A New Guide to Paris, from the latest Observations; being altered and enlarged from the Work, entitled "How to enjoy Paris," containing an Accurate and Critical Description of the Buildings, Antiquities, Paintings, Theatres, Literatures ;. Politics, and Religion, as well as of the Manners of the Inhabitants; forming the most comprehensive Guide hitherto published, and calculated for the entertainment and information of Persons who, without visiting, are desirous of becoming acquainted with the Metropolis of France. To which are added, Directions for Travelling in the least expensive Manner, by three different Routes, an Account of the Environs of Paris, and a Copious Inder. Third Edition, with Plates and Maps. By Peter Hervé. London, Sherwood and Co. 1824. pp. 583.

Ar this season of the year, many of our readers will probably visit the capital of France. We therefore conceive, that we shall render them some service, by calling their attention to the new edition of Mr. Hervé's Guide to Paris. We think that it contains all that is interesting to the traveller on his route, and to the visitor when he has arrived. Mr. Hervé is evidently skilled in the fine arts, and possessed of a taste and discrimination which enable him to point out whatever is interesting in the French metropolis.

The various routes to Paris are described briefly, but satisfactorily. An adventure which the author met with at Boulogne, must have convinced him (if he had doubted of it,) that he was in France.

"Unconscious that our inn could furnish us with a cabriolet that would contain but two, we sought the proprietor of such a vehicle, and made our agreement. When we arrived with it the next morning, a scene truly laughable occurred. Our very solemn, but civil young waiter, together with the major-domo of the inn, came up to the master of the cabriolet, and with an air of comic dignity, in an heroic strain, (without the least vulgarity of manner,) asked him how he dared seduce from them the customers who had attached themselves to their house. The cabriolist, who was a book-keeper at another inn, assumed, if possible, a still more lofty tone, and, looking at them over bis shoulder with ineffable disdain, replied, 'I am not answerable for my conduct to such scum of the earth.' This fired our knights of the towel, who with redoubled energy asserted their claims to consequence in the world. Epithets of opprobrium followed on both sides; but, in the utmost heat of the contest, no blows, no oaths were dealt. Were you my equals,' added the hero of the quill, I would call you both out,

and give you a severe thrashing; but, menials as you are, I, an artist, cannot pollute my fingers by having any thing to do with you.' As he was then retiring, with vast majesty of deportment, the youngest champion of the iun, with eyes inflamed, gnashing of teeth, and clenched fists, ran up to him, and exclaimed I will kill you !' Notwithstanding this tragic threat, I understood, on my return, that the dispute terminated here."

Our limits will necessarily preclude us from examining this interesting work in detail, but we cannot avoid extracting an account of the author's sensations upon his first entrance into the "Grand Ville.'

"I cannot find terms to impart my sensations on entering Paris in the evening, and, after much wandering, emerging suddenly from a dark and narrow street into an immense area, surrounded by magnificent palaces of stone; to which, the uncertain outlines, distance and moonlight afforded, lent a mysterious grandeur. I was fixed for some moments to the spot! Approaching at length the triumphal arch, which stands isolated, I saw before me, at a considerable distance, a structure of extraordinary splendour; and, passing under its gateway, found myself in a large court, surrounded by the richest specimens of modern architecture that I had beheld. This is called the Louvre ; the former range of building the Tuileries. Another archway now invited me to explore new beauties. What a scene burst upon my view! a broad stone quay, forming a noble terrace for more than two miles, bridges, palaces on each side, an equestrian statue of Henry IV. distant towers and domes, the river Seine doubling these majestic works, and the whole terminated by trees of a stately height. Proceeding along the quays, I arrived at the gardens of the Tuileries; it was not too late-I was permitted to enter; and the moon's soft light imparted to its fine terraces, its parterres of flowers, its fountains, and the graceful swans-a charm that the memory places among its dearest treasures. Over this scene, the palace stood with commanding aspect; and the numerous statues, (some courting the shade of the thick foliage, as if to meditate unperceived, while others, in the chaste light, seemed awakened to attention by the carriages and people near them,)-the bold vases-the range of orange trees-and a grand stone piazza bounding the view from that terrace which is most distant from the river,-are objects attractive to a Londoner as well by their novelty as by their beauty. All that I have hitherto described seems, on a transient view, to leave nothing to desire; but, pass between those large pedestals with colossal figures, through yon iron palisades, you will discover that the climax of gratification Paris affords had not before been attained. The vast square now entered is considered one of the finest spots Europe produces."

"The distance, and the tempered brilliancy the moonlight shed upon it, chastened its gaudiness, and harmonized it with the sense. I resolved not quickly to lose the luxuriant contemplations to which my present situation gave birth. Who would not be an enthusiast in

such a spot? It seemed to me that true greatness was here first engendered."

It has always been considered, and we fully credit the fact, that the French police is the best regulated of any in Europe. It appears, however, that our author did not escape the marauding attack of a French "Fripon." We take for granted that the robber was a Frenchman, an English thief would not have been content with the watch, but would have required the author's purse also:

"One night, after visiting the Theatre de la Gaieté, at about halfpast ten, I found the moon unusually powerful, and the trees of the Boulevards, soft and majestic, invited me to a long stroll among them. As this is precisely the time a stranger should treat himself with the truly fine sights of Paris, 1 wandered on and gazed till I reached the Rue Royale. The paragon of beauties, the Place Louis Quinze, was once more before me in the height of its glory. Though I had strolled more than two miles, and it had become very late for Paris, I saw no necessity for resisting the enjoyment, and I went forward. Behold me in the middle of the great square, full no doubt of sublime ideas, not one of which I cau repeat to you, so completely were my wits soon after put to the rout: for some time I had met no one, all was still, when hey! presto! a voice suddenly struck my ear—I turned round, a figure was near me; it was no ghost, as the event will prove, however opportune the visit of a spirit would have been to have given a high finishing to my tale. It was a young man asking alins in an humble tone. The supplicant seemed by no means worthy of attention as a beggar, and I walked on, he followed and addressed me in very animated terms, but few of which met my comprehension, as he was behind me. I understood he had sold all his furniture, and was involved in debt, and almost famished. I gave him half a frauc, telling him I could afford no more; and, wishing him better fortune, was •hastening away, when he seized the skirt of my coat, and desired me to increase my donation. Ah! thought I, these beggars are what we should call footpads in good English;' and, by way of returning the compliment, I held him by the collar, aud called out for the guard, who was, I believe, a quarter of a mile from us, and did not hear. coach appeared at a distance, my lungs were exerted more forcibly than before, but my companion, not struck with the harmony of my tones, begged leave to call my attention to a large kuife; insisted on relieving me from the burden of my watch; and so far deviated from the rules of politeness, as to place his instrument close to the abdomen, and to promise he would plunge it in. Je frapperai,' was his very pithy sentence. A vast many ideas shot through my brain in two seconds. I had not the smallest desire to present him the watch, yet his manner was extremely pressing; there was no chance of wresting the weapon from him, as it had a kind of hilt that went over his hand. Louis XVI. and many others had lost their heads just on that spot; the French hated the English; the lower class of Catholics were said to

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consider it no crime to slay a heretic; there was little doubt than that, albeit unusual with a Frenchman, he would perform the promise he had volunteered; he did not seem at all disposed to admit a little sound logic; and there were some persons in England who had really expressed an expectation that I should return; in short, his argument was powerful; and his ways proved winning, for the watch passed from my fob to his coat pocket. 1 blush whilst I tell it, but such was the fact; and be had the rudeness to set off without a single acknowledgment of the favour. He certainly borrowed invisible wings, for he reached the trees in an instant; where, I suppose, he boasted to his friends of my condescension in gratifying his desires. I had not many more moon-light cogitations at midnight in that place, you may rest assured. The next day I purchased a stout stick. Another Englishman was robbed there the night before, but I did not hear of it till afterwards. No doubt you will consider the advice I gave you to visit this spot by moon-light, particularly friendly, now that you understand the nature of all that is here to be met with; there is, however, not the smallest danger before ten o'clock, as it is much frequented, and the chief promenades for the summer evenings are in sight."

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From Mr. Hervé's account of the French theatre, we extract the following description of the celebrated Talma :"Who, then, is that mediocre-looking man, with a short face, small eyes, brows of little force, mean nose, and a chin that has an accompaniment of unseemly fat beneath, disproportioned to every other part; his figure being something less than the middle size? Why does he stand there ten minutes before he can utter a word? It is, indeed, Talma, greeted by his admirers with vociferous plaudits. This disappointment being somewhat mitigated by the noble manner in which he stands, we mentally say, Come, come, no prejudice, our Kean is but a little man, and here is dignity at least." It was as Nero that I first saw Talma, and this character is considered one of his best efforts. As he approached, he walked with a manly step, and threw into his countenance a just expression of pride and contempt, of which his face is very capable, his mouth being naturally somewhat inclined downward at the ends. He bears a faint resemblance to Mr. Elliston and Mr. Pope, and was admirably dressed for the part. All as yet augured well; but, when he spoke, the illusion was lost, it was no longer the forbidding Nero.- His style is a curious medley! consonant, indeed, with the system, apparently, laid down in France for a tragedian, and which I have explained. At times, a hasty snip-snap, then a broad elongation of a syllable, somewhat compensated shortly after by a fine burst of nature, struggling for preeminence; now, a mean-sounding taunt, worthy only of a clown, then we own him for a sovereign again, and the tyrant terrible in his wrath! but the mode of speech that is in the worst taste, and which it seems the ambition of most of the French performers to attain (being also certain of applause when effected with sufficient celerity) is a breathless haste through many lines until arrived at a certain climax, and then a stop so sudden as to make you start. A simple

comma often occasions this pause, after which the voice drops to so low a tone that it is scarcely audible. Another vice of Talma in speaking is to urge himself on with this wonderful rapidity, till, at the end of a line, his text presents him a full stop. But does he check his career at this spot? By no means, that would be too rational; he catches up the first word of the next line as if he feared it would escape his vigilance, and there, in defiance of common sense, he fixes his period. He is sometimes guilty of this uncontrolable stream of talking, in a manner that is irresistibly laughable; indeed, a foreigner "cannot chuse but laugh;" and the anger of Talma is, in many instances, not less comic: in short, on me this performance upon the whole acted as a burlesque. I have, as yet, however, been too sparing in the enumeration of his merits. He delivers some few passages in a manner that no one but a man of the first rank of genius could accomplish. Terrible indeed was he, when, on Burrhus' expressions of joy at his having shewn such marks of affection for Brittanicus, he replied "J'embrasse mon rival-mais c'est pour l'etouffer:" "That I might stifle him." He electrified me; his grin of exultation, (for he could keep his word,) his subsequent dark look at his mother, inti mating that her time was also come, pretrified all present. He took from us, a few moments, the power of applauding. With all his grotesque fancies, what can we call him but a great actor, who, in the course of an evening, produces such effects at various points?

To the artist, Paris presents a source of gratification, that will command all the powers and energies of which his mind is capable, notwithstanding "the dismemberment of their vast gallery," so bitterly bewailed by every true Frenchman. Our author has, with good taste, and sound discrimination, pointed out those objects which are most worthy the attention of the amateur of the Fine Arts.

We would recommend the traveller, to visit not only the galleries but the churches, he will meet in them with many exquisite productions, both of the ancient and modern school, well worthy his notice and admiration.

To conclude, the author has given a copious detail of every thing worth seeing or knowing, both in Paris and that part of the country which he describes. And no Englishman who is desirous of facilitating his researches, and dispatching a great deal of business in a very short time, should be without the work in his hand. It is of a convenient size, and illustrated by many plates, as well as by a correct map of Paris, which will enable the stranger to find his way, without enquiry.