have refused many advan
tageous offers of marriage, devoting themselves
to forwarding his interests and insuring him
their inheritance. They have shared his
studies, taken part in his success, and entered
into his pains and pleasures, made his friends
theirs, and theirs his ; no wonder, then, that
he loves them so fondly, and is never happier
than with them, taking a lively interest in
all their pursuits.
These good and warm-hearted women are
accused of being enthusiasts, and romantic.
People say that at their age it is odd, if not
absurd, to indulge in such exaggerated notions
of attachment; nay more, to give such dis
interested proofs of it. They may well smile
at such remarks, whUe conscious that their

PARIS. 347
devotion to their nephew has not only secured
his happiness, but constitutes their own; and
that the warmth of affection for which they
are censured, cheers the winter of their lives
and diffuses a comfort over their existence
unknown to the selfish mortals who live only
for self.
They talked to me last night of the happi
ness they anticipated in seeing their nephew
married. " He is so good, so exceUent, that
the person he selects cannot fail to love him
fondly," said La Chanoinesse ; " and we will
love her so dearly for ensuring his happiness,"
added the other sister.
Who could know these two estimable women,
without acknowledging how harsh and un
just are often the sweeping censures pro
nounced on those who are termed old maids? 
a class in whose breasts the affections instinct
in woman, not being exercised by conjugal or
maternal ties, expand into some other channel;
and, if denied some dear object on which to

348 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
place them, expends them on the domestic
animals with which, in default of more rational
favourites, they surround themselves.
Les Dames de B  , happier than many
of the spinsters of their age, have an estimable
object to bestow their affections on; but those
who are less fortunate should rather excite
our pity than ridicule, for many and severe
must have been the trials of that heart which
turns at last, dans le besoin d'aimer, to the
bird, dog, or cat, that renders solitude less
lonely. The difference between servitude in England
and in France often strikes me, and more
especially when I hear the frequent complaints
made by English people of the insolence and
familiarity of French servants. Unaccustomed
to hear a servant reply to any censure passed
on him, the English are apt to consider his
doing so as a want of respect or subordina
tion, though a French servant does not even
dream that he is guilty of either when, accord-

PARIS. 349
ing to the general habit of his class and
country, he attempts an exculpation not alway.^
satisfactory to his employer, however it may
be to himself.
A French master listens to the explana
tion patiently, or at least without any demon
stration of anger, unless he finds it is not
based on truth, when he reprehends the
servant in a manner that satisfies the latter
that all future attempts to avoid blame by
misrepresentation will be unavaiUng. French
servants imagine that they have the right to
explain, and their employers do not deny it ;
consequently, when they change a French for
an EngUsh master, they continue the same
tone and manner to which they have been
used, and are not a little surprised to find
themselves considered guilty of impertinence.
A French master and mistress issue their
orders to their domestics with much more
familiarity than the English do ; take a lively
interest in their welfare and happiness ; advise

350 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
them about their private concerns ; inquire
into the cause of any depression of spirits,
or symptom of ill health they may observe,
and make themselves acquainted., with the cir
cumstances of those in their establishment.
This system lessens the distance maintained
between masters and servants, but does not
really diminish the respect entertained by the
latter towards their employers, who generally
find around them humble friends, instead of,
as vrith us, cold and calculating dependents,
who repay our hauteur by a total indifference
to our interests, and, while evincing all the
external appearance of profound respect, en
tertain little of the true feeling of it to their
masters. Treating our servants as if they were auto
matons created solely for our use, and who,
being paid a certain remuneration for their
services, have no claim on us for kindness
or sympathy, is a system very injurious to
their morals and our own interests, and re-

PARIS. 351
quires an amelioration. But while I deprecate
the tone of familiarity that so frequently shocks
the untravelled English in the treatment of
French employers to their servants, I should
like to see more kindness of manner shewn
by the EngUsh to theirs. Nowhere are
servants so well paid, clothed, fed, and lodged,
as with us, and nowhere are they said to
feel so Uttie attachment to their masters ;
which can only be accounted for by the erro
neous system to which I have referred.
 came to see me to-day. He talked
politics, and I am afraid went away shocked
at perceiring how little interest I took in
them. I like not poUtical subjects in Eng
land, and avoid them whenever I can; but
here I feel very much about them, as the
Irishman is said to have felt when told that
the house he was Uving in was on fire, and
he answered "Sure, what's that to me?  I
am only a lodger!"
 told me that France is in a very

352 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
dangerous state ; the people discontented,
&c. &c. So I have heard every time I have
visited Paris for the last ten years ; and as
to the people being discontented, when were
they otherwise I should like to know ? Never,
at least since I have been acquainted vrith
them ; and it will require a sovereign such as
France has not yet known to satisfy a people so
versatile and excitable. Charles the Tenth is
not popular. His religious turn, far from
conciliating the respect or confidence of his
subjects, tends only to awaken their suspicions
of his being influenced by the Jesuits — a sus
picion fraught with evil, if not danger, to
him. Strange to say, all admit that France has
not been so prosperous for years as at present.
Its people are rapidly acquiring a love of
commerce, and the wealth that springs from
it, which induces me to imagine that they
would not be disposed to risk the advantages
they possess by any measure likely to subvert

PARIS. 353
the present state of things. Nevertheless,
more than one alarmist like  shake their
heads and look solemn, foretelling that affairs
cannot long go on as they are.
Of one thing I am convinced, and that
is, that no sovereign, whatever may be his
merits, can long remain popular in France ;
and that no prosperity, however brilliant,
can prevent the people from those emeutes
into which their excitable temperaments,
rather than any real cause for discontent,
hurry them. These emeutes, too, are less
dangerous than we are led to think. They
are safety-valves by which the exuberant
spirits of the French people escape ; and
their national vanity, being satisfied with the
display of their force, soon subside into tran
quilUty, if not aroused into protracted riolence
by unwise demonstrations of coercion.
The two eldest sons of the Due and Duchesse
de Guiche have entered the College of St.
Barbe. This is a great trial to their mother,
VOL. I. A A

354 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
from whom they had never previously been
separated a single day. Well might she be
proud of them, on hearing the just eulogiums
pronounced on the progress in their studies
while under the paternal roof ; for never did
parents devote themselves more to the im
provement of their children than the Due
and Duchesse de Guiche have done, and
never did children offer a fairer prospect of
rewarding their parents than do theirs.
It would have furnished a fine subject for
a painter to see this beautiful woman, still
in the zenith of her youth and charms, walk
ing between these two noble boys, whose
personal beauty is as remarkable as that of
their parents, as she accompanied them to
the coUege. The group reminded me of Cor
nelia and her sons, for there was the same
classic tournure of heads and profiles, and the
same elevated character of spirituelle beauty,
that painters and sculptors always bestow on
the young Roman matron and the Gracchi.

PARIS. 35S
The Due seemed impressed with a sen
timent almost amounting to solemnity as he
conducted his sons to St. Barbe. He thought,
probably, of the difference between their boy
hood and his own, passed in a foreign land
and in exile ; while they, brought up in the
bosom of a happy home, have now left it for
the first time. Well has he taught them
to love the land of their birth, for even now
their youthful hearts are filled with patriotic
and chivalrous feelings !
It would be fortunate, indeed, for the King
of France if he had many such men as the
Due de Guiche around him — men vrith en
lightened minds, who have profited by the
lessons of adversity, and kept pace with the
rapidly advancing knowledge of the times to
which they belong.
Painful, indeed, would be the position of
this exceUent man should any circumstances
occur that would place the royal family in
jeopardy, for he is too sensible not to be

356 THE IDLER IN FRANCE.
aware of the errors that might lead to such
a crisis, and too loyal not to share the perils
he could not ward off; though he will never
be among those who would incur them, for
no one is more impressed vrith the necessity
of justice and impartiality than he is.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

LONDON :
PBINTED BY MOVES AND BARCLAY, CASTLE STEDET, LEICESTEB SftUAKE.

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