for his extensive and antiquarian erudition, and particularly for his cultivation of the Arabic and Chinese languages. Mr. Weston does not, like Mr. Shepherd, affix to his work a general and comprehensive title, but merely professes to give some account of the French capital; so that, if it be not as complete as some of his friends may wish, this saving clause protects him from censure on this head. His report, composed from excursive memoranda, is written with all the carelessness of pocket-book notes; in which recent observations are blended with classical references, virtú with mineralogy, and French literature with a critique on the mode of constructing a Chinese dictionary. The poor degraded Emperor finds in Mr. Weston the reverse of a panegyrist. He is compared to the horrid phantom rising out of the sea, as described by Camoens, (Cant. 5. stan. 39, 40.) and is reported to be descended from the Greek family of Kalomery, (which, being interpreted, is Bonaparte,) who three hundred years ago migrated from the Morea and colonized in Corsica. This pedigree has nothing in it disgraceful: but it is followed by sarcasms on Napoleon, as Robespierre on horseback,' and the Devil consecrated by his Holiness;' and even his exploit at the bridge of Lodi loses all the merit which has been attached to it, by the suggestion that he chose a white flag that the enemy might take it for a flag of truce.' However, in spite of the kicks and cuffs with which the fallen are generally treated, it is acknowleged that Paris owes much to his exertions:

The improvements of the Emperor, "le soldat heureux" of Voltaire, when his whole design shall be completed, and the outline in all its parts filled up, (for we may learn from either friend or foe, and the good part of an example may be safely followed, even of an enemy,) will go near to outstrip all former exertions to make Paris the queen of cities, and sovereign of the world, in grandeur and magnificence, and leave nothing for a successor to do, but to add to splendour, cleanliness; to cleanliness, sweetness; in a word, by posts and chains, sewers and side pavements, to make the French capital safe and inoffensive. It must be acknowledged that what has been already done is all for show and ostentation, to the total exclusion of comfort at home, or abroad. Paris feels all these defects much less than we do; and all, except the emigrés who have been spoiled by the long use of flags, will tell you very gravely, "qu'ils aiment mieux s'arranger sur la totalité de la rue, que d'etre bornés par un trottoir."

Strong partialities still exist in the minds of many, in favour of Bonaparte's very enterprising character, which diminish their joy for the return of Louis XVIII., whom they honour with the title of " Sacre Imbecille:" but the reason which Mr. W. assigns

F 4

assigns is quite ludicrous :- he tells us (and we thank him for the information, which we could have obtained from no other quarter,) that Louis was by some thought to be a cursed fool, because he never stole a crown, robbed an orchard, or pilfered a hen-roost!'

According to Mr. W., the first object worthy of attention. in the present capital of France is the palace of Cardinal Fesch; which is truly magnificent, and enriched with all the spoils of art that escaped Bonaparte's first commissioners. Having duly noticed this splendid edifice, which is said to have risen like an exhalation, the author suggests some general information for the guidance of Englishmen on their arrival in Paris; and, as a carte du pays, the sketch may be useful, though given in a comical manner. After these directions, Mr. Weston proceeds to a specification of particular objects, viz. Le Quai des Celestins,

The Gallery of Pictures, a long list of which is given, Statues, Salle des Saisons, Palais du Corps Législatif, Sciences, with a long catalogue of crystallized minerals, Instructive Amusements, St. Roque,--Theatres, with a long syllabus of a vaudeville, Palais Royal, with a description of a model of the Alps, Catacombs, Royal Houses, Literature, and Fêtes. It is gravely remarked at p. 72. that the best way to make discoveries in a great city is to ride on horseback, or to walk on foot,' and we trust that our countrymen in future will employ this kind of walking. Under the head of St. Roque, Bonaparte is introduced; not, however, for the sake of tracing him to Greece, but to a garret:

Every thing connected with Buonaparte, and the Emperor Napoleon, carries an interest with it, whether it be the taudis, or lodging of Baptiste the player, up five pair of stairs, in the Rue Hazard, from whence Barras took the Corsican, who, unable to pay his rent, had notice to quit, and gave him a command in Paris, and raised him to the head of the army in Italy; or whether the church of St. Roque, a saint that was struck out of the calendar, to make room for Buonaparte, who cannonaded the Parisians on the thirteenth Vindemaire, from the steps of his church; or the Chateau of Vincennes, in whose ditch D'Enghien, by his order, was executed; or the Bicêtre, St. Pelagie, La Force, Les Isles de St. Marguérite, Rhé, and Oleron, where his victims were immured; they all attract the notice of the visiter, whenever they occur, and are shewn like the Rue Ferroniere, where Henry IV. met his death-blow. The Duke D'Enghien lies under a heap of stones at Vincennes, and rubbish at the corner of the fosse, where one of the little windows in the basement of the fortification is directly over it. A favourite dog of Charles IX. has a monument erected to him in these grounds, but the royal duke has none. Vincennes has been converted to various uses, and served for a hunting seat of the French kings, a prison for disgraced

disgraced statesmen, a residence for favorites, and a place of confine ment for suspected traitors. The Prince de who was shut up here, asked the priest, who came to confess him, for a book for his amusement; the pious father brought Thomas à Kempis's Imitation of Jesus Christ. The Prince de C thanked his confessor, but said, he should have preferred the imitation of the Marquis de qui se sauva d'ici, who escaped from the castle. Of this church, St. Roch, you may find a detailed account in the "Stranger's Guide," and elsewhere; but in the month of August, the pain benit, or consecrated bread, was distributed here by Gene. ral Dessoles, who being in command immediately under the Generalissimo, Monsieur, was attended by a great number of military of the highest rank in splendid uniforms, and they exhibited a strong symptom of peace, feeding the poor, whose bread had been so often devoured by the men of war.'

Various causes have been assigned for the death of the ExEmpress Josephine: but, if Mr. W. be well-informed, she died of a quinzy. Among the plants of the garden of Malmaison, several curious plants are specified; after which, Josephine is introduced:

Here is Magnolia purpurea, auriculata, umbella, or Chinese yu lan, in flower when the Emperor of Russia arrived. Clethra alnifolia is still flowering, and Robinia viscosa, a large tree, efflorescent for the first time. The country all around, though not belonging to the chateau, melts into it, and joins till the view terminates in the arcades of Marly, and the aqueduct of Versailles. The Melaluca hypericifolia, Andrew, t. 200, Repos. 1797, whose flowers, the same as the Metrosideros, come out in the centre of the plant, whilst those of the Metrosideros appear only at the extremity of the branches, is seen here in full flower. See Monthly Review, September 1814, p. 74. Also, Arbutus Andrachne, with a peeling bark, and Corchorus Japonicus, a yellow flower, Andr. t. 587, China, M.p.y. Josephine took great delight in conducting the Emperor round her garden, at a moment when she was seriously indisposed with a sore throat, that afterwards became a quinzy, and unfortunately put an end to her existence.'

The whole of this little volume proves the author's intimate acquaintance with the curiosities and learned men of Paris; and, if it contains traits of singularity, it is written in a sprightly manner, which has rendered us indebted to him for an hour's amusement.

ART.

ART. XI. A Letter from Paris, to George Petre, Esq. By the Rev. John Chetwode Eustace. 8vo. pp. 98. 4s. sewed.

Maw

N this letter, we are presented with a more generalized view of the state of Paris and of the French people in consequence of the Revolution, than we have gained from any of the temporary productions of the day. Mr. Eustace is a man of sense, and his reflections merit a considerable degree of attention; and, should we not agree with him as a Catholic on all points, or should we attribute some of his representations to the effect of education and to the religious bias of his mind, we are not the less ready to do justice to his taste, genius, and observation. Before he arrives at Paris, he animadverts on the decreased population of the country, on the premature exertions of boys, and on the degradation of the sex by their employment in the fields. To this account is subjoined a statement, the accuracy of which is perhaps questionable, that there are supposed to be at present twelve women to one effec tive man.' At the sight of the church of St. Denis, Mr. Eustace recollects the learned and holy monks by whom it was formerly served; and, in his account of modern Paris, he does not forget to state the small number of churches which now exist, in comparison with the number that it included before the Revolution*. As preparatory, however, to his strictures, he endeavours to give a general idea of the French capital:

Paris stands upon the Seine, which divides it into two parts nearly equal, and forms three islands in its windings. The breadth of the river' may be about that of the Thames at Richmond; though it appears wider, because the stone quays that border it are raised at a considerable distance from the bed of the river. The length of the town, that is, its extent along the river, may be about four miles and a half; its breadth, from the Barrieres St. Denis to the Barrieres St. Jacques, about three miles and a half. The new walls or those erected a little before the Revolution, enclose a very considerable space of ground, uninhabited, and sometimes under tillage; hence the real extent of the city is very different from its apparent magnitude.

The Fauxbourgs are in general very thinly inhabited, and that of St. Marcel, St. Jaques, St. Antoine, St. Germain, are nearly deserted. By fauxbourgs you are to understand, not the suburbs, or the streets out of the walls, but the space enclosed between the ancient ram

* Previous to that explosion of national phrenzy, there were in Paris two hundred and twenty-two churches, of which forty-five were parochial; of these there remain twelve parochial and twenty-seven succursal or minor parish churches, in all thirty-nine churches for public or parochial service.'

parts,

parts, now called Boulevards, and the new wall, or later circumference. This depopulation may be occasioned principally by the exile or the impoverishment of the higher classes, and by the suppression of colleges, and ecclesiastical establishments, the two great sources which fed and enriched the inhabitants of the exterior quarters of Paris; and in former times gave them a great appearance of life and prosperity. Notwithstanding the filthy and disgusting appearance of the streets, there are many handsome edifices, some fine streets, and one of the twelve districts, into which the city is divided, is splendid in a degree rarely equalled. The quarter to which I allude, is that which embraces the Louvre and the Tuilleries, with all their accompaniments, and thus includes nearly all the beauty and all the magnificence of Paris.'

The comments on churches include a comparison between those of Paris and of London; and a compliment is paid to the Catholic religion, to which Protestants will not subscribe:

In churches, notwithstanding the devastations of the Revolution, and the treacherous indifference of Napoleon's government, Paris is still rich; and though Notre Dame is inferior to Westminster, and Sainte Genevieve, to St. Paul's; though the portico of St. Martin's, St. George's, Bloomsbury, and St. George's, Hanover-Square, are more simple and correct than any similar decoration in the French capital; yet, not only the two churches which I have mentioned, but St. Roch, St. Sulpice, St. Eustache, and that of the Invalids, are most noble edifices, and far superior in magnitude to all the churches in London, with the exception of St. Paul's and Westminster. In interior decorations and splendor, even these sink into insignificance compared with the Parisian temples. The superiority of the latter in this respect is to be ascribed, not only to the more majestic character of the predominant religion, and to the more active piety of its votaries, but to the prevalency of a purer taste, which proscribes pews and screens, and central pulpits, with every contrivance to encumber the pavement and to obstruct the general view; and which at the same time requires, that the interior of churches should be embellished with as much care and attention as other public edifices, and that the table of the Lord should be graced with as much decency, as an ordinary sideboard.'

We cannot allow that the character of the Catholic religion is more majestic than that of the Protestant church: the majesty of a religion consists in its spiritual essence, not in its ceremonies; and surely more real majesty appertains to the worship of God "in spirit and in truth," than to all the gaudy splendour with which the Pope celebrates high mass in St. Peter's. Neither can we concede to the Catholics the praise of a more active piety, since we have an apostle's authority for asserting that the form of godliness may exist without the power. We shall say nothing of that pure taste' which excludes pews; for pews are introduced in our places of worship as a matter not of taste,

but