Chapter VII: After Waterloo (2)

...I have told you nothing about Valenciennes and how we breakfasted with two odd characters to come together in one, an Astronomer and a Soldier, viz., Sir Thomas Brisbane, who enlivens his quarters wherever he goes by erecting an observatory immediately, and studying hard as any Cambridge mathematician every hour that he is not on military duty. His officers seem to have partaken in some degree of the spirit of their General, and to have made use of their position at Valenciennes to make themselves perfectly acquainted with all Marlborough's campaign, and they appeared to have as much interest in tracing all his sieges and breaches and batteries as their General in making his observations on the sun and the stars.... The Scovells were delighted to see us at Cambray; put us into Sir Lowry Cole's quarters, where we had a house and gardens all to ourselves. Lord Wellington had been at Cambray a fortnight before, and was all affability, good humour, and gaiety.... Sir Geo. Scovell gave many interesting details of his coolness, quickness, decision, and undaunted spirit.

_Edward Stanley to Bella Stanley._

PARIS, _July 9, 1816_.

It is absolutely necessary that a word or two should be said upon the palace at Compiègne, which was fitted up about seven years ago by Napoleon for Marie Louise. Having seen most of his Imperial abodes, I am inclined to give the preference, as far as internal decoration extends, to Compiègne. Gold, silver, mirrors, tapestry all hold their court here. The bath is a perfect specimen of French luxury and magnificence. It fills a recess in a moderately-sized room almost entirely panelled with the finest sheets of plate glass; and the ball room is so exquisitely beautiful that to see its golden walls and ceilings lighted up with splendid chandeliers, and its floors graced with dancers, plumed and jewelled, I would take the trouble of attending as your Chaperon from Alderley whenever the Bourbons send you an invitation.

The gardens are like all other French pleasure grounds, formal and comfortless, but there is one part you would all enjoy. When Buonaparte first carried Marie Louise to Compiègne she expressed much satisfaction, but remarked that it was deficient in a Berceau; it could not stand in competition with her favourite palace of Schönbrunn. Now, a berceau is a wide walk covered with trellis work and flowers. She left Compiègne. In six weeks Napoleon begged her to pay another visit. She did so, and found a berceau wide enough for two carriages to go abreast and above two miles in length, extending from the gardens to the forest of Compiègne, completely finished. May you all be espoused to husbands who will execute all your whims and fancies with equal rapidity and good taste! In your berceau I will walk; but if you are destined to reside in golden palaces, you must expect little of Uncle's company.

Having travelled thus far, attend us to Paris and imagine yourself seated in a velvet chair in the Hotel de Bretagne, Rue de Richelieu, that is to say, when translated into London terms, conceive yourself seated in one of the Hotels in or near Covent Gardens, close to Theatre and shops and all that a stranger wishes to be near for a week when the sole purpose of his visit is seeing and hearing. We are within 20 yards (but if measured by the mud and filth to be traversed in the march I should call it a mile) of the Palais Royal, the fairy land of Paris, and Paradise of vice, and the centre of attraction to every stranger. Here we breakfast in Coffee-houses, of which no idea can be formed by those who only associate the name of Coffee-house with certain subdivided, gloomy apartments in England, where steaks and _Morning Chronicles_ reign with divided sway, and where the silence is seldom interrupted but by queries as to the price of stocks or "Here, Waiter, another bottle of Port."

We dine at Restaurateurs, choosing unknown dishes out of five closely-printed columns of _fricandeaus_ and _à la financières_.

Before I proceed let me inform you of some simple matters of fact which I may forget if delayed. Such as that we found the Sothebys and Murrays, and Leghs of High Legh, and Wilbraham of Delamere Lodge. With the former we have made several joint excursions and contrived to meet at dinner. Mr. Sotheby is in his element, bustles everywhere, looks the vignette of happiness, exclaims "Good!" upon all occasions, from the arrangement of the Skulls in the Catacombs to the dressing of a _vol au vent_. In short, they are all as delighted as myself, and that is saying a good deal.

Pardon this digression. Again to the point--to Paris. Where shall I begin? Let us take the theatres. We saw Talma last night, and the impression is strong, therefore he shall appear first on the list.

The play was "Manlius," a tragedy in many respects like our "Venice Preserved." The House was crowded to excess, especially the pit, which, as in England, is the focus of criticisms and vent for public opinion.

When a Tragedy is acted no Music whatever is allowed, not a fiddle prefaced the performance; but at seven o'clock the curtain slowly rose, and amidst the thunder of applause, succeeded by a breathless silence, Talma stepped forth in the Roman toga of Manlius. His figure is bad, short, and rather clumsy, his countenance deficient in dignity and natural expression, but with all these deductions he shines like a meteor when compared with Kemble. He is body and soul, finger and thumb, head and foot, involved in his character; and so, say you, is Miss O'Neil, but Talma and Miss O'Neil are different and distant as the poles. She is nature, he is art, but it is the perfection of art, and so splendid a specimen well deserves the approbation he so profusely receives.

The curtain is not let down between the acts, and the interval does not exceed two or three minutes, so that your attention is never interrupted. The scene closed as it commenced--with that peculiar hurra of the French, expressive of their highest excitement. It is the same with which they make their charge in battle, and proportioned to numbers it could not have been more vehement at the victories of Austerlitz and Jena than it was on the reappearance of Talma; and not satisfied with this, they insisted on his coming forth again. At length, amidst hurras and cries of "Talma! Talma!" the curtain was closed up, and my last impression rendered unfavourable by a vulgar, graceless figure in nankeen breeches and top-boots hurrying in from a side scene, dropping a swing bow in the centre of the stage, and then hurrying out again.

Theatres are to Frenchmen what flowers are to bees: they live _in_ them and _upon_ them, and the sacrifice of liberty appears to be a tribute most willingly paid for the gratification they receive; for, to be sure, never can there exist a more despotic, arbitrary government than that of a French theatre. A soldier stands by from the moment you quit your carriage till you get into it; you are allowed no will of your own; if you wish to give directions to your servant, "Vite! Vite!" cries a whiskered sentry. Are you looking through the windows of the lobbies into the boxes for your party, you are ordered off by a gendarme. I saw one gentleman-like-looking man remonstrating; in a trice he was in durance vile. A Frenchman at his play must sit, stand, move, think, and speak as if he were on drill, and yet he endures the intolerance for doubtful benefits derived from this rigid regularity.

In this play of "Manlius" were many passages highly applicable to Buonaparte, and Talma, who is supposed to be (_avec raison_) a secret partisan, gave them their full effect, but the listening vassals struck no octaves to his vibration. A few nights before we were at the Play in which were allusions to the Bourbons, and couplets without end of the most fulsome, disgusting compliments to the Duc de Berri, &c. These (shame upon the trifling, vacillating, mutable crew!) were received with loud applause by the majority of the pit. I did observe, however, that in that pit did sit a frowning, solemn, silent nucleus, but a nucleus of this description can never be large; a few Messieurs at 3 francs _par jour_ would soon, when dispersed amongst them, like grains of pepper in tasteless soup, diffuse a tone of palatibility over the whole and render it more agreeable to the taste of a Bourbon.

_À propos_, we have seen the Bourbons. The King is a round, fat man, so fat that in their pictures they dare not give him the proper "_contour_" lest the police should suspect them of wishing to ridicule; but his face is mild and benevolent, and I verily believe his face to be a just reflection of his heart. Then comes Monsieur,[118] a man with more expression, but I did not see enough to form any opinion of my own, and I never heard any very decisive account from any one else. Then comes the Duchesse d'Angoulême.[119] There is no milk and water there. What she really is I may not be able to detect, but I will forfeit my little finger if there is not something passing strange within her. She is called a Bigot and a Devotee; she has seen and felt enough, and more than enough, to make a stronger mind than hers either the one or the other, and I will excuse her if she is both. She is thin and genteel, grave and dignified; she puts her fan to her underlip as Napoleon would put his finger to his forehead, or his hand into his bosom. She stood up, she sat down, she knelt, when others stood or sat or knelt, but I question whether if she had been alone she would have done all according to bell and candle, rule or regulation.

Then comes the Duchesse de Berri,[120] a young, pretty thing, a sort of royal kitten; and then comes her husband, the Duc de Berri, a short, vulgar-looking, anything but a kitten he is--but _arrête toi_. I am in the land of vigilance, and already my pen trembles, for there are gendarmes in abundance in the streets, and Messieurs Bruce and Co. in La Force, and I do not wish to join their party. In England I may abuse our Prince Regent and call him fat, dissipated, and extravagant, but in France I dare not say "BO to a goose!" So, Je vous salue, M. le Duc de Berri.

_À propos_ of the police. At the marriage of the above much honoured and respected Duc the illumiations were general. Murray's landlord was setting out his tallow candles, when Murray, guessing from certain innuendoes and shrugs (for before us English they are not much afraid of shrugging the shoulders or inventing an occasional "Bah!") that he would have been to the full as pleased if he had been lighting his candles upon the return of Napoleon, asked him, "Mais pourquoi faites vous cela? I suppose you may do as you like?" "Comment donc!" replied the astonished Frenchman; "do as I like! If I did not light my candles with all diligence, I should be called upon to-morrow by the police to pay a forfeit for not rejoicing."

With all this I think on the whole the Bourbons are popular; people are accustomed to being bullied out of their opinions and use of their tongues, and they are so sick of war, with all its inconveniences and privations, that they begin to prefer inglorious repose. English money is very much approved of here, but if it could be procured without the personal attendance of the owners, I feel quite confident the French would prefer it.

We are not popular. I suppose the sight of us must be grating to the feelings. We are like a blight on an apple-tree; we curl up their leaves, and they writhe under our pressure.

The constant song of our drunken soldiers on the Boulevards commenced with--

"Louis Dixhuite, Louis dixhuite,
We have licked all your armies and sunk all your fleet."

Luckily the words are not intelligible to the gaping Parisians, who generally, upon hearing the "Louis Dixhuite," took for granted the song was an ode in honour of the Bourbons, and grinned approbation. It is quite ridiculous, Paris cannot know itself. Where are the French? Nowhere. All is English; English carriages fill the streets, no other genteel Equipages are to be seen. At the Play Boxes are all English. At the Hotels, Restaurations--in short, everywhere--John Bull stalks incorporate. I see an Englishman with his little red book, the Paris guide, in one hand and map in the other, with a parcel of ragged boys at his heels pestering him for money. "Monsieur, c'est moi," who am ready to hold your stick. "Monsieur, c'est moi," who will call your coach.

About the Thuilleries, indeed, and here and there, a few "bien poudréd" little old men, "des bons Papas du Temps passé," may be seen dry as Mummies and as shrivelled, with their ribbons and Croix St. Louis, tottering about. They are good, staunch Bourbons, ready, I daresay, to take the field "en voiture" for once, when taunted by the Imperial officers for being too old and decrepid to lead troops; an honest emigrant Marquis replied that he did not see why he should not command a regiment and lead it on "dans son Cabriolet."

We have been unfortunate in not arriving soon enough to be present at the Duke of Wellington's Balls. At the last a curious circumstance took place. (You may rely upon it's being true.) Word was brought to him that the house was in danger from fire. He went down, and in a sort of subterranean room some cartridges were discovered close to a lamp containing a great quantity of oil, and it was evident they had been placed there with design. The first report was that barrels of gunpowder had been found, and strange associations were whispered as to Guy Fawkes and Louis XVIII. being one and the same; but the powder was not sufficient to do any great mischief, and the general idea is that had it exploded, confusion would have ensued, the company would have been alarmed, the ladies would have screamed and fled to the door and street, where parties were in full readiness and expectations of Diamonds, &c....

We stay over Monday, for there is a grand Review on the Boulevards. We have seen Cuirassiers and Lancers shining in the sun and fluttering their little banner in the air. The Bourbons, who are determined to root out every vestige of the past, are now stripping the Troops of the Uniform which remind the wearers of battles fought and cities won, and re-clothing them in the white dress of the "ancien Régime," which is wretchedly ugly. They know best what they are about, and they certainly have a people to deal with unlike the rest of the world, but were I a Bourbon, I should be cautious how I proceeded in demolishing everything which reminded the people of their recent glory. Luckily the column on the Place Vendôme has as yet escaped the Goths, and its bronze basso reliefs are still the pride of Paris.

_Edward Stanley to Louisa Stanley._

_July 13, 1816._

Days in Paris are like lumps of barley sugar, sweet to the taste and melting rapidly away.... We have now seen theatres, shows, gardens, museums, palaces, and prisons. Aye, Louisa, we have been immured within the walls of La Force, and that from inclination! not necessity.

We procured an order to see Bruce,[121] and after some shuttlecock sort of work, sending and being sent from office to office and Préfet to Préfet, at length we received our order of admission.

In this order our persons are described; the man put me down "sourcils gris." "Mais, Monsieur," said I, "they will never admit me with that account." He looked at me again, "Ah! vos cheveux sont gris, mais pour les sourcils, non pas, vous avez raison," and altering them to "noirs," he sent me about my business.

Bar and bolt were opened, and at length we found ourselves in the presence of these popular prisoners--Popular, at least, amongst the female part of the world. I have reason to believe that a few of the Miss Stanleys had formed a romantic attachment for Michael Bruce, and there are few of our adventures which would, I think, have given you more pleasure than this visit. Your heart would have been torn from its little resting-place and been imprisoned for ever. Michael Bruce! such an eye! such a figure! such a countenance! such a voice! and so much sense and elegance of manner, and then so interesting! There he sat in a small, wretched room, dirty and felonious, with two little windows, one looking into a court where a parcel of ragged prisoners were playing at fives, the other into a sort of garden where others were loitering away their listless vacuity of time.

I will not tell you what he said, for it would but inflame a wound which I cannot heal, and because part of his conversation was secret, _i.e._, of a very interesting and curious nature which I cannot write and must not speak of. "Oh! dear Uncle, why won't you tell? a secret from Michael Bruce in the prison of La Force!"

No, Louisa, I dare not speak of it to the winds. Captain Hutchinson was his companion, Sir Robert Wilson is in another room. The Captain has nothing very interesting in his manner or appearance. He is very plain, very positive, and very angry. Well he may be. So would you if, like him, you had been immured in a room about eight feet by twelve, in which you were forced to eat, sleep, and reside for three months. Their penance closes on the 24th, when Michael Bruce returns to London. I hope you are not going there this year.

From such a subject as Michael Bruce it will not do to descend to any of the trifling fopperies of Paris.

Let me, then, give you a short account of our visit to Fountain Elephant, which if ever finished, with its concomitant streets, &c., will be an 8th wonder of the world. Its History is this: On the Site of the Bastille (of which not a vestige remains) Buonaparte thought he would erect a fountain, and looking at the Plans of Paris, he conceived the splendid idea of knocking down all the houses between the Thuilleries and this Fountain and forming one wide, straight street, so that from the Palace of the Thuilleries he might see whatever object he might be pleased to place at the extremity. This street is actually begun; when executed, which it never will be, there will be an avenue, partly houses, partly trees, from Barrière d'Étoile to the Fountain, at least six miles. Having got this Fountain in his head, he sent for De Non,[122] who superintended all his works, and said, "De Non, I must have a fountain, and the fountain shall be a beast." So De Non set his wits to work, and talked of Lions and Tigers, &c., when Buonaparte fixed upon an Elephant, with a Castle upon his back, and an Elephant there is. At present they have merely a model of plaister upon which the bronze coating is to be wrought, for the whole is to be in bronze with gilt trappings. He is to stand upon an elevated pedestal, which is already completed. The height will be about 60 feet, nearly as high as Alderley Steeple. The castle will hold water; the inside is to be a room, and the staircase is to be in one of the legs. The porter who showed it was exceedingly proud of the performance, and when I expressed my astonishment at Buonaparte's numerous plans and the difficulty he must have been at to procure money, looking cautiously about him, he said, "Oh, mais il avoit le don d'un Dieu," and then grasping my arm with one hand and tapping me on the shoulder with the other, and again looking round to see if then the coast was clear, he added, "Mais il n'y est plus, ah, vous comprenez cela n'est-ce pas," and then casting a look at his Elephant he concluded with a sigh and a mutter, "Superbe, ah, pardi, que c'est superbe!"

Kitty has been dressing herself _à la Française_, and we have been purchasing a large box of flowers, which we hope to show you in England, if the Custom House officers will allow us to pay the duties, but we hear most alarming accounts of their ferocity and rapacity. They will soon, it is said, seize the very clothes you have on, if of French manufacture; if so, adieu to three pairs of black silk stockings and as many pocket handkerchiefs, to say nothing of a perfect pet of an ivory dog which I intend to present to your Mama, and to say nothing of five perfect pets for Maria and you four eldest girls of the family of Harlequin and Punch, to be worn on your necklaces during the happy weeks. They are of mother of pearl about an inch high, the most comical fellows I ever beheld. It is necessary that I should tell you of the presents, because if they are seized, you know I shall still be entitled to the merit of selecting them. We have bought a few books. A thick octavo is here worth about four or five shillings, and the duty is, we understand, about one shilling more. One is a life of the Duke of Marlborough. Buonaparte said it was a reflection upon England not to have a life of her greatest Hero, and therefore he would be his biographer; accordingly he set his men to work and collected the materials. Report speaks favourably of it, but I have been so busied in looking and walking about that I shall not be surprised if I find that I have almost forgotten to read upon my return!

_Edward Stanley to Louisa Stanley._

TUESDAY MORNING, _July 13th_.

We are in Paris still, and do not depart till to-morrow, dedicating this day in company with the Murrays to St. Denis and Malmaison, and then I think we shall have seen everything worth seeing in or near this queer metropolis. One day last week we went to our old friend, L'abbé Sicard,[123] and attended a lecture in which about 20 of his young scholars exhibited their powers. The poor Abbé was, as usual, dreadfully prolix, and occupied an hour in words which might have been condensed within the compass of a Minute, and poor Massuer yawned and shut his eyes ever and anon. Clair was not there, and as we were under the necessity of going away before the Lecture was closed, we could not renew our acquaintance. Since last year he has taught his pupils to speak, and two dumb boys talked to each other with great success. I will show you the mode when we meet, but as you are not dumb it will be a mere gratification of Curiosity. Our Assignation which called us from the Lecture was to meet the Sothebys and Murrays and many others at the Buvin d'Enfer, near which is the descent to the Catacombs, where upwards of 3 million of Skulls are arranged in tasty grimaces thro' Streets of Bones, but my Sketch Book has long given an idea of these ossifatory Exhibitions. Only think, a cousin of Donald's and a very great friend of mine, a Capt. McDonald, whom you would all be in love with, he is so handsome and interesting, was shut up there a short time ago by accident, and if the Keeper had not luckily recollected the number of persons who descended and discovered one was missing, he would very soon have joined the bone party. There is another Cimetière called that of Père la Chaise, of a very different description, and infinitely more interesting. It is the grand burial-place of Paris; all who choose may purchase little plots of ground, from a square foot to an acre, for the deposition of themselves and their families. Its extent is about 84 French acres, and upon no spot in the world is the French character so perfectly portrayed. Each individual encloses his plot and ornaments it as he chooses, and the variety is quite astonishing. It appears like a large Shop full of toys, work-baskets, Columns, little Cottages, pyramids, mounts--in short, what is there in the form of a Monument which may not there be found? A pert little Column with a fanciful top, crowned by a smart wire basket filled with roses, marked the grave, I concluded, of some beautiful young girl of 15 or 16. Lo and behold! it was placed there to commemorate "un ancien Magistrat de France," aged 62. The most interesting are Ney's and Labédoyère's,[124] the former, a solid tomb of marble, simply tells that Marshal Ney, Prince of La Moskowa, is below. Both were rather profusely decorated with wreaths of flowers, it being the custom for the friends of the deceased to strew from time to time the graves with flowers, or decorate them with garlands. Soldiers have been often seen weeping over these graves, and it is by them these wreaths were placed. Ney's had just received its tribute of a beautiful garland of blue cornflowers: and the other a Chaplet of Honeysuckle. By both graves were weeping willows. Mr. Sotheby's friend, the poet Delille,[125] sleeps beneath a cumbrous mass of marble, within which his wife immerses herself once a week, to manifest sorrow for one whose incessant tormentor I am told she was during his life. The inscriptions were for the most part commonplace. I copied out a few of the best. I was sorry to observe not one in 20 had the slightest allusion to Religion. There was one offering which particularly attracted my attention and admiration. Over a simple mound, the resting-place of a little child, were scattered white flowers, and amongst them a bunch of cherries, evidently the tribute from some other little child who had thus offered up that which to him appeared most valuable. The exclusion of the selfish principle in this display of sentiment and feeling quite delighted me.

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The day after we visited the Louvre it was closed, and none have been admitted since. I believe they are scratching out some N's or Eagles. I should conceive these to be the last of their species, for the activity and extent of this effacement of emblems related to Napoleon is past all belief. In a picture of Boulogne in the Luxembourg, amongst the figures in the foreground was a little Buonaparte, about two inches high, reviewing some troops. They have actually changed his features and figure, and, if I recollect rightly, altered his cockade and Uniform.... In the Musée des Arts and Métiers are some models of ships; even these were obliged to strike their Lilliputian tri-colours and hoist the white Ensign. And now Paris, fare thee well.... Thou art a mixture of strange ingredients. "Oh," said the Hairdresser who was cutting Kitty's hair yesterday, "had we your National spirit we should be a great people, mais c'est l'Égoisme qui regne à Paris." Their manner is quite fascinating, so civil, so polished. The people are like the Town, and the Town is like a Frenchman's Chemise, a magnificent frill with fine lace and Embroidery, but the rest ragged. The frill of the Thuilleries and Champs Elysées are perfect fairylands, the streets all that is execrable. No wonder the cleaners of boots and shoes are in a state of perpetual requisition. In one shop I saw elevated benches, on which sat many gentry with their feet upon a level with the cleaners' noses, where they sat like Statues, and I was actually induced to go back to satisfy myself that they were real men. English notices are frequent in the streets, some not over correct in style; for example, over a Hairdresser's in the Palais Royal--"The Cabinet for the cut of the hairs."

_Mrs. E. Stanley to Lady Maria J. Stanley._

ST. GERMAIN, _July 16, 1816_.

Surely you must have forgot what it is to be divided by land and sea from what you love, or when you were abroad you left nobody behind whom you cared about, or you would not fancy that I should not find time or inclination to read as many trifles as you can find to send, or that they should not give me almost as much pleasure, and be read with as much interest, as if I were shut up in the next dungeon to Mr. Bruce at La Force.... While you were enjoying the view of Beeston Castle, we were eating strawberries and cream under the trees in the Jardin des Plantes on the only hot day we have had.... I am in no danger of forgetting you, and if I have not written oftener, it has only been because Edward got the start of me in beginning to write in detail, and he is so inimitable in description that I could not go over the same ground with him.... I do wish I could give you one of our day's amusement, and jump you over here in mind and body to leave all your cares behind you....

At last we have bid goodbye to Paris, but every day seemed to bring something fresh to see, and we stayed two or three days longer than we intended yesterday to see St. Denis. It is not so fine as most of the churches we saw in Holland, but the historical interest is so great and so curious that I would not have missed seeing it for the world. Over the door all the guillotined figures of the Revolution; in the church the repairs which were begun by Buonaparte, now finishing by Louis; every stone and step you go marked by some association of one or other of these periods. As Buonaparte's own power increased, his respect for crowned heads and authorities increased, I suppose, and so he had put up _Fleurs de Lys_ himself for the Bourbons in one part of the church, and he had prepared a vault for himself, decorated above with bees and statues of the six Kings of France who had the title of Emperor. To this vault he had made two bronze doors with gold ornaments and gold lions' heads, one of which flew back with a spring, and discovered three keyholes, to which there were three golden keys. The Sacristy he filled with chef d'oeuvres of the best French artists, representing those parts of the History of France connected with St. Denis and with his own views of Empire.

The beautiful white marble steps leading to the altar beneath which the seventh Emperor was to be laid were just finished when Louis XVIII. came to fill the tomb, which was just prepared, with the bones of Louis XVI., to depose the Emperor, to complete the marble pavement, and to extend the _fleurs de lys_ over the whole church.

And upon the stone which now conceals the entrance to the vault the Duchesse d'Angoulême always kneels at the grave of her father, for the fine bronze doors are deposed also, only, I believe, because they were placed there by Buonaparte, and now they have to get into the Vault by taking up the stone. We got into the carriage full of Buonaparte, returned to Paris, and then got out again with the Murrays at Malmaison. It is the only enviable French house I have seen, and deserves everything Edward said about it, even without the statues and half the pictures which are taken away.

We spent three or four hours in the Thuilleries Gardens on Sunday. Buonaparte must have thought of gilding the dome of the Invalides when he was walking in the Jardin des Thuilleries, it suits the whole thing so exactly. A French crowd is so gay with the women's shawls and flowers that they assimilate well with the real flowers, and are almost as great an ornament to the Garden. A shower came on just as we were standing near the Palace, and at that moment the guards took their posts as a signal the King was going to Mass, so Edward and I followed the crowd to the Salle des Maréchaux (they would not admit Donald because he had gaiters, and Edward had luckily trowsers), and there we saw Louis XVIII. and the Duchesse d'Angoulême and Monsieur much better than we had done the Sunday before, with all the trouble of getting a ticket for admission into the Chapel, and being squeezed to death into the bargain. His Majesty is more like a Turtle than anything else, and shows external evidence of his great affection for Turtle soup. His walk is quite curious. One of his most intimate friends says that in spite of his devotion _Le Roi est un peu philosophe_. We staid on Monday to see a review. Donald introduced us to a Mr. and Mrs. Boyd, who have lived in France the last 14 years, and have a terrace that overlooks the Boulevards, so there we sat very commodiously and saw the King and the Duchesses de Berri and Angoulême, in an open Calèche, pass through the double row of troops which lined the Boulevards from one end to the other, and a beautiful sight it was. Mr. Boyd invited me to a party at his house in the country, and in the hopes of seeing that _rara avis_, a French lady or gentleman, I said yes. So I sent for a hairdresser, who came post haste, and amused me with his _politesse_, and Edward with his _politique_. I was quite sorry I could not have him again.

We dined with the Murrays, and then went on to Mr. Boyd, where I found myself the only lady there dressed amongst about forty. That is to say, their heads and tails were all in morning costume and mine in evening....

I must go back one more day, and tell you how I went to be described for a passport to La Force on Saturday, and how I thought Mr. Bruce more of a hero young man than any I have ever seen. I recollect seeing him before, and thinking him a coxcomb, but a few years have mellowed all that into a very fine young man.

Making every allowance for seeing him in his dungeon in La Force, I think you would be delighted with his countenance. He spoke his sentiments with manly freedom, and yet with the liberality of one who thinks it possible a man may differ from him without being a fool, or a rascal. Lucy and Louisa would certainly have fallen in love with his fine Roman head, which his prison costume of a great coat and no neckcloth showed to great advantage.

And now, adieu Paris! At 2 o'clock on Wednesday a green coach, which none of you could see without ten minutes' laughing at least--three horses and a postillion! (what would I give just to drive up to Winnington with the whole equipage!)--carried us to Versailles, and there I longed for Louis XIV. as much as for Buonaparte at St. Cloud; for one cannot fancy any one living in those rooms or walking in those gardens without hoops and Henri quatre plumes. If one could but people them properly for a couple of hours, what a delightful recollection it would be! Versailles ought to be seen last. It is so magnificent that every other thing of the sort is quite lost in the comparison. I am glad I saw Paris and the Tuilleries and St. Cloud first. We saw the Palace, and then we dined, and then we set out for the Trianon, and then we met with a guide who entertained us so much as to put Louis XIV. and all his court out of my head. Buonaparte never went to Versailles but once to look at it, but at the Trianon he and Joséphine lived, and it is impossible, in seeing those places, not to feel the principal interest to be in the inquiry--where he lived? where he sat? where he walked? where he slept?--so accordingly we asked our guide. "Monsieur, je ne connais point ce coquin là" soon told us what we were to expect from him, but his silence and his loyalty, and the combat between his hatred of the English and his hatred of Buonaparte was so amusing that we soon forgave him for not telling us anything about him. He said "Bony" was only "fit to be hanged." "Why did you not hang him, then?" He could only shrug his shoulders. "We should have hung him for you if he had come to England." "Ma foi! Monsieur, je crois que non." He told us the stories of the rooms and the pictures with all the vivacity and rapidity of a Frenchman, and with pretty little turns of wit.... Donald asked him if a cabinet in one of the rooms had not been given by the Empress of Russia to Buonaparte? He instantly seized him by the button with an air of triumph. "Tenez, Monsieur, quand l'Empereur de Russie était ici, il a vu ce Cabinet et a dit; otez cette Volaille là" (pointing to the compartment in which the Imperial Eagles had been changed into Angels). "Je l'ai donné aux Français, et lui--il n'était pas Français."

_To face p. 306._]

In all the royal house the servants are equally impenetrable on the subject of Buonaparte. But sometimes it seems put on, sometimes they really do not know from having been only lately put there, but this man was a genuine Bourbonist and a genuine Frenchman.

We just got to St. Germain in time to walk on the Terrace before evening closed in over the beautiful view. The Palace and the Town put me quite in mind of the deserted court in the "Arabian Nights." ...

_Edward Stanley to his Nieces. Tuesday morning._

I could fill another letter with the interesting things we saw yesterday at St. Denis and Malmaison, but we are off in an hour, and it is possible you may hear no more from these

HAPPY TRAVELLERS.

Index

Abbeville, Louis XVIII. at, 244

Abercromby, Colonel, 280

Aisne, river, 145-161

Aix la Chapelle, 146, 183, 191, 194, 205

_Albania_, ship at Antwerp, 203

Albinus, German anatomist, 232

Alderley, 10, 12, 15, 16, 17-21, 24, 68, 74, 75, 96, 120, 236, 249, 283, 296

Alderley Church, 102

Alderley Edge, 16

Alderley Park, 14

Alderley Rectory, 15-17

Alessandria, Plain of Marengo, 49

Alexander I., Emperor of Russia, 76, 82-85, 93, 133, 177, 178, 222, 229, 237, 244, 245

Algeciras Bay, 53

Alhama, Spain, 58, 63

Alhambra, The, 59, 61, 63, 64

Alien Office, The, 82

Alkmaar, 205

"Allemagne," By Madame de Staël, 128

Allied Sovereigns, 82, 95, 152

Allies, 105, 115, 116, 126, 156, 160-162, 168, 196, 197, 236, 237, 242

Alps, 57

Ambassador, English, Sir Charles Stuart, 112

Ambassador, Swedish, M. de Staël, 132

Ambolle, Baron d', at Fontainebleau, 153

_Ambuscade_, picture of capture of the frigate, 136

Amiens, Peace of, 25, 73

Amsterdam, 211, 222-224, 226

Andernach on the Rhine, 187

Angerstein Collection, 113

Anglesey Society, 10

Anglesey, Lord, his leg buried at Waterloo, 261

Angoulême, Duchesse d', 289

Antiquiera, Spain, 60, 64

Antwerp, 199, 204, 206, 208, 209, 210, 233, 253

Antwerp Gate, Bergen op Zoom, 214, 217

Apreece, Mrs., afterwards Lady Davey, 81

_Argonauta_, Spanish vessel, 51, 53, 56

Ashbourne, 248

Augereau, General, 238

Austerlitz, 138, 269, 287

Austria, 179, 181

Austria, Emperor of, 135, 237

Bacharach on the Rhine, 172, 184, 185

Banks, Sir Joseph, 93

Barcelona, 50, 52, 54, 55, 60, 69, 70

Barclay de Tolly, 116

Baring, Major, 268

Barthélemy, 237

Bastille, 295

Batavia, 193

Beauharnais, Eugène, Viceroy of Italy, 132, 134

Bees, Napoleon's, 150

Beeston Castle, 301

Belleville, 115, 116, 117

Belluno, Duc du, _see_ Victor

Benedictines, head cook to convent of, 41

Beresford, Viscount, Marshal, 74

Bergen op Zoom, 199, 208-212

Berghem, Dutch painter (1624-1683), 201

Berri, Duc de, 139, 140, 152, 282, 289

Berri, Duchesse de, 289, 305

Berry au Bac, 145, 163, 164

Berthier, Marshal, Prince de Wagram, 138, 149

Bertrand, General, 269

Bessborough, Earl of, 86

Bessières, Marshal, Duc d'Istria, 137

Beveland, South, 210

Bidwell, 122

Bingen on the Rhine, 183

"Birds, Familiar History of," by Bishop Stanley, 17

_Bittern_, H.M.S., 67

Blücher, 85, 86, 88, 89, 93, 145, 263

Boher, French sculptor (d. 1825), 132

Bois de Boulogne, 177

Bolero, Spanish dance, 60

Bonn, music on the Rhine, 188

Boodle's Club, 33

Borneo Mission, 23

Borodino, 177

Boulogne, 107-252

Bourbons, The, 78, 107, 237, 284, 288-292

Boyd, Mr. and Mrs., 304

Brabant, 181

Breda, 209, 217, 218, 226

Brisbane, Sir Thomas, at Valenciennes, 279, 283

Brise-Maison, General, _see_ Maison

British character, 195

British soldiers, 166

_Britomart_, H.M.S., 18

Brock, Holland, 227

Brooke, Sir James, English traveller, Rajah of Sarawack (1803-1868), 23

Bruce, Michael, the Englishman who helped Lavalette to escape, 293, 294

Bruges, 247, 258, 260, 273

Brussels, 193, 195, 197, 199, 200, 208, 209, 233, 264, 269, 274, 277

Buiksloot, North Holland, 226

Bülow, Marshal, 145

Buonaparte, Napoleon, Emperor, 34, 35, 37, 40, 46, 47, 50, 74, 90, 99, 100, 118, 120, 121, 130, 138-140, 148, 152-154, 162, 175, 180, 238, 241, 244, 266, 271, 275, 281, 282, 288, 295, 296, 300, 302, 303, 304, 306-307

Buonaparte family, 237

Buonaparte, Louis, King of Holland, 225

Buonaparte, Lucien, 83

Burgundy, 46

"Bustle's Banquet," by Rev. E. Stanley, 17

Buttereax, plains of, Lyons, 43

"Butterfly's Ball," by Sir H. Roscoe, 17

Buvin d'Enfer, 298

Byng's Brigade, 263

Byron, Lord, 79

Cadiz, 53, 61, 68

Café des Mille Colonnes, Paris, 142, 281

Calick, Russia, 174

"Calife Voleur, Le" Ballet, 88

Cambray, 247, 279, 283

Cambridge, 11, 12, 25, 40, 50, 81, 247, 248, 250

Campo Formio, Treaty of (1797), 243

Cannes, 242

Canova, 132

Canterbury, 249

Cardinals at Fontainebleau, 152

Carleton, Mr., 251

Carlton House, 83

Carnival of Venice, 240

Caroline of Naples, 289

Carousel, Place de, 37, 136, 139

Castlereagh, Lord, 87

Catacombs, Paris, 143, 286, 298

Catalonia, 56

Catherine, Grand-Duchess of Russia, _see_ Oldenburg

Châlons, 41-43, 146, 156, 168

Chamber of Representatives, 130

Chambord, Comte de, 139

Champagne, 41, 46

Champlain, Lake, 238

Champs Elysées, 119, 139, 301

Charenton, near Paris, 116

Charlemont, Anne, Lady, daughter and heiress of William Bermingham, of Ross Hill, co. Galway (d. 1876), aged 95, 132

Charleroi, 276

Charles IV., King of Spain, 64, 70

Château Thierry, 145, 157

Chatham, Earl of, 203

Chatillon, 41

Chavignon, near Laon, 161

Chichester, Thomas, 2nd Earl of, 244

"Childe Harold," 80

Cholmondeley, Miss, 82

Churchill, Major, 95

Clancarty, Lord, Ambassador, 82, 233

Clarke, Marshal, Duc de Feltre, 243

Clinton, Lady Louisa, daughter of Lord Sheffield, 76, 251

Clinton, General Sir Henry, 75

Clinton, General Sir William, married Lady Louisa Holroyd, 75

Coblentz, 186

Cole, Sir Lowry, 279, 283

Cologne, 172, 186, 190

Colonne, Vendôme, 110

Combermere, Lord, 96

Compiègne, 281, 283, 284

"Comte de Cely," 78

Conclave of St. Peter at Fontainebleau, 152

Congress of Vienna, 235

Constant, Napoleon's valet, 152

Constantine, Grand Duke, 178

Constantino, Grand Duchess, 240

Consul, The First, 26, 37, 73

Cooke, Major-General, 210, 211, 214

Coote, Sir Evelyn, 259

Corbeny, France, 163, 164

"Corinne," by Mdme. de Staël, 79

Cork, Lady, 86

Cornegliano, Duc de, _see_ Moncey

Coronation, The, 165

Corps Législatif, 129, 135

Corte, La, 260

Cotton trade, Rouen, 28

Court dress necessary, 69

Court etiquette, Buonaparte's tenacity as to, 37

Court Martial, Gibraltar, in 1802, 66

Craon or Craonne, 145, 156, 163

Craufurd, Donald, of Auchinanes, 85, 246, 265, 276

Croix, St. Louis, 291

Cross, Mr. John, 98, 99

Crosses, roadside, in Spain, signs of murders committed, 59

Curtis, Sir William, 88

Cutts Inn, Wilmslow, hamlet near Alderley, 162

Dalmatie, Duc de, _see_ Soult

D'Angély, _see_ Régnaud

Dantzig, Duc de, _see_ Lefebre

Davenport, E. D., of Capesthorne, 163

Davoust, Marshal, Prince d'Eckmühl, 137

Davy, Lady, 79, 81

Davy, Sir Humphrey, 79, 81

De Lille, poet, 300

Dendrich, boundary France and Austria, 179

Denia, Spain, 71

De Non, French artist under Napoleon, 295, 296

Desaix, General, killed at Marengo (1800), 50

Dijon, 41

"Dinner of the Dogs," or "Bustle's Banquet," 17

Directory, The, 50

Doge of Genoa, 50

Douglas, Hon. Frederick, interview with Napoleon, 240, 241

Dover, 187

Dow, Gerard, Dutch painter, 38

Dragoons at Rouen (1802), 30

Dresden, Battle of (1813), 76

Duels between Russian and French officers, 107

Du Mare, French professor, 124

Duméril, Andre, French physician, 124

Dumolard, French politician, 130

Du Pont, General, 139

Dutch ark, 202

Dutch carving, 205

Dutch cleanliness, 227, 231

Dutch family, 253

Dutch guide, 230

Dutch impenetrability, 224

Dutch road, 209

Dutch table d'hôte, 226

Dykes, marvellous, 228, 229

Eagle and Child, inn at Alderley, 272

Eagles, Napoleon's, 110, 147, 150, 269, 282, 300, 307

Eckmühl, Prince d', _see_ Davoust

Ecole Polytechnique, 116, 175

Edridge, H., painter, 139

Egerton, Colonel, 280

Egerton, Mr., 87

Egypt, 42

Ehrenbreitstein, 187

Ehrenfels, Castle of, 184

Elba, 46, 75, 159

Elephant, fountain, 295-296

Embden, 31

Emigrants, French, 18

Emperor's abdication, 75

Emperor Alexander, _see_ Alexander

Emperor of Austria, 135

Emperor Napoleon, _see_ Buonaparte

Empress Joséphine, _see_ Joséphine

Empress Maria Louisa, _see_ Maria Louisa

Empress of Russia, 307

Enghien, Duc d', 134, 245

Entomologist, 185

Entomology, 17, 124

Ephemera, 186

Etruria, King of, 50, 52

Eugène Beauharnais, _see_ Beauharnais

Executions, 43, 44

Ex-Imperial Guard, 148

Fagan, Mr., 46

Fandangos, 60

Fanshawe, Catherine, 77, 78

Felix Meritus, Dutch museum, 225

Feltre, Duke of, _see_ Clarke

Ferdinand VII., King of Spain, 239

Ferreant, Place de, Lyons, 43

Flanders, 74

Fleurs de Lys, 303

Flushing, 210

Foljambe, Mr., 249

Fontainebleau, 145-146, 149, 152

Forbach, 179

Forbes, Lady Elizabeth, 240

Fountain Elephant, 295-296

Frascati, 33, 34, 39

French emigrants, 18

Fribourg, 170

"Fugio ut Fulgor," 103

Garde Impériale, 107

Gardes d'Honneur, 148

Garrison of Gibraltar, 66, 67, 70

Gazettes, 105

Genappes, 270

Generalife at Granada, 59

Geneva, 35, 40, 43, 46-47, 49, 55

Genoa, 47, 50

George Street, 90

Ghent, 274-275

Gibbon, 15

Gibraltar, 25, 55, 57, 60, 61, 65, 71

Glenbervie, Lord and Lady, 236, 240

Goat curricles, 222

Goat gigs, 233

Godoy, Emanuel, Prince of Peace, 64, 70

Gore, General, 211

Gorum, 220-222

Goths, 293

Graham, Sir Thomas, 207, 213

Granada, 57, 59, 60, 62, 66

Grand Tour, 25

Gronow, Memoirs of Captain, 107

Grosvenor Place, 39

Grosvenor, Lord, 113

Guarda Costas, 68

Guido, painter, 38

Guignes, 145, 153, 154

Guillotine, The, 43

Haarlem, 230, 231

Hague, The, 112, 233

_Hannibal_, The ship, 53

Hardwicke, Earl of, 112

Hare, Rev. Augustus, 16

Hare, Mrs. Augustus, Maria Leycester, 16

Hare, Augustus J. C., 16

Harlequin and Punch, 297

Harris, Captain, 74

Haslar Hospital, 98

Haüy, mineralogist, 124

Havre, 94, 96, 99, 100, 103, 105

Haye, Sainte, La, 268

Hazard, Rue du, Paris, 109, 143

Heber, Reginald, Bishop of Calcutta (1783-1826), 16, 90

Hodnet, 16

Holland, 76, 159, 200, 226, 302

Holland, Dr., 86

Holroyd, Lady Maria Josepha, _see_ also Stanley, 14

Holyhead Harbour, 255

Holyhead Island, 10, 17

Holywell, Alderley, 16

Hookham's, 93

Hôpital de la Charité, 45

Hôpital des Invalides, 282

Hermitage, Forest of Fontainebleau, 147

Hibberts, the, 132, 168

Highlake, Hoylake, Cheshire, 55, 69

Hill, Rowland, General Lord Hill 95, 96

Hobart Town, Tasmania, 18

Hobbema, Dutch painter (d. 1699), 201

Hodgson, Dean of Carlisle, 128

Hôtel de Boston, Paris, 35

Hôtel des Etrangers, Paris, 143

Hôtel du Parc, Lyons, 43

Hotel in the Wood, Haarlem, 230

Hougoumont, 263, 265, 266, 267

Hulot, General, 76

Hundred Days, The, 244

Hussey, Edward, of Scotney Castle, 25, 26, 32, 41, 71

Hutchinson, Captain, 293, 294

Huxley, Professor, 18

Hyères, 48

ICELANDIC EXPEDITION, made by Sir John Stanley, 7th Bart. (1788), 56

"Ida of Athens," story written by Lady Morgan at Penrhos, Holyhead. Her study "Attica" so called to present day, 232

Imperial Chasseurs, 107

India House illumination (1814), 84

Infanta of Spain, Queen of Etruria, 52

Invalides, Hôtel des, 49, 115, 282

Istria, Duc d', _see_ Bessières

Jourdan, General, (1762-1833), 49, 136, 146

LA BELLE ALLIANCE, 263, 267

Labédoyère, General, 299

Laeken, Palace of, 275

Lady Penrhyn's cottages, allusion to the model village of Llandegai in Wales, 227

Lafayette, General, Marquis de, 126

La Haye, Sainte, 268

Laird, English Consul, Malaga, 58

Lamb, Lady Caroline, 86

Lansdowne, Lord, 78

Laon, 145, 146, 156, 161-163

"La Reyna Louisa," 54

Lavalette, General, 293

Le Brun, 38

Lefebre, Marshal, Duc de Dantzig, 138

Leghs, The, of High Legh, 285

Leghorn, 50-52

Leighton, Sir Baldwin, Bart., of Loton, 68

Leipzic, Battle of, 170, 177

Leith, _The John of Leith_

Leith, the Emperor sails from, 56

L'Ettorel, Professor, 124

Levanter, east wind, Mediterranean, 71

Leycester, Edward Penrhyn, brother of Mrs. E. Stanley, 76, 81, 95, 246, 247, 252

Leycester, Hugh, uncle of Mrs. Edward Stanley, 32

Leycester, Kitty, _see_ Mrs. E. Stanley, 15

Leycester, Maria, Mrs. Augustus Hare, 15, 16

Leycester, Oswald, Mrs. E. Stanley's father, 15

Leycester, Ralph, 261

Leycesters of Toft, 15

Leyden, 231, 232

Libraries, Public, 38

Liège, 193, 195, 197

Lille, 146

Lillo, fort in Holland, 203

Lind, Jenny, 22

Lindsay, Lady Charlotte, 236, 240

Linois, Comte de, 53

Linz on the Rhine, 192

Lisbon, 72

Lisle, 196

Liverpool, 36, 43, 51

Liverpool, Lord, 87

Llandaff, Dean Vaughan of, 19

Lodi, Battle of, 136

Loja, in Spain, 60

London, 81, 82

Lorich on Rhine, 184

Louis Buonaparte, King of Holland, _see_ Buonaparte

Louis, King of Etruria, 50

Louis XIV., 306

Louis XVI., 303

Louis XVIII., 78, 106, 107, 150, 177, 225, 235, 243, 271, 282, 290, 292, 303-304

Louisa Stanley, _see_ Stanley

Louvel, assassin of the Duke de Berri, 139

Louvre, The, 38, 113, 274, 300

Lowe, Rev. Mr., 223

Lucien Buonaparte, _see_ Buonaparte

Lucy Stanley, _see_ Stanley

Lugai, Professor, 232

Lutzen, Battle of, 170

Lyne and Co., Lisbon, 72

Lyons, 40, 42, 43-46, 47

Macclesfield, Cheshire, 221

Macdonald, Marshal, Duc de Tarente, 196, 244

Macon, 42

Madrid, 69, 71, 72

Maine, The River, 182

Maison, General, "Brise-Maison," 197

Malaga, Mole of, 57, 61, 62, 64, 68

Malines, Mechlin, 201, 202

Malmaison, 130, 131, 134, 297

Manchester, 85

Marcet, Mrs., 78

Marengo, Battle of, 49, 119

Maria Josepha Holroyd, Lady, _see_ Holroyd and Stanley

Marie Louise, Empress, 74, 240, 242, 281, 284

Marlborough, Duke of, biography by order of Napoleon, 297

Marly, Aqueduct of, 133

Marmont, Marshal, Duc de Raguse, 106, 116-118, 126, 135, 138, 145, 177

Marshals, The, 112, 135, 151, 195, 238, _see_ also under Bessières, Davoust, Berthier, Clarke, Jourdan, Lefebre, Macdonald, Marmont, Massèna, Moncey, Mortier, Murat, Ney, Soult, Victor

Martin, Mr., 122

Massèna, Marshal, Duc de Rivoli, 138

Mathew, Father, 21

Matthews, Montague, 37

Maubeuge, 271, 278

Maudesley's engines, 91

Mausthurm, or Mouse Turret, 184

Mayence, 146, 159, 180, 182

McDonald, Captain, 298

Meaux, 145, 153-156

_Medusa_, English frigate, 50

Melbourne, Lord, 19, 86

Melun, 145, 146

"Memorials of a Quiet Life," by Augustus Hare, 16

Meteoric stones, presentation sword made from, 93

Metsu, Gabriel, Dutch painter (1615-1658), 38

Metz, 146, 169, 173-175, 180

Mieris, Dutch painter (1635-1681), 38

Milton's mulberry-tree, 40

Minorca, 67, 70

Moncey, Marshal, Duc de Cornegliano, 137-139

Mons, 271-273

Montmartre, 105, 108, 110, 115-117, 175

Montserrat, Lady of, 56

Mont St. Jean, Waterloo, 262

Moors, The, 62

Moreau, General, 76

Moreau, Madame, 76, 78, 90

Morgan, Lady, 232

Morritt, Mr., of Rokeby, 87

Mortier, Marshal, Duc de Treviso, 7, 137, 144

Moscow, 174

Moskowa, Prince de, _see_ Ney

Munchausen, Baron, 117

Murat, Joachim, King of Naples, 138

Murrays, The, 285, 290, 297, 298, 303

Mutiny at Gibraltar, 66

Muxham, near Antwerp, 207

N., erasure of Napoleon's initial (1814-1816), 110-300

Naard, Holland, 220

Naples, 55, 71

Naples, the King of, _see_ Murat

Napoleon, 26, 73-83, 107, 111-113, 126, 134, 145, 146, 164, 176, 181, 186, 187, 196, 199, 205, 206, 221, 223, 235, 242-245, 267-269, 288, 289, 295

National Schools, 22

Nazareth, 151

Necker, Minister to Louis XVI., 79

Nelson's Pillar, Dublin, 110

Netherlands, 146, 181, 237, 244

New Guinea, 18

New Zealand, 18

Ney, Marshal, Prince de la Moskowa, 137, 299

Nightingale, Miss, 19

Nightingale, Dr., at Alderley, 126

Nivelle Road, 265, 276

"Nobles de Campagne," 241

Norfolk, 20

Normandy, 46

North, Lady Catherine, married Lord Glenbervie, 191

North, Hon. F., 191, 236

North Island of New Zealand, 18

North Sea, 18

Norwich, Bishop of, _see_ E. Stanley, 19-22, 24

Nottingham Castle, 249

Novi, Northern Italy, 50

Oldenburg bonnets, 101, 106, 200

Oldenburg, Duchess, Catherine of, 83, 90, 92, 98, 178

"Ologies," Humorous Sketches by E. S., 17

O'Neil, Miss, actress, 286

Orange, Prince of, 208, 233, 254

Orange, Princess of, 231

Ostade, Adrien, Dutch painter, 201

Ostend, 251, 253, 255, 258, 259

Palais Royal, 119, 281, 285

Palmer, Mr., 33

Pantin, France, 116

Paris, 29, 31, 33, 34-35, 37-40, 73, 74, 76, 85, 106, 108, 109, 112-118, 134, 135, 143, 249, 277, 285

Parker, Mrs., of Astle, 137

Parry, Sir Edward, K.C.B., arctic navigator, m. Isabella, daughter of Sir John Stanley, 254

Peace, Prince of, _see_ Godoy

"Peacock at Home, The," 17

Penrhos, Holyhead, 10

Perignan, General, 137

Peter the Great, House of, 226

Petit, Madame, French actress, 33

Pevensey, Lord, 248

Pierre Suisse, ancient castle near Lyons, destroyed in the Revolution, 45

Pisa, 51, 52

Place Buonaparte, Lyons, 43

Place Belle Cour, Lyons, 43

Platoff, Russian General, 89

Poissardes, Havre, 101

Polytechnique, Ecole, _see_ Ecole