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Reign of Hell House
 BOOK THREE

A KILDALE ACADEMY NOVEL

DAKOTA WILDE
HADES PUBLISHING COMPANY, LLC
Reign of Hell House (A Kildale Academy Novel: Book Three)
Copyright © 2023 by Dakota Wilde.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form including electronic
or mechanical means except if given written permission from the author or to use for brief
quotations. All forms of pirating are prohibited.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the
author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real events, people, or locations is completely
coincidental.
Songs, products, TV shows, movies and famous peoples mentioned are used in a fictional
capacity in name only and in no way are affiliated with this book, and do not represent the
artists or companies.
Cover Design Made by Dakota Wilde with Canva.
Interior Graphics made with Canva.

Created with Vellum

 Contents
Content Warning
Map
Playlist
Recap

Part I
Prologue
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Part II
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
25. Chapter Twenty-Five
26. Chapter Twenty-Six
27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
 30. Chapter Thirty
31. Chapter Thirty-One
32. Chapter Thirty-Two
33. Chapter Thirty-Three
34. Chapter Thirty-Four
35. Chapter Thirty-Five
36. Chapter Thirty-Six
37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
40. Chapter Forty
41. Chapter Forty-One
42. Chapter Forty-Two
43. Chapter Forty-Three
44. Chapter Forty-Four
Part III
45. Chapter Forty-Five
46. Chapter Forty-Six
47. Chapter Forty-Seven
48. Chapter Forty-Eight
49. Chapter Forty-Nine
50. Chapter Fifty
51. Chapter Fifty-One
52. Chapter Fifty-Two
53. Chapter Fifty-Three
54. Chapter Fifty-Four
55. Chapter Fifty-Five
56. Chapter Fifty-Six
57. Chapter Fifty-Seven
58. Chapter Fifty-Eight
59. Chapter Fifty-Nine
60. Chapter Sixty
61. Chapter Sixty-One
62. Chapter Sixty-Two
63. Chapter Sixty-Three
64. Chapter Sixty-Four
Epilogue

Also by Dakota Wilde

Acknowledgments
Playlist
About the Author
 Content Warning

Please check the author’s website for a detailed list of content

warnings.
 Playlist

Listen along on Spotify.

Recap
WELCOME BACK TO KILDALE ACADEMY.
When we last saw our characters, Salem had been pushed through
the veil, while Skye emanated a burst of light.
The boys were on the beach after having their demons take over
their bodies, leading them all to the veil. Hellhounds are on the
loose, and Leighton Ledger has found his way to onto the beach as
he tries to intervene.
If you find any errors, please do not report them to Amazon, but
please email the publisher at [email protected] .
If I cannot move heaven, I will raise hell.
-Virgil
Part One
Prologue
PRESTON: SOMEWHERE OFF THE COAST NEAR
POSSESSION… 1890
SONG: ONLY HAPPY WHEN IT RAINS BY
RONIIT, SAINT MESA

T he boat dips as the waves crest over the top of the barely
buoyant vessel. My brothers and I had scrimped every last
copper, pulling our funds to buy ourselves this ship. And now
it’s being torn apart by the elements. The boat is taking on water
and soon we’ll have nothing left. This storm crept up out of
nowhere, swallowing us within minutes, leaving us fighting for our
lives. We were inexperienced and arrogant enough to attempt to
change our fortunes. Now look where that’s gotten us. In the middle
of a thrashing, angry ocean. It’s as if Poseidon himself poured all his
rage into the water that now threatens to capsize us.
Saltwater sprays in my eyes, drenching my clothes and sloshes the
woolen socks in my boots while I grip the helm with white knuckles.
I know my efforts are futile, but I can’t seem to let go. Images of
what I’d hoped for our future evaporates before my very eyes.
The wind rips into the sails, shredding them to tatters. My brothers
hang onto whatever they’re able to as we’re tossed about on the
angry waters. My heart leaps into my throat as the bow of the ship
slams straight into a tall wave, submerging us for what feels like
years before rocking back up to the surface.
“Preston! The ship is lost!” My brother, Beaumont yells as his face is
whipped by the wind.
A crack fills the air as we’re jostled from our positions. My hands slip,
and my feet slide out from under me, my boots squelching against
the grain. The wheel turns without my hands to hold onto it. My
fingers slide against the wet boards as I try to stand up. I see a
smattering of rocks ahead and I scramble to grab hold of the helm,
but it’s too late. Our boat crashes into the rocks, splitting the already
half sunken ship into shards. The wood planks explode upon impact,
and we’re plunged into the icy depths- at the mercy of the torrential
storm and unforgiving tide.
I kick into the water with everything I have, fighting against the
strength of the ocean as it sucks me down into its belly. Water fills
my mouth, and my sight is comprised of only a blur of the twisted
ocean waves that sling me about. Bubbles of water and salt grab at
my flailing form as I sink deeper with the broken ship below me.
Black ridges form against my eyes as my lungs scream out for air,
begging for me to take a breath. But I know if I do that- I’ll die.
Panic claws at me as I search frantically for the top, desperate to get
out of here alive. I feel my limbs become sluggish with each stroke I
take. Each kick has less momentum behind it than the last, as I
quickly succumb to the inky waters that wish to claim my soul.
Despair claws at me, knowing that all the sacrifice, all the turmoil
was for nothing.
I feel my body slump as I drift along the current- the struggle
leaving me as I drift helplessly into darkness.

S and grates against my exposed skin as I’ m shaken awake by rough

hands. I sputter saltwater out of my mouth, heaving involuntarily as
my body gasps for air. My chest burns as I cough up heaps of
gurgling ocean water that coats my tongue in a slimy film.
“We thought we lost you.” Beaumont says, helping me up and
clapping me on the back.
The beach is full of debris, but miraculously, I count all six of my
brothers in various states of injury. I seem to have been hit the
worst- my head bearing a lump of where something must have
crashed into me, rendering me unconscious. My clothes are ripped
to shreds, barely hanging onto my tall frame.
I’m lucky to be alive.
“Where are we?” I manage to ask. The storm has dissipated, leaving
behind a fine mist that clings to the ground. It rolls with the light
salt-stained breeze, scuffling over the rocks and shells that litter the
beach.
“Couldn’t be too far off from port, but can’t be too sure.”
“Who goes down there?” a voice calls down, off the rocks at us.
A dark figure emerges through the mist, lantern in hand swinging it
as he moves down a path that leads to the beach.
My brothers shuffle closer together as the stranger approaches.
“Looks like you lot need some assistance.” The stranger declares. I
swallow my smart retort. Being callous would do us no good, since
we unfortunately do need help. We’re stranded, location unknown
and it’s getting darker and colder by the minute.
“Where are we?” Beau asks the man.
“Where are my manners? Come let’s get you out of the cold. Name’s
Claudius. Welcome to Possession, why don’t you come back with me
to my house and get warmed up?”
My brothers give each other a wary look. What kind of name is
Possession for a place?
He chuckles reading our concern. “Or you can stay out on this beach
with no food or shelter. Up to you.”
The lantern illuminates the gleam in his crooked-up smile. My
stomach roils with unease as we follow him, broken and limping, up
the path. I turn to look back at the ocean and am met with a sense
of foreboding as I take in the flotsam from what was supposed to be
my family’s future. Now it’s nothing but broken fodder for the water.
CHAPTER 1
Chapter One
LEIGHTON LEDGER: PRESENT DAY
SONG: YOU’RE GONNA GET WHAT’S COMING
BY KLERGY, VG LUCAS

A howl echoes through the night as I stare openmouthed at the

fissure in the rock. Night presses in around me as another howl
joins the ominous call. My pulse skyrockets and a fine sweat
breaks out on my forehead.
The six figures surrounding me shudder as if they’re all suddenly hit
by the same sensation at once.
One of them collapses to his knees while three others, including my
worthless son, run to the girl that produced the blinding white light.
“Are you okay?” I hear Lukas ask as he pulls her into his chest. I feel
a sneer pull at my lips. His weakness is unacceptable. He’s always
been such a disappointment. Just like his mother.
Another howl rips through the air, this time closer. The hair on the
back of my neck prickles to attention. The boys are too busy to
notice, but I scramble, grabbing at Lukas to get us out of there as
fast as possible.
“Lukas, we need to leave.” Time isn’t on our side. I can feel the
seconds closing in on us, but Lukas doesn’t know the consequences
of staying here. I never told him the truth. Never disclosed the deal I
made. I didn’t see the need to. He yanks his arm away from me, his
eyes burning with anger as the light from the moon flits across his
furrowed brow.
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
The ground rumbles beneath our feet as the hound rushes closer.
“Lukas! We need to go!” I bellow.
Everything I’ve worked for is unraveling faster than I could have
ever imagined. I needed to get Lukas away from the rift before he’s
sucked into that veil by the demon in his chest.
Besides that threat, we also need to get off this beach before it
becomes a bloodbath from the hound that’s fast approaching. They
made those things to rip demons that escaped the Underworld into
pieces. Sending their souls flying back to their torture and leaving
the poor soul it’s attached to for dead. I should have told my sons
how dire the situation is that we’re in before sending them here. I
should have warned them, but I was too caught up in my business.
Assured that everything would go our way, like it always has.
I’d sold my soul to a devil for the life I’d wanted. My wealth, my
success, my health, my looks. I was about to watch all of that go up
in smoke if we didn’t leave. My reckoning is breathing down my neck
and it smells like regret.
The hounds are almost upon us, and Lukas is still not listening to my
warnings. Typical. Maybe if I’d tried to connect with him more,
instead of demanding that he conforms to my vision for our life, he’d
get off this fucking beach.
We have mere minutes before the moon reaches the highest peak,
rendering the spell we’d set in motion all those years ago, useless.
The girl failed to open the veil completely, and I know it will cast the
demons back to hell because of that failure.
Anger coats my chest as I internally curse the council for not being
here, and especially Hart for being so arrogant as to think his plans
were fool proof.
“Lukas!” I try one last time before I feel jaws rip into my arm,
puncturing my flesh. My body is airborne as I’m tossed to the side,
smacking into the cliff side. A low buzzing fills my ears as my vision
blurs.
Screams fill the air, mixing with the snarl of the beast that’s come to
render justice to the demons inhabiting the boys on the beach.
I strain my body to lift myself off the ground, my arm unable to
move, no matter how hard I attempt to lift it. Wetness seeps down
my face as I watch the hound barrel into the boys, pushing several
closer to the rift.
The moon rises higher, mocking me for my futile efforts. My vision
blackens and I’m pulled into unconsciousness.
We’ve failed.
CHAPTER 2
Chapter Two
WALKER
SONG: BORN TO DIE BY EUPHORIA

M y body aches as the demon releases its hold on me

reluctantly. I grab Emmet by the front of his shirt and slam my
fist across his face before he can brace for the impact. My
knuckles crunch into his cartilage with a loud snap. Blood spews
onto the sand as his head whips to the side from the impact.
“You little fucker.” I scream, spit flying from my mouth as I watch
blood gush from his busted nose as he struggles to take a breath.
His hands are up in surrender, but I’m not feeling particularly
merciful.
“It wasn’t me, man!” He screams, shoving at my chest knocking me
back a few feet.
“How are we supposed to believe that?” Graham chimes in, pushing
his sleeves up his forearms. Lukas drops Skye’s hand, stepping next
to Graham, cracking his neck from side to side- never taking his eyes
off Emmet.
I flick my eyes over to the tear in the veil, where Salem was just
sucked in and make to jump through it and follow her ass into Hell.
An arm pulls me back and I turn around to see Garrison’s hand
around my bicep.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Going after her, shithead. What does it look like?” I yank myself
away from him, seeing Lukas, Graham and Emmet pummeling the
shit out of each other.
A howl breaks through the sounds of grunts from fists slamming
against flesh.
The ground shakes as a looming form barrels down on us. Emmet is
thrown back against me. I shove him off, back towards where Lukas
and Graham wait with fists poised.
“Stop!” Lukas’s dad screams, right before the beast snatches him up
into the air as another comes straight for me, his large paws dig into
the sand propelling him forward.
“Satan! Satan, stop!” I try yelling out, but there’s no moment of
recognition in the hell hound. My body is tossed like a rag doll
against the jagged rocks as its head slams straight into me.
I feel my spine go ramrod straight as a tug from within causing my
head to loll against the wall. A deep rumbling comes from above, but
I’m stuck- my chest feeling like I’m being carved up from the inside.
Garrison crumples to his knees as he runs a clenched fist over his
chest while Emmet’s face is locked in a silent scream. Lukas and
Graham lean on each other as they stagger towards me. Sloan
shivers uncontrollably, fists digging into the sand beneath him.
My back arches of its own volition as a searing pain rips down my
spine, digging into my chest, ripping a scream out of my throat.
Through the haze of my pain, I note that my fraternity brothers are
all experiencing a similar phenomenon as me. The sounds of
screams and howls fill my ears as my body begins to lift from the
ground. What the fuck is this?
I’m being pulled into the veil, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
CHAPTER 3
Chapter Three
SALEM
SONG: LOOKING AT THE DEVIL BY SEIBOLD

I stand gaping at the man I call father as a lake of fire spurts long
ribbons of lava into the air behind him. Brimstone fills my lungs
and I cough, struggling to take a deep enough breath.
“What the hell is this?” I wheeze.
“Not exactly hell, dear daughter. More like a limbo of sorts.”
“Purgatory.” The word falls from my lips as I take in the horror-scape
in front of me. “Why are you here?” The last time I saw my father, I
was three years old. One minute he was pushing me on the swing,
the next I was crying- cold and alone as my little legs kicked
uselessly against the air. They found me hours later, miraculously
unharmed. My mother refused to speak of him, constantly changing
the subject if I ever found the courage to bring him up. A thought of
panic flickers as I remember her, and my grandmother have both
passed by my hand. Could they be down here too?
“I live here.” He responds, opening his arms wide.
My throat swallows thickly trying to process his words, his crown, his
sword strapped across his back, him actually being in front of me for
the first time in years. He looks no different than the man I vaguely
remember. Youthful, in an ethereal way that I always wrote off to
idolizing my father like little girls can do. Surely, he would have some
wrinkles by now- unless he’s a slave to Botox or related to Paul
Rudd.
“Nice…place?” What the heck am I supposed to say to that? Finding
out my dad lives down in purgatory wasn’t on my to do list for the
day.
A low groan from behind has me swirling to see where the noise is
coming from. I take in a curled-up form, shaking in a swirl of
darkness.
“Ah, Chaos. I see you’ve found a way to slither right back where you
belong.” My father says looking down at the shriveled demon. The
grotesqueness of the figure freezes me to the spot. I feel a scream
stuck in my throat, aching to be let out and echo along the
threatening stalactites that loom above.
A gravely voice grates against my eardrums. “Fuck you, Hades.”
My entire body feels weighed down. The sound of distant screaming
seems to fade, as the whooshing in my ears increases with my
galloping heartbeat.
Hades. Hades. Hades?
The name bounces off my mind, slipping into repressed memories
and taking up residence in my soul. My knees quake beneath me.
I’m not sure what exactly I expected to find down here, but this
definitely wasn’t it. All the courage I felt earlier dissipates in an
instant.
The charred form on the ground chuckles. “What’s that look for,
princess? Didn’t know you were a daughter of Hades?” His deranged
laughter causes him to roll into a coughing fit, while his black
soulless eyes stare up at me.
“That’s quite enough.” Hades says with a flick of his wrist, managing
to craft iron chains around Chaos’s wrists and ankles. My chest feels
strangely empty as I gape down at the demonic being as my
thoughts race.
It couldn’t be true. My father abandoned us. I’ve only heard from
him occasionally. Receiving a gift or two sporadically throughout the
years. He couldn’t be HADES. God of the Underworld.
As I stand gaping, the ground beneath me shakes and a blinding
light pours through the crack in the wall.
“Get out of the way, something is coming through.” Hades warns,
brushing his muscled arm in front of me, pushing me behind him as
a familiar scream tears through the veil. I push my father out of the
way running as fast as my weakened body will allow me.
“Salem! Watch out!” I hear Hades’ warning a moment too late before
I’m thrown back hard, head cracking against the rock floor as I’m
smothered by a large body. My consciousness flickers precariously
before I succumb to the darkness pulling me under.
CHAPTER 4
Chapter Four
LUKAS
SONG: BE A HERO BY EUPHORIA

S kye thrusts her hands up, emitting a bright white light that
wraps around those of us sprawled out on the beach. I can feel
the demon being ripped out from me, trying to bring me into
the veil with him. My father’s limp body lays crumpled against the
rocks. I feel nothing, not one ounce of sympathy for the man, as I
take in his still form.
“Don’t you dare leave me!” Skye says, body shaking with the effort
to keep us from being sucked into the veil.
It feels like a million knives are slicing into my chest, carving my soul
from my body. I see Walker get sucked in first as beads of sweat
trickle-down Skye’s horrified face. I don’t have time to contemplate
where she’s discovered this newfound power and what that means
because I feel myself slipping backwards. Graham wraps his arm
around my bicep, his fingers digging in to keep me from going next.
My shoes strain against the sand, pulling against the grains of sand
and rock as my body inches closer to the gaping hole that threatens
to take us all.
Emmet goes flying past my head with a scream, almost taking me
with him. Graham grips me even harder as Sloan grabs onto Graham
forming a chain between all of us.
Garrison is too far for us to reach. I see the moment he realizes that
he can’t fight against the power pulling him in. His eyes hold a sad
acceptance as he disappears into the veil.
“Fuck!” I yell out, feeling tears prick against my eyes.
“I can’t hold it for much longer!” Skye cries out, tears and sweat
flowing freely. Her clothes are ripped and covered in sand.
A low growl comes from the demon dog, who’s prowling closer to
where the four of us are left. Five if you count my useless father.
“Skye. You can let us go. Get away from the hound.” I say,
determined to keep her safe from the beast.
She shakes her head, arms vibrating with the effort to hang onto us.
“I’m not leaving you.”
The sound of multiple screams fills the air, and I’m suddenly dropped
mere inches away from the veil. I’m knocked down, taking Graham
and Sloan with me. The demon snaps back into me like a taught
rubber band. It burns.
“What the hell?” I say spitting out a mouthful of sand.
Skye crumples to her knees and stares up at the flickering of ghostly
bodies emerging from the same hole that Walker, Emmet and
Garrison had all been pulled into just minutes before.
The disembodied souls shriek and shout as they fly frantically off
towards the town. The hellhounds see them too and take off running
after them at full speed.
“Oh fuck.” Graham exclaims, pushing me off him. “That can’t be
good.”
“What did the headmaster say about releasing souls from
purgatory?” I ask, trying to remember, panic clawing at me as the
souls move just out of eyesight.
“Salem opened the door. She let them out.” Skye whispers, looking
down at her hands in disbelief.
“We need to warn them.” Sloan says, pushing off the ground and
taking Skye’s hands into his, helping her off the beach floor. The
demon in my chest roils with anger, urging me to get the hell off this
beach.
“I think I know someone that could help us.” I say, remembering
Walker talking about Madame LeRoux and how she’d helped him and
Salem. “We need to get moving.”
“What about your dad?” Skye asks, taking in his slumped body. I
shouldn’t give a fuck about this man who shares DNA with me. He’s
been a shitty ass father my whole life. But I can’t leave him here on
this beach to die- I want him alive. I want to see the look on his face
when his world implodes. Death is too easy of an out for him.
“Fuck. Okay. Bring him with us.” I say racking my hands down my
face. Sloan, Graham and I grab him. I note that his chest is still
moving as I lift beneath his torso. Blood gushes from his gaping
wound where the demon dog tore into his arm.
“You need to get a tourniquet around his arm!” Skye says, ripping at
her already frayed shirt. She ties the fabric around what’s left of his
flayed limb as we make quick work to bring him up the hill. I have a
sinking feeling we won’t be able to help anyone tonight. Not our
friends who were sucked into the veil, not the townspeople who
have fucking evil souls and hellhounds descending upon them, and
not my unconscious father who’s still losing heaps of blood as we
walk.
CHAPTER 5
Chapter Five
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
maîtres. It is difficult to define what, I believe, is meant to be
indefinable.
[14] L’ancienne noblesse, literally translated, “the ancient
nobility.” I use the expression in french, because the word
“nobility,” in our language, expresses a very different thing.—The
nobility of England are a small, respectable, and wealthy body,
exercising a great and important part of the constitution, and
possessed of powers highly important to the state. The french
“noblesse” consisted of sixty or seventy thousand families, every
individual of which would have thought himself disgraced by
engaging in any branch of trade, or useful industry; enjoying
many privileges personally advantageous, but discharging no
public functions, as nobles, at all connected with the government.
[15] “Contractors.”
[16] Every landholder in France, in consequence of a law
passed in one of the most violent moments of the revolution, and
which is still continued, pays one fourth of his real revenue to the
state; and as, in particular parts of the country, the rate has been
unfairly made, it happens, in some cases, that even a half is paid,
instead of a fourth. The latter is the minimum of the present
taxation.
[17] I am very sorry, but to tell you the truth.
[18] At their house—I am really quite distressed.
[19] “New Comers,” upstarts.
[20] Eating room.
[21] Silence guards the slumbers and the loves of this bed.
[22] President’s chair.
[23] To the Legislative Body, to the first Consul, and to madame
Bonaparte.
[24] Yes, yes, that tall man is lord Cornwallis. He has a fine
figure. He looks like a military man. He has served in the army. Is
it not true, sir? Look at that little man near him, what a difference!
what a mean appearance!
[25] “They do right,” said one, “to wear boots—it is a travelling
dress. They will not stay here long.”
[26] We pay them ten thousand francs for doing nothing. I am
astonished Bonaparte does not get rid of these fellows.
 [27] I believe that your ambassador has an income of his own,
larger than that of all these fellows together. Without their salary
of legislators, they would die of hunger.
[28] The sovereign people.
[29] The abbé Sicard, in the course of this lecture, took
occasion to remark, that of all languages, the english was the
most simple, the most reasonable, and the most natural, in its
instruction. As a proof of the truth of his assertion, he informed us,
that his pupils, as they began to learn the means of conveying
their thoughts by writing, were constantly guilty of anglicisms. He
added, that it was difficult to make them lay aside idioms purely
english, and still more so, to teach them those which are peculiar
to the french language.
[30] I hear only silence and see only night.
[31] Your droll Shakspeare.
[32] By way of an unanswerable argument, said, “It is Mr. Pitt
who understands reasoning; but as to Mr. Fox, he can declaim
prettily: all his talent consists in this. You will allow me to know, for
it was I,” assuming a look of great dignity, “who translated his
speeches.”
[33] General Dessaix, by whose valour the battle of Marengo, in
which he fell, was principally gained.
[34] To take advantage of the discoveries of the present age,
but not to run before them.
[35] To love the world at large, it may be truly said, that we
ought first to love our own country; but he who begins with loving
the world at large, will probably end in not loving any country
whatever. Philosophy has done its duty; it is for you, citizen
legislators, to discharge yours. Philosophy begins the happiness
of men; but it is legislation which completes it, &c.
[36] “La loi d’aubaine,” by which foreigners were prevented
from inheriting or purchasing lands in France.
[37] Boissy d’Anglass. This worthy man was president of the
national assembly on one of those occasions, when the mob
burst into the hall, and attempted to dictate to the members.
With heroic courage, he refused to put any question, while the
rabble remained in the assembly; and persevered in his
resolution, notwithstanding the poignards which were raised
against him, and the dreadful example of one of his colleagues,
who was murdered by his side.
[38] That dark and wet climate.
[39] Believe me, sir, our young men see all this with the most
perfect indifference.
[40] Coffeehouses.—The number of coffeehouses (properly so
called, as coffee and liqueurs are the only articles which they
supply) is very great at Paris, and they are constantly crowded.
Swarms of idle persons spend their lives at these places, playing
chess, talking politics, reading the journals, or sitting still. I have
often counted more than one hundred individuals in a coffeeroom
of a moderate size; and there is no hour of the day when the
same scene does not present itself. Paris, under every
government, and at all periods, will bear the same appearance as
to amusements. Montesquieu, in his Persian Letters, gives the
following description of the coffeehouses of his time, which
applies exactly to those of the day:
“Le café est très en usage à Paris, il y a un grand nombre de
maisons publiques, où on le distribue. Dans quelques unes de
ces maisons on dit des nouvelles, dans d’autres on joue aux
échecs. Il y en a une où l’on apprête le café, de telle manière qu’il
donne de l’esprit à ceux qui en prennent; au moins, de tous ceux
qui en sortent, il n’y a personne que ne croie qu’il en a quatre fois
plus que lorsqu’il est entré.”
“Coffee is much in use in Paris. There are a great many public
houses where it is distributed. In some of these houses the news
of the day is reported, and in others chess is played. There is
one, in which coffee is prepared, in such an extraordinary manner,
that it improves the intellects of those who take it: at least, of
those who come from this house, there is not one who does not
think himself four times as wise as when he went in.”
[41] The establishment for the employment of the blind.
[42] In spite of myself.
[43] As our Saviour did of old.
[44] It is the art of writing as quick as speech. Stenography
moves like the deer or the horse, but common writing like the ox.
[45] You speak of Molière! Oh! his reign is past; our age is
much more refined in its ideas; our stage, cleared of such trash, is
at last adorned with the really beautiful, which was so long sought
for in vain.
[46] “Tom, my dear Tom.”
[47] Every large house in France is approached by a court yard,
the gate of which is called “la porte cochére.”
[48] I speak only of the superiour orders. Among the common
people, I have remarked some of that liveliness so vaunted, as
forming a material ingredient in the french character.
[49] Edward in Scotland.
[50] Provision for the convent.
[51] I am delighted to see here so many english. I hope our
union may be of long continuance. We are the two most powerful
and most civilized nations of Europe. We should unite to cultivate
the arts, the sciences, and letters; in short, to improve the
happiness of human nature.
[52] When the present worthy and respectable minister from the
United States of America Mr. Livingston was presented,
Bonaparte said to him, “Vous venez d’une république libre et
vertueuse dans un monde de corruption.”—(You come from a free
and virtuous republic into a world of corruption.)—Mr. Livingston,
who is rather deaf, and does not perfectly understand french, did
not immediately hear him. Bonaparte instantly called to M.
Talleyrand, and desired him to explain, in english, what he had
said.
[53] Thus, thanks to the genius of Victory, the public will soon
have the pleasure of seeing these four magnificent compositions
united in the Musée Central, or Central Museum.
[54] “The gratitude of the country dedicates this building to the
memory of great men.”
[55] You must ask that question of the government. The church
will probably be finished, when the government has so much
money, as not to know what to do with it otherwise.
[56] Here reposes the man of nature and of truth.
[57] He enlightens the world even from the tomb.
[58] To the manes of Voltaire, the national assembly passed a
decree, on the 30th of may, 1791, declaring, that he deserved the
honours due to the memory of great men.
 [59] Poet, historian, philosopher, he enlarged the human mind
and taught it, that it ought to be free.
[60] He defended Calas, Serven, de la Barre, and Mont Bally.
[61] He combated atheists and fanatics. He preached
tolerance. He vindicated the rights of man against the monster
Feudality.
[62] The return of Zephyr.
[63] Orangerie.—The following description, given by la Fontaine
of the same place in his time, is exactly descriptive of its present
situation:
“Comme nos gens avoient encore de loisir ils firent un tour à
l’orangerie. La beauté et le nombre des orangers et des autres
plantes qu’on y conserve on ne sauroit exprimer. Il y a tel de ces
arbres qui a resisté aux attaques de cent hivers.”
“As our friends had still some time to spare, they took a turn in
the orangerie, or green house. The beauty and number of orange
and other plants here preserved, cannot be described. There are,
among these trees, some which have resisted the attacks of a
hundred winters.”
La Fontaine, Amours de Psyche & de Cupidon.
[64] The distance is great from the hand of an assassin to the
heart of an honest man.
[65] The king’s apartment.
[66] Lodging account at the Little Trianon.

Francs.
Three masters’ rooms 36
Wax lights 6
Wood 9
Four servants’ beds 12
Total 63

N. B. Sixty-three francs of french money make exactly two

guineas and a half english; and this sum was asked for one
night’s lodging (without eating or wine) for three masters’ beds
and four servants’.
[67] To the nation.
 [68] The ambassador of the emperor of Russia.
[69] To fleece strangers.
[70] “Ladies of good company,” or, as we should say in english,
women of character.
[71] Carriages in the english fashion, or carriages really english.
[72] What a fine sight! what pretty carriages! what beautiful
horses! what elegant dresses! Really it is charming!
[73]

How I pity the frenchman, whose gayety’s lost;

The creature’s a wretch, from his element toss’d.

[74] Official defenders.

[75] Hackney coach.
[76] That all the good company of Paris went there.
[77] Surveillance—Watch, or special care.
[78] Formerly a convent.
[79] Molière and Thalia rest in this grave.
[80] Nicholas Boileau is in this tomb.
[81] My cares, as well as my happy days, are past. I feel no
longer the indignation of my youthful anger, and leave an open
course to the tribe of dull and cold versificators.
[82] French Parnassus.
[83] The following is nearly the exact translation:
“My dear heart, we have just dined, and are very drunk. I will
see you before I set out from Paris, and will caress you not as you
deserve, but as I can. The bearer hurries me so much, that I can
only say this one word—good night, my dear heart, I kiss you a
million of times.

8
This xiiiiith october, 8 h 8
8
HENRY.”

[84] The national garden of plants.

 [85] Among the curious quadrupeds here preserved is the
Camelopardalis. Vide Vaillant’s Travels in Africa.
[86] I do not mention l’École Polytechnique, that admirable
institution, in which eight hundred young men, named by the
government (principally as a reward for the services of their
fathers), are liberally educated, because it forms part of the
system of public instruction, which, being of a political nature, is
foreign to my object. In this letter I only mean to point out those
establishments, from which foreigners can derive either
information or pleasure.
[87] The boiled beef, which, after making the soup, is always
served at a trench table. “Le vin ordinaire,” or common wine, is a
weak, sour beverage, which costs about sixpence english per
bottle, and is not, either in taste or strength, superiour to our small
beer.
[88] The boxes “au baignoir” are on the level with the pit, under
the first tier, and are in the shape of a bath, from which they take
their name.
[89] Persons going to France ought to know, that, the exchange
being at present against England, we regularly lose from five to
seven per cent on the money drawn from the latter country. This
loss must of course be added to the calculation of expenses on
the continent.
[90] I have heard, since I left Paris, that a very fine house,
formerly belonging to a nobleman, and known by the name of
“l’Hôtel de Beauveau,” has lately been opened as an “hôtel garni,”
and assumed the title of “Hôtel de Prince de Galle.” It stands in “la
Rue Fauxbourg St. Honoré,” nearly fronting one of the avenues to
the Champs Elisées. In spring the situation must be very
pleasant. It is at a considerable distance from the theatres, but in
a most respectable part of the town.
[91] “Restaurateurs” are tavern keepers, where dinners are
served.
[92] Visits.—It is the custom, in all parts of France, and
particularly at Paris, to receive and pay perpetual visits. The
whole of every evening is passed in a routine of this kind (when
the spectacle offers no irresistible temptation); and a parisian
belle was, the other day, quite astonished and disgusted, when I
told her, that in England ladies seldom received the visits of
young men.—“Qu’elle vie ennuyeuse que votre vie de Londres!”
exclaimed the fair one; “qu’on doit passer des tristes journées!
Que peut elle faire, une malheureuse anglaise, après diner?”
“Elle va aux assemblées ou à l’opera—Mais si elle est malade?
“Elle reste chez elle.”
“Quoi toute seule! que vos dames sont à plaindre! Que je me
félicite d’être françoise! Sans les visites de quelques amis choisis,
je mourrois d’ennui.”
What a dull life must your english manners afford! What dismal
days must one pass in such a country! What can a poor english
lady do after dinner?
She goes to assemblies, or to the opera.
But if she is ill—
She stays at home.
What quite alone? Oh, how I pity your poor english ladies! Oh,
how I rejoice at being born a frenchwoman! without the visits of a
few well chosen friends I should die of ennui.
Notwithstanding this passion for receiving and returning visits
among one another, the french are frequently negligent in this
respect towards the foreigners who are recommended to them. I
have heard english ladies at Paris complain, that their visits were
often not returned at all, and that that early attention was rarely
shown as to this little etiquette, which well bred persons in
England are so careful to observe.
[93] Boulotte is a gambling game much played at Paris, and
said to be the support of several families.
[94] This was, of course, written before the late changes in the
government, which appear to provide against this event. I leave
the remark unaltered, as, in the first place, this provision comes
not from the people, but from the first consul himself. Secondly,
this arrangement is only on paper, and if it last the life of
Bonaparte, will scarcely be respected after his death.
[95] It is Bonaparte who does every thing—every thing is
submitted to him—every thing is possible for him.
[96] Among the old friends of my family, from whom we
received particular kindness, I shall be pardoned for naming
madame (la ci-devant comtesse) d’H—t, so frequently mentioned
in the confessions of Jean Jacques, and the real model on which
he formed his imaginary Heloise. We had the pleasure of passing
some days at her country seat, in the valley of Montmorency, and
several evenings at her hotel at Paris. This accomplished woman,
who at the age of thirty, had the talent to attract, and the virtue to
resist the affection of Rousseau, has still at seventy, that
amiability of manner, that suavity of disposition, and that fund of
enlightened conversation, which, notwithstanding the
disadvantages of a person far from handsome, gained her the
love of that extraordinary man. The latter has been very unjust in
the character which he has drawn of the husband of this lady. He
is still living, and is a respectable man of ancient family,
independent fortune, and irreproachable reputation. St. Lambert,
the Thomson of France, resides with Mr. and madame d’H—t,
and his extreme old age receives from their attention the comforts
and kindness of unvarying friendship.
[97] There are innumerable houses at Paris in which, with every
appearance of respectability, and often with the assistance of
some lofty sounding title, the unwary stranger often finds his ruin.
Amidst the smiles of beauty, the splendour of foreign orders, the
jollity of wine, and the gaiety of dancing, youth loses its prudence,
and one evening’s entertainment is paid by the loss of that
fortune, on which a man’s happiness, and perhaps that of many
dear relatives depended.
 INDEX.

A.
Advocates, 223
Affaire manquée, definition of the term, 44
Albani, Francesco, his paintings, 32
Amiens, 6
Ancienne noblesse, account of, 55, 57
a ball of, 140
Antiquities, cabinet of, 16
Apathy of the french people, 179
Apollo Belvidere, 16, 18
Arabian horses, 202
Archbishop of Paris, 217
of Tours, 218
Artistes, théâtre des jeunes, 130
Athénée, 255
Aveyron, savage of, 109

B.
Bagatelle, garden of, 231
Ball, a public, 92
Ball, a private, 140
Ballets, 123
Bargains, necessity of making them, 280, 283
Beggars, 5
Berthier, general, 139
Bendette, paintings of, 31
Blind, Institutions for the, 103
Boissy d’Anglass, 90
Bois de Boulogne, 175, 228
Bonaparte, first consul, account of, 81, 158, 161
court of, 159
dinner with, 247
madame, 43, 188, 220
Lucien, 188
Boulevards, 229
Brun, le, the third consul, 59
Charles, paintings of, 23
Burgoing, mademoiselle, 116, 117

C.
Calais, 2
Caravaggio, Michael Angelo Amerigi, 34
Cardinal legate, 217
Carnival, 152
Carracci, Agostino, 33
Lodovico, 33, 173
Antonio, 33
Annibale, ib.
Carriages, 177, 209, 211
job, 270
Castiglione, Gio Benedetto, his paintings, 31
Cavedone, James, 35
Champagne, Philip of, 25
Champ de Mars, 237
Champs Elisées, 228
Chantilly, 7
Claissens, Anthony, 25
Clotilde, mademoiselle, 124
Cloud, St., 192
Comparison between London and Paris, 282
Concert of the blind, 104
Conciergerie, 225
Concordat, 188
Contat, mademoiselle, 118
Cornwallis, lord, 67
Corregio, 35
Costume of dress, 93, 176
Cosway, Maria, copying the principal pictures in the Museum for
prints, 15
Court of Bonaparte, 159
of madame Bonaparte, 188
Criminal law, 224

D.
Dancers, 123, 190
Dances, 95, 142
Dancing, 144
Deaf and dumb, 69
Dessein’s hotel, 3
Dinner with Bonaparte, 247
Domenichino, 35
Douaine at Calais, 2
Dover, 1
Duel, frivolous occasion of one, 233
Dress, 93, 176
Durer, Albert, 25
Dutch school of painting, ib.
Dyck, Anthony Van, 26, 173
Philip Van, 27

E.
École Militaire, 238
Edouard en Ecosse, 146
Élèves, theatre of, 131
Elephant, account of, 261
Emigrés, their conduct to the english, 57, 58
Enfans trouvés, 236
English language most simple and natural in its construction, 70
Engravings, cabinet of, 253
Exorbitant demands at Versailles, 198
Expenses at Paris, 266

F.
Fashions, 176
Ferrari, Gandertio, 36
Fête for the peace, 40
Feydeau, théâtre, 125
Fire arms, manufacture of, 195
Fireworks, 50
Fitzjames, the ventriloquist, 132
Flemish school of painting, 25
Fleury, the actor, 119
Fond, la, 116
Footmen, english, publicly forbidden to wear laced hats, 178
Fournisseur, assembly at the house of a, 137
Fox, Mr., opinion entertained of him, as an orator, in french
society, 78
French school of painting, 23
Frescati, 231
Furniture of the houses in Paris, 60, 295

G.
Gallery of paintings, 11, 166
of statues, 16
Galvanism explained by Massieu, deaf and dumb, 106
Gambling houses, 99
Gardens of Paris, 228, 229
Garden, national, of plants, 260, 261
Généviève, St., 182
Gens d’armes, 216
German school of painting, 25
Germain, St., 203
Globes, 250
Gobelins, 235
Governmental class of society, 55, 59
Guards, consular, 84
Guercino, paintings of, 37, 173
Guides, les, 215
Guido, paintings of, 36
Guillotine, 225
Gyzen, Peter, 27

H.
Hameau de Chantilly, 229
Harpe, la, 256
Hayes, de, 190
Henry, the Fourth, original manuscript of, 252
Henry, madame, 127
Holbein, Hans, paintings of, 27
Horses, 177, 202, 270
Horsemanship, exhibitions of, 181
Hospitals, 304
Hotels, 9, 272
list of the best in Paris, and their prices, 273
Houses, description of an elegant Parisian house, 60
expense of, 267

I & J.
Jets d’eau at St. Cloud, 193
at Versailles, 197
Illuminations, description of, at Paris, 47, 179, 220
Indifference in the french people, 179
Inns, 8
Institute, national, 259
Institution for the deaf and dumb, 69
for the blind, 103
for les enfans trouvés, 236
Introduction to Bonaparte, 158
Invalides, 238
Italian opera, 42, 128
Italian school of painting, 31
Judges of the tribunals, 222
Justice of a juge de paix at Versailles, 199

K.
Kosciusko, 145

L.
Lanfranco, 38
Laocoon, description of the statue, 21
La partie de chasse de Henri IV, 133
Laquais de place, expense of, 270
Lectures, account of, 256
Legislative body, account of its sittings, 63
Leonardo da Vinci, paintings of, 38, 173
Lewis XIV, memoirs of his own times, 251
Libraries, want of circulating, in Paris, 264
Library, national, 250
of the Pantheon, 254
des quatre nations, 255
Mazarine, ib.
of the institute, ib.
of the legislature, tribunate, senate, &c., ib.
Literature, advantages in the pursuits of, at Paris, 249
Lodgings, price of, 272, 273
London compared with Paris, 282
Long Champ, 205
Louvois, théâtre, 127
Louvre, 11
Luxembourg, palace of, 181
Lyceum, 255

M.
Malmaison, 203
Mamalukes, 217
Manuscripts, cabinet of, 257
Maria Cosway, her paintings and proposed engravings, 15
Marley, 203
Masquerade at Paris, 5
Massieu, deaf and dumb pupil of l’abbé Sicard, 71, 105
Mauvais compagnie, definition of the phrase, 54
Mazarine library, 255
Medals, cabinet of, 251, 253
Ménagerie, 260
Military made use of on trifling occasions, 214
Mineralogy, collection of, 262
Mistakes of the french concerning english names, 127
Molière’s plays, 120
Molière, théâtre de, 129
Montreuil, 5
Monuments, collection of, 242
Moreau, general, 135
Monvel, 119
Mousseux, garden of, 229
Museum of arts, 11, 166
of monuments, 239

N.
National institute, 259
National library, 250
New year’s day kept at Paris, 98
Noir, le, 240

O.
Observatory, 236
Œconomy of Paris, 267
Opera, french, 123
Opera, italian, 42, 128
Orange, prince of, his introduction to Bonaparte, 159
Orators, french, 89

P.
Paintings, gallery of, 11, 166
catalogue of, 23, 169
at Versailles, 195
restored, 167
Palace Royal, 99
of Versailles, 195
of Justice, 222
Pantheon, description of, 182
library of, 254
Paris, view of, 183, 230
streets of, 227, 293
compared with London, 282
Parvenues, or third class of society, 55, 60
Passports, 3, 8
Paul Potter, paintings of, 28
Payne, of the York Hotel, Dover, 1
People, better behaved to their superiours since the revolution,
6
Pettit, madame, 116
Phantasmagorie de Robertson, 131
Phyllis, mademoiselle, 126
Plate glass, manufactory of, 105
Police, their order, 93
Pordenone, paintings of, 171
Portalis, account and speech of, 87
Poussin, Nicholas, paintings of, 23
Price of posting, 5
of the various articles of life, 269
of tickets for the play, 122, 268, 272
Printing by the blind, 103
Provision, price of, 269

R.
Raphael, paintings of, 38, 171
Recommendation, letters of, necessary, 291, 292
Religion, reestablishment of, 213
Rembrandt, paintings of, 28
Restaurateurs, 278
Restout, paintings of, 24
Review of troops before Bonaparte, 81
Road from Calais, 4
Rousseau, tomb of, 186
Rubens, paintings of, 29, 171

S.
Sacchi, Andrea, paintings of, 172
Salon des étrangers, 92
Salvator Rosa, 172
Savage of Aveyron, 109
Sèvre, manufactory of, 193
Shakspeare, opinion of the french concerning him, 77
Shorthand defined by a deaf and dumb youth, 107
Sicard, abbé, 69