LETTER XII.

Paris.

When B—— and I went to the playhouse, as was mentioned in my last, we found a prodigious crowd of people before the door: We could not get a place till after a considerable struggle. The play was the Siege of Calais, founded on a popular story, which must needs be interesting and flattering to the French nation.

You cannot conceive what pressing and crowding there is every night to see this favourite piece, which has had the same success at Versailles as at Paris.

There are some few critics, however, who assert that it is entirely devoid of merit and owes its run to the popular nature of the subject, more than to any intrinsic beauty in the verses, which some declare are not even good French.

When it was last acted before the King, it is said, his Majesty, observing that the Duc d’Ayen did not join in applauding, but that he rather shewed some marks of disgust, turned to the Duke and said, Vous n’applaudissez pas? Vous n’étes pas bon François, Monsieur le Duc:—To this the Duke replied,—à Dieu ne plaise que je ne fusse pas meilleur que les vers de la piéce.

Obedient to the court in every other particular, the French disregard the decisions pronounced at Versailles in matters of taste. It very often happens that a dramatic piece, which has been acted before the royal family and the court, with the highest applause, is afterwards damned with every circumstance of ignominy at Paris. In all works of genius the Parisians lead the judgment of the courtiers, and dictate to their monarch.

In other countries of Europe, it has happened, that some Prince of superior talents has, by the brightness of his own genius, enlightened the minds of his subjects, and dispelled the clouds of barbarism from his dominions.

Since the commencement of this century a great empire has been improved from a state of gross ignorance, refined by the arts of peace, and instructed in the arts of war, by the vast genius and industry of one of its Princes, who laid the foundation of its present power and grandeur.

Another inconsiderable state, with fewer resources, has, at a later period, been created a powerful monarchy, by the astonishing efforts, perseverance, and magnanimity of its present king; whose love of knowledge and the arts has drawn some of the greatest geniuses in Europe to his capital; whence science and taste must gradually flow through his whole dominions, where they were formerly but little cherished.

In these instances, and others which might be enumerated, the princes have been superior in genius to any of their subjects. The throne has been the source whence knowledge and refinement have flowed to the extremities of the nation.

But this has never been the case in France, where it is not the king who polishes the people;—but the people who refine the manners, humanize the heart, and, if it be not perfectly opaque, enlighten the understanding of the king.

Telemaque, and many other works, have been composed with this intention. In many addresses and remonstrances to the throne, excellent precepts and hints are insinuated in an indirect and delicate manner.

By the emphatic applause they bestow on particular passages of the pieces represented at the theatre, they convey to the monarch the sentiments of the nation respecting the measures of his government.

By ascribing qualities to him which he does not possess, they endeavour to excite within his breast a desire to attain them: they try to cajole him into virtue. Considered in this point of view, the design of the equestrian statue which the city of Paris has erected in honour of Lewis XV. may have been suggested from a more generous motive than flattery, to which it is generally imputed. This was begun by Bouchardon; who died when the work was well advanced, and has since been committed to Pigal to be finished.

The horse is placed on a very high pedestal. At the angles, are four figures, standing in the manner of Caryatides, who represent the four virtues, Fortitude, Justice, Prudence, and the love of Peace. All the ornaments are of Bronze.

The two small sides of the pedestal are ornamented with gilded laurels and inscriptions. On the front, towards the Thuilleries, is the following:

LUDOVICO XV.
OPTIMO PRINCIPI
QUOD
AD SCALDUM, MOSAM, RHENUM,
VICTOR
PACEM ARMIS
PACE
SUORUM ET EUROPÆ
FELICITATEM
QUÆSIVIT.

The large sides of the pedestal are adorned with trophies and has reliefs. One represents Lewis giving peace to Europe; the other represents him in a triumphal chariot, crowned by Victory, and conducted by Renown to a people who submit.

When we recollect that the inscription and emblems allude to the conclusion of the war before the last, and what kind of inscriptions are usually put under the statues of kings, we shall not find any thing outrageously flattering in the above; the moral of which is, that the love of peace is one of the greatest virtues a king can possess—The best moral that can be insinuated into the breast of a monarch.

In this work the horse is infinitely more admired, by sculptors and satirists, than the king. But the greatest oversight is, that the whole group, though all the figures are larger than life, have a diminutive appearance in the centre of the vast area in which they are placed.

The wits of Paris could not allow such an opportunity of indulging their vein to escape unimproved. Many epigrams are handed about.—Here are two:

Bouchardon est un animal,

Et son ouvrage fait pitié;

Il place les vices à cheval,

Et met les vertus à pied.

Voilà notre Roi comme il est à Versailles,

Sans foi, sans loi, et sans entrailles.

Both are too severe; giving the idea of wicked dispositions, and cruelty of temper, which do not belong to Lewis the Fifteenth; whose real character, in three words, is that of a good-natured, easy-tempered man, sunk in sloth and sensuality.

I have seen another inscription for the statue handed about; it is in Latin, and very short.

STATUA STATUÆ.

You may imagine that the authors of these would meet with a dreadful punishment, if they were discovered. No danger of that kind is sufficient to restrain the inhabitants of this city, from writing and spreading such pasquinades, which are greatly relished by the whole nation.

Indeed, I imagine there is more of the spirit of revenge, than of good policy, in attempting to repel such humours; which, if they did not get vent in this manner, might break out in a more dangerous shape.

Adieu.