I must confess, that this farce appeared to me ridiculous, and equally unworthy the great nation which gave the _fête_, and the important event which it was intended to celebrate. Sham combats, falling towers, wounded heroes, devils with torches, allegorical emblems of Discord, &c., followed by cornucopias, dancing peasants, cars of triumph, and lastly, by an illuminated temple of peace, which rose on the ruins of that of war, formed the principal entertainment. I think you will agree with me, that such a _spectacle_ was better calculated for the stage of Sadler’s Wells in London, or the _Ambigu-comique_ at Paris, than for the principal object of a great and national festival. Simple and plain as is this reflection, it did not seem to strike any of the french spectators, and the wisest of them looked on without disgust, and almost with admiration, on that which, instead of commemorating the most important event which Europe has seen for many years, appeared to the eye of reason only suited to entertain the dotage of age, or the simplicity of infancy. If the pantomime were not very deserving of praise, it forms a single exception; and I can assure you, with great truth, that every other part of the _fête_ was truly magnificent. As no carriage was allowed to roll that evening (a laudable precaution, taken on all such occasions at Paris), and as the fireworks were to take place on the river, at some distance from the house where I dined, it was necessary to pass on foot, through the vast crowd which filled _la place de la Concorde_, the walks of the Thuilleries, the bridges, the streets, &c. Yet such was the order that was preserved, and such the tranquillity of the people, that, accompanied by my wife and one gentleman, I made my way, I suppose, through nearly a million of people, without the least accident, and with certainly not more crowding than is daily experienced at a private fashionable ball in London. What astonished me most, indeed, the whole day, was the dead calm which prevailed among the spectators. They looked on, walked about, and seemed entertained with the shows which were exhibited; yet no cries of triumph, no shouts of joy, expressed the public satisfaction. The apathy which prevails in this country on all public events, and which has succeeded to the fever of popular violence, is strikingly apparent on all occasions, but on none more than this.