"The French have never enjoyed real liberty except under the protection of their lawful Sovereign: it will behove the heir of the name and, I hope, the virtues of Henry the Great to continue his reign and to realize all that he promised to France. "MARIE-CAROLINE." "Blaye Citadel, 7 June 1833." --B. BOOK VI[60] Journal from Paris to Venice--The Jura--The Alps--Milan--Verona--The roll-call of the dead--The Brenta--Incidental remarks--Venice--Venetian architecture--Antonio--The Abbé Betio and M. Gamba--The rooms in the Palace of the Doges--Prisons--Silvio Pellico's prison--The Frari--The Academy of Fine Arts--Titian's _Assumption_--The metopes of the Parthenon--Original drawings by Leonardo da Vinci, Michael Angelo and Raphael--The Church of Santi Giovanni e Paolo--The Arsenal--Henry IV.--A frigate leaving for America--The Cemetery of San Cristoforo--San Michele di Murano--Murano--The woman and the child--Gondoliers--Bretons and Venetians--Breakfast on the Riva degli Schiavoni--The tomb of Mesdames at Trieste--Rousseau and Byron--Great geniuses inspired by Venice--Old and new courtezans--Rousseau and Byron compared. 7 _to_ 10 _September, on the road._ I left Paris on the 3rd of September 1833, taking the Simplon Road through Pontarlier. Salins, lately burnt to the ground, had been built up again; I preferred it with its Spanish tumble-down ugliness[61]. The Abbé d'Olivet[62] was born on the banks of the Furieuse; Voltaire's first master, who received his pupil at the Academy, had nothing in common with the paternal stream. The great storm which caused so many shipwrecks in the Channel assailed me on the Jura. I arrived at night on the "wastes" of the Lévier stage. The caravanserai built of wooden planks, brilliantly lighted and filled with travellers taking shelter suggested not a little the keeping of a witches' sabbath. I refused to stop; they brought the horses. When it came to closing the lanterns of the calash, a great difficulty arose; the hostess, an extremely pretty young witch, lent a hand, laughing. She took care to hold her candle-end, protected by a glass tube, close up to her face, so as to be seen. At Pontarlier, my old host, a great Legitimist during his life-time, was dead. I supped at the inn called the National: a good omen for the newspaper of that name. Armand Carrel is the chief of those men who did not lie during the Days of July. The Castle of Joux defends the approaches to Pontarlier; it has seen two men succeed one another in its donjons, both of whom the Revolution will bear in memory: Mirabeau and Toussaint-Louverture[63], the black Napoleon, imitated and killed by the white Napoleon. "Toussaint," says Madame de Staël, "was brought to a French prison, where he died in the most wretched manner. Perhaps Bonaparte does not so much as remember this crime, because he has been less often reproached with it than with the others."