before and behind, and turned up in an almost equal proportion at the sides; his waistcoat is peculiar and very long ; his trousers large about the hips, and tightening at the foot ; he wears long spurs, immense mustaches, brandishes a cane, spits, and swaggers.

The other, as insignificant in appearance as his friend is offensive, wears a little round hat, a plain spotted summer waistcoat, light gray trousers, and a thin stick, which he rather trails than flourishes. The inoffensive gentleman looks at nothing--the swaggering gentleman looks at every thing : the inoffensive gentleman plays at whist, and creeps into society-the swaggering gentleman lives at the theatres, and drives about an actress.-And now see a man, tall, dark, with an air in which fierceness and dignity intermingle! He walks alone: sometimes he shuts his eyes, sometimes he folds his arms; a variety of occasions on which he lost, a variety of chances by which he might have gained, give every now and then a convulsive twitch to his overhanging eyebrow-he meets a red-nosed gentleman, of sleek and comely aspect, and who steps upon his toes ;--the two walk arm-in-arm together towards the Rue de Richelieu. .

Pass on to the Rue Montmartre, and the Boulevard takes a different aspect. The activity of business mixes itself with the activity of idleness ; here are the large magazines of the Parisian Medici ; the crowd, less elegant, has the air of being more employed. Pass on again-commerce assumes a quieter appearance ; its luxurious companions have disappeared; there are no chairs, for there is no leisure ; but go a little farther, and the gayeties recommence; the gayeties, this time, not of the "nobilace," but of the populace"not of the aristocracy of the “ Chaussée d'Antin,” but of the aristocracy of the “ Temple.” Grouped round yonder stage, much resembling the antique theatre of Thespis, you see the mob of modern Greece, enchanted with the pleasures of Dubureaux :* and here you may

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put into the lottery for a cake, and here you may have your destiny told for a “sou ;” and the great men—the great men of France-the marshals and generals of the empire, the distinguished orators of the Restoration, the literary celebrities of the day-Ney, Foy, Victor Hugo-are there before you, as large-a great deal larger, indeed—than life ; for the multitude are rarely satisfied with things just as they are ; they like to see their heroes fresh, fat, and magnificently dressed; and all this is easily accomplished when their heroes are -in wax.

Where these great men at present exhibit themselves, there used formerly to be tumblers; but the people's amusements have changed, though the people must still be amused.

where you

And at last we have come to the silent and tranquil Boulevard of the agitated and turbulent Beaumarchais ; and behind are the tall palaces of dark-red brick, and the low and gloomy arcades of the Place Royale,

find the old-fashioned magistrate, the oldfashioned merchant, the retired respectability of Paris : and yonder! before us—is the memorable spot, witness of the first excesses and the first triumphs of the Revolution—but the spectres of its old time are vanished, and the eye which rests upon the statue of yonder gigantic and sagacious animal* tries to legitimatize the monument,—by considering it as a type of the great people who raised the barricades in July, 1830, and overthrew the Bastille in July, 1789. And now, my dear reader, in parading you thus

systematically from the Madelaine to the Temple,” I have given you the best introduction, I believe, to Paris and its population. If you want to know the people of Paris, you must seek them abroad. They love the sun, and the air, and the sauntering stroll; they love, if it be only for a moment, to glide across the broad street--amid the turnings and windings of which society changes its colours at every instant, like the shift

6

ing forms of a kaleidoscope: the idle loiter there for amusement, the busy steal there for distraction. Besides, it is not only the present I have been showing you: I do not know where you may better study the past. What has not even our own generation looked on from yonder windows! Robespierre, Barras, Bonaparte, the Republic, the Directory, the Empire-have all passed in triumph and defeat before them.

• By twelve o'clock at noon the Boulevards' were crowded with people of every class, all appearing in high spirits ; the number of white cockades increased ; many of them wore only bits of white handkerchiefs, bits of white paper,— Vivent nos libérateurs !' • Vivent les Bourbons !"" I put down the book I was reading the other morning (* Events at Paris in 1814") at this passage, and went out to see Louis Philippe reviewing the very men who had driven these same Bourbons into exile. The Boulevards now, too, were crowded with people of all classes, appearing in high spirits ; and, looking down the street, I saw the straight red feather and the white belt' mingling with the scarf, and the shawl, and the plain cap, and the splendid bonnet. The new king was on horseback, smiling graciously on his faithful people ; and behind him rode the prince, on whose head repose the future destinies of France-as gay, as handsome, as full of hope, as the Comte d'Artois in the reign of Louis XV.

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PALAIS ROYAL.

Every thing in Paris that is remarkable, remarkable for its gayety

Evening in the Palais Royal in 1830—The Jubilee of the Revolution—The king of the middle classes had his palace supported by shops Fête Napolitaine - Vicissitudes of history-Description of the Palais Royal, and changes--Gambling-houses; description from M. Balzac-Must civilization be accompanied by its curses?...

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more.

THERE are countries in which you may yet find a few of those solemn temples which defy the destruction of time, and the imitation of In Italy, in Greece, and in Asia, there are shrines at which your footsteps too fondly linger: in the silence of the great place of St. Mark, in the solitudes that surround the Coliseum, you feel the mystery of the spot, and sigh for the pleasant days of Venice—for the virtue and the glory of the antique Rome." It is not the magnificence of these scenes, it is their melancholy—the melancholy which that magnificence has left—that sinks into your soul, and enchants you with the hue of by-gone memories--of hopes and happiness no

There is nothing of this here: whatever is most remarkable in Paris is remarkable for its gayety. This is why I spoke of the Boulevards : this is why I now speak of the Palais Royal. It will be long before I forget an evening that I spent there in the beginning of August, 1830. I had come from the quiet corners of the city, more and more struck at every step by the tranquillity into which a revolution could so suddenly subside. It could hardly be said there was a government, and there seemed nothing to require one : the storm that had raised the barricade and swept over the throne was lulled completely to rest.

The poor population of the distant faubourgs slept in forgetfulness of the recent triumphs they had won; and the streets

through which I had passed were lone and silent, and traversed by no light save that of the pale “reverbère.” It was fresh from this dim and solitary walk that I burst at once upon the splendour and the crowds of the Palais Royal. Every chair, every stone bench was occupied, and, instead of the dark and deserted street, I found myself lost in an immense throng, and bewildered by a blaze of light, which ostentatiously displayed shawls and silks, and gold, and silver, and crystal, and precious stones; and amid this gorgeous and confused glitter sat in sedate satisfaction the epicurean “Rentier,” now recounting to his wife the change that was to be made in the new uniform of the Garde Nationale--now pointing out some pupil of the Polytechnic School, or some dark-haired student of the “ École de Droit,” who had been particularly conspicuous at the spot where he himself had performed miracles : and the waiters rushed from side to side, bustling, shouting; and the laugh, and the gay voice in which the Frenchman tells the tale of his exploits, resounded everywhere.

It was impossible not to connect the festivity around me with the events of the three days preceding; it was impossible not to imagine I was present at the jubilee of the new régime: and in each accent of gayety I fancied there was to be discerned a peculiar tone, and in each look of joy I fancied there could be read a peculiar expression; and what place more proper to celebrate the triumphs of July? Installed amid the commercial opulence around me was at that time the residence of the citizen king—the monarch of the middle classes ; his palace was supported by shops; his wealth* was connected with the wealth, and his fortune supplied by the fortune, of the tailor, the watchmaker, the jeweller, and the restaurant :" France, in reconstituting her monarchy, had meetly and involuntarily taken the counter as a substitute for the buckler-noble cradle of her military kings ! But two months before, and the windows of the palace,

* The chairs alone give a revenue of 80,000 francs.