St Cloud Is An
Exceedingly Neat Pretty Town, Well And Solidly Built, And Tolerably Large.
There Are A Great Many Good Restaurants And Cafes, As St Cloud With Its
Palace, Promenades And Gardens Forms One Of The Most Favourite Resorts Of
The Parisians On Sundays And Jours De Fete.
Diners de societe and
noces et festins are often made here; and there is both land and water
conveyance during the whole day.
There are two roads by land from Paris:
the one on the Quai the whole way; the other through the Bois de Boulogne
and Champs Elysees. The gardens of St Cloud are laid out something in the
style of a jardin anglais, but mixed with the regular old fashioned
garden; it abounds in lofty trees, beautiful sites and well arranged vistas
commanding extensive views of Paris and the country environing. St Cloud
was the favourite residence of Napoleon; and the furniture in the palace
here shows him to be a man of the most refined taste. All is elegant and
classic; there is nothing superfluous; the furniture is modern, but in
strict imitation of the furniture of the ancients and chiefly in bronze.
There are superb vases and candelabras in marble, magnificent clocks of
various kinds, marble busts, and busts in bronze of great men, and bronze
statues large as life holding lamps. The chairs and sofas too are in a
classic taste, as are the beds and baths. We were informed here that
Blucher, who passed one night here, tore with his spur the satin covering
of one of the sofas and that he did it wilfully; but I never can believe
that the old man would be so silly, and I rather think that this story is
an invention of the keeper of the Palace, or that if it was done, it was
done by an accident merely. But the fact is that Blucher has a contempt for
and hates the Parisians and likes to mortify them on all occasions; he
threatens to do a number of things which he never seriously intends, merely
for the sake of teasing them; and it must be owned that they deserve a
little contempt from the want of caractere they showed on the entrance of
the Allies. Be it as it may, Blucher is the bete noire of the Parisians
and they are as much afraid of him as the children are of Monsieur
Croque-mitaine.
We returned from St Cloud by the Quai, crossed the bridge of Jena,
galloped along the Champs de Mars, took a hasty glance at the Hotel des
Invalides, a magnificent edifice and which may be distinguished from all
other buildings by its gilded cupola. It is a superb establishment in every
respect, and is furnished with an excellent library. A great many old
soldiers are to be seen in this library occupied in reading; they are very
polite to all visitors, particularly to ladies. Nothing can better
demonstrate the superior character, intelligence and deportment of the
French soldiers over those of all other countries than the way in which
they employ their time in literary pursuits, their dignified politeness to
visitors and the intelligent answers they give to questions.
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