From my thatched mud apartment at Tinques, a miserable
village between St. Pol and Arras. May 26, 1816.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

In compliance with your request, I continue my little journal, and shall be glad if it afford you half the entertainment which you have been pleased to say the former part has done; for I fear that the most interesting of my adventures have already been recounted.

Having learnt, soon after my arrival at my quarters, that the whole division of Lieutenant-General Clinton was under orders to march on the 27th Dec., towards the frontiers of Belgium, I determined to pass the 25th and 26th in seeing the royal palaces and gardens in the vicinity. Accordingly, on the 25th, Christmas-day, after having attended the celebration of a high mass at the parish-church, which was assisted by the rude but solemn music of two immense serpents; and having witnessed something like a Roman Catholic religious procession, I went to see the park and waterworks of St. Cloud.

This park, as it is called, is very different to our English parks, being destitute of the fine open plains and lawns which are so common to them, and which, indeed, with an Englishman, are as essential to the existence of a park as its waving woods and sheets of water, or its animated groups of sheep and deer. It is nothing but an extensive grove of tall slender trees, like those of the groves in Kensington Gardens, with narrow avenues cut through it in several directions. There is, however, one very handsome mall, bordered by lofty stately trees, of a sufficient width to hold fifty men abreast, and having on one side a long row of little shops, like those on the public walk at Tunbridge Wells, which are filled with toys and trinkets during the three weeks' fair held here every September; and, on the other side, (at the bottom of a wall which forms this promenade into a kind of terrace,) flows the river Seine, which is here much wider than at Paris. This promenade is entered near the bridge of St. Cloud, by a handsome iron rail-fence, and leads to the cascades and basins of the water-works.

The boasted cascade, as I saw it, is not superior to that at Bramham Park in Yorkshire; and I dare say, to some others in England. Its frogs, and toads, and crocodiles of lead, which swarm in and about it, although, no doubt, they were esteemed vastly appropriate to the aquatic scene by M. le NÔtre, are so many hideous colossuses, which excite the disgust of the spectator, and his contempt of the false taste which created them for any place but the borders of the river Styx. There is, however, a most superb jet d'eau, which, as to its height, nearly 100 feet, must give, I suppose, to the Icelandic traveller, an idea of the celebrated geysers of that island.

I had no opportunity that day of seeing the interior of the palace; but, from all accounts, I have not thereby lost much, most of its furniture and paintings having been lately removed. It is situated above the park, on a steep eminence, and must have a most beautiful prospect of the meanderings of the river, and of Paris in the distance.

The next day I went to see another royal chateau at Meudon, near Sevres. Like that at St. Cloud, it stands upon a hill, and possesses almost the same view. This was the nursery of the little king of Rome, but appears to be now quite deserted, and much out of repair, the park having been lately occupied by the Prussian artillery. Its terraces, however, are in good order. They are very extensive; and under them are hot-houses and green-houses of every description. The hills in its neighbourhood are thickly planted with wood.

On my return I rode through the desolate courts of a large palace, near that of Meudon, formerly inhabited by a princess of the blood-royal, but now completely in ruins. The face of the country hereabouts consists of rocky hills, the sides of which are in general covered with vines or underwood. A sharp skirmish took place on these heights when the allies advanced to Paris, on which occasion the bridges at Sevres and St. Cloud were both blown up by the French, and are now only repaired in a temporary manner.

The next day, the 27th, after seeing major-general O'Callaghan's brigade, consisting of the 3d, or buffs, the 39th, and the 91st, march off for Chantilly and its neighbourhood, and having procured leave to join them after their arrival there, I returned with my friend Colonel —— to Paris, who did me the honour to dine with me at my hotel, after having been shopping together all the morning.

On my way to the HÔtel de Ville next day, I traversed many of the quays and ports by the river side; of which the largest is the Port au BlÉ, where the corn and flour brought by water to the Paris markets is landed. But, unlike the quays of London, these are quite large enough for the little traffic which appears to be carried on upon them. They have no warehouses; but here and there are wooden huts, which are the counting-houses of the merchants; and on the quays, almost close to the water's edge, you see immense stacks of hay, of straw, and of wood, and long rows of casks of wines and cider. The hay, thus exposed, often becomes wet; and I have more than once, in fine weather, seen the process of hay-making carried on upon these paved quays, but with what advantage to it I leave you to judge.

The HÔtel de Ville, or Town Hall, is an old-fashioned and apparently inconvenient building, of a quadrangular form, with a large court in the middle; but as Paris cannot boast of the tumultuous livery-meetings of London, it may perhaps be sufficiently large for its principal purpose, the transacting of the judicial business of the department. It forms one side of the Place de GrÈve, a spacious square in which the public executions are carried into effect.

On my return I looked into the church of St. Louis St. Paul, formerly belonging to the Jesuits. It appeared to me unusually plain, containing but two or three paintings; but it was enriched, prior to the revolution, by two most superb monuments, and several excellent pictures. The figures of these monuments, I understand, were of silver, having their draperies of the same precious metal gilt. They represented four angels of the human size, holding two gold hearts, containing the hearts of Louis XIII. and Louis XIV. The exterior of the building is very highly finished, but possesses no leading feature of much interest.

On the 29th I walked to one of the extremities of the town to see the large military hospital at the Val de GrÂce. It was originally built, I believe, for a monastery, and has been a very noble edifice, but it is now apparently out of repair. The chapel has been turned into a military storehouse, and the dormitories and other parts now form a sufficiently convenient military infirmary.

In the evening I went to the Opera: the performances were "IphigÈnie en Aulide," and "Flore et Zephyr." The music of the former is by Gluck, and consequently learned and elegant, while that of the ballet, of which I think I gave you an account in my last, is enchantingly delicious.

Having seen the ballet before, I devoted my whole attention to the music, by shutting my eyes and reclining on a vacant bench in the box, and I certainly never experienced more gratification of the kind, being now and then completely intoxicated by it. No doubt, you have sometimes felt the same effect in a degree, and can therefore well conceive the power which has been attributed to music by the ancient medical writers, upon the human mind, when it was less civilized, but consequently more susceptible of external impressions; indeed I almost literally believe what we hear of Orpheus upon this subject.

The next morning I went to the HÔtel des Monnaies, where I saw the collection of medals, which have been struck from time to time, in order to commemorate the great events France has experienced since the accession of Francis the first: they are of copper, and in general well executed. They may, however, be procured either of gold or silver, as I was informed by an English countess, who came there to make inquiries for some which she had ordered to be made for her.

That evening I could not resist the inclination once more to hear Madame Catalani, at the ThÉÂtre des Italiens. The opera was "Il Fanatico per la Musica," by Mayer, which has been often played in London. Catalina's singing is infinitely preferable to any other which I have heard in Paris, and, if I may judge from the manner in which the theatre was filled, her talents are duly estimated by the French. The house is not large, but newly and tastily decorated, and I dare say she is making money there; although her income, as proprietor of the theatre, is less sure than when in London she was performing at an enormous salary. No ballet is played at this theatre.

On Sunday the 31st I repaired to the celebrated gallery of the Palais de Luxembourg, in order to see the series of paintings, by Rubens, descriptive of the principal events in the life of Marie de Medicis, the queen of Henri IV. They are about twenty in number, all of a very large size, and in excellent preservation. They have been called Rubens' poem, and certainly with so much justice, that if an accurate description of them were made in verse, it could not fail of becoming in every particular an epic poem of the first order.

He has employed, with excellent judgment, a good deal of celestial machinery, as it is called, and so intelligibly, that any one the least versed in mythology can at once discover his meaning. I shall always quote this fine collection as a forcible proof of the very intimate alliance of painting to poetry; they are not merely sisters, they are twin sisters; and I now doubt whether Rubens, in the enjoyment of the former, had not a richer prize than even Milton in the possession of the latter.

There is another collection of smaller pictures here by Lesueur, which is also much talked of, but certainly very much inferior to that just noticed: it describes the life of St. Bruno, the founder of the order of Carthusians; but unlike Rubens' divine poem, this is a mere insipid matter-of-fact representation of the adventures of an individual, much less interesting, to the generality of spectators, than Dr. Syntax or Johnny Newcome.

In another wing of the palace there is a fine assemblage of views of the sea-ports of France, exquisitely painted by Vernet, and by Hue a living artist. In the view of Boulogne, by the latter, there existed a few months ago a very good likeness of Bonaparte at the head of his staff, ascending the heights on a review day: he was represented in the act of giving charity to a crippled soldier; but lately, his imperial countenance has been "transmogrified" to the ugly mug of Marshal Any-body.

There are also a few good modern statues, among which the Baigneuse, by Julien, is lovely, being almost equal, in my opinion, to the far-famed Venus de Medicis: the French are very proud of this statue; and indeed it must appear to every one, as it struck me, a first-rate production of human art. The fine marble staircase and the ceilings must also be noticed as very grand and striking.

The exterior of this palace, which is now the House of Peers, has nothing very remarkable. It is a large regular building of a pure style of architecture: but its gardens are almost as fine as those of the Tuileries; they are, however, in bad condition, owing to the encampment of the Prussians, which has only of late been broken up: they were in small wooden huts, built in the principal walks and avenues of the garden.

By the by, I must not omit to mention that in Rubens' gallery there was a carpenter at work, mending the inlaid floor, although Sunday; a pretty example of attention to the fourth commandment.

The church of St. Sulpice, of which I shall next take notice, is one of the finest structures of its kind in Paris. Its architecture is very chaste and beautiful, especially that of the interior, which has more the air of our great religious edifices than French churches usually have. It possesses many fine chapels, but the chapel of the Virgin is the most venerable looking spot I have ever seen. Indeed I was completely awe-struck by it, and almost instinctively returned, to experience again the pleasing calm which its first appearance had excited in me. Upon examining the outer wall of the building, I found that this effect was produced by the ingenious manner in which its altar piece, which is a chef d'oeuvre in sculpture, received its light: it is a statue of the Virgin and child, with a surrounding representation of clouds and little cherubs, placed in a niche, which is lighted by a small window over the head of the statue. The window is not discernible, but I suppose it is formed of ground glass, or something like it; at all events, the effect is almost magical, and although no catholic, I see no impropriety, in such a vortex of vice as Paris, in endeavouring by any means, even by an image or a painting, to abstract the human mind, for one short moment, to ideas above it.

This church, which is not old, I understand was one of Bonaparte's favourite churches, and to shew it to more advantage, he pulled down its surrounding houses, in order to form a large square before it, in the centre of which he erected a very handsome fountain.

Near this square is the École de MÉdecine, a large and noble building, enclosing an open court, from which you enter to the different lecture rooms. Its style of architecture is pure and manly, and its interior, as far as I could judge by looking through some of the windows, is conveniently arranged. I went thither intending to have heard one of Vauquelin's lectures on chemistry, but, it being holiday-time, there was no admission. The fountain near it is also worthy of notice, from its massive Grecian architecture, and its being a reservoir of the waters from the celebrated aqueduct at Arcueil, which, on account of their petrifying qualities, are brought to Paris, only, I suppose, to be used medicinally.

In the evening I accompanied two friends to the parterre of the Opera House. The performances were Les Badayeres and the ballet of Psyche: the music of the opera, by Catel, was but indifferent, and poor Psyche was too much bedeviled.

After the opera we resolved to end the year at the CafÉ de France, in the Palais Royal, where we supped, À la mode Anglaise, on oysters, bread and butter, and beer, to the apparent astonishment and amusement of not less than seventy or eighty Frenchmen.

On Monday, 1st January, I went a second time to the Jardin des Plantes, in order to see that part of the Museum of Natural History which I had not time to inspect on my former visit. But I found that the porter had gone holiday-making so I contented myself by observing the various live foreign animals which may be seen in various parts of the garden, enclosed in proper fences, and by ascending a prospect-mount, erected for the purpose of overlooking Paris and its environs, of which, the day being clear, I had a very fine view. Returning, I crossed the Pont du Jardin, formerly called the Pont d'Austerlitz, a noble bridge of iron upon stone abutments; this and the other iron bridge at Paris, the Pont des Arts, leading to the National Institute, are the only two where they demand toll from passengers.

I then walked all along the Boulevards to the Porte St. Denys, passing the beautiful fountain on the Boulevard de Bondi. This is very large and circular, and embellished with several well executed figures of lions couchants, whose mouths serve for the passage of the water. On my way I passed many groups of people all dressed in their best clothes, amusing themselves by looking at the drolleries of mountebanks and puppet shows, with which the Boulevards were swarming; others were playing at games of skill and hazard, while some were exercising in swings and round-abouts; indeed it was almost like an English fair, and it appeared to me that all Paris was merry-making, on account of the arrival of the new year.

In the evening I went to the ThÉÂtre de la GaietÉ, one of the minor playhouses, but it was so filled by holiday folks that the only vacant place was the stage box. This house is small and dirty, but the music and dresses were good. A great many people in the boxes were eating little holiday sweetmeats. On my return home I witnessed, for the first time, a slight disturbance in one of the streets, and some national guards about to break their way into a house.

The next day I repaired to the gallery of the Louvre, in order to see a collection of the celebrated porcelain exposed for sale there, from the manufactory at Sevres; and although I found that others were only admitted upon shewing an order from a certain duke, to whom I was referred, yet upon my telling the porter that I was a foreigner about to leave Paris the next day, he very civilly permitted me to walk up, without further trouble to his grace or myself. They shewed me several most superb vases of very large dimensions, and a portrait of Louis XVIII. as large as life, painted upon porcelain. I saw also a very beautiful desert service of landscapes and sea views, and an immense variety of inkstands, &c.; but as I am no great admirer of nick-nackery, I passed by them without observing further than that though the composition of this celebrated manufacture may be of a finer texture than ours made at Worcester and elsewhere, yet that they do not exceed us in the painting and gilding of it.

In the evening I went to witness one of the most abominable scenes which human nature can possibly present,—a gambling table—but not without having previously fortified myself against any attack which might induce me to partake of its horrible iniquity. I first entered into a large anteroom, in which were stationed two gens-d'armes, (for strange to say, these sinks of vice are licensed and protected by the French government,) and three or four men, one of whom asked me for my hat and stick, which he hung upon a peg at the top of the room by means of a long pole; near the peg was a number painted on the wall, and he gave me a small wooden ticket with the same number marked on it. I suppose there were at least 500 numbers, so extensive was this den. I then entered a large room, in which was a table surrounded by the wretches who confide in its dishonourable and ruinous traffic, upon some of whose countenances might easily be traced the inward distraction of their souls, while others, callous no doubt by use to its variable fortune, sat round it with a sottish kind of indifference. Each person had a short wooden hoe, with which he placed his stake upon the red or black, as he thought proper, and with which he brought his adversary's counters to him if he proved successful.

At each table, the men who presided, (the proprietors, I believe, of the table,) called the bankers, were well dressed, and near them lay long rouleaux of dollars and louis. There were three tables in three different rooms, for the convenience, it appeared to me, of the different classes of gamesters; of those whose customary stake was but a franc or two, as well as those who risked at each throw their ten or twenty louis. The greatest apparent discipline was observed, nor was there any noise or squabbling; and, from what a casual looker-on, like myself, could see, the chances of the game were nearly equal. This, however, cannot be the real case, or otherwise the proprietors of these places could not afford to pay the immense sums which they do to government for their licenses, which afford a very considerable revenue, there being a great number of them established in the Palais Royal.

The rooms were very much crowded and very hot, and I was soon glad to quit for ever such a scene, into which nothing but a natural, although perhaps not a laudable, curiosity had induced me to enter.

Repassing the entrance chamber, upon shewing my ticket and paying three or four sous to the Cerberus of this hell, I regained my hat and cane, and escaped a better man, I trust, than when I was admitted, inasmuch as I there received a lesson which will ever prevent me from resorting, under any circumstances, to a place where loss is ruin, and success dishonour.

I then went to the celebrated CafÉ des Mille Colonnes, but was disappointed in not seeing the beautiful LimonnadiÈre, who, I understand, was formerly a chere amie of Murat, and by whom she was enabled to become the proprietress of this expensive coffee-house. In her room, however, sat, like a wax figure, to be stared at by every one, a young woman of a tolerable degree of beauty, very superbly set off by trinkets of all descriptions, transferred to her, I believe, for the mere purpose of attraction, by her more beautiful predecessor. The coffee-room is very large, and fitted up with nothing but looking-glasses and imitations of marble. Near the centre is a copy of the Venus de Medicis, which, with its twenty or thirty columns and pilasters, is reflected in every direction; but it would be difficult to count, in any one part, its 1000 columns, or even 200 of them.

The next morning, 3d Jan. I started to join my regiment at Creil, but again returned to Paris upon duty, not having tasted any thing that day, from five in the morning until eleven at night, but a crust of bread and a glass or two of brandy; a slight privation, which rendered a cold fowl, a bottle of Burgundy, and a comfortable bed, the more cheering and acceptable.

Having accomplished the business which caused my return, I next day promenaded two or three hours in the gardens of the Tuileries, the St. James's Park of Paris. They are the boasted chef d'oevre of Le NÔtre, and in summer, no doubt, are very pretty. There are many fine statues, most of them copied after the most celebrated antiques, and four or five fountains, but which only play on holidays. I do not recollect to have seen any benches, which are so common on our promenades, but in their stead there are persons who let out chairs, by the hour, for two of which, I believe, you pay a penny.

Returning by the Boulevards, I saw, for the first time, some French cuirassiers, or heavy dragoons in armour: the cuirass is made of iron, and does not appear to be very inconvenient to the wearer, although I am told that the front and back pieces weigh together 24 pounds; but it would be a great improvement in the martial appearance of the men, if their large loose woollen breeches were concealed by something like the Highland kilt.

The same day I saw reviewed two battalions of the newly organized Garde Royale, formed principally from the old imperial guard, who distinguished themselves at the battle of Fleurus, as the French call our Waterloo; but I did not think much of their appearance. Their martial music was too noisy, the sound of their clarionets being overwhelmed by that of their drums and cymbals, which are too large and too often introduced.

In the evening I went to the house of a person styling himself the AbbÉ Faria, a professor of animal magnetism, in order to see its effects upon those persons susceptible of its influence. The AbbÉ is a stout muscular man, of a mulatto complexion, and of a countenance which has more of the knave than the fool in it. The room was filled with the best of company of all ages, among whom I met Mr. L. and his friend Count B. Previous to the AbbÉ's lecture and the exhibition of his powers, L. and myself were anxious to know if we were susceptible. He accordingly requested me to shut my eyes, and applied his finger to my forehead and temples; but he said I was too robust for his purpose, but that poor L., who I suppose was trembling as much as if Old Nick himself had put his claws upon his forehead, was susceptible. The Count, who, entre nous, appears to be a sound sterling man, was also deemed of too robust a habit.

After a short lecture, in which he affected to treat the subject in a rational philosophical point of view, and to talk very finely of the influence of the soul upon the body, and so forth, he called from the company a lad about sixteen years of age, who placed himself in a large easy chair in the centre of the room, and retiring himself three or four paces from him, asked if he wished to sleep,—Oui was the answer; accordingly the lad threw himself back upon the squab-lining of the chair, and in a few minutes after, fetching two or three deep sighs, was apparently in a sound sleep. He was asked if he slept tranquilly—he answered non, with the drawling tone of a person sleeping. The AbbÉ then advanced to the chair, and moving his hand with an air of command, said, "Calmez, calmez," loud enough to have awakened all the people in the room, even had they been sleeping as you and I sleep. After a short time, having answered Oui to the question Dormez vous profondÉment? the AbbÉ asked him how he felt,—whether his complaint in the chest was alleviated? to which he replied in the affirmative. He was next asked what must be done for a person afflicted with rheumatism, to which question he answered with the apparent judgment of Hippocrates; for you must know that a person when thus under the influence of somnambulism, as the AbbÉ chose to designate it, has the power of seeing the diseases, and of stating the proper remedies for them to any one of the company whom he may be desired to fix his attention upon.

The chair was now taken by a young lady, who did not fall asleep so soon as her predecessor, owing, as the AbbÉ said, to her too great agitation of mind. Two or three "Calmezs," however, tranquillized her, and she became a second Galen, answering to many questions upon the improving state of health of a young man who had been apparently dying of consumption, but restored by the wonderful operations of this fair enchantress and the black magician.

A French colonel then sat down, but his scepticism was at first too great to permit him to be influenced, for you must know that it requires implicit faith and great tranquillity of mind in order to be made susceptible. He got up in a profuse state of perspiration, without having had a glimpse even of this new light. A very stout gentleman next sat down, but professing himself an unbeliever of course arose again no wiser than at first. The French colonel now mustering all his faith, again disposed himself to be acted on, and consequently was so. He slept, however, uncomfortably, and the AbbÉ asked him if he would drink any thing to refresh him. He answered, Yes. The AbbÉ then gave him some plain water, which he told him was weak spirit and water with sugar, and asked him if he did not taste them. He said he tasted the spirit but not the sugar. He was asked if he saw his own heart—Yes. Is it in good order?—Yes. How are your lungs?—Bad. Do you wish to know what remedies are applicable for them?—Yes. Come to me again to-morrow at two o'clock—I cannot; I have an appointment at that hour. Come to me on Sunday—Very well; at two o'clock. The AbbÉ then awakened him "secundum artem," and asked him if he recollected any part of the conversation with him, to which, to the evident confusion of the AbbÉ, he replied that he was to come to him again on Sunday, but that he recollected nothing else.

A little girl of five or six years old was afterwards placed in the chair, but the AbbÉ could not affect her.

By the by, I have forgotten to state that he professed to have the power of paralyzing any part of the body merely by forcibly exclaiming Paralysez, as he did when the young lady was the subject of his skill; and that this magnetic sleep is so far from refreshing, that the young man who was under its influence not more than ten minutes, awoke yawning and quite exhausted by it. So much for animal magnetism, and its somnifying qualities, which, although many of the first class of Parisians have implicit faith in it, I have no doubt you will consider with me mere charlatanism.

The next morning, after lounging away two or three hours in the garden of the Tuileries and on the Boulevards, studying men and manners as they are exhibited in Paris, I went into one of the Panoramas, where I saw a view of Naples, represented under a hazy Mediterranean noon. The effect was good; but although I made due allowance for its having been painted seven years, it appeared much inferior as to execution and finishing to those we have seen in London. The comparison made me more than ever sensible of the merit of our ingenious countryman Barker.

On the 6th I ascended Mont Martre, and discovered the spot from which the panoramic view of Paris was taken which was exhibited in London two years ago; but the weather was so unfavourable, that I did not recognize its similarity to the scene before me so precisely as no doubt I otherwise should have done.

Returning, I went to see the foundation of a most superb religious edifice, which Bonaparte was about to complete, as a kind of military chapel, under the name of the Temple of Glory. It appears at present very like one of the celebrated ruins of Palmyra, being nothing more than a collection of the bases and lower parts of the shafts of its intended columns. But these are so justly proportioned, and so classically placed, that it is easy to conceive what would be its magnificent effect if ever finished.

It is also most advantageously situated, being at the end of one of the streets passing from the Place VendÔme, in the centre of which stands the celebrated triumphal column, erected to the glory of the French armies, and formed in great part of the cannon taken by them in Germany.

This pillar of vain glory is not so high as the Monument of London, nor so well terminated at the top. Like the ancient Roman columns, built for similar purposes, it is surrounded by a belt, encircling the shaft in a spiral direction, on which are represented the various actions of the campaign, that terminated with the battle of Austerlitz, and the occupation of Vienna. These bas-reliefs, however, although no doubt extremely flattering to French vanity, spoil altogether the architectural beauty of the column, and would certainly have been seen to more advantage on the interior of the walls of the Temple of Glory, or some such building.

The ThÉÂtre des Italiens, where Catalani performs, is a building deserving notice, as a fine piece of architecture; and, like the ThÉÂtre de l'Odeon, forms one side of a small square, which renders the approach to it safe and easy; for in this respect the Opera House and ThÉÂtre FranÇais are as inconveniently situated as our Drury-lane or Covent-garden. Speaking of the external appearance of the French theatres, the ThÉÂtre de l'Opera Comique ought not to be passed by without observing the well-sculptured caryatides which embellish its front.

The next day, Sunday, the 7th of January, I visited the Conservatoire des Arts et MÉtiers. This is an establishment in the old priory of St. Martin, for the deposition of all patent machines, which are here exhibited to the public for their improvement and amusement. Specimens also of the various manufactures of France in cotton, silk, wool, and leather, are here deposited, with the tools, utensils, and machines employed in making them.

One long gallery is filled with models of different manufactories, such as powder-mills, of which you see the graining-room, and drying-room, with the different implements so arranged as if the mill were actually at work. There are also brick and lime-kilns, iron-founderies, sawing-mills, splitting-mills, porcelain manufactories, and potteries, oil of vitriol works, and every kind of public manufactory, all made after a certain scale, and with such apparent precision, that they give perhaps to a spectator a more complete idea of their several uses than if he were in the very manufactories which they represent. I was amused by an immense collection of little windmills and watermills, both under-shot and over-shot, with their sieves, &c.

They exhibit also a great variety of lamps, oil being usually burnt in France, and many different kinds of locks, one of which, a door-lock, had an ingenious piece of mechanism attached to it, for the purpose of seizing any one by the hand who should attempt to pick it. But, in general, the show of locks, as well as every article of hardware and cutlery, was much inferior to the hard and sharp ware of English make.

The old church of the priory is filled with agricultural implements and fire-engines. The former, as far as I am a judge, are much ruder than ours; but different kinds of land must certainly require different kinds of ploughs and harrows, &c. The fire-engines are numerous, among which I observed one of Bramah's. I saw too a very clever kind of fire-escape, consisting of a series of ladders, of different widths, which are placed upright on a small truck running on four low wheels, and which, when brought to the required situation, are worked up one above another to any height, by the means of a windlass. Among a variety of very beautiful time-pieces, one is remarkable for the complicated structure of its pendulum. This is made upon the old English principle, of two self-correcting metals, which you know thus keep it of the same length in all temperatures and climates; but the different pieces of metal are joined together in a curious manner, the use of which I do not understand. The ball of this pendulum is a little chronometer, keeping, they say, exact time with the large one, which itself preserves in motion. To another time-piece, made by a German, there is attached on the top a very pretty little orrery, inclosed in a glass sphere, on which are engraved, with fluoric acid, the different, constellations, &c. Here is also the car in which was performed the first aËrial voyage ever undertaken; but it is a clumsy, heavy thing, of the size and shape of a large slipper-bath.

On Monday, the 8th of January, I left Paris with regret, but with the hope of again visiting it, and joined my regiment at Creil, a poor dirty town, near Chantilly, where I was obliged to content myself with a nasty unfloored apartment in a miserable auberge. During the first fortnight I scarcely stirred from the house, the surrounding country being all under water.

On the 28th of January, having received orders to march for the frontiers, I left Creil, after sojourning there three weeks, during which nothing occurred to me worthy of notice, but a trip to Chantilly, the former residence of the Prince de CondÉ. But little now remains of that which was undoubtedly the finest chateau in France, excepting the stables, and their necessary accompaniments, then occupied by a detachment of our waggon train, being large enough for the accommodation of 300 horses. They are at some distance from the high road, from which they look like the chateau itself. A book is published, with twenty descriptive plates, giving an account of the chateau and grounds as they formerly existed, a copy of which I purchased on the spot.

At Amiens, where I had leave to halt for a few days, I by good luck got myself billeted on the house of a young gentleman with whom I travelled from Boulogne sur Mer on my first arrival in this country. I found his father a sensible, well-educated man, but low and desponding on account of the general distressed state of his commercial connexions, and his mother an active domestic woman, although of a rich and superior family. Being received with great cordiality, I of course found myself very comfortable. With this family I might have boarded for four Napoleons per month, including every thing,—about 40l. per annum[1].

Amiens is a fine old town, they say of 60,000 inhabitants; but unless they are closely packed, I should think of not more than 40,000. It is clean, but dull; and there is only one public building worthy of notice, the cathedral. This is certainly very fine, but wants a lofty spire or a handsome tower to make it what it ought to be. It was built by the English, when the good Henry VI. was King of France, and in many parts resembles the edifices in England erected during the same period, especially in its nave, which the French speak of proverbially, and which I think is the only part of English fabrication. It is in the form of a cross, as usual, and has two low square towers at the west end; these have an awkward appearance, and are badly proportioned to the rest of the building, the one being lower considerably than the other, but why I do not know, the necessity of this deviation from architectural uniformity not being sufficiently evident to pass with me as faultless. The grand entrance is highly ornamented by an immense number of sculptured busts and animals, with full-length figures. The interior of the nave is very chaste and elegant, and the wood-work of the stalls in the choir is the best finished thing of the kind I ever saw.

There are a few good paintings and statues in the chapels, among which the statue of the Enfant Pleurant is well worthy of admiration. It is placed behind the high altar, and was erected to the memory of some former prior of the cathedral, but it is unfortunately damaged a little. The stained glass windows are also good and appropriate.

Amiens has been a regularly fortified town; but nothing now remains of its works except an old defenceless citadel, and its ruined ramparts. Strangers are however denied access to the citadel, as is generally the case in the fortified towns of France, although it merely serves at present for a barrack to the legion of the department. The ramparts, or boulevards, have been planted, and are a pretty promenade. Amiens is situated on the Somme, the stream of which, although small here, is very rapid, and turns several mills in the city and vicinity. It intersects the town in many parts, and affords more opportunities of cleanliness than the inhabitants take advantage of. I went twice to the theatre-once to the parterre for a franc; and another night took the gentleman on whom I was billeted to the boxes, paying two francs for each. The company is very good, and the house convenient and tastily decorated.

Here also is a place like our Exeter 'Change; but the goods there exposed are very far inferior to ours in every respect. The corn market is the only other building of note, besides an old hospital, the HÔtel Dieu.

After a week's residence at Amiens, I came on to St. Pol, and found my regiment quartered in its neighbourhood, in the most miserable dirty villages I suppose you ever knew; at one of which, from whence I now write, I took up my abode, with the requisite resignation to my lot, content with a good wood fire, a mattress or two, and a sound thatched roof.

On the 18th of March I set out for Cambray, through Arras and Douay, the two principal cities in this neighbourhood. Arras contains about 20,000 inhabitants, but is irregularly built, and badly paved. It possessed formerly a very handsome cathedral, which, I believe, with all its churches, except one, were demolished by the frenzy of the revolutionists, during the reign of terror, as it is now and then called. A new one in its place has been commenced, but has not been proceeded with for many years. When completed, it will be a very superb edifice, of Grecian architecture.

The library, which belonged to the clergy of the late cathedral, is still in good preservation, and in a very handsome building which formed part of the accompanying Abbey of St. Wast. Most of the books are theological; but there are also some good collections of prints and manuscripts. At one end there is a paltry museum of subjects in natural history, "an alligator stuffed," a comb which formerly formed part of the toilette of King Dagobert, one of the first race of French monarchs, and with which I arranged my dishevelled locks, an old queen's shoe, and a few other paltry antiquities not worthy notice.

The theatre at Arras is dirty, and the company bad; but there are occasionally very good concerts, at one of which I was much diverted with the attempt of an amateur to amuse the audience by his singing, which undoubtedly he did, but not in the manner his egregious vanity led him to suppose.

A Mademoiselle Noyen was the principal singer, and certainly of no mean talents. She was living at the same hotel where I chanced to be, and I had frequent opportunities of listening to her as she was practising her lesson for the evening.

Arras is one of the towns on which Marshal Vauban exercised his uncommon talents as an engineer. It is one of the largest fortresses in France, but, with the exception of the citadel, might easily be taken by the present mode of warfare. I was at least an hour walking round its ramparts, which are still kept in pretty good condition. In consequence of being formerly thought impregnable, one of the gates long bore this inscription:

It was, however, taken by Louis XIII.; and this distich was then modified by removing the p from the word prendront, thus making it rendront. Arras formerly belonged to the Spaniards, who built a very large square, surrounded by piazzas and shops, or magazins. There is also a smaller square, at one end of which is the HÔtel de Ville, a very fine old structure, with an immensely high tower, surmounted with a large sculptured crown of excellent workmanship. The barracks are spoken of as the best in France, but they are apparently much less convenient than those of the fortified towns in England.

On the 20th I set out in the diligence for Douai, at six o'clock in the morning; and although its distance from Arras is not more than six leagues and a half, I was five hours on the road. Douai is a large city, of 15,000 souls, but capable of containing many more, being in a great measure deserted. It is strongly fortified, but the works are rapidly hastening to decay. Here is a large handsome square, the streets also are well paved, and have the rare convenience of a raised foot-pavement in many of them. But the weather was so rainy, that I proceeded as quickly as possible to Cambray in a returning cabriolet, which luckily I found at the hotel. The Danish contingent of 5000 men, commanded by the Prince of Hesse, was in the neighbourhood. They appeared very well liked by the inhabitants on whom they were billeted, who styled them braves gens. Like the English, they wear a red uniform, and are very well appointed; but their knowledge of the modern art of war, like Michael Cassio's, can be "but from bookish theory."

I reached Cambray about five o'clock, but found it so full of English, it being the head-quarters of the army, that I went to two inns, and could not find house-room. I then applied for a billet on some inhabitant from the British commandant, but he was a little sulky at being intruded upon after office-hours, so I determined upon trying for admission at some other inn, and found a good table d'hÔte and clean bed-room at the Petit Canard, with tolerable company, and reasonable charges[2].

Cambray is not a handsome town: the large Place is irregularly built; and there is not one public building of any beauty. The cathedral has been destroyed, nothing of it having escaped but an old long building, which is now a kind of picture-gallery, where there are a few small good scriptural pieces, the coffin containing the ashes of the immortal Fenelon, and a monument to the memory of some former bishop. There is a plain marble bust of Fenelon at the foot of his coffin, which is placed upon a stand at one end of the room. The coffin is quite plain, of oak, bound round here and there with red tape, and sealed with the seal of the bishoprick. The frail old tenement, in which the remains of this beautiful writer are deposited, I believe is inclosed in this outer one, which I kissed with a literary veneration.

The abbey church of St. Sepulchre is worthy of notice on account of some very excellent paintings, executed to represent marble bas-reliefs attached to the walls; the deception is the most complete I ever witnessed, one more especially in the sacristy.

The barracks were occupied by the guards, who astonish the natives by the prodigal use of their money; but they were, nevertheless, not in much estimation by the gentry of Cambray and its neighbourhood, being, I suppose, too high to submit to the suppleness of French manners, which require a bon jour and a doff of the hat at every rencontre. Cambray is one of the strongest places in our possession. I walked round the citadel, and examined that part of the wall where the British escaladed, under the command of Sir William Douglass, upon the last march of the allies to Paris. The storming party bivouaced the night previous to the assault in a burying-ground, just without the Valenciennes gate, to which many a poor fellow returned next night to bivouac eternally! I went in the evening to an instrumental concert at the HÔtel de Ville, where the apparent gentility and beauty of the audience vied with the precision and execution of the orchestra. Cambray is well supplied with fish and vegetables, at a very low rate.

Next day I returned by another road on foot to Arras, in company with a fellow-pedestrian, whom I overtook on my road, not displeased with my little excursion.

On the 27th of April I proceeded to Bethune from Arras on foot, preferring this mode of travelling to that by the diligence, in which you are almost completely prevented from seeing any part of the country through which you are travelling; the glass window, which just serves for the admission of a little light, not being above eight or ten inches square. The day was fine, the road good, and the prospect from it beautiful, looking over an immense extent of a fine corn country, thickly studded with towns and villages, and their surrounding woods, bounded by lovely blue hills, which I contemplated with my telescope in perfect rapture.

"Heavens! what a goodly prospect spreads around!"

The colouring was just like that of Teniers; and here I first felt the real value of his productions.

Bethune is a small but very strong town, containing nothing remarkable but its chime of bells and old brick church. The former play every quarter of an hour; and the hour is twice sounded, once at the proper time, and once, by way of warning, half an hour before. I returned next day, taking in my way the ruined abbey at Mont St. Eloy, near Arras, another mournful victim of the revolution.

I here close my little narration, and shall soon set out in search of more novelty, but in what direction I have not yet determined. Hoping this, however, may not prove uninteresting, I remain always,

Your affectionate friend.

Hesdin, between St. Pol and Montreuil, 6th of June, 1816.

P.S. The foregoing letter has been hitherto unavoidably detained, but I have now an opportunity of sending it to you from this place, where I am on an excursion to see the fields of Cressy and Agincourt, so interesting to an Englishman.

The rain has fallen in torrents ever since I came here: not having therefore a fair opportunity to judge of this town, I can tell you no more, than that it is said to contain 4,000 inhabitants, and that it is fortified. Indeed in this part of the country, you cannot journey five leagues in any direction, without finding yourself stopped at the gates of some fortified place, for the revision of your passports. Pointing to the hilt of the sword will not now suffice as before.

Once more adieu, my dear friend! Believe me ever

Most truly yours,

[1]

And I saw also an excellent lodging, fit for any gentleman's family, at 6l. per month.

[2]

Some of our officers here board with the people on whom they are quartered for the trifling sum of two francs per diem, 1s. 8d. English, dining at their own hour, and in very handsome style; but then they drink beer instead of wine, which is reckoned very dear in this part, two or three francs per bottle.

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