This place derives its name from a very remote antiquity. When the grandsons of Clovis and Ste. Clotilde were murdered by their ambitious and unnatural uncles, one (Cleodold) escaped, and was conveyed by his nurse to a secret place, where he was educated for the priesthood. He eventually founded a monastery in the vicinity of Paris, called after him St. Cleodold or St. Cloud. In later years a Royal château was built upon the same site. Before the Revolution his tomb was still preserved, inscribed with a very ancient epitaph. St. Cloud is about six miles from Paris. The château stands upon an eminence commanding a full view of the capital and adjacent country; and the Seine, which widens at this point, meanders slowly beside the grove of trees planted along the banks. During the life of the Queen, the paintings in the gallery, the magnificence of the furniture in all the apartments, and the beauty of the walks, waters and cascades, made St. Cloud a most attractive spot. But the paintings and furniture were destroyed, and the place is now fitted up in a most costly style for the residence of the First Consul. It is his intention to hold his Court here occasionally, and to enrich it with some choice pictures from the gallery in the Louvre. I have been informed that he intends to make it the depôt for all the gold and silver utensils which he stole out of private houses during the campaign in Italy. [Sidenote: ST. CLOUD] A considerable quantity of Church plate which he purloined he has sent to a silversmith’s to be melted, and afterwards wrought into salvers and other domestic vessels, marked with his initials, so that the Consular family will always be served upon gold and silver plates and dishes. The cascades of St. Cloud are perfectly preserved, and they play once a month for the amusement of the Parisian populace. The expense of these exhibitions amounts to £12,750 per annum. The waterworks of Marli, which originally cost £200,000 sterling, are to be destroyed in order to increase the celebrity of those which ornament the Consular residence. I have more than once had occasion to animadvert on the facilities open to licentiousness and debauchery in almost every place of public resort in Paris. There is a circumference of wickedness traced within twelve miles of this metropolis, seemingly on purpose to prevent unwary youth from escaping the bonds of infection. No repose or time for reflection is allowed to the voluptuous inhabitant of Paris. Of this melancholy truth the detail of what I saw in the village of St. Cloud is a proof.