THE RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN.

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of power, no longer preserved even the semblance of truth or justice; and war became only the expression of the arbitrary will of the mighty despot of Europe.

Yet the world was still, for a time, to be struck with wonder at new achievements. The Prince Regent of Portugal fled to the Brazils from before the French arms. Madrid was occupied by the imperial legions, and Charles VI. ceded the crown of Spain and the Indies to Bonaparte, who treacherously placed his own brother Joseph on the throne. This led to a sanguinary war, the beginning of disasters to the great tyrant, and which after six years terminated with his fall. Renewed hostilities with Austria ended once more in her complete humiliation; and Spain alone remained the eyesore of ambition. The Pope was suspected of intrigue against the imperial power, and being menaced in his capital, began to hurl at Bonaparte the spent and idle thunders of the Vatican; but they recoiled upon St. Peter's chair. The Pope was dethroned, and held prisoner in France; and the Roman states were annexed to her territory.

The star of Napoleon's destiny, however, was about to set, and to be finally combust in its own fires. His ambition became an instinct, which led him to trample on all opposing interests, whether sacred or profane. Josephine, the guardian angel of his throne, the moderator of his schemes, and the object of his real love, was sacrificed to the policy of founding the fourth dynasty of France, the house of Napoleon, that was to reign over a second Carlovingian empire. Josephine was repudiated, and, amidst the crowd of royal and imperial princesses, Marie-Louise, the daughter of humbled Austria, was chosen, in 1810, to fill the throne of her unfortunate aunt, Marie-Antoinette. The French empire, about this period, comprehended Holland, Belgium, part of Germany, and of Switzerland, and all Italy; and 'Napoleon reigned absolutely over fortythree millions: but henceforth, his history became a series of reverses.

He formed the design of reducing Russia, and giving law from the ancient palace of the Czars. Untaught by the example of Charless XII. of Sweden, he ventured on a winter campaign, amidst the snows and ices of the north, with an army of half a million, composed of sixteen nations. Moscow was fired by its inhabitants, and Bonaparte, with a portion of his troops, rode through its deserted streets, amidst the flames that on every side glared upon him, as a fiend in human shape, the curse of humanity, and the demon of all the horrors that reigned around. The fighting retreat, through whirlwinds of snow, and all

the rigours of a Russian winter, completed the work of carnage and misery; and at least half a million of human beings perished in a hundred end seventy days, to gratify the infernal lust of power, which remorselessly converted the whole region of its march into a theatre of blood, and crime, and misery-presenting one of the darkest and most appalling tragedies that war ever exhibited on the earth!

The failure of this expedition was connected with disaffection and plot at home; and France herself began to perceive, that in consequence of the gigantic ambition of her military despot, she was under the ban of Europe, being regarded as the centre from which emanated all its miseries.

The time was come for the downfall of Bonaparte. Deserted by several of his allies, he entered on another campaign, with a new army, and the Russians and Prussians were compelled to retreat towards Silesia. The Emperor of Austria, seeing that his son-in-law was not sincerely disposed to peace, from a mediator became an enemy; and the war was attended with various fortunes, till at the battle of Leipsic, in October 1813, the French were completely routed by the allies; who, amidst surrounding revolutions, all tending to the dismemberment of the French empire, began to enter France. Bonaparte, with a legislative body contrary to his views, and a staff of officers on whom he could not depend, endeavoured in vain to rouse the French nation to arms; and after contending for three months against a million of enemies, he was deposed, on the 2d of April, 1814; and the military despotism of nearly fifteen years, received its death-blow, preparatory to its last convulsive struggle, the following year, at Waterloo.

Such was the fall of a man, who, far from being by nature a Nero, or a Caligula, was still his own god; and was prepared, without pity, to sacrifice millions, as a holocaust to his ambition; and to resort to hypocrisy, impiety, and acts of barbarism, if these were deemed necessary to accomplish his ends. He was the means of unsettling those ancient fabrics of civil and ecclesiastical legitimacy, that have checked the march of human improvement; and his extraordinary career, though in itself so despotic, has been productive, on the whole, of the advancement of freedom, the grand basis of every other social benefit. History is fraught with melancholy examples of the moral disorder in the constitution of man which has produced all his woes: the only consolation is, that if evil is permitted, out of it good may be educed.

GENERAL ASPECT.

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LETTER XXII.

Paris-Messageries-Situation, and general appearance-The Seine Bridges-Quays-Extent-Mode of numbering houses-Camera Obscura-Views from the Bridges-Purity of the atmosphereWant of planted squares-Barrières-Boulevards-Passion for amusement-French character-Execution-Effect of events-Palais des Thermes-Palais Royal-Tuileries-Place de Carrousel -The Louvre-Place Vendôme-Place Louis Quinze-Magnificence-Arc de l'Etoile-Hôtel des Invalides-Churches-Nôtre Dame, etc.-The Luxembourg-Bourse-Jardin du Roi-The Pantheon-Gobelins-Glaces-Revolution of 1830.

MY DEAR FRIEND: On reaching Paris at three o'clock in the morning, we soon found ourselves at the Messagerie Générale, one of those spacious areas, surrounded by numerous bureaux, from which diligences set off to all the surrounding countries of Europe: and the traveller who wishes to go to Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, or Belgium, or to embark for England, is directed by the names of these countries, which he sees over the officedoors, where to apply.

It is usual in France for the conductor's fee to be included in what is paid for the fare; which is stated in the receipt that is given securing the places: and as our luggage was but slightly inspected, and every facility for obtaining porters and coaches was at hand, there was little cause of delay, and a short time sufficed to establish us at the Hôtel de Lille, near the Palais Royal.

The situation of Paris may in some respects be compared with that of London, the most important part being north of the Seine, though there is an immense population on the south side. The calcareous hill of Montmartre, is the Highgate, or Hampstead, of Paris, being on the north, and the most elevated ground in the environs; it is however a more immediate suburb, and is too near to command a very advantageous view. The neighbourhood of the Tuileries, and the Faubourg St. Germain, may be regarded as the Westminster of the French metropolis-as including the seat of royalty, and partly that of government, with the mansions of the nobility and gentry, and lying on the western side.

The general appearance of Paris, as compared with that of London, in regard to the width, cleanliness, elegance, and beauty of the streets, and the accommodation for footpassengers, cannot fail to strike the Englishman, as incomparably to the disadvantage of the French capital.

The narrowness of the streets, and of the trottoir, or pavement, in most places, and the multitudes of fiacres, omnibuses, and carts, which are all in motion together in such confined spaces, render it almost impractible for ladies to walk about Paris, especially if the weather has been at all wet. The houses are built of stone, and are very lofty, not unlike those of the Old Town in Edinburgh; and, as in that city, they are frequently inhabited by a number of different families. You often find, when a great gateway is accidentally opened, as you are passing by, that a very splendid mansion is entirely concealed from view by a dead wall, giving the idea of its having been erected in a prospective regard to the dangers of war, and of revolution.

The Seine appears utterly insignificant to a Londoner who has been accustomed to the ample tide of the noble Thames, with its forests of shipping, and the many superb bridges which are thrown across it, exhibiting triumphs of human ingenuity and skill which are scarcely to be exceeded in any of the works of art. The Seine is scarcely half the breadth of the Thames, has no shipping, and presents banks of mud which, in dry weather, have an effect far from agreeable. Nor is this river improved by the wash-houses of the blanchisseuses that border the water, though the floating baths are neat and elegant.

Of the eighteen or nineteen bridges, the Pont Neuf is the largest and most ancient; and the most imposing as you cross it is the Pont Louis Seize, so called from its having been commenced while that unhappy monarch still sat on the throne. This bridge is adorned with colossal statues of several of the great men of France, and leads from the magnificent Place Louis Quinze to the beautiful front of the Palais Bourbon. The reason why there are so many bridges is, that in the very heart of Paris there are three islands in the river, one of which, now called La Cité, is the site of Lutetia, the ancient capital of the Parisii, mentioned by Cæsar and Strabo. This name, as some suppose, was derived from_the_lutum, or mud, that abounded all over the neighbourhood, which Cæsar* describes as a perpetual marsh. Several of these bridges unite the islands with each other, and with the shores. On the principal one, the Pont Neuf, is a fine equestrian statue in bronze of Henry IV., with bas-reliefs on the pedestal, representing his humanity in supplying the Parisians with provisions, at the time when they were holding out against

* Bell, Gall, vii. 57.

VIEWS FROM THE BRIDGES.

301

him, during the disastrous civil wars of the Catholic League.

The Quais of the Seine constitute one of the most striking features of Paris: they are raised on a deep embankment of stone, on both sides of the river, but there is comparatively little trafic on them, and no ranges of warehouses lining the banks, as in London, where vast piles of building along the shore, convey so powerful an impression of commercial greatness. In London, the banks of the river are too valuable to be employed for any thing but wharfs and warehouses, and the Thames, excepting when it is crossed, is scarcely seen by him who traverses the vast English metropolis: but in Paris, there is a considerable space between the terraces of building and the river, and the long quays form an agreeable public pathway, defended by a parapet wall.

The extent of the city along the Seine is computed to be more than four miles, and its greatest breadth from north to south, nearly the same. The mode of numbering the houses savours of the ingenuity of the French in matters of detail, and must sometimes be a convenience to those residents who are au fait at the system. If the numbers are black, and decreasing, you know that you are approaching the river-if red and increasing, you are going parallel with the river, from east to west; and vice versa. You are sometimes reminded of the quickness and cleverness of the French, by the most trifling things. If a man exhibits to you, on the Pont des Arts, the exquisitely finished picture formed by the camera obscura, of the gay and striking panorama around you, he contrives to announce that the show is ended, by suddenly stepping out, and presenting on the parchment, as the last scene, a solitary figure of himself, with a style of bow, which an Englishman in the same station would scarcely be capable of imitating.

It is from one or two of the more western bridges, that some of the finest views in Paris are obtained, consisting of the lofty and immense piles of buildings which rear themselves on both sides of the Seine: on the left, the end of the royal palace of the Tuileries, the vast gallery of the Louvre, and a long line of other buildings beyond it; on the right the Palais Bourbon, the Institute, and the Mint, forming with other magnificent edifices an extent of a mile in length, and terminated by the solid towers of Nôtre Dame. Though the views from the bridges are more confined than in our own metropolis, and have not the advantage of so great a number of spires and towers, yet the effect is grand and massy.

VOL. VI.

26