Part 8

The French Revolution having overthrown those humane establishments, which had for long ages subsisted in the country, some private individuals are generously endeavouring to repair those breaches which crime has effected in the order of society.

Nothing tends more to the happiness of society than the discovery of practical methods which may increase the comforts of those who are no longer able to support themselves.

When a nation has increased in number and power, it is bound to provide for its people additional means of subsistence. Beneficence should not be stationary when nations are progressive. I will now enter into a detail of the establishment of Chaillot, which is equally praiseworthy for its benevolent views and ingenuity.

I happened to fall into company with a ci-devant nobleman, named Duchaillot,[1] who, during the time of the Terror, lost all his fortune and took refuge in Berlin.

I found he possessed a sound and inquisitive mind, and was thoroughly conversant in every branch of domestic economy. He inquired whether we had in Great Britain and Ireland any institutions which offered a retreat for old age. I answered they were numberless. But this answer did not satisfy him, and he placed his question on a different footing. “Have you,” said he, “any institution independent of charitable purposes, in which male and female persons, after they have reached the age of seventy can by right and without asking the favour of any individual, place themselves in order to pass the remainder of their days in comfort and repose?” As I failed to recollect any such establishment in England, he immediately said: “Come and dine at my house to-morrow and I will show you one.”

The house of Monsieur Duchaillot is beautifully situated at Chaillot, in the Champs Élysées, commanding an extensive view of the city, the Seine and the Champ de Mars. In front, there is a large and elegant parterre, terminating in an extensive kitchen garden. Behind there is another large house, formerly the monastery of S. Perine, which also belongs to this establishment, and a field of about four acres, bordered by a well-cultivated garden.

In this retreat I found above one hundred aged persons, of both sexes, whose manners and appearance showed that they had once figured in the genteeler walks of life, and whose countenances indicated the most perfect happiness and content.

“This,” said he, “is the retreat I have established for old age.”

The chambers occupied by the female part of the society compose the right wing of the house. Each female has a bed-chamber to herself, and there is a parlour or sitting-room appointed to two females. Their clothing, if required, is found for them.

The left wing of the house is occupied by the males, the arrangements being precisely similar to that adopted for the females. Husbands and wives have rooms to themselves.

The diet corresponds with the neatness and simplicity of the apartments.

At one o’clock a plentiful dinner is served to the whole society in the refectory, and at seven they re-assemble for supper. Besides a sufficient quantity of meat and vegetables each person is allowed a pound-and-half of bread and a bottle of wine daily.

[Sidenote: ASYLUM FOR AGED AT CHAILLOT]

In case of sickness they are removed to a part of the house used as an infirmary, where medical attendance is provided, and they receive every possible attention. In case of decease, they are decently interred in the neighbouring church, at the expense of the society, or elsewhere at the expense of their friends.

Their time is entirely at their own disposal. They may even employ themselves in any lucrative occupation, provided it does not interfere with the quiet and general rules of the house.

I observed several females engaged very profitably in needle work and embroidery. What little emoluments they acquire by their industry supply them with pocket-money. The men pass their time in reading, walking in the neighbouring fields or in the garden. I observed they were usually less active than the women, but much more devout. I met an old Abbé whose whole time is spent in reading his breviary, missal and other religious books. His library was composed of about 200 volumes.

Another, about seventy-four years of age, had seen much of the world. His manners were prepossessing, and his conversation proved him a man who lived for others rather than himself.

He was pious without austerity, cheerful without dissipation, and polite without frivolity. He had seen better days, and been one of those sufferers whom the Revolution had plundered and proscribed on account of his attachment to religion. He never spoke with the least asperity of what had happened, he only shrugged his shoulders and smiled contemptuously at the miserable efforts of his countrymen to establish liberty and equality. He was well read in French literature and fond of astronomy. But his favourite books were a Bible and Don Quixote, Cervantes being an author to whom he was especially partial.

Just as we were sitting down to dinner one of the old gentlemen entered, and with great vivacity, informed Monsieur Duchaillot he proposed going to the play. On inquiry, I found he had been an amateur of music; and that at seventy-two years of age his taste for it was still so predominant that he was about to avail himself of a ticket a friend had sent him to see the second representation of Poesiello’s _Zingari in Flora_, at the Opera Buffa.

I have entered into these details to show that there is no restriction on their amusements, and that they are entirely their own master. Upon the whole, I observed that they were all more or less engaged in religious exercises.

At that period of life when mind and body require repose, when it is necessary old age should “walk pensive on the silent solemn shore of that vast ocean it must sail so soon,” what can be more consolatory than a retreat where wants are supplied and infirmities alleviated without reluctance or repining?

It has been alleged against most governments of Europe that there is nothing seen but youth going to the gallows, and old age to the workhouse.

A government is no more responsible for the misfortunes than for the crimes of its subjects, and all that can be expected is that it should give a proper direction to charitable provisions, and guard them with the sacred sanction of the law.

It will be found a true maxim of public economy that these charitable institutions should spring from the natural sympathy of mankind--nothing is needful for government than to see that they are administered honestly.

This fact has been illustrated in Britain, where there exist more usual monuments of piety and benevolence, than in all the other countries of Europe put together.

[Sidenote: ASYLUM FOR AGED AT CHAILLOT]

In the course of my visits to Chaillot, Monsieur Duchaillot often expressed a wish that a similar establishment should be attempted in England. At first it appeared to me liable to some objections, but these he successfully removed. I thought that respect for aged parents being a quality inherent in the character of every Briton, that such an institution might have a tendency to look as if we meant to canonise ingratitude and place old age in the light of a burdensome load upon the community.

Barbarous natives are accustomed to destroy the old in order that the young may live. But in civilised countries, where agriculture, arts and commerce flourish, and where a greater degree of population promises a greater degree of stock, such motives could never for a moment enter the breast of a human being. I am aware however that some eight years ago it was seriously proposed in the Jacobin Club, to knock all the old people on the head or starve them to death, lest they should consume what would be necessary for the support of soldiers and citizens.

But even in that wild and guilty assembly there were some persons who had not utterly abandoned the feelings of men, and this abominable principle was not carried into execution.

Monsieur Duchaillot combated my opposition to his scheme, by pointing out that it is the _object_ of the institution at Chaillot not to destroy but to give efficacy to domestic attachments. All persons who enter there can experience the attentions of their kinsmen by receiving their visits or visiting them.

Secondly, the institution is only intended for those who cannot provide for themselves, and whose friends and relations cannot provide for them.

Thirdly, more comforts and enjoyments, more attention can be procured under one establishment than when a number of persons are dispersed individually in private houses.

Fourthly, it is not necessary that every one who becomes a member of this Society should be either a father or a mother. There are a multitude of unmarried persons of both sexes, to whom such an establishment offers a happy asylum.

Fifthly, many fathers and mothers of families would prefer the society of persons of their own age and circumstances, and if they are discontented with the institution they can leave it when they choose.

After hearing these arguments I became convinced that similar establishments would be thankfully received by every rational man in our country, who at all reflects on the uncertain chances of prosperity in life.

How many industrious persons contemplate the approach of old age with horror. How many respectable worthy people meet misfortune in the decline of life. Is it right there should be _no_ refuge between death and the workhouse? Should not some encouragement be held out for securing a retreat against misfortune and the inevitable ills attendant on old age?

I will now give M. Duchaillot’s own account of his establishment.

RETREAT FOR OLD AGE AT CHAILLOT.

Several zealous and humane persons, who wish to assist and befriend the unfortunate, have united to execute a beneficent plan, by which industry itself may generate the means which will give a _certain property_ to those who, worn out by age and misfortune, possess none. To attain this object a small voluntary sacrifice only is required, according to a progression almost imperceptible to persons who are not even in easy circumstances. The difference between this institution and hospitals consists in this, the subscriber has _a right_ to the possession of this property for life, acquired by his own economy and labour, and for which he is indebted neither to the compassion nor the liberality of others. Here no act of patronising benevolence humbles self love or mortifies pride.

This institution encourages morality, by habituating persons to make a proper use of their small surplus, resulting from their profits or labour, which is too often squandered in debaucheries. It will animate them to be industrious as an infallible resource against that adversity which is inseparable from old age without fortune.

The plan is simple and inexpensive, its execution prompt and within the reach of every one.

[Sidenote: ACCOUNT OF ASYLUM]

Some years ago Mr. Pitt submitted several excellent proposals to amend the Poor Laws. They struck me forcibly as being useful, sensible and moral. They were aimed so as to give the poor occupation in their homesteads, instead of dragging them to the workhouse. This was a generous idea, worthy of the great mind that conceived it, unhappily it was never carried into effect.

Since my first visit to Chaillot I have had excellent accounts of the progress of the institution. The First Consul pays thirty subscriptions and has founded several places in the establishment and confided the superintendence of them to the Archbishop of Paris, an aged and respectable man, who from his own experience of misfortune will be able to select such unfortunate persons as deserve no longer to remain so.

The Archbishop, accompanied by a number of his clergy, thought proper to visit Chaillot before making any nominations. He was delighted with the beauty of the situation, the purity of the air, the neatness, order and decorum which prevailed. When dinner was on the table eighty-seven aged persons of both sexes appeared, with countenances expressive of the greatest happiness and satisfaction; many of them declaring they felt as much at their ease as when in their own families.

The Archbishop at first imagined he was the eldest person present, but it was found on examination that many had the advantage of him in years.

He was so sensibly affected by this serene spectacle, that he expressed his regret that he had not before been made acquainted with this asylum. For in that case the First Consul must have forced him out of it, to have raised him to his Episcopal See of Paris.

The indispensable condition of acquiring the right of admission is to take a subscription. The rules are that every subscriber pays from the age of ten till thirty years of age, tenpence or a franc a month. Fifteen pence per month from thirty to fifty--twenty pence or two francs a month from fifty to seventy years of age. These different payments amount in their entirety to £45, which must be completely paid before a person can acquire the right of admission. Hence if any one more than ten years of age should offer as a subscriber, he or she must deposit at the time of subscription and according to his or her age, the sum which would have been advanced, had the subscriptions commenced at ten. In order to give encouragement to benevolence, all persons who may be disposed to subscribe, may transfer their right to as many persons as they have made subscriptions on condition that the person to be benefited by the transfer shall not be admitted until the £45 be paid in its entirety. The funds are placed on securities and subjected to an administration which is in every respect safe and undeniable.

XVI

GARDEN OF PLANTS. GALLERY OF NATURAL HISTORY. PHILOSOPHICAL LECTURES

We had heard so much of the Jardin des Plantes that we became impatient to see it. Our friend De la Metherie procured us an admission on a day the place is closed to the public, to give us a better and more convenient opportunity of examining its contents.

We made up a small party, the two ladies and Monsieur de la Metherie went in one carriage, and M. ----, the late President of the Cis Alpine Republic, and myself in another. I have already mentioned, and it cannot be too often repeated, that the French greatly surpass our country in the arts of decoration. Of this truth we found a striking proof in the classification of the subjects of Natural History and the superb embellishments of the gallery.

[Sidenote: GALLERY OF NATURAL HISTORY]

When we first entered this gallery we saw merely large green curtains extending from one end to the other of the hall. But in less than two minutes we were most agreeably surprised by a display of beauty, richness and grandeur of which no pen can do sufficient justice.

The attendants withdrew the curtains, a blaze of creative glory dazzled our sight, and in this moment of admiration I could not refrain from whispering to the philosopher from whom I had before received several lessons on the different degrees of French Atheism: “There is a God!” He smiled and returned for answer that I was evidently in an ecstasy.

Before I relate the various dispositions of the museum, I will give an account of the impressions which the whole excited in our minds. All the variegated productions of Nature were before our eyes; and the perilous researches of the most adventurous circumnavigators and natural historians submitted to our examination. Whatever is great and wonderful in the operations of Providence, whatever has been discovered in regions so far explored by man, we had an opportunity of seeing.

The quadrupeds form a distinct compartment and the whole collection of other animals, together with fossils, shells, minerals and stones, is disposed in glass cases, extending from the top of the gallery to the floor. There is also a compartment allotted to esculent roots and specimens of trees. On the right hand stands the albatross, which has been so beautifully described in Captain Cook’s voyages; next the maimed bird which has no wings and lives entirely on the water. It has an immense cylindrical body, behind which are fixed what may be called two oars instead of feet. The body is covered by a species of hard down, having the appearance of close-shaved hair, shooting out in small shining tubes and forming a coat of mail impervious to the water.[3] Then follow the crane, the swan, the heron, the ibis, the ostrich, the pelican, &c.

It is not my intention to give an account of every animal we saw, much less to mention all their names; for, in the first place, it would be attempting a subject on which I am ashamed to confess my ignorance, and, in the second, would occupy a volume. I only wish to notice singularities. Amongst these was the largest and most beautiful bird I ever beheld. The body, completely white, the wings tinged with a gold colour.[4] I am still unacquainted with its name, as no one could inform us to what species it belonged; but I mention it on account of the following anecdote, which conveys a forcible impression in a few words.

“Where did this bird come from?” said one of our party.

“We borrowed it from the Stadtholder,” replied the attendant; adding, “and if he had not lent it, we should have taken it.”

In the same way they obtained possession of the head of a petrified crocodile, which was originally found in a quarry in the neighbourhood of Maestricht. It belonged to one of the priests who resided in that town; and as his house was known to be situated near the ramparts, and the French Natural Philosophers had long coveted this head, orders were issued at the time of the siege that the house containing the crocodile’s head should not be bombarded. Professor Thouin[1] was at that time with the French Army, and wrote to his colleagues: “Le siége de Maestricht se pousse avec vigueur; dans deux jours je compte faire partir pour Paris la tête du crocodile.”

The French Army entered Maestricht, and the poor priest was stripped of his treasure for the benefit of the Great Nation.

The collection of caterpillars, butterflies and insects surpasses anything of the kind I ever saw. The library is composed of a choice and rare collection of books in every language upon subjects of natural history. M. Tuscan, the librarian, obligingly displayed to us some admirable paintings of plants. Mrs. Cosway, who was of our party, and is an exquisite artist herself, pronounced them very beautiful, and executed in a masterly style. The number of books in the library is about 8000, which is a noble library upon one science, the very nature of which requires costly publications on account of the infinite number as well as the richness of the drawings and the plates.

[Sidenote: LIVING ZOOLOGICAL COLLECTION]

After having amused ourselves with all the different compartments, we proceeded to the garden and paid a visit to the _living_ beasts in the menagerie. These are dispersed in various districts of the enclosure, and with as much regard as possible to their original mode of life.

An enormous elephant enjoys a courtyard to himself, and his keeper is an Englishman named Thompson. The animal is very docile, and has been taught to play at what we call Bob Cherry with pieces of bread. Nothing can be more ridiculous, except the idea of a lion catching flies.

Camels and dromedaries are allowed to posture under the trees, and the stags and deer distributed in the field beside the river. All the tame animals are placed within a large grass enclosure. The savage beasts and birds kept in cages so small that the poor creatures can hardly turn themselves, in consequence of which, together with the wretched food, many have perished, and none of the survivors are in good condition. There are three bears, several wolves, leopards and tigers, one hyaena, a fox, a cockatoo, an hedgehog, a vulture, a cassowary, and a number of other fierce birds stolen from the menagerie of the Stadtholder of Holland. There are also a number of monkeys.

Upon the whole this collection is very insignificant and compares very badly with Pidcocks Exhibition, over Exeter Change. The lions and one of the elephants are dead. Most of these animals were transported to Paris from the Royal Menagerie at Versailles, but in order to increase the effect of the scene, it was decreed by Governmental order that those wild animals which were exhibited about the country at fairs, should be put into a state of requisition in order to add to the savage population of the garden. Cossal (the Parisian Pidcock), who had made a valuable collection of rare animals which he sent about the country to public shows, was robbed of all of them and to indemnify him in some manner for his ruin, made Warden of the National Menagerie at a small salary.

He was not the only sufferer in conformity with the political principle of the Revolution, that individual property must ever be ready as a sacrifice to the Nation, every man who led about a dancing bear in the street or a monkey, playing his tricks on the back of a dromedary, was obliged to lay aside his flageolet and tambourine and conduct his Bruin, his camel or his ape, to replenish the national stock. The two elephants were _borrowed_ from the Stadtholder, they came originally from Ceylon, whence they were sent to Holland, where they had remained fourteen years. The mode of transporting them was the subject of very grave discussion among the philosophers of Paris. It was first proposed to march them from Holland to Paris and to throw temporary wooden bridges over the canals, to facilitate their passage but on account of their aversion to water this sapient scheme was abandoned. A caravan was now constructed mounted on wheels, in order to drag the ponderous brutes along and in order to accustom them to their movable dwelling, they were never to be fed except in their travelling carriages. On the day of their departure, the elephants were driven into their conveyance and the keeper bolted the door. The moment the procession started, the male elephant gave the door a gentle tap with his head, which instantly shivered the panel to pieces, and the continent of organised matter marched out with the greatest ease. By separating the male and the female they at length succeeded in conveying these vast creatures to Paris. Thompson, the keeper, assured me that when the elephants met again in the garden, after their long journey, the air resounded with their cries and their eyes were bedewed with tears. The French had never seen an elephant in their country since the middle of the seventeenth century, when, in 1668, the King of Portugal presented one (which only survived thirteen years) to Louis XIV.

[Sidenote: THE AMPHITHEATRE]

Upon inquiry I learnt that the greater part of the curiosities collected in this place were the fruits of victorious pillage, and I was told that this measure was justified by the right of conquest. “Par suite de la conquête de la Hollande, ils sont tombés au pouvoir des Français--nous les avons emportés comme trophées de nos victoires. Ainsi Alexandre le Grand fit passer dans la Grèce les éléphans du Roi de Perse.”

The amphitheatre is a public building, within this garden, where lectures are given by professors, nominated and paid by the Government.