Edwards Henry Sutherland
Old and New Paris: Its History, Its People, and Its Places, v. 1
Another carriage story of the same period, likewise associated with finance, has a less tragic conclusion. A footman who had learnt, by listening to the conversation of his master at dinner-table, the art of speculating, had at last made a sufficiently large fortune to be able to buy himself a carriage. As soon as he had taken possession of it, he paid a visit to the Rue Quincampoix, a narrow street near the Rue Saint-Martin, where the bankers, brokers, and speculators interested in Law’s various enterprises had their headquarters. After transacting a little business, the enriched flunkey entered a much-frequented café and refreshed himself. Some time afterwards, in a fit of absence due either to preoccupation or to the effect of alcoholic liquors, he left the café and, instead of getting into his carriage, got up behind it. “You have made a mistake, sir,” called out the coachman; “your place is inside.” “I know it is,” replied the proprietor of the vehicle, suddenly recovering his presence of mind; “I wanted to see whether there was room for a pair of lacqueys behind.”
If footmen became aristocrats, noblemen, in those subversive days, turned tradesmen.
The Regent made his money with the greatest ease, by simply fixing the official value of the shares he held at a figure which suited his book. The members of the Court followed his lead. One of them, the Duke de la Force, did business on an extended scale. Nothing was too high or too low for him; and on one occasion, being unable to realise the value of his paper in any more profitable form, he took for it the contents of a grocer’s shop. It was now necessary to sell the goods; on which the licensed grocers of the capital complained to the Lieutenant of Police that the Duke was entering into illegal competition with them. The Lieutenant did his duty, and the Duke’s tea and sugar were confiscated.
A footman named Languedoc, sent by his master to the Rue Quincampoix to sell some shares at a fixed rate, disposed of them for 500,000 francs more than the appointed price, and pocketing the balance, started as a gentleman on his own account, engaged servants and changed his name to that of Monsieur de La Bastide, by which he was thenceforth known.
In times of feverish speculation the surest winners are the brokers – those happy intermediaries who, whether their clients buy or sell, sink or swim, steadily take their commission. A famous intermediary of the Rue Quincampoix was a certain hunchback, who used to let out his hump as a desk for buyers, sellers, and dealers of all kinds. In a comparatively short time he is said to have realised as much as 50,000 francs.
When the financial crash arrived, it was felt necessary to punish someone, and proceedings were taken against Law by the Parliament of Paris. Law, as completely ruined as the most unfortunate of his victims, escaped to Belgium, and thence to England, to die ultimately in Italy.
“When I took service in France,” he wrote to the Duke of Orleans, “I had as much property as I needed. I was without debts and I had credit; I left the service without property of any kind. Those who placed confidence in me have been driven to bankruptcy, and I have not the means of paying them.”
At the time of his great failure, and for a long time afterwards, if not to the present day, Law was looked upon as a mere swindler; whereas he was nothing worse than a sanguine, over-confident, perhaps even reckless speculator. It has been seen that by his speculations he impoverished himself as well as others.
“The machine he had invented,” says one of his critics, M. Gautier, “was ingenious; but in a country like France, without industrial resources, it could not find sufficient motive power. Law thought he could remove this difficulty by joining to his mechanism an artificial motive power. He was wrong. The banks can no more found credit than credit can produce capital. They can turn to the best account a value that exists. But to create value is beyond their power.”
According to another French economist, M. Levasseur, “Law acted with the precipitation and violence of a man who, penetrated with the truth of his own ideas, marches straight towards his goal without caring whether the generality of persons understand him or not, and who becomes irritated when natural obstacles present themselves which he had not foreseen.”
Law himself, while asserting his own moral integrity, admitted that he had made mistakes. “I do not maintain,” he said, “that I was right on every point. I acknowledge that I committed errors, and that if I had to begin again I should act differently. I should advance more slowly but more surely, and should not expose the State and my own person to the dangers necessarily resulting from a general panic.” He persisted, however, in asserting that, though his mode of action had been faulty, he nevertheless possessed the true secret of national wealth. “Do not forget,” he wrote from his place of exile, “that the introduction of credit has done more for commercial transactions between the countries of Europe than the discovery of India; that it is for the Sovereign to give credit, not to receive it, and that the people of every country have such absolute need of it that they must return to it in spite of themselves, however much they may mistrust the principle.”
“We must render to this man,” says M. Levasseur, “the justice he merits. He was not, as has sometimes been said, an adventurer who had come to France to profit by the weakness of the Regent. If he was wanting in that political prudence by which nations should be guided, and if he was wrong in some of his theories, he had at least fixed principles, and he occupied his whole life, not in making his fortune, but in ensuring the triumph of his ideas… France allowed him to die in poverty. Yet if the recollection of the misery caused by the ruin of his system was somewhat too recent to give place to gratitude, France ought nevertheless to have felt grateful to him for the generous ideas he had put forth. He laboured to extend the commerce of the country, to re-establish the navy, to found colonies. He suppressed onerous privileges. He endeavoured to do away with venality in the magistracy; to create a less tyrannical and more simple administration of the tax system. Finally he established a bank, which, could it have survived, would have helped powerfully to develop commerce and would have augmented considerably the wealth of the country.”
It is not generally known that, besides introducing a new system of credit, Law was the inventor of pictorial advertisements. Specimens, however, have been preserved of the pictures issued by him in connection with the “flotation” of his Mississippi scheme, one of which represents the Indians on the banks of the river, dancing with joy at the approach of the French, who had come to civilise them.
CHAPTER XXVII
CENTRAL PARIS (continued)
Rue de Venise – Rachel – St. Nicholas-in-the-Fields – The Conservatoire des Artes et Métiers– The Gaité– Rue des Archives – The Mont de Piété – The National Printing Office – The Hôtel Lamoignon.
THE Rue Quincampoix and the Rue Saint-Martin are connected by a narrow lane or alley scarcely ten feet wide, called Rue de Venise, which has a sinister renown in connection with the speculative mania of Law’s time. Here it was, in the month of April, that a rich banker was enticed, under pretext of a sale of shares, and assassinated by Laurent de Mille and Count Horn, that same Count Horn whose servant, passing himself off as master, played so infamous a trick upon poor Angelica Kaufmann, ancestress of Pauline in the drama of The Lady of Lyons. A little higher up in the Rue de Venise, and, leading likewise to the Rue Quincampoix, is the Passage Molière, which owes its name to the Théâtre Molière, opened on the 4th of June, 1791, with a representation of the Misanthrope. In 1793 it was re-baptised Théâtre des Sans-Culottes. Its first director under its new name was Boursault-Malesherbes, comedian, member of the Convention, and farmer of public games. Closed and re-opened a score of times, this house became in the early years of Louis Philippe’s reign a theatre for dramatic instruction, where Mlle. Rachel received her first lessons from Saint-Aulaire.
Universally recognised as one of the greatest of French actresses, Rachel, of Jewish race, was born on the 28th of February, 1821, at Munf, a Swiss village in the Canton of Argovia. Her father and mother were, however, both French; the former, Jacques Felix, being a native of Metz, the latter, Esther Hayn, of Guers, in the department of the Lower Rhine. In the year 1831, Rachel, under her true name of Elisa, was a street singer at Lyons, where Choron, director of an important musical academy, chanced to hear her. He was so struck by the beauty of her voice that he called upon Elisa’s parents, and induced them to settle in Paris, where he promised to take charge of their little daughter’s musical education. He suggested that she should adopt in lieu of “Elisa” the more impressive name of Rachel. But before her studies had progressed very far she lost her voice; and Choron placed her in a dramatic class directed by Saint-Aulaire. This professor, a retired comedian who understood the art of acting better than he had ever practised it, had taken the Salle Molière just spoken of; and here during the years 1834, 1835, and 1836 Rachel was made to play a great variety of parts, including nearly every leading character in the plays of Corneille, Racine, and Molière. The charges for admission to the Salle Molière were moderate, but the house was always full when Rachel had been announced to play, and the tickets on these occasions were sold at a premium.
One day M. Védl, treasurer of the Théâtre Français, went to the Salle Molière to see a soubrette whom his manager thought of engaging. He was about to leave the theatre, when Saint-Aulaire begged him to remain in order to see a pupil who had not yet appeared, and of whom he entertained the greatest hopes. This, of course, was little Rachel, who was about to play the part of Hermione in Andromaque. She resembled none of the other pupils whom the emissary from the Théâtre Français had seen. She was small in stature and had a hard, almost a harsh voice; which, however, was firm and impressive, and, when the young girl became excited, almost musical. After the performance, M. Védl complimented the young actress, and promised to do his best for her at the important theatre with which he was connected. He at once spoke of her to M. Jouslin de La Salle, director of the Français, who, after seeing her in Tancrède, arranged a special performance, which was attended, in the character of judges, by M. Samson and Mlle. Mars. “She is too short,” objected one of the party. “She will grow,” replied Mlle. Mars significantly; and on the recommendation of the manager of the Théâtre Français she was admitted to the Conservatoire.
Rachel entered the class directed by M. Samson, one of the principal actors of the Théâtre Français, and under his tuition made rapid progress. Tempted, however, by an engagement offered to her at the Gymnase, she soon left the Conservatoire for that theatre, where she achieved a certain success as Suzette in Scribe’s Mariage de Raison. The experiment, however, was not altogether satisfactory, and she returned to the Conservatoire, and remained until May, 1838, when, on the recommendation of M. Samson, she was engaged at the Théâtre Français. Her first appearance there, as Camille in Les Horaces, took place on the 12th of June in this same year. She was then but sixteen years old, and only moderately pretty. Short for her age, she had the further disadvantage of being marked with the small-pox. With narrow chin, high cheek-bones, and a projecting forehead, she had brilliant, expressive eyes, at once thoughtful and full of fire. The pose of her head was admirable, and all her gestures were marked by dignity and distinction. Calm and self-contained throughout the greater part of the performance, she never abandoned herself to her emotion even while expressing the most ardent passion. There was intensity in all she did, and so novel, so individual was her style that she inspired her audience with the strongest personal admiration. She had now established her position at the greatest theatre in Europe; but it was at the little Salle Molière that she had first learned to act.
In the immediate neighbourhood, on the ancient territory of the Abbaye Saint-Martin, stands the Church of St. Nicholas-in-the-Fields, where the mayor or bailiff of the abbaye resided. Dating from the twelfth century, this church was rebuilt in 1420, and underwent various processes of modification and reconstruction until it received its definite form in 1576. Every style, from the Gothic of Charles VI. to the Neo-Roman of Henri III., has left its imprint in the highly composite architecture of this church, said to be the longest and the broadest in all Paris. In one of the chapels of the nave, dedicated to Saint Martin, is a picture which represents Saint Martin curing the leper by taking him in his arms; and the inscription sets forth that the priory of Saint Nicholas-in-the-Fields was founded on the spot where this miracle took place. In the fields of this church lie buried the philosopher Gassendi, and the historians Henri and Adrien de Valois, together with Malle de Scudéry, who wrote the once celebrated novels, “Le Grand Cyrus” and “Clélie.”
Under the Revolution the Church of Saint Nicholas-in-the-Fields was converted into “The Temple of Hymen.” Most of the property belonging to the religious community of Saint-Martin was sold by the Revolutionary Government. On a portion of what remained was built the Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers, which was created by a decree of the year 1794, though it did not finally take form until four years afterwards. The building, as it now exists, was partly restored, partly reconstructed, between the years 1852 and 1862, by M. Vandoyer.
The “arts and crafts,” until the time of the Revolution, formed close corporations of their own. The origin of these unions and guilds was very remote. In the middle ages the rules on the subject of apprenticeship were most severe; and after seven years’ subjection to a master the artisan became only a “companion” or varlet, and could still work only under the direction of a full member of the guild. To pass as master it was necessary for a “companion” to produce a masterpiece and to pay, moreover, certain dues, onerous for a mere workman; which forced a great number of these varlets to remain in their original condition. The corporations of arts and crafts were governed by a number of edicts which regulated not only the quality and quantity of the work to be done, but prescribed methods of manufacture, and provided for the settlement of disputes between artisans and merchants, or artisans and private persons engaging their services. These strange organisations had the worst effect in an economical sense, and many endeavours were made long before the Revolution to destroy the monopolies they created. In 1776, thirteen years previously to the Revolution, the corporations of arts and crafts were abolished by the famous Minister, Turgot. But the edict was evaded, and it was not until the Revolution, when things that were abolished were abolished for ever, that the French guilds finally disappeared.
The “Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers,” established soon after the Revolution, had no direct connection with the “arts and crafts,” whose organisation into guilds and close corporations had been suppressed. It was thought desirable, however, to form a central depôt where newly invented machines, together with machines whose utility had been tested, might be placed together for public inspection. Vaucanson, chiefly remembered by his ingenious automatic contrivances, had formed a collection of machines, which during his lifetime he threw open to working men, and at his death bequeathed to the monarchical government. Thus the nucleus of the important collection formed by the Republic already existed under Louis XVI.
That the exhibition of machines, as superintended during the last days of the monarchy by M. Vandermond, was a sight worth seeing is shown by Arthur Young having gone to see it when he was making, throughout France, that tour of inquiry which was destined to become famous. “I visited,” he writes in 1789, just one month before the taking of the Bastille, “the repository of royal machines, which M. Vandermond showed and explained to me with great readiness and politeness. What struck me most was M. Vaucanson’s machine for making a chain which, I was told, Mr. Watt, of Birmingham, admired very much, at which my attendants seemed not displeased. Another for making the cogs intended in iron wheels. There is a chaff-cutter from an English original; and a model of the nonsensical plough to go without horses. These are the only ones in agriculture. Many ingenious contrivances for winding silk, etc.”
The Convention took steps for keeping the Vaucanson machines when so many treasures of one kind and another were being dispersed, and it seized the earliest opportunity of enlarging the collection, to which, from 1785 to 1792, 500 new machines were added. In 1792 a commission had been appointed to “catalogue and collect in suitable places books, instruments, and other objects of science and art in view of public instruction”; and a few months later in the same year the Convention published a new decree constituting the Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers on a solid basis, and assigned to it the buildings of the former “abbey of Saint-Martin.”
At present this Conservatoire is under the authority of the Minister of Commerce. Fifteen courses of lectures, public and gratuitous, are delivered within its walls on subjects connected with the application of art to manufactures; and for these, three amphitheatres, the largest of which can accommodate an audience of 750, have been provided. The ancient abbey of Saint-Martin is still represented by two edifices connected with the Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers, and containing the library of the institution. One of these buildings was formerly the chapel, the other the refectory of the abbey.
At the corner of the Rue Saint-Martin and the Rue de Vertbois is an ancient tower in pepper-caster form, which once marked the junction of the fortified part of the abbey and its prison. This tower, bearing the name of Vertbois, was given, in 1712, to the City of Paris on condition that a public fountain should be constructed there; and the fountain, adorned with the arms of Paris, still exists, bearing a somewhat enigmatic inscription, thus: “This tower, which formerly constituted part of the fortified enclosure of the abbey of Saint Martin-in-the-Fields, constructed about the year 1150, and the fountain erected in 1712, have been preserved and restored by the town and the State on the demand of the Parisian archæologists, 1880.” There was, in fact, a question of destroying both tower and fountain in 1877 in view of certain architectural improvements, or at least changes, then projected. The lovers of antiquity protested, and Victor Hugo is said to have exclaimed, in the very words likewise attributed to him in connection with the proposed destruction of the tower of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie, “Demolish the tower? No! Demolish the architect? Yes!” The architect in the case of the tower of Vertbois was the poet’s own nephew. Like the tower, however, he was not demolished.
In front of the principal entrance to the Conservatoire a large square was made in 1860; its sides being formed by the Rue Saint-Martin, the Boulevard Sebastopol, the Rue Solomon de Caus, and the Rue du Caire. On the south side of the square, in the Rue du Caire, is seen the façade of the Théâtre de la Gaieté, which less deserves its title than our own Gaiety Theatre in London. Originally known by the name of Nicolet, its founder, and afterwards called, during the influence of Mme. du Barry, the Theatre of the King’s Dancers, it at length received, towards the end of the last century, the inappropriate title which still belongs to it. There was a time, it must be presumed, when at the Gaieté gay pieces were performed. But since the beginning of the century this house has been chiefly associated with spectacular and melodramatic productions. Here the famous fairy piece, Le Pied de Mouton, was produced with striking success in 1806. Some twenty years ago it was revived at the Porte Saint-Martin, where it ran nearly a year.
Reconstructed in 1808, the Gaieté was burnt to the ground in 1835. No sooner had it been built up again than it was pulled down to make way for the Boulevard du Prince Eugène. The Gaieté, which now, as already mentioned, stands on the southern side of the square of the Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers, is one of the four theatres belonging to the Town of Paris. Here were produced some of the best pieces of Auguste Maquet, the most renowned of Alexandre Dumas’ numerous collaborateurs, and one of the very few who have shown themselves able, unaided, to produce first-rate work.
Since its removal to the square of the Arts et Métiers, the Théâtre de la Gaieté has confined itself to no particular style. Here were represented Sardou’s drama La Haine; Jules Barbier’s Jeanne d’Arc, with music by Gounod; Offenbach’s operettas revived on a large scale, with Orphée aux Enfers prominent among them; Victor Massé’s Paul et Virginie, Saint Saën’s Timbre d’Argent, and the Dmitri of Joncières. The last strikingly successful piece produced at this theatre was a dramatic version of Alphonse Daudet’s Tartarin sur les Alpes.
The first street parallel to the Rue Saint-Martin is the Rue du Temple, which, much increased in length by the demolition and reconstruction of 1851, is now one of the longest streets in Paris. It owes its name to the ancient habitation of the Order of Templars. After the violent suppression of this fraternity, the property passed to the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, who fixed upon it for their Paris headquarters. The Grand Prior of this Order had, by rule, to be a prince of the blood; and the last to hold the office was the Duke of Angoulême, eldest son of the Count of Artois, afterwards Charles X. Particulars of the captivity of Louis XVI., Marie Antoinette, and the Dauphin in the Temple have already been given. It may here be added, however, that after being used for some years as a State prison, the old building was demolished in 1811. Finally the Palace of the Grand Prior, with its majestic colonnade, which had been allowed to remain untouched until 1854, was pulled down, and the land made over to the Town of Paris on condition of its planting trees on the site and erecting a monument to the memory of Louis XVI. This latter condition was never fulfilled.
Nothing now remains of the fortress which Louis XVI. quitted, on the 21st of January, to be taken to the scaffold, but an old willow, dating from four or five centuries back, beneath whose shadow the king, during his confinement, loved to walk. The monument in the centre of the square is a statue of Béranger; “the divine Béranger,” as Heine calls him, and of whom Benjamin-Constant said one day, when the poet was yet unknown: “He writes magnificent odes and calls them songs.” Close to the spot marked to-day by his statue, in the Rue Vendôme, now re-named Rue Béranger, died this most poetical of popular song-writers, this most popular of poets. He was honoured by a public funeral at the expense of the State.
The Temple Market dates from a remote period; not, however, in its present form, which was given to it by the First Consul in 1802. It was made to include the Rotunda, built in 1788 for the accommodation of debtors without means or without intention to pay, who came to the Temple to enjoy the privileged security of all who there sought refuge. Men’s clothes and women’s dresses are the articles chiefly in demand at the Temple Market. To the ancient dealers in second-hand garments belonged a reputation for strong language, which has now faded away. Under the conditions of modern life, character perishes, and even the representatives of Mme. Angot and her celebrated daughter are well-behaved and even polite.
Close at hand is the Synagogue of the Rue Notre Dame de Nazareth. The neighbouring Rue des Archives contains the Église des Carmes, consecrated since 1812 to the Lutheran rite, but formerly a Dominican church erected on the ground previously occupied by a chapel dating from the year 1295. On this site had previously stood the house of Jonathan, the Jew, convicted (or at least accused and declared guilty) of having profaned the sacred host, miraculously preserved from his fury. Of this strange legend, one of many similar ones invented in hatred of the unhappy Jews, an account may be found in Dulaure’s “Singularités Historiques.”
The whole of the right side of the Rue des Archives is taken up by the imposing edifice in which the national archives are preserved. It was formerly the Hôtel de Soubise. On the western portion of the ancient property of the Guises was erected the Palais Cardinal, built by Armand Gaston de Rohan, Prince Archbishop of Strasburg, which has long been occupied by the National Printing Office. Up to the time of the Revolution the archives were preserved by the particular establishment, political, judicial, civil or ecclesiastical, to which they belonged; so that in 1782 there were upwards of a thousand different places where documents of national importance were preserved. In the midst of the general uprising, when convents were being pillaged and manor-houses burnt, an immense number of valuable papers were either torn up or given to the flames. At last special commissions were organised for the collection and preservation of all State papers; which in the first instance were deposited at the Tuileries with the official reports of the Assembly which there held its sittings. In 1808 Napoleon ordered that all archives of whatever kind should be kept in one place provided specially for them. He at the same time bought for State purposes, and for the sum of 690,000 francs, the Hôtel de Soubise and the Hôtel de Rohan; the first for the archives, the second for the Imperial printing office.
The national archives, whose importance is yearly increasing, and which form an historical collection unrivalled elsewhere, are under the care of a Director-General who belongs to the Ministry of Public Instruction. The Director-General is assisted by three chiefs of section, who overlook the reception, classification, and preservation of State documents in the following order: 1. Historical section. 2. Administrative section. 3. Legislative and judicial section. Many very interesting documents relating to the history of France are exhibited in glass cases. The most ancient of these is dated 625, under the reign of Clotaire II. The most modern are of the year 1821. In connection with the national archives a reading-room is kept open every day from 10 to 5 for persons who have sought and obtained permission to consult documents in view of their studies. Attached to the National Archives is the School of Maps, under the direction of a member of the Academy of Inscriptions and of Belles Lettres, assisted by a council. The French, too, have invented a profession unknown in England – that of archivist. To become an archivist it is necessary to follow for three years a course of lectures, each of which is followed by an examination. To pass finally the student writes an essay on some appropriate subject, and, if successful, receives the name of archivist or palæographer, which entitles him to employment in connection with the archives, or with one of the libraries under the direction of the Ministry of Public Instruction. By reason of the exceptional importance of their duties, the archivists are liberated from military service, like the pupils of the superior normal schools and of the School of Oriental Languages. The School of Maps was, together with so many other institutions of which France is justly proud, founded by Napoleon I.; who wished, at the time, to establish a lay Order of Benedictines devoted to the study of French history. Without constituting themselves into an order, the students of the School of Maps have, by their conscientious and disinterested labours, done much to throw light on the history and literature of ancient France.
On the south side of the Rue des Francs Bourgeois, opposite the School of Maps, stand the buildings of the Mont-de-Piété, established by Louis XVI. in 1771. After the revolution in 1796, the profits of the Mont-de-Piété were assigned to the hospitals, and the institution is now under the direction of the Assistance Publique, or Charity Board, presided over by the Prefect of the Seine. Besides the principal establishment, at No. 55, Rue des Francs Bourgeois, there are two district establishments and twenty-one auxiliary ones dispersed through the different quarters of the capital. The Mont-de-Piété of Paris lends no less than six million francs a year; and it obtains whatever working capital it requires by the issue of bonds bearing interest at five per cent., which are much in favour with investors. The capital of the Comédie Française is all permanently invested in bonds of the Mont-de-Piété. It was not without serious opposition that the first projectors of the Mont-de-Piété succeeded in getting it authorised; though Mercier, writing only a few years after the publication of the King’s edict on the subject, regards this institution as of the greatest benefit to the poor.
“The establishment of the Mont-de-Piété or pawn-warehouse,” he says, “was long wished for in vain, but is at last perfected, notwithstanding the opposition it met with from several interested beings who live by the distress of their fellow creatures. At this place the poor may be supplied with money, upon any pawn whatever that they can leave for security, at a very trifling interest; for it is not here in the hands of private individuals, as I am told is the case in London, where a pawnbroker charges no less than 30 per cent. for the loan. I hear they are authorised to do so by law. So much the worse. In Paris the Mont-de-Piété is under the immediate inspection of the Government, and has hitherto proved of the greatest service by giving the mortal wound to usury and its infamous votaries. The greatest proof that can be given of the usefulness of this institution, and how needful it was in Paris, is the great concourse of people who daily resort there to raise temporary sums. It is said, but I will not vouch for the truth of the assertion, that in the space of a few months there were forty tuns filled with gold watches; this I rather take to be an exaggeration, meant only to give an idea of the very great number that were then in the warehouse. Certain it is that I have seen at one time four score people assembled; who, waiting for their turn, came there for the purpose of raising loans not exceeding six livres a head. The one carries his shirts, another a piece of furniture, this an old picture, that his shoe-buckles or a threadbare coat. These visits, which are renewed every day, are the most forcible proofs of the extreme want and poverty to which the greatest number of the inhabitants is reduced. Opulence itself is often obliged to have recourse to the public pawn-warehouse, and the contrast between extreme misery and indigent richness is nowhere better exemplified. In one corner a lady, wrapped up in her cloak, her face half covered, and just stepped out of her coach, deposits her diamonds to a large amount, to venture it in the evening at a card-table; whilst in the other a poor woman, who has trudged it on foot through the muddy streets, pawns her lower garment to purchase a bit of bread. The best regulation prevails in this place; a sworn appraiser stands there to estimate upon oath the real value of the pledge offered. Yet, as the best institution is liable to much abuse, it is said that the poorer sort of people are not always treated with that humanity which they are more justly entitled to than their betters; this evil, with a little attention from the magistrate who presides over this undertaking, may easily be remedied. I make no doubt but the Mont-de-Piété will prove as advantageous an establishment as it is useful and commendable.”
