A Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour in France and Germany, Volume Two. Thomas Frognall Dibdin
most splendid and the most perfect specimens of public architecture in Paris.5 Beautiful as many may think our Exchange, in my humble opinion it has no pretensions to compete with that at Paris. The HÔTEL DE VILLE, near the Place de Grève, is rather in the character of the more ancient buildings in France: it is exceedingly picturesque, and presents a noble façade. Being situated amidst the older streets of Paris, nothing can harmonise better with the surrounding objects. Compared with the metropolis, on its present extended scale, it is hardly of sufficient importance for the consequence usually attached to this kind of building; but you must remember that the greater part of it was built in the sixteenth century, when the capital had scarcely attained half its present size. The Place de Grève during the Revolution, was the spot in which the guillotine performed almost all its butcheries. I walked over it with a hurrying step: fancying the earth to be yet moist with the blood of so many immolated victims. Of other HÔTELS, I shall mention only those of DE SENS and DE SOUBISE. The entrance into the former yet exhibits a most picturesque specimen of the architecture of the early part of the XVIth century. Its interior is devoted to every thing … which it ought not to be. The Hôtel de Soubise is still a consequential building. It was sufficiently notorious during the reigns of Charles V. and VI.: and it owes its present form to the enterprising spirit of Cardinal Rohan, who purchased it of the Guise family towards the end of the XVIIth century. There is now, neither pomp nor splendour, nor revelry, within this vast building. All its aristocratic magnificence is fled; but the antiquary and the man of curious research console themselves on its possessing treasures of a more substantial and covetable kind. You are to know that it contains the Archives of State and the Royal Printing Office.
Paris has doubtless good reason to be proud of her public buildings; for they are numerous, splendid, and commodious; and have the extraordinary advantage over our own of not being tinted with soot and smoke. Indeed, when one thinks of the sure invasion of every new stone or brick building in London, by these enemies of external beauty, one is almost sick at heart during the work of erection. The lower tier of windows and columns round St. Paul's have been covered with the dirt and smoke of upwards of a century: and the fillagree-like embellishments which distinguish the recent restorations of Henry the VIIth's chapel, in Westminster Abbey, are already beginning to lose their delicacy of appearance from a similar cause. But I check myself. I am at Paris--and not in the metropolis of our own country.
A word now for STREET SCENERY. Paris is perhaps here unrivalled: still I speak under correction--having never seen Edinburgh. But, although portions of that northern capital, from its undulating or hilly site, must necessarily present more picturesque appearances, yet, upon the whole, from the superior size of Paris, there must be more numerous examples of the kind of scenery of which I am speaking. The specimens are endless. I select only a few--the more familiar to me. In turning to the left, from the Boulevard Montmartre or Poissonière, and going towards the Rue St. Marc, or Rue des Filles St. Thomas (as I have been in the habit of doing, almost every morning, for the last ten days--in my way to the Royal Library) you leave the Rue Montmartre obliquely to the left. The houses here seem to run up to the sky; and appear to have been constructed with the same ease and facility as children build houses of cards. In every direction about this spot, the houses, built of stone, as they generally are, assume the most imposing and picturesque forms; and if a Canaletti resided here, who would condescend to paint without water and wherries, some really magnificent specimens of this species of composition might be executed--equally to the credit of the artist and the place.
If you want old fashioned houses, you must lounge in the long and parallel streets of St. Denis and St. Martin; but be sure that you choose dry weather for the excursion. Two hours of heavy rain (as I once witnessed) would cause a little rushing rivulet in the centre of these streets--and you could only pass from one side to the other by means of a plank. The absence of trottoirs--- or foot-pavement--is indeed here found to be a most grievous defect. With the exception of the Place Vendome and the Rue de la Paix, where something like this sort of pavement prevails, Paris presents you with hardly any thing of the kind; so that, methinks, I hear you say, "what though your Paris be gayer and more grand, our London is larger and more commodious." Doubtless this is a fair criticism. But from the Marché des Innocens--a considerable space, where they sell chiefly fruit and vegetables,6--(and which reminded me something of the market-places of Rouen) towards the Hôtel de Ville and the Hôtel de Soubise, you will meet with many extremely curious and interesting specimens of house and street scenery: while, as I before observed to you, the view of the houses and streets in the Isle St. Louis, from the Pont des Ars, the Quai de Conti, the Pont Neuf, or the Quai des Augustins--or, still better, the Pont Royal--is absolutely one of the grandest and completest specimens of metropolitan scenery which can be contemplated. Once more: go as far as the Pont Louis XVI., cast your eye down to the left; and observe how magnificently the Seine is flanked by the Thuileries and the Louvre. Surely, it is but a sense of justice and a love of truth which compel an impartial observer to say, that this is a view of regal and public splendor--without a parallel in our own country!
The Rue de Richelieu is called the Bond-street of Paris. Parallel with it, is the Rue Vivienne. They are both pleasant streets; especially the former, which is much longer, and is rendered more striking by containing some of the finest hotels in Paris. Hosiers, artificial flower makers, clock-makers, and jewellers, are the principal tradesmen in the Rue de Richelieu; but it has no similarity with Bond-street. The houses are of stone, and generally very lofty--while the Academie de Musique7 and the Bibliothèque du Roi are public buildings of such consequence and capacity (especially the former) that it is absurd to name the street in which they are situated with our own. The Rue Vivienne is comparatively short; but it is pleasing, from the number of flowers, shrubs, and fruits, brought thither from the public markets for sale. No doubt the Place Vendome and the Rue de la Paix claim precedence, on the score of magnificence and comfort, to either of these, or to any other streets; but to my taste there is nothing (next to the Boulevards) which is so thoroughly gratifying as the Rue de Richelieu. Is it because some few hundred thousand printed volumes are deposited therein? But of all these, the Rue St. Honoré, with its faubourg so called, is doubtless the most distinguished and consequential. It seems to run from west to east entirely through Paris; and is considered, on the score of length, as more than a match for our Oxford street.
It may be so; but if the houses are loftier, the street is much narrower; and where, again, is your foot-pavement--to protect you from the eternal movements of fiacre, cabriolet, voiture and diligence? Besides, the undulating line of our Oxford-street presents, to the tasteful observer, a sight--perfectly unrivalled of its kind--especially if it be witnessed on a clear night, when its thousand gas-lighted lamps below emulate the starry lustre of the heavens above! To an inexperienced eye, this has the effect of enchantment. Add to the houses of Oxford-street but two stories, and the appearance of this street, in the day time, would be equally imposing: to which add--what can never be added--the atmosphere of Paris!
You will remark that, all this time, I have been wholly silent about the Palace de Luxembourg, with its beautiful though flat gardens--of tulips, jonquils, roses, wall flowers, lilac and orange trees--its broad and narrow walks--its terraces and statues. The façade, in a line with the Rue Vaugirard, has a grand effect--in every point of view. But the south front, facing the gardens, is extremely beautiful and magnificent; while across the gardens, and in front,--some short English mile--stands the OBSERVATORY. Yet fail not to visit the interior square of the palace, for it is well worth your notice and admiration. This building is now the Chambre des Pairs. Its most celebrated ornament was the famous suite of paintings, by Rubens, descriptive of the history of Henry IV. These now adorn the gallery of the Louvre. It is a pity that this very tasteful structure--which seems to be built of the choicest stone--should be so far removed from what may be called the fashionable part of the city. It is in consequence reluctantly visited by our countrymen; although a lover of botany, or a florist, will not fail to procure two or three roots of the different species of tulips, which, it is allowed, blow here in uncommon luxuriance and splendor.
The preceding is, I am aware, but a feeble and partial sketch--compared with what a longer residence, and a temperature more