Art. VI. Paris in Eighteen Hundred and Two, and Eighteen Hundred and Fourteen. By the Rev. William Shepherd. Second edition. cr. 8vo. pp. 284. price 7s. 6d. London. Longman and Co.

1814.

THE highly respectable Author of this amusing production, apprises his readers in the Preface, that it purports only 'to show how an individual, limited in point of time and property, may pleasantly and profitably spend a few weeks in Paris.' It is accordingly written in the unaffected style of a journal, and contains the lively observations and intelligent remarks of a man of taste and erudition, made en passant, and given as they occurred, without any attempt to exhibit himself either as a savant or un homme d'esprit. To persons who intend visiting the capital of France, this volume will supply many useful hints; and to those to whom the gratification of the epidemic curiosity which prevails, to see the other side of the channel, is denied, it may, perhaps, answer a still more valuable purpose; for it not only makes us acquainted with all that is to be seen at Paris, but it informs us also how little that all comprises, worth the trouble and expense of the expedition.

Paris, at different periods, has certainly been an object of high interest; but we are not aware that the transactions which have made it so, have been of a nature to confer any strongly attractive charms of association on its walls. Frivolity, and bloodthirsty cruelty, have alternately distinguished the manners of its inhabitants. Other cities have either some classical, or religious, or at least some historical associations connected with them, by which they speak to the feelings; some benefactor of mankind was born within its walls, or the mighty dead lie entombed within its sanctuaries. But the strong recollections which absorb the mind on entering Paris, are those of revolutionary frenzy, or of imperial tyranny; or, if the mind reverts to a former period, ideas of massacre, of irreligious fury, and of exterminating bigotry, present themselves. The sensations with which one would contemplate Paris, might seem to bear some resemblance to those with which we should explore the crater of a volcano, while the lava on its sides is yet warm, and the half smothered rumblings of internal fires is still heard beneath. And the reflections which naturally arise on seeing the childish fondness and security with which the people seem to be building up again their fragile and glittering establishments on the very site of the ruins of former érections, partake in some degree of that surprise and melancholy with which the traveller beholds the cottages of the peasants cresting the mountain in the very channel of its fiery torrents.

Paris is still, however, in some respects, an object of high cu

riosity; and chiefly from the spoils, with which rapacious vanity has enriched it, at the expense of other countries. To the man of letters, or of taste, to the author, or the artist, the opportunities and peculiar advantages it affords for study or research, render it at least a desirable temporary residence. The galleries and museums constitute its principal attraction. When to these are added, its theatre, the Louvre, and within the reach of a pleasant ride in its vicinity, the Palaces of Versailles, St. Cloud, and Trianon, we apprehend its peculiar sources of amusement are all enumerated. The climate of France is, indeed, in itself a luxury; but to the man of pleasure, all climates are much the same; and the beauties of nature are among the last objects, for which our countrymen think of visiting France.

Some of the most interesting details of Mr. Shepherd's work, relate to the sentiments which he heard from the various descriptions of persons with whom he had intercourse, and which may be considered as indicative of public feeling. Some anecdotes are given, strikingly characteristic of the people. The reason assigned by a demoiselle for her detestation of Buonaparte, is natural enough: Parcequ'il a fait tuer tous nos amans.' The mass of the people, Mr. S. deems friendly to the Bourbons. They were so oppressed by Buonaparte, he says, and the conscription in particular, made such inroads upon their domestic comforts, that though their joy is by no means extravagant, they are glad to see the throne filled by a monarch of a mild disposition, and of a pacific character. His government, however, must be that of influence: it cannot be maintained by force.

We have thought it unnecessary to give any extracts from this publication, as we have no doubt our readers will, from the account we have given of it, be desirous of examining its contents for themselves.

Art. VII. Letters from a Lady to her Sister, during a Tour to Paris, in the months of April and May, 1814. 12mo. pp. 160. price 4s. Longman and Co.

THE point of time at which this lady visited Paris gives its

interest to her simple narrative. She is anxious that it should be understood that these letters are genuine, and that they were not written with any view to publication. Of this there is sufficient evidence in the careless, unaffected style in which they are written. The manner in which the scenes are described, is that of an eye witness, writing under the first lively impressions of wonder, and agitation, and vague delight, which their almost romantic nature, and rapid succession, were calculated to excite on a mind not deeply reflective. The modest apology contained in the Preface, precludes all criticism on this hasty

performance. We should imagine they are the Letters of a very young Lady; as such they can hardly fail to be amusing.

This lady was fortunate enough to obtain a ticket for the cathedral at Notre Dame, at the entrée of Louis XVIII. into Paris. We subjoin her description of the spectacle, as a specimen of the performance.

Soon after eleven, every one began to be anxious, and listening to every sound About one o'clock, we heard the distant roll of cannon, which increased until the feelings were wrought up to the highest pitch of expectation. Gradually the sound of drums, and the exclamations of the populace were heard, swelling until the burst of applause, the cries of Vive, Vive le Roi! gave us the welcome intelligence that the procession was near. At a quarter past two it arrived. Never can I forget the deep impression it made on my heart! The sacredness of the place was no restraint; but every heart, every voice exclaimed as they entered, "Vive Vive le Roi!' The cathedral echoed with the bursts of applause and delight.-Many ladies threw themselves on their knees as the king passed, and all waved their handkerchiefs. When the "Domine salvum fac Regem" began, which was not only performed by the choristers, but joined by the whole congregation, it was more deeply affecting than I can describe. Uninterested as it might be supposed that I felt, wept like an infant; and entered as sincere y into the feelings of the moment as any Frenchman in Notre Dame.' pp. 51–52.

The Parisians are notorious for their want of sincerity, and I cannot pretend to defend them, yet never did I witness more genuine affection and joy than in the circle where I sat in Notre Dame.

Their feelings were elevated almost to wildness and I confess, proud as I ever am of being born an English woman, I never felt more happy, more gratified on this account, than on that day. Every one was eagerly endeavouring to speak or look at the English, and when the King entered, many pressed forward and said to us, "We owe all these blessings to you," and could I be an English woman born, and not be delighted at such a moment! I would not have bartered my little simple hat for all the towering plumes or jewels in the world! I would not have exchanged my common English face, to have been the most celebrated belle on the Continent! Oh! how proud, how vain did I feel! yet not on my account, but for dear happy England!' pp. 54-55.

Art. VIII. A Letter from Paris, to George Petre, Esq. By the Reverend John Chetwode Eustace: Sixth Edition, 8vo. pp. 98. Price 4s. Mawman, 1814.

AND

what says Mr. Eustace to Paris? The readers of his Classical Tour through Italy, will naturally expect to find, in a Letter from him, the characteristic marks of no superficial observer; and to obtain that sort of information which is elicited by reflection from the scenes and occurrences beheld alike by all travellers, and detailed, perhaps, in their

journals, but which only a philosophic mind can convert into real knowledge, by tracing their meaning and their bearings on the past and on the future. It is but a small portion of anl object, which the eye actually perceives;-the mere outline and shading, are all that are received on the retina, its size, its distance, its latent or impalpable qualities, the species to which it is to be referred, the use to which it may be applied, all these are taken in apparently at a glance of observation, but they are in fact, perceived as the result of habits of experience and judgement; and to the mind, not previously exercised upon them, they would be imperceptible. Equally imperfect, as a representation of the thing, is the simple impression received by observation, of the circumstance, or scene, or person, that comes before us: its nature, its origin, its relations, which constitute the most essential part of its identity, are visible only to the contemplative mind. Mr. Eustace is no ordinary observer. He is rather liable to err in seeing, from the force of imagination, more than actually attaches to the reality, instead of overlooking any thing which comes before him. His Letter contains a series of observations rather than of matter of fact details; and it is to us so much the more interesting.

France, (he observes,) during the space of twenty-four years, has passed through all the gradations of revolution and rebellion, of civil and external war, of anarchy and despotism, of republican and military government. In the progress of revolutionary madness, a plan was formed the most daring and the most sacrilegious ever conceived, of annihilating all the institutions of thirty million of people; of suppressing all that had previously existed, and replacing the whole religious and civil system, by new and unauthorized whims and theories. Thus an attempt was made to strike out one link in the chain of generations, to separate man from his God and his ancestors, to deprive him of all the lights of history, and all the benefits of experience, and to let him loose upon himself and his fellow creatures, untutored, undisciplined, without any guide but passion, any impulse but interest.' p. 1, 2.

This system of complete disorganization was carried on through every period and by every party that succeeded each other during the whole revolution; sometimes indeed with less publicity, but always with equal art and perseverance. To trace the effects of such a system operating for a considerable time on a country of such extent and population, is part of the occupation of a traveller, who looks beyond mere amusement, and endeavours to turn the excursion of the season to some permanent advantage. With this object in view, you will peruse the following observations.' p. 3. He thus characterizes the scenery of France.

:

The scenery of France, as that of the continent in general, is upon a larger scale than the scenery of England. The vales spread

wider; the hills form more extensive swells; there are no hedges or divisions; and the trees are either collected in clumps and masses round the villages, or form large woods and forests that sweep over hills and dales, and sometimes shade the whole horizon with a dark border. The roads are generally lined either with fruit trees, or lofty elms, sometimes in double and triple rows. These rows, however, as there are no fences, do not obstruct the view; and the eye may generally range over an immense tract of plains and hills, of wood and tillage, and not unfrequently expatiate over an ocean of corn waving for miles around without interruption, and presenting no other variety than the tints which its own motion and the passing clouds cast over it. Cultivation, if we except the neighbourhood of Paris, seems to have been carried on every where with the utmost vigor; and not a spot of earth appears to have escaped the vigilance and the industry of the husbandman.* Roads wide, straight, generally paved in the middle, and always excellent, intersect this scene of fertility, and conduct the traveller from post to post with ease and rapidity.' p. 4, 5.

So far the picture is pleasing: but its colors will lose much of their brilliancy when I inform you, that the villages and towns are crowded with beggars, and that whenever you stop, your carriage is instantly surrounded with a groupe of objects the most miserable and disgusting. In a country where the poor and distressed are abandoned to the charity of individuals, the number of mendicants must be greater than in one where public provision is made for the suffering class: this is true; yet the number, who in France fall under that denomination, seems to me far beyond the usual proportion, especially as idleness in a country so well cultivated, can scarcely be the cause of such poverty; nor is it a mere pretence employed to extort donations, as the haggard looks, the nakedness, and oftentimes the ulcers and the deformities of the claimants too clearly prove its reality. In truth, there is great poverty in France; and however fertile the soil, a very small portion of its produce seems to fall to the lot of the common people.' p. 6, 7.

Mr. Eustace adds, that besides this poverty, there is also a great appearance of depopulation, which is especially evidenced by the ruinous state of most of the towns. The operations of agriculture are carried on by old men, women, and children; (there are supposed to be twelve women to oue effective man!!) and few, indeed, he adds, of any other description, are to be seen, either in the fields, on the roads, or in public places.

* I speak here not of the real but of the apparent cultivation. I suspect that our English farmers would discover much bad husbandry; the breed of cattle, of sheep, of swine, is most strikingly bad: and the quantity of stock very small indeed. An observation which, however, I do not mean to extend beyond the country between Calais and Paris.' Eustace's Letter, p. 5, Note..