The Project Gutenberg EBook of How to Enjoy Paris in 1842, by F. Hervé

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Title: How to Enjoy Paris in 1842
       Intended to Serve as a Companion and Monitor, Containing
       Historical, Political, Commercial, Artistical, Theatrical
       And Statistical Information

Author: F. Hervé

Release Date: February 12, 2006 [EBook #17760]

Language: English

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  HOW TO ENJOY PARIS IN 1842,


  INTENDED TO SERVE AS A COMPANION AND MONITOR


  Indicating all that is useful and interesting IN THE FRENCH METROPOLIS,

  Containing HISTORICAL, POLITICAL, COMMERCIAL, ARTISTICAL, THEATRICAL AND
  STATISTICAL INFORMATION.

  AS ALSO A DESCRIPTION Of the manners and customs of the Parisians of the
  present day; WITH INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE STRANGER. In Respect to Economy,
  and Advice to his general proceedings with the French.


  _By F. Hervé_

  Author of _A Residence in Turkey and Greece_, etc, etc.




  ILLUSTRATED BY LITHOGRAPHIC ENGRAVINGS.

  PARIS, PUBLISHED BY AMYOT, 6, RUE DE LA PAIX; AND BY G. BRIGGS, 421,
  STRAND, LONDON, SUCCESSOR TO LEIGH & CO.
  1842.




PREFACE.


In offering the following pages to the public, the author has been
principally influenced by a desire of uniting _useful_ information with
that which he hopes may prove amusing to the reader, endeavouring as
much as possible to keep in view the spirit of the title "_How to enjoy
Paris;_" and having been accustomed to hear such constant and bitter
murmurings from the English, in consequence of their having been so
frequently imposed upon by the Paris shopkeepers, considerable pains and
attention have been devoted to guard the reader against his being
subjected to a similar evil; much development has therefore been
afforded towards recommending those establishments where the author
feels confident that the stranger will meet with fair dealing and due
civility. It may, perhaps, be thought by many that he has been rather
too prolix on the subject, but in order to know "_How to enjoy Paris_"
to its full extent, the first object, is to be informed of the best
means of dispensing one's modicum of lucre to the greatest advantage,
which will enable the visitor to stay the longer and see the more, just
in proportion as he avoids useless expenditure in suffering himself to
be victimised by over charges.

As the present work includes the different subjects of History,
Antiquities, Politics, Manners, Customs, Army, Navy, Literature,
Painting, Music, Theatres, Performers, etc., etc., the author flatters
himself that readers of every taste will find a chapter which treats
upon some subject that may interest them, hoping that in the endeavour
to play the rôle of the Miller and his Ass, his efforts to please may be
more happy than those of that unfortunate individual.




CHAPTER I.

     Hints to the English visiting Paris as to their demeanour towards
     the Parisians, and advice as to the best mode of proceeding in
     various transactions with them. An appeal to candour and justice
     against national prejudice.


Happiness is the goal for which mankind is ever seeking, but of the many
roads which the imagination traces as the surest and nearest to that
_desideratum_, few, perhaps none, ever chance upon the right; too many
pursue a shadow instead of a substance, influenced by a phantom of their
own creation, engendered in most instances by pride, vanity, or
ambition. Although I do not presume to hope that I can pilot my readers
to the wished-for haven, yet I flatter myself I can afford them such
counsel as will greatly contribute towards their happiness during their
sojourn at Paris or in other parts of France.

Patriotism is certainly a most exalted virtue, but however praiseworthy
it may be in Englishmen to cherish within their own breasts the
recollection that their fleets and armies have ever prevailed, that
their wealth and commerce surpass those of every other nation, etc. etc.
it is not absolutely necessary that they should in their outward
demeanour towards foreigners, bear the semblance of constantly
arrogating to themselves a superiority, of which however conscious and
assured they may be, they never can teach others to feel, and least of
any a Frenchman, who possesses an equal degree of national predilection
as the Englishman, and the moment that sentiment is attacked, or that
our Gallic neighbours conceive that an attempt is made to insinuate that
they are regarded in the light of inferiority, as compared with any
other nation, hatred to the individual who seeks to humiliate them or
their country is instantly engendered, and in all their transactions and
communications with their _soi-disant_ superior, they will either take
some advantage, behave with sullenness, or avail themselves of some
opportunity of displaying the ascerbid feeling which has been created:
not that I would wish an Englishman to subdue that just and natural
pride which he must ever feel when he reflects on the pinnacle of
greatness which his country has attained, through the genius, industry,
and valour of her sons; yet it is a _suaviter in modo_ which I wish him
to preserve in his outward bearing towards the French, without ever
compromising the _fortiter in re_.

I shall now endeavour to illustrate the above theory by citing some
instances wherein its axioms were brought into practice under my own
observation, and which I trust will convince my readers that it is not
from visionary ideas I have formed my conclusions, and that the conduct
I recommend to the traveller in France must in a great degree tend to
the promotion of his happiness, whilst traversing or residing in foreign
climes; as although in other countries the same degree of sensitiveness
will not be found as that which exists amongst the French, a mild and
unassuming deportment is always appreciated on the Continent, where
tradespeople and even servants are not accustomed to be treated in that
haughty dictatorial manner, too often adopted by my countrymen towards
those to whom they are in the habit of giving their orders.

It is now about twelve years since, whilst I was staying at the Hôtel de
Bourbon, at Calais, that I was much struck by the very opposite traits
of countenance and difference of demeanour of two gentlemen at the table
d'hôte, who appeared nevertheless to be most intimate friends; it was
evident they were both English and proved to be brothers. Ever
accustomed to study the physiognomies of those around me, I contemplated
theirs with peculiar attention, having discovered by their conversation
that they were to be my companions on my journey to Paris; and it
required no great powers of penetration to perceive that the elder was
decided upon viewing all with a jaundiced eye, whilst the younger was
disposed to be pleased and in good humour, with all around him. The
conducteur announcing that the Diligence was ready and that we must
speedily take our seats, abruptly interrupted all my physiognomical
meditations, and we quickly repaired to the heavy lumbering vehicle in
which we were destined to be dragged to the gay metropolis. Our names
being called over in rotation, I found that the brothers had engaged
places in the coupé as well as myself, but having priority of claim, had
wisely chosen the two corners, the vacant seat in the middle falling to
my lot; and I believe, as it proved, it was not a bad arrangement, as I
acted as a sort of sand-bag between two jars, which prevented their
_jarring_; in fact I formed a sort of _juste milieu_ between two
extremes, and no sooner were we installed in our respective places, than
my mediating powers were called into operation, as the following
dialogue will exemplify.

"They gave us a very nice dinner, sir," said the good humoured brother
who sat on my left.

I replied that I was very well satisfied with it.

"But you don't know what their messes are made of. For my part I like to
know what, I eat," observed the discontented brother on my right, "and
you don't mean surely, sir, to say that such as they gave us was
anything to compare to a good English dinner."

That, I remarked, was entirely an affair of taste; that I myself was
most partial to the simpler mode of living of the English, but not so
the high aristocracy of our country, with whom French cooks are in the
greatest estimation.

"I was very much pleased with the _vin ordinaire_, as they call it, and
found it a pleasant light wine, particularly agreeable when one is
thirsty," said Good Humour.

"_Light_ enough at any rate," returned Discontent, "and well named _vin
ordinaire_, for ordinary it is in every sense of the word, pretty much
like themselves for that; but if you like to have any when we are in
England, I'll make you some; take a little port wine, put some vinegar
and a good deal of water with it and there you have it at once; is not
that your opinion, sir?"

I replied, that I considered it a beverage well adapted for a sort of
draught wine, but that it certainly had not the body that foreign wines
have that we are in the habit of drinking in England.

Good Humour not appearing to relish his brother's receipt for making
_vin ordinaire_, changed the subject, by observing that a woman who was
standing at the door of an _auberge_ where we were stopping had a very
fine expression of countenance, although rather thin and pale, but that
there was a pensive cast which prevailed throughout her features and
rendered the _tout ensemble_ interesting.

"Oh very _fine_, indeed," said Discontent, with a sarcastic smile, "as
complete a picture of skin and grief as one could wish to see. Pray,
sir, is she one of your beauties?"

I admitted that her appearance was rather pleasing, but that beauty was
out of the question, nor did I understand his brother to have made any
remark conveying the idea that she possessed that charm so truly rare.

"What a delightful house and garden," exclaimed. Good Humour, as we
passed by a residence, that had rather an inviting appearance; "now, is
it not an agreeable spot to live in," he continued, as he turned to me
with a look, so assured of confirmation on my part, that I could not
find it in my heart to disappoint him. But as I was about to answer,
Discontent grumbled out a few words, which I think were to the effect,
that where the country was so hideously frightful, that any thing that
was decent attracted notice, but that the same object in England would
not have been regarded; asking me if I had ever travelled through a more
ugly country in my life.

However I felt inclined to check his tendency to condemn all he beheld,
yet I could not in truth otherwise than acknowledge that it was as
uninteresting as it was possible to be, of which every one must be aware
who has travelled from Calais to Boulogne.

Good Humour, however, was still undaunted, and a rather jolly, and very
rosy, looking young female passing at the moment, elicited from him the
exclamation of "Oh, what a pretty girl, and good natured!"

"The very type of fat contented ignorance," interrupted Discontent,
without allowing his brother to finish his sentence.

Soon after we entered Boulogne, where the white houses, lively green
shutters, and cleanly appearance of the Grande Rue attracted the
admiration of Good Humour, who observed with his usual energetic
manner, "What a cheerful pleasant looking town, and how very pretty the
houses are!"

"For outside show, well enough, which may be said of most things in
France," murmured Discontent; "but see the inside of those houses, and
you will find there is not a single window or door that shuts or fits as
it ought; and if they are inhabited by French people, you will find
cobwebs and dirt in almost every corner. Am I not right, sir," said he,
turning to me with a triumphant air. But before I could answer, Good
Humour took up the cause, observing, "Really, brother, you cannot speak
from what you have seen, as the Hôtel Bourbon is the only house we have
yet entered, and it was impossible to exceed the cleanliness observed
within it; therefore your remarks can only proceed from reports you have
had from others, whose vision, perhaps, was as clouded as your own
appears to be, by a pre-determination to view everything in France in
the most unfavourable light." Perceiving that Discontent, by the angry
look which he assumed, was about to reply in a bitter tone to his
brother, I thought the best means of averting the storm would be to
interpose a sort of middle course between them, and remarked that the
gentleman's observation, as to the windows and doors not fitting well,
was very correct, but with regard to the dirtiness of the French it had
been greatly exaggerated.

Discontent declared that he had received his account of France from
persons who had lived long in the country, and on whose judgment he
could rely; "whereas," added he, "you perhaps have seen but little
either of the nation or of the people."

I replied that I had known France nearly fourteen years.

"Then," said he, "if you have known France so long as that, I suppose
you have become Frenchified yourself."

I was about to make a sharp reply, but was prevented by the younger
brother remarking, "After you have said so much against the French, your
observation to the gentleman was anything but complimentary, and
savoured much of rudeness."

"I merely said I was sure that his brother did not _mean_ to be rude,
and therefore I should not consider his observation in that light."

"Rough and rude I always was, but I did not mean to give offence," added
Discontent in a somewhat softened tone.

A fine looking old man, with a profusion of white hair, who was standing
at a cottage door, attracted the notice of Good Humour, who bid us
observe how benevolent was his expression, and what a fine venerable
head he presented.

"As hoary headed an old sinner as ever existed, I'll be bound," said
Discontent, with a sarcastic smile, as he looked scornfully at his
brother.

In this manner we continued to the end of our journey, Discontent
viewing all he encountered with an air of disgust and contempt,
appearing restless, miserable, unhappy and disagreeable, a burthen to
himself and an annoyance to others, whilst Good Humour saw every thing
en _couleur de rose_, was lively, amused, looking the picture of
kindness, and although pleased with a trifle, 'tis true, yet how much
wiser was his course, as it promoted his own happiness and was
calculated to cheer his fellow travellers.

At length we arrived at Abbeville, and I soon perceived the effect that
the knitted brow and curling lip of Discontent had upon the girls that
waited at the table, who seemed but half disposed to attend, to his
demands; whereas the good natured confiding expression of his brother,
with his pleasing address, won all hearts, and he was served with
alacrity and scarcely needed to express his wants; it really is
astonishing how much influence suavity of manners has in France, in
procuring civility and attention, and how opposite is the case with a
repulsive mien.

Before I quit the subject, I must relate one more instance, most
powerfully attesting the veracity of the assertion, which occurred to
myself; after having engaged apartments at the house belonging to a
female, named Fournier, at Boulogne, I was informed by several English
families who had preceded me in the same lodgings, that I had taken up
my abode with the most disagreeable people, who would impose upon us and
annoy us in every possible manner. One exception, however, to this
general report I met with in the account that was given me of our
hostess and family by a Colonel Barry, who with his lady and children
had resided some time with Madame Fournier, and they assured me that we
should find we had chanced upon most worthy people, who would do all in
their power to make us comfortable; but it so happened that the Colonel
and his family were persons of most conciliating manners, devoid of
hauteur in their demeanour, possessing in fact the very qualities
calculated to propitiate a good feeling on the part of the French. After
we had been in the house some time, we observed to those persons who
assured us we should be so ill treated, that we found the case quite the
reverse; and, the answer was, wait until the time comes when, you are
about to depart, and then when you are called upon to produce the
plates, crockery, glasses, knives, forks, etc., you will see who you
have to deal with; if there be any thing in the slightest degree
chipped, they will make you pay extravagantly for damages. But when at
last the awful day of departure arrived, I had every thing collected of
the description alluded to, and Madame Fournier would not even look at
them, and observed if there were any thing injured she was sure it was
to so trifling an amount that it was not worth noticing. But it was not
so with an English lady who was our fellow lodger; towards her they
certainly were neither obliging in their manner nor disposed to render
her any kind of accommodation beyond the strict letter of their
agreement; and the reason was, because she always addressed them as if
she was speaking to her servants; in short, with an arrogance of manner
that they could not brook. Thus whilst they were continually practising
little civilities and attentions towards us, which greatly contributed to
our _comfort_, they were following a totally opposite system towards
her, which rendered her very _uncomfortable_; therefore, had that lady
properly studied her happiness, she would have conducted herself towards
her hostess and family in a very different manner, and I hope my readers
who visit France will take advantage of the hint; yet I must admit that
the lady in question was a very amiable personage in every other
respect, but she detested the French, and liked, as she observed, to
pull down their pride, to make them feel their inferiority, and let them
know that the English were their masters. Madame Fournier, however, was
of a class superior to the generality of persons who let lodgings in
England; she was possessed of an independent property, her eldest
daughter was married to a Colonel, and her son a lieutenant in the navy,
but like many of the French, having a house considerably larger than she
could occupy, she let a part of it. I should always however recommend
the English when they are taking a house or apartment for any length of
time, or in fact entering into any engagement of importance with the
French, to have an agreement in writing, in case of misunderstanding,
which may arise from the English not comprehending, or not expressing
themselves in French so well as they imagine. It is always a document to
refer to which settles all differences, and is a check upon all bad
memories, either on the one side or the other; and as there are bad
people in France as well as other countries, it prevents strangers
becoming victims to those who are disposed to take advantage, when they
are aware that there is no legal instrument to hold them to their
contract. I have lodged in eighteen different houses in France, and
never had any other than a verbal agreement, and certainly had not in
any one instance cause to regret; but was fortunate enough, with one
exception, always to have met with good people; but as I wish my readers
during their sojourn in France to be secured from any unpleasant
discussions or altercations, I recommend them to be on the safe side.

I must now appeal to my two most powerful allies, candour and justice,
against that invincible demon national prejudice. I am perfectly aware
that it is a hopeless attempt even to imagine that there is the
slightest chance of ameliorating its force. I consider it more
immoveable than a rock, because by dint of time you may cut that away,
or you may blast it with gunpowder; but I know of no means which can
soften the adamantine strength of national prejudice. One might
naturally suppose that a long communication between the two countries, a
mutual interchange of kindnesses, the number of intermarriages by which
the two nations have become so connected with each other, would have
contributed in some degree to diminish the asperity of that bitter
feeling against the French which we acquire in our school-boy days, but
which reason and commerce with the world, it might be expected, would
correct. As there is no argument so powerful as exemplification, I will
here cite two instances amongst the hundreds that have come within my
knowledge, of the extreme incorrigibility of the baneful sentiment to
which I allude. I once travelled with a Mr. Lewis from Paris to Dieppe,
and found him a man of considerable information, very gentlemanly in his
address and manners, and possessing such colloquial powers as
contributed to render the journey particularly agreeable; he was an
enthusiastic admirer of the arts, and was very fond of drawing, and
certainly excelled in that accomplishment, from the very beautiful
sketches he showed me which he had made in different parts of France,
and in fact was an amateur artist of considerable merit. He gave me a
very interesting account of his tour through France and of the kindness
he had met with from the inhabitants; that in many instances when he had
been sketching the chateaux of the nobility and gentry, how often it had
occurred that the proprietors had come out and invited him to breakfast
or dinner, according to the hour, or at any rate to take some
refreshment; and several sent for his portemanteau from the inn where he
had put up (sometimes without his knowledge), compelling him to pass the
night at their chateau. On my making some remark as to the urbanity of
the French, "Oh! don't think," he exclaimed, "that I am praising them as
a nation, for I hate them; I only speak of facts as they happened." I
then asked him how he was treated at the inns in the different
provinces, and whether he was much imposed upon. "I cannot say I was,"
he replied, "or in any instance that I had reason to complain of my
treatment."

From this gentleman's account of the reception he had met with in
France, would not any rational being have imagined that he would speak
well of the French? instead of which, I soon had the most powerful
proofs to the contrary. When we arrived at Dieppe we found a party
assembled at the _table d'hôte_, at the _hôtel_ at which we alighted,
consisting of a few French but, more of English; the former left the
room as soon as the cloth was withdrawn, and the latter remaining, the
conversation became general and very patriotic; and as the merits of
England and the English rose in the discussion, so did the demerits of
France and the French sink, and at last bumpers were drank to old
England for ever, in which we all joyously joined. This was all very
natural and proper, but this ebullition of national and praiseworthy
feeling had hardly subsided, when Mr. Lewis, the very man who had
admitted that he had been received with kindness and hospitality
wherever he had been in France, arose, and said, "Now, gentlemen, I have
another toast to propose to you, which I hope will be drank with the
same enthusiasm as the last; so "Here's a curse for France and the
French." All immediately drank it but myself and an elderly gentleman,
who declared he would not invoke a curse upon any land or any people. A
silent pause intervened; every one appeared to look at the other, as to
how they ought to act on their toast being refused, none caring to
assume the initiative. At last, one rising from his chair, who perhaps
began to view the affair temperately, observed, "Well, I think we had
better see about the packet-boat for Brighton before it is too late,"
and they all quitted the room, except the elderly gentlemen and myself,
and he did certainly animadvert most severely against what he termed
their unchristianlike toast. Although it was impossible for me, feeling
as I did, otherwise than to agree with him on the principal points of
his argument, yet I observed that we might hope that it was merely in
words that the gentlemen would evince the violence of their prejudices,
as I felt convinced, from the general amiability of character so
apparent in the person who proposed the toast, that if he saw a
Frenchman in danger of his life, and that an exertion could save him,
that Mr. Lewis would use every effort to preserve a human being from
destruction, whatever might be his country.

The other circumstance to which I am about to advert was less his
surprising, though equally powerful, in illustrating the strong tendency
towards prejudice against the French on the part of the English people,
the hero of my tale being a regular country squire, extremely kind
hearted, but whose fund of information did not extend much beyond his
estate, his horses and his hounds; not any consideration would have
induced him to quit England, but that of saving the life of an
individual, for whom, however worthless and ungrateful, he still
retained a sentiment of pity; a young man, whom he had brought up and
educated, in return for his kindness forged his name, and the evidence
of the squire was all that was requisite to hang him, therefore, as an
effectual means of avoiding to be forced to appear against him, he
quitted England; and, as France was the nearest, he there took up his
abode. A friend of mine, a Capt. W., who had resided long in France,
received a letter of introduction to the squire; although living at a
considerable distance from his residence, he took an opportunity of
presenting it. Having heard that the captain had been in France many
years, the Squire was not disposed to receive him very cordially,
considering that so doing was disgraceful on the part of an Englishman
unless he was forced to do so by circumstances such as had compelled
himself to quit his native country. The consequence was, that he eyed
the Captain in a manner that was far from flattering to his feelings;
but when he had read the highly recommendatory panegyric contained
within the letter, the Squire softened, and soon greeted the stranger
with a true hearty English welcome, and their respective families
afterwards became most intimately acquainted: the Squire, delighted to
find a countryman to whom he could communicate his execrations against
France and the French, whilst the Captain did all in his power to defend
them from all unjust attacks, having himself had favourable experience
of their urbanity and kindness. Some time after the Squire's arrival
the Captain removed to Boulogne, and as some grand ceremony was to be
there celebrated with military and ecclesiastical pomp and parade, in
the presence of the royal family, he invited the Squire and his family
to pass a few days with him, that they might witness so grand a
spectacle; adding, that there would be twenty thousand troops assembled
for the purpose. The Squire immediately flew into a violent passion, and
vowed he would accept the invitation on no other terms than that he
could take with him thirty thousand Englishman to cut their rascally
French throats. At length he gave his consent that his daughter should
pass a few days with the family of Capt. W., and at the same time
accompany them, to see the ceremony which was to take place. Partaking
of her father's feelings, all the way on the road she launched out
abusing every thing that was French and in fact all that she encountered
until the moment that she witnessed the imposing spectacle. She was then
standing within the church with the Captain amongst the crowd, but some
officers perceiving an English lady of genteel appearance, invited her
to join the circle composed of the Duchesses of Angoulême, of Berri, and
the ladies of the court, which she gladly accepted; and several fine
looking young men in their brilliant uniforms paying her the greatest
attentions, and taking the utmost pains that she should have the best
possible view of the sight, her heart was completely won, and when she
was re-conducted to Capt. W., her first exclamation was, "Well, as long
as I live, I never will speak against Frenchmen again; for I never was
treated with so much politeness and attention in my own country as I
have been here." But when she expressed the same feeling to her father,
his rage knew no bounds, and at the first moment he swore he would take
her off to England instanter, adding "I suppose I shall have my family
disgraced by your running off with some French mustachioed scoundrel or
another." The poor girl dared not say another word, and in a little time
the father recovered his equanimity.

However furious the Squire was in expressions against the French, yet
his actions towards them were of a contrary bearing, having a well
stocked medicine chest, from which he liberally dispensed the contents
amongst the neighbouring poor, according to their different maladies,
until he received the cognomen of the English doctor who would never
take a fee. The people at last became so grateful for his kindness, that
when there was a report that war was likely to take place between the
two countries, as he displayed some uneasiness as to his being able to
return home, they assured him he should always be certain of cattle to
convey him to Calais, as, if he could not procure post horses, they
would find some in the neighbourhood for him, and if none could be
found, they would draw him themselves to the spot he desired. After
residing a few years in France, the Squire returned to his own country,
little enlightened by his trip, cursing the French before he came
amongst them, cursing them whilst he was living with them, and at the
same time whilst he was doing them every possible good, and cursing them
after his return to England; not that he could give any reason why, but
because it had become a habit with him since his childhood, and he had
been accustomed to hear his father and grandfather do so before him, and
I suppose he liked to keep up that which no doubt he thought a good old
custom.

Having now, I trust, given sufficient examples of how the deep roots of
national prejudice defy every effort and circumstance to eradicate them,
I shall hope that my readers will endeavour to banish from their minds
any early impressions they may have received inimical to the French, and
resolve only to judge them as they find them, as reason must suggest
that all prepossessions cherished against any people must powerfully
militate against the traveller's happiness during his sojourn amongst
them. I fear that I may have been considered rather prolix upon the
subject, but besides the motive to which I have already alluded, I
always have cherished a most anxious desire to soften as much as
possible all national animosities.




CHAPTER II.

     Different routes from London to Paris.--Aspect of the city as first
     presented to the English traveller, according to the road by which
     he may enter.--Its extent, population, etc.


The first measure to be adopted after any one has decided upon visiting
Paris, is to provide himself with a passport, which he will procure at
the French Ambassador's office in Poland street, for which there is no
charge, but it is requisite to state by which port you mean to proceed;
but in order to leave some latitude for caprice, you may mention two
places, as Calais or Boulogne, or Dieppe or Havre, etc. There are now
many different means of travelling to Paris; that which was once the
most frequently adopted was by coach to Dover, then embarking for
Calais, as those are the two ports which present the shortest distance
between the two countries, being only about twenty-one miles apart; many
however prefer embarking at Dover at once for Boulogne, thus avoiding
about twenty-five miles by land from Calais to Boulogne, which certainly
does not afford a single object of interest, and the distance by sea is
only increased eight miles. Another route is by railway to Brighton,
then crossing to Dieppe, and which is certainly the straightest line of
any of the routes from London to Paris; but on account of there being
more sea, the distance is not generally performed in so short a period
as the other routes, from the uncertainty of the Ocean. It is not
therefore so much frequented by travellers as those on which they can
reckon with more accuracy; the same may be said of the route by
Southampton, which is performed by railway to that town, and afterwards
by steam-packet to Havre, which includes above a hundred miles by sea,
consequently but little resorted to as compared with the former routes.
There was another means of reaching Paris, and that was from London to
St. Vallery by sea; which being near Abbeville and only 33 leagues from
Paris, there was the least of land travelling, consequently it was the
cheapest if all went smoothly, and this line was often adopted by strict
economists, who however have frequently found themselves much
disappointed, as sometimes it happened they could not make the port, and
have either been obliged to put back and lie off Ramsgate, or lay to,
for some hours, and perhaps after having landed, have been detained at
St. Vallery, from not having been able to find places in the diligences
for Paris. This means, however, of proceeding to Paris no longer exists,
as the steamers have been sold, but it is thought that they will be
replaced by others. The route which is by far the most frequented is
that of embarking from London direct for Boulogne, and is on the long
run the most economical, and maybe comfortably performed, living
included, for three pounds, at the present prices, which are 1_l._ in
the best Cabin from London to Boulogne, then about 1_l._ 4_s._, in the
inside from Boulogne to Paris; and the other expenses will amount to
about fifteen or sixteen shillings; with respect to the charges on the
other routes, they are so often varying that it might only deceive the
reader by stating them as they at present exist, when in a few weeks
they may be higher or lower as circumstances may arise. Some persons
choose, the route by Southampton and Havre as being the most
picturesque, as from the latter town to Rouen such exquisite scenery is
presented by the banks of the Seine, as you pass in the steamer between
them, that the passenger is at a loss on which side to bestow his
attention, whilst rapidly hurried through so delightful and fertile a
country; in fact, he is tempted for once to regret the velocity of steam
conveyance, in not permitting him to tarry awhile to contemplate the
beautiful scenes by which he is environed. Rouen, where the traveller
should at least remain some days, is an object of great attraction. As
my work is especially devoted to Paris, I cannot afford much space to
the description of towns on the road; but as the city of Rouen is the
largest, the most interesting, and the most connected with history and
English associations of any upon the routes to Paris, I cannot pass it
over without some comment. Its boulevards first strike the English, as
being not only most picturesque and beautiful, but as presenting a scene
to them wholly novel, the noble vistas formed by towering trees,
mingling their branches, shading beneath their foliage many a cheerful
group, the merchant's stone villas, seen amongst their bowers, the high
shelving grassy banks, and the lively bustle that is ever going forward,
has so animated an effect that the beholder cannot but catch the
infection and feel his spirits elevated by the enlivening spectacle. But
what a contrast on entering the city; the streets narrow, dark, and with
no foot pavement, have a mean and gloomy appearance, but many of them
being built mostly of wood, carved into fantastic forms, offer a rich
harvest to the artist, and those of our own country have amply profited
by the innumerable picturesque objects which Rouen presents. The
cathedral, built by William the Conqueror, is one of the most
interesting monuments of France; the Church of St.-Ouen is at least as
beautiful, and there are several others which well repay the visiter for
the time he may expend in visiting them. The statue of the Maid of
Orleans stands in the _Marché aux Veaux_, on the spot where she was
burnt as a sorceress under the sanction of the Duke of Bedford in 1431.
Above all, the traveller must not fail to visit Mount Catherine, which
rises just above the city, and commands a view equally beautiful and
extensive. The delightful environs of Rouen are displayed before him,
comprising almost every scenic beauty that a country can afford; even
the factories, which in most places rather deform the view than
otherwise, are here so constructed as to contribute to its ornament,
more resembling villas than buildings solely for utility. Hills, wood,
water, bridges, chateaux, cottages, corn fields and meadows are so
picturesquely intermingled, that every object which can give charm to a
landscape is here united. There are several hills round Rouen which
present prospects nearly equal to that which is witnessed from Mount
Catherine, and in fact it is difficult to imagine any situation which
affords so many pleasant walks and such enchanting scenery. Indeed, all
the way to Paris by this route (that is by what is called the lower
road) which for a considerable distance runs within sight of the Seine,
the country is most highly interesting, passing through Louvier,
Gaillon, Vernon, Mantes and St. Germains.

Calais, as being the nearest point to the English coast, and at which we
so often obtain our first peep at France, merits some notice, and
although it offers but few attractions, and is surrounded by a flat
cheerless country, yet there are connected with it some associations
which are replete with interest; as who that has ever read Sterne's
Sentimental Journey can forget the simple but impressive description he
gives of the poor friar and other objects which he there met, and which
he has engraven on the minds of his readers, in his own peculiar style,
in characters never to be erased; for my part, as I first approached
Calais I thought but of Sterne and his plain, unvarnished tale, of the
trifles he encountered, around which he contrived to weave an interest
which is felt even by the inhabitants of Calais to this day; although
they knew his works but through the spoiling medium of translation,
still they never fail to exhibit to the Englishman the alcove in which
he is said to have written his adventures in Calais. As I entered the
town, instantly the works of Hogarth appeared before me, for who is
there that does not remember his excellent representation of the Gates
of Calais, with the meagre sentinel and still more skinny cook bending
under the weight of a dish crowned with an enormous sirloin of beef, no
doubt intended to regale some newly-arrived John Bull, whilst a fat monk
scans it with a longing eye. Next the bust of Eustache de St. Pierre
awakes the attention, and the surrender of Calais and his devoted
patriotism rises in one's memory. Another souvenir also must not be
forgotten, namely, the print of the foot of Louis the Eighteenth, which
is cut in the stone, and a piece of brass let in where he first stepped
on shore, and undoubtedly represents a very pretty little foot; but when
a Frenchman who was no amateur of the Bourbon dynasty was asked to
admire its symmetry, he observed it was very well, but that it would
look much better if it was turned t'other way, that is to say, going out
of the kingdom instead of coming into it. If the traveller have time, it
is worth while to mount a tower, at the top of which is a sort of
lantern capable of containing about a dozen persons, and commanding a
most extensive view over the sea, and on the opposite side the country
is visible for a considerable distance, bearing a most uninviting
appearance. There are a great number of hôtels at Calais, and I have
been at many of them, but have found that kept by M. Derhorter, called
the Hôtel Bourbon, the most comfortable and economical, and the civility
of the master cannot anywhere be surpassed. Dessin's, for the nobility
and those who have equipages, is still the favourite and has been for
time immemorial.

Nothing worthy of note presents itself between Calais and Boulogne,
except the little village of Wimille, which made some impression upon my
mind, as being so much prettier and so much more village-like than any
other through which we had passed, and near here perished the
unfortunate æronauts Pilatre and Romain, falling from their balloon when
at a prodigious height from the ground and in sight of many spectators.
They were buried in the churchyard, in which a monument has been erected
commemorative of the event. About two miles from this hamlet Boulogne
appears in sight, cheering the spectator by its gay and animated aspect,
the numerous groups of genteel-looking persons constantly promenading
the streets, pier and port, give it a most lively appearance, which is
enhanced by the extreme cleanliness which is observed in all the
principal streets, and the cheerful air afforded by the white stone
houses with their green balconies and shutters. But the numerously
well-dressed portion of the population, which so greatly contribute
towards enlivening the scene, consists almost wholly of English, as the
few French families which still reside in Boulogne, above the rank of
the tradespeople, keep themselves very close and retired as in all other
provincial towns in France; and in Boulogne they are very suspicious of
the English, having had such numbers of bad characters who at first
preserved a very respectable appearance but ultimately proved to be
swindlers. The higher French families, therefore, decline any
association with the English, unless with persons who have come
highly-recommended, or have resided many years in the town with an
unimpeachable character. It so happened that circumstances brought me in
contact with two or three of these exclusive personages, and their
remarks about the English afforded me much amusement, and may be taken
as types of the general observations of the provincial French upon our
country-people.

The worthy matrons of families have often said to me, "How is it, Sir,
that the wives and mothers of your country can manage their domestic
concerns, when they are seen almost continually walking about the
streets at hours when we find it indispensable to attend to our
household affairs."

I replied, that after having given their orders they relied in a great
degree upon their servants executing them with punctuality.

"Indeed!" was the exclamation; "how fortunate they must be to have such
immaculate servants that they can so entirely depend upon them: we
should be very happy if we could have such as did not require looking
after, but unfortunately French servants partake too much of human
nature for mistresses to be able to leave them wholly to themselves."

I observed that perhaps English servants generally being more humble,
obedient, and subservient to their superiors, greater reliance might be
placed upon them, and undoubtedly more certainty as to their obeying the
instructions they received.

"Then it is surprising," said the ladies, "that your country people do
not always bring servants with them, and very unlucky that in so many
instances when they have done so, that their domestics should so often
be brought before the Tribunals of Correction for different
irregularities."

I replied, that many good and regular servants did not like to quit
their native land, and of those who were brought over, certainly in many
instances their employers had been disappointed; that in a foreign
country all was new to them, and they forgot their former regular
habits, and certainly in too many instances had misbehaved themselves.

"Consequently," returned my interlocutors, "requiring a more vigilant
eye to superintend them. But there is another subject which affords us
much surprise, and that is the manner in which English parents permit
their daughters to go alone about the streets, or to walk with a
gentleman who is neither their father nor brother."

I assigned as a reason for our allowing them so much liberty, that we
had such perfect confidence in them that we felt assured we could trust
to their own firmness and discretion to prevent any improper
consequences arising from the freedom they were permitted to enjoy.
"Unfortunately, that confidence is but too frequently abused," rejoined
one of the ladies, "if we are to judge from several lamentable
occurrences which have latterly taken place in this town amongst the
English young ladies."

I felt the rebuke, as I knew to what circumstances they alluded, and
observed that the English society inhabiting Boulogne were by no means
what could, be termed the _élite_ of the nation, although there were
many families of the highest respectability.

The ladies, perceiving by my manner that I was somewhat nettled,
endeavoured to soften what they had said, by observing that certainly it
would not be just to estimate the English people by the samples which
came to reside at Boulogne, as they had generally understood that they
were persons of indifferent reputation, who fled from their own country
because they could no longer live there in credit, but that amongst the
number there undoubtedly were some very quiet people.

A stranger would not appreciate the degree of praise which is contained
in the word quiet when used by the French, who appear to consider it as
comprising all the cardinal virtues; when seeking a house or apartments,
if you say any thing favourable or unfavourable of them, they never fail
to remind you that they are so quiet. The same eulogy they will
pronounce on their daughters with peculiar pride and energy, when they
wish to extol them to the skies, and in good truth their _demoiselles_
are quiet enough in all conscience, for it requires often a
considerable degree of ingenuity to extract from them more than
monosyllables. We have been accustomed to consider the French as a
restless, capricious, volatile people, and so I suppose they might have
been formerly, but now they are undoubtedly the reverse, being a quiet
routine plodding sort of people, particularly as regards the
provincials; and even amongst the Parisians there are thousands that
reside in one quarter of the city, which they seldom quit, never
approaching what they consider the gay portion of Paris, but live
amongst each other, visiting only within their own circle, consisting
almost entirely of their relations and family connexions. This feeling
is certainly exemplified still farther at Boulogne, as I knew an old
couple who lived in the upper town, which joins the lower town except by
the separation of the wall of the fortifications, and had not been in
the latter for five years, because they considered it was too bustling
and too much a place of pleasure for such quiet, homely, and orderly
folk as they professed to be and certainly were, in every sense of the
word. At Bordeaux I knew three old ladies who were born in that city,
and never had been in any other town during their whole lives, nor ever
desired to pass the walls of their native place. Many persons who have
been accustomed to spend their days in the provinces have a sort of
horror of Paris; I remember an old gentleman at Rouen, who with his
antiquated spouse lived a sort of Darby and Joan kind of life, their
only daughter being married and living elsewhere; and on my once asking
him if he had ever been to Paris, he replied that he was once so
situated as to be compelled to go upon urgent business that rendered his
presence indispensable, but that he saw very little of the place,
because he had always heard that it was a city replete with vice and
dissipation, and that during the few days his affairs compelled him to
stay he kept close to his apartment, only quitting it to proceed to the
house wherein he had to transact business, and then he went in a
_fiacre_, as, if he had walked perhaps he might have been jostled, run
over, robbed, or something unpleasant might have occurred. "Ah! that's
very true, you did quite right, and acted very prudently, my dear,"
observed his wife, "and nobody knows the anxiety I felt till you came
back again." Although the rising generation of the French is not quite
so dormant in their ideas as that which is passing, yet there is not
even with them the same spirit of travel and enterprise which exist in
the English. That France has had, a reputation for restlessness, love of
change, and tumult, can only be explained by stating that until the
present time for the last two centuries, with the exception of Louis the
Eighteenth, she has been most unfortunate in her rulers, who have been
supporting a state of extravagant splendour which could alone be
sustained by being wrung from the middle and the lower classes; hence
the revolution in 1789, which might be considered as the ripened fruit
which the preceding reigns had been nurturing. Of the affair of the
three days in 1830, few I believe will deny the intensity of the
provocation, but then it will be said how do you account for their
having been so turbulent and discontented during the present reign? To
which I should answer in the same manner as an officer, who, defending
the character of his regiment, observed that it was composed of a
thousand men, of which nine hundred and fifty were peaceable and quiet
subjects, but the other fifty being very noisy they were constantly
heard of, and his corps had obtained the appellation of the noisy
regiment, as no one bestowed a thought upon the 'nine hundred and fifty
men who were orderly' because no one ever heard of them: thus it may be
said of France, the population may be estimated at about thirty-five
millions, of which perhaps one million may be discontented, and amongst
them are many persons connected with the press, who not only contrive by
that means to extend their war-whoop to every corner of France, but as
newspapers are conveyed to all the civilised parts of the world, and the
only medium by which a country is judged by those who have not an
opportunity of visiting it and making their own observations by a
residence amongst the people, it naturally is inferred in England and in
other nations that the French are a most dissatisfied and refractory
people. But a case in point may be cited, which proves that the
dissatisfaction is not general, nor has ever been during the present
reign. From the time that Louis-Philippe accepted the throne in 1830,
until June the 6th, 1832, a number of young men in the different
colleges at Paris occupied themselves constantly with the affairs of the
state, each forming a sort of political utopia, and however different
were their various theories, they all united in one object, and that was
to overthrow the existing government, and secretly took measures for
arming themselves, and mustering what strength they could collect in
point of numbers, which was but very insignificant compared to the
importance of the blow they intended to strike; but they counted on the
rising of the people, and the event proved they counted without their
host. June the 6th, 1832, being the day appointed for the funeral of
General Lamarque, they chose it for the development of their project,
and although the misguided youths fought with skill, constancy and
courage, even with a fanatic devotion to their cause, yet the populace
took no part with them, and the National Guard were the first to fire
upon them; and after two days hard fighting in the barricades they had
raised, scarcely any remained who were not either killed or wounded.
Since that, no attempt of the slightest importance has been made to
overthrow the government, and in fact I have ever found that ninety-nine
Parisians out of a hundred exclaim "_Tranquillité à tout prix_," that is
quiet at all prices, and all classes are interested in cherishing this
wish, the nobles and gentry that they may tranquilly enjoy what they
possess, the tradesman that he may obtain a sale for his goods, and the
workman that he may procure work. It is only a set of political
enthusiasts, to be found amongst the students, whose wild republican
schemes have dazzled others and induced the different outbreaks which
have occurred since the event of the three days, and having been treated
with lenity in the first instance, unprecedented in the annals of every
other government, they were emboldened to repeat their daring attempts.

But let any one traverse the provinces of France, get acquainted with
the people, make inquiries around him and penetrate into their habits
and customs, and he will find that the predominant feeling is love of
the spot on which they are born; the farmer will keep on the farm his
ancestors tilled before him for ages, and if offered a better farm, if
it be far removed from his home and that of his fathers he will reject
it; with the same tenacity the labourer clings to his cottage and the
little bit of land he has always delved. But it is with the landed
proprietor that one finds the most powerful example of the durability of
their adhesion to the cradle of their birth. There are many persons
possessed of estates of no great extent, from eight to fifteen hundred a
year, which have regularly descended to them from their ancestors, to
whom they have been granted, at as remote a period as the time of
Charlemagne, and have descended to the present possessors from
generation to generation, whilst there does not appear to have been in
all that period any great elevation or depression in their
circumstances. The habit of living up to their incomes as in England is
very rare in France; if they have daughters, from the day they are born
the parents begin to save for their dowry; even the peasant will follow
that practice if he can only put by a sou a day. I have known many
landed proprietors of from fifteen hundred to two thousand a year that
did not support any thing like the style that a person with a similar
fortune would in England; if a Frenchman has more than two or three
children, he seldom spends half his income if it be possible to live
upon a quarter, his object is that he may leave all his children in an
equal pecuniary position without dividing his land; as although the law
of primogeniture does not exist, yet parents like that one son should
keep up the estate intact, and the one fixed upon for that purpose is
generally the eldest, the others receive their portions in money from
the father's savings, and are usually brought up to one of the liberal
professions, and in many instances are sufficiently fortunate as to
realize by promotion or their talents, emoluments equal with what
portion they inherit to place them in as favourable a position as the
brother on whom devolves the estate. In other instances the son who
holds the land is taxed to pay from it a certain amount to his brothers
and sisters, in order to render their situation in life somewhat upon a
par; but it so happens that very large families are not so frequent in
France as in England. A system of frugality is prevalent amongst all
classes of the French, and a habit of contenting themselves with but
little as regards their daily expenses; nor have they that ambition to
step out of their class so general throughout England. A farmer in
France works much the same as his men, dresses in a plain decent manner,
and considers himself very little superior to his men, whilst his wife
goes to market with her butter and eggs upon one of the farm horses; and
without any education herself she thinks she does wonders in having her
daughters taught to read, write and cypher, but invariably economises to
give them a marriage portion. This applies to most of the farmers
throughout France, and will be found descriptive of those inhabiting the
country from Calais to Paris; but in Normandy they are frequently what
is in French estimation considered very rich, and their habits and
expenses are in proportion; and about Melun and some few parts of France
where the farms are very large, the occupiers would even in England be
termed wealthy. The extreme of poverty or what may be designated misery
is but little known; the traveller is deceived by the number of beggars
which infest the high roads, and is induced to imagine that the lowest
orders must be in a most wretched state, but the fact is otherwise, and
begging is no other than a trade on the most frequented roads. Turn into
the by-lanes, penetrate the interior of the country and in the villages
distant from the highways and but few beggars are to be found, nor could
I ever hear of an instance of any one in the country parts of France
perishing from want; yet there are no forced poor rates, the landed
proprietors however regularly give so much a month voluntarily to those
who are past labour and have no relations to provide for them, and
houseless and pennyless wanderers are received and sheltered for a night
by the higher farmers and people of property, the mendicant having soup
and bread given him at night and the same when he starts in the morning.
Of these there are great numbers within the last few years, being
refugees from Spain, Italy and even Poland, driven to seek shelter where
they can find it by the political convulsions of their countries. In
this manner, the French have recently been severely taxed, but they
appear never to have the heart to deny shelter and food, although they
carry economy to such a height as would be styled by many of my affluent
countrymen absolute parsimony; which is perceptible in all their
transactions, and is in a great degree the cause of the miserable state
of their agriculture, which is also in some measure owing to the utter
ignorance of the farmers, who in all that tends towards improvement
display the stupidity of asses with the obstinacy of mules. There can be
no doubt that, generally speaking, the soil of France is capable of
producing half as much more than it at present yields; they still
persevere in the same system as existed in England in the year 1770,
when Arthur Young wrote his Agricultural Tour, describing the various
practices in the different counties throughout the kingdom. Two white
crops and a summer fallow is the usual course in France, sometimes
varied by a crop of clover, and very often they fallow for two years
together; they have no idea of leguminous crops as winter provision for
their cattle, and of the advantage to be derived from stall feeding they
are quite ignorant, except in a few provinces, as a part of Normandy and
Brittany. The same with regard to the drill system; they mostly plough
very shallow, and do not keep their land very clean, with a few
exceptions; the consequence is their crops are generally very light.
Thanks to the natural richness of their meadows in Normandy, they do
certainly produce some beasts of an immense weight for the exhibition
annually held on Shrove Tuesday. There are generally about a dozen
brought to Paris, and the finest is the one selected to be led about the
streets; the one chosen last year weighed 3,800 French pounds, and as
there are two ounces more than in the English pound the immense size of
the animal may be imagined. In the winter, they fatten their beasts with
hay, clover and corn, but oilcake is not known except in a few
instances, when beasts are fattened for prizes or exhibitions. Their
agricultural implements are in keeping with the rest of their system; I
have seen them ploughing even in the lightest land, with the great old
heavy turnwrest ploughs and four bulky horses, which might have been
effected just as well with a light Rotherham plough and one horse.
Recently, however, I have seen some slight ameliorations, and those
parts of France which are nearest England one might expect would improve
the soonest. The farming servants are generally a hard-working, quiet,
sober people, contented with very little, their living costing them a
mere trifle; in harvest-time an Englishman will pour beer down his
throat that will cost as much as would keep a whole French family; there
is a natural economy in their habits that tends to making their wages
more than equal to their demand. An Englishman must have the best
wheaten bread, and when he gets a pound of meat he is ready to eat it
all himself; the Frenchman is contented with a cheap brown bread, quite
as wholesome as the finest, and to his portion of meat he adds some
vegetables with which soup is made, and it gives comfort to the whole
family; and it is quite a mistake to imagine that beer and animal food
produce greater physical strength, as I have in several instances proved
that the French porter will carry much more than the English. I remember
when lodging in Salisbury Street, in the Strand, having packed up my
things for my departure for Paris, when a porter came to carry them to
the Golden Cross, he said it was impossible that any man could take them
at once, and the people of the house joined in saying that it was far
beyond one man's load, consisting of a moderate sized trunk, a large
portmanteau, and a well-stuffed carpet bag; when I declared that the
first porter I should meet with at Paris would take them all the same
distance without raising an objection, a sort of smile of incredulity
passed from one to the other, expressive of how absurd they thought such
an assertion. On arriving at Paris, however, the very first porter I
spoke to in the Diligence-yard took them all, without a question as to
their weight. In several cases, when persons have been quitting London
for Paris with me, I have proved to them how much heavier a burthen the
French porters will carry than the English. I believe the cause arises
in a great degree from the latter not being addicted to drinking ardent
spirits, which is ruinous to the strength and constitutions of such
numbers of the lower classes in London. But the Greek and Turkish
porters will carry twice as much as the French, and their beverage is
nothing but water and their food principally rice. In almost every
description of labour the Englishman has the advantage when what may be
styled knack or method be required; the consequence is, that they make
the most of what physical strength they possess; hence he will plough,
mow, or reap more in a day than a Frenchman. Not only is the machinery
which the Englishman employs much better, but he is what may be termed
more handy in making use of it; in every thing which relates to
husbandry or mechanism the Frenchman is generally awkward; a more
powerful instance cannot be cited than that of their always employing
two men to shoe a horse, one man being occupied to hold up the horse's
leg, whilst the farrier performs his part of the work; is it not
astonishing that after an uninterrupted communication with England for
twenty-seven years, that they should never have observed, that an
English farrier, by taking the animal's leg between his own, is able to
effect his purpose just as well as if two men were employed; but the
French must have remarked that custom in England; only, the besotted
prejudice that exists in that class against every species of innovation
causes them to persevere in their old habits. The agricultural
population in France are more wealthy and generally better clothed than
ours, particularly as regards the women; they pride themselves much upon
their stocks of linen and their bedding; instead of the men expending
their money in drink, what little they can save beyond their daily wants
they lay out in contributing to their solid comforts, and as spinning
and knitting are the constant occupation of the women in their leisure
hours, when their children marry they are enabled to furnish them with a
portion of the fruits of their industry; even the peasant girl has a
trousseau, as it is called, that is, some stock of linen at her
marriage, and a trifle of money wherewith to begin the world. Thus take
France throughout; it will be found, that, in consequence of temperance
and a persevering industry, the peasantry are generally passively happy;
there is a great difference in respect to their wages and comforts,
according to the province to which they belong; but although the
intention of this work is especially to treat upon Paris and its
population, yet as my readers must pass through a considerable portion
of France before they can arrive at Paris, I judged it right to give
them some information of the manners and habits of the population, with
which they must meet in the course of their journey; but without farther
delay will now at once conduct them to the Grand Capital, and as I
consider the first impressions are the most permanent, I will introduce
them by that entrance which presents so grand an appearance, as to
surpass that of any other country in Europe. In coming from England,
they may enter Paris at this point by the Rouen road.

The first object that strikes the traveller, as he approaches Paris, is
the Triumphal Arch, erected with the view of commemorating the victories
of Napoleon, but as those victories were ultimately crowned by defeat,
it is more consistent to consider the Triumphal Arch as a triumph of art
than of arms; as certainly the magnificence and sublimity of the design
is only to be equalled by the exquisite beauty of the execution. Having
passed this noble monument and splendid specimen of architectural
talent, the Champs Elysées extend in all their beauty to the view of the
beholder, presenting a fine broad road with rows of lofty trees on
either side, whilst handsome buildings and superb fountains are
occasionally visible from behind the foliage; and one of the latter,
which rises exactly in the centre, has a most happy effect; from this
circle several roads diverge in different directions, displaying various
objects of interest, but none of so high an order as that of the
Hospital of Invalids, for aged and wounded soldiers, the whole expanse
of which is seen in the distance at the end of a long wide avenue of
trees. From the Triumphal Arch on either side extends a row of
ornamental lamps for nearly a mile, which when lighted have the most
brilliant effect; and when it is considered how very small the
distances are between each lamp, I believe the assertion to be correct,
that there is not another such display of gas anywhere to be found.
Arrived at the Place Louis Quinze, or Place de la Concorde, as it is now
called, such a coup d'oeil is presented as remains unrivalled in
Europe, or indeed, in any part of the world. On one side, at the end of
a handsome and regular street, called the Rue Royale, rises in majestic
height the Madeleine, with its noble columns crowned by its sculptured
entablature in mezzo relievo, and adorned by its numerous statues, yet
preserving a chaste simplicity throughout the whole. On the opposite
side facing it, in a direct line at the end of a bridge, is the Chamber
of Deputies, resembling a Roman temple; its style is severe and its
_tout ensemble_ has an air of heavy grandeur, which is consistent with
an edifice in which are to be discussed the affairs of so great a
nation. In the centre of the Place is an Egyptian column, which was with
much difficulty brought from Egypt, and raised with considerable
ingenuity where it now stands, without any accident; gorgeous fountains
of bronze and gold are constantly playing, whilst colossal statues,
being allegorical representations of the principal towns of France, are
placed at regular distances, and appear as it were in solemn
contemplation of the splendid scene by which they are surrounded. Two
noble buildings, the Garde Meuble and the Hôtel de la Marine, which may
be styled palaces, adorn each side of the Rue Royale, and form one side
of the magnificent square, whilst another is occupied by the Elysian
Fields, and that immediately opposite to the Tuileries gardens; but so
beautiful, so wonderful is the whole combined, that accustomed as I have
been to frequent it for upwards of twenty years, I cannot now traverse
it without remaining some time to admire the extraordinary combination
of so many beautiful objects centering in one vast area. Here no mean or
unseemly building meets the eye, but all is made tributary to one grand
effect; even the lamps with their supporters are of bronze and gold,
whilst in the distance the gilded dome of the Invalides peers above all,
and gives a brilliant termination to the sublimity of the scene.

[Illustration: Champin del. Lith. Rigo Frères et Cie Triumphal Arch.
Published by F. Sinnett. 15, Grande rue Verle.]

Thus much for the only entrance of Paris which has aught to boast, but
having, in fact, so many charms that it must be considered by the
visiter as compensating for the deficiencies of every other. In entering
from Boulogne or Calais, nothing can be conceived more discouraging than
the first appearance of Paris as you are borne through the Faubourg St.
Denis; the street, it is true, is wide and the houses large, but they
have a dirty gloomy forlorn aspect, which gives them an uninhabited
appearance, or as if the inmates did not belong to them; as no care
appears to have been taken to give them some degree of neatness and
comfort; in fact, to bestow upon them an air of home; the stranger
continues rattling over the stones between these great lumbering-looking
dwellings, until his eye is attracted by the Porte St. Denis, which is
a triumphal arch built by Louis the Fourteenth, and certainly presents a
most imposing mass of sculpture, which, although blackened by time, is
an object well worthy the attention of the observing traveller; and here
he crosses the Boulevards, by which he gets a little peep at the
inspiring gaiety of Paris, but is soon hurried into noisy streets until
his brain feels in a whirl; and on his arrival at the Diligence-yard,
when he hopes to obtain a little repose, he is annoyed by being asked
for the keys of his trunks, for the Custom House officers, to make
believe to look into them to ascertain that you have not smuggled any
liquors or other material within the walls of Paris. Those who are
fortunate enough to travel in their own carriages, are exempted from
such tiresome ceremony. Some of the other entries to Paris are somewhat
better, but none of them sufficiently so, to be worthy notice; perhaps
the best amongst the bad is by the Faubourg St. Antoine, the Barrières du
Trône, at the commencement and summit of the street, presenting a most
noble appearance; indeed, as far as the barriers are concerned, there
are many which are well worthy of notice, being mostly handsome stone
buildings with columns that give them an imposing effect, particularly
when we recollect the little turnpike gates at the principal entrances
of London, with the exception of the recent erections at Knightsbridge,
which sink into nothingness when compared to the Triumphal Arch at the
entrance already described; and, except foreigners, particularly the
English, enter by that quarter, the first aspect of Paris mostly
excites disappointment; the generality of the streets wanting that
straight line of regularity so prevalent throughout London, the French
capital has an incongruous patchy sort of effect, and its beauties and
objects of interest have to be sought, but to the eye of an artist it is
much more gratifying than that dull sameness which reigns throughout
London, which Canova very justly designated as consisting of walls with
square holes in them; for what otherwise can be said of our houses in
general, but that they are literally upright walls, with square holes
for doors and windows. Regent Street and a few others, which have been
recently erected, form an exception to the rule. But in almost every
street in Paris a draftsman finds subject for his pencil; their richly
carved gateways, their elaborately wrought iron balconies, their
ornamented windows, and even their protruding signs, all help to break
the formal straight line and afford ample food for sketching; and in
many of their old and least fashionable streets, an ancient church with
its gothic doorway, adorned by rich and crumbling sculpture, invites the
artist to pause and exercise his imitative art. Paris at first strikes a
stranger as still more bustling and noisy than London, as the streets
being narrower and hack vehicles more used in proportion, the
circulation gets sooner choked up, and the rattling over the stones of
the carriages is still more deafening, being within so confined a space;
hence also the confusion is greater; then there is always a sort of
bewilderment when one first arrives in a large city, that makes it
appear much more astounding than is found to be the case as soon as the
visiter becomes accustomed to its apparent labyrinth.

According to comparative calculations, and taking the medium, Paris is
about twenty-two miles round, and the population, foreigners included,
one million; many estimate it at eleven hundred thousand, which I have
no doubt it may be, if several villages be included which absolutely
join Paris; such as Passy, Belleville, etc. The extreme height of the
houses would induce a belief, that a more, dense mass of people
inhabited the same space of ground than could be the case in London; but
to counterbalance that circumstance, it must be taken into consideration
that there are such an immense number of large gardens and court-yards
in Paris, which occupy a great extent of ground. I have often been
surprised to find, that in nasty dirty narrow streets, the back windows
of the houses looked over extensive gardens, with lofty trees; these are
oftener to be found in the old parts of Paris than in the modern
quarters. A much greater proportion of the population consists of
foreigners, than is the case in London, consequently it is more moving
and changeable. It is the great post town for almost all Europeans who
visit England, and hundreds of thousands come to Paris, who never think
of going to London, deterred by an exaggerated idea of the expense;
hence it will be found that very few persons from the Continent visit
London who have not already been to Paris, although, now that steam
conveyance affords such facilities of accommodation between London and
many of the large cities in Europe, the case is somewhat altered. But
Paris has been long regarded as the Museum of the Continent, and few men
possessing good fortunes from civilised countries, if gifted with
enquiring minds, consider their education complete if they have not
sojourned some time at Paris, which has for time immemorial had the
reputation of being the seat of the polite arts. Nearly a third of the
houses in Paris are designated hôtels, many of which do not provide
meals but merely furnished lodgings, and most of their inmates are
foreigners, others, persons from the provinces, consequently at least
one quarter of the population of Paris is constantly changing. But
perhaps no city is anywhere to be found where a stranger can sooner
accommodate himself in every respect, as the customs are such that a
person may live as he likes, go where he likes, and do as he likes,
provided he do no harm. In London, if a lady and gentleman from the
country arrive for the purpose of passing a day, and have no
acquaintances, there are no houses as in Paris where one can take a
wife, sister, or daughter to breakfast or dine, without being subject to
remark, unless indeed you can draw up to the door of a hôtel with an
equipage; then certainly every attention and accommodation is to be
found, but only such as will suit a very limited number of purses;
whereas, at Paris a family may find in most of the restaurateurs small
apartments where they can dine by themselves if they object to the
public room, but even in the latter they might take their meal very
undisturbed and without exciting the slightest observation, at various
prices that will either suit the economist or the wealthy individual.
This is amongst many of the conveniences of Paris; as also that of the
libraries being open to the public, any one having the privilege to call
for the book he wishes, where he may read as quietly as in his own
house. This is extremely useful to studious and literary men, as there
are so many works of reference too expensive to be within the compass of
a small private library, which may be found in the liberal
establishments in which Paris abounds. Museums, exhibitions, academies,
gardens, public buildings, etc., are, with a very few exceptions,
accessible to the foreigner merely on the exhibition of his passport.




CHAPTER III.

TO AN HISTORIAN.

     A very brief account of the foundation of Paris, its progress
     during the most remarkable epochs, and under the reigns of some of
     its most celebrated monarchs with its, gradual advance in
     civilisation to the present period. Some allusions also to the
     customs which existed in the earlier ages, and a statement of the
     different dates as regards the erection and foundation of the
     various monuments and institutions still extant.

[Illustration: Paris in the 16th Century. View taken from the towers of
Notre Dame.]


France, under the ancient appellation of Gaul, is cited in history as
early as 622 years before the Christian era, when Belloveaus, a
celebrated leader from that country, defeated the Hetrurians and made
himself master of Piedmont and Lombardy, by crossing the Rhone and the
Alps with his army, which at that period had never before been
attempted. Increasing in power, we find, 180 years after, the Gauls,
headed by Brennus, sacking and burning Rome; and the same chief, after
having been defeated and cut off by Camillus, the Roman general, with
the loss of 40,000 men, again appears in the year 387 before Christ at
the head of 150,000 foot and 60,000 horse, invading Macedonia, and after
ravaging the country and being ultimately defeated in Greece, to have
put an end to his existence. Some idea may be formed of the ferocious
and obdurate spirit of the Gauls, from the circumstance of the women
fighting as bravely as the men against Marius, who successfully defended
Italy against them; and when these desperate amazons found that they
were overpowered, they slew themselves and their children rather than
surrender. This occurred 101 years anterior to the birth of our Saviour,
and from that period scarcely a century has passed in which history does
not record many instances of heroic devotion of Frenchwomen, often wrong
in its object, but ever displaying a determined courage, reckless of all
selfish consideration. The names of Joan of Arc, Jeanne Hachette,
Charlotte Corday, and the Chevalier d'Eon are known to all, and hundreds
of others must live in the memory of those who are familiar with the
history of France. After numerous encounters between the Romans and the
Gauls, the latter were at length wholly subdued about 50 years before
Christ, and although the records of this ancient people date nearly as
far back as the foundation of Rome, yet our first accounts of Paris are
derived from Cæsar and Strabo, who allude to it under the name of
Lutetia, the principal city of the Parisii; and from the most probable
statements which could be collected from aged persons at that period, it
is presumed that its foundation must have occurred not more than half a
century antecedent. It is supposed that the ground which Paris now
occupies formerly consisted of a number of small hills, which in the
process of time, building, paving, etc., have been somewhat reduced, by
the summits having been in a degree levelled; and the houses upon them
being generally not so high as those in the lower parts, the eminences
are not now so apparent. These hillocks were called by the French
_buttes_, and some of them are still very perceptible, such as in the
_rue des Saints-Pères_, by the _rue St-Guillaume_, the _rue Meslay_, the
_rue de l'Observance_, near the _École de Médecine_, and several other
places; indeed, on each side of the Seine Paris rises as you proceed to
the _Faubourgs_. Some of these little hills still bear the name of
_butte_, as _les Buttes St-Chaumont, la rue des Buttes_, etc., but the
most ancient part of Paris is that which is now termed La Cité and is
confined to an island formed by the Seine, and which is joined to the
opposite banks by the _Pont-Neuf_ (or New-Bridge), but certainly no
longer meriting that title, having been built in the reign of Henry the
Third about the year 1580. There are many histories of Paris which have
been handed down by oral record to some of the earliest authors amongst
the Gauls, but so ill authenticated that they do not merit repetition,
having being reputed as fabulous by most writers to whom credit can be
attached. There is, however, one account of the foundation of Paris
which may be cited more for its comic ingenuity than for its veracity,
beginning by tracing the Trojans to Samothès, the son of Japhet and
grandson of Noah; then following in the same line, they endeavour to
prove that at the destruction of Troy, Francus, the son of Hector, fled
to Gaul, of which he became king and no doubt bestowed upon it the name
of France, as the French have a most happy knack of cutting off the _us_
at the end of names as, Titus Livius and Quintus Curtius they have
metamorphosed into Tite-Live and Quinte-Curce, and in fact with one or
two exceptions they have abbreviated the terminations of the ancient
Greek and Roman appellations entirely according to their own fashion.
This fortunate youth, Francus, at length fixed his abode in Champagne,
and built the town of Troyes, calling it after his native place, which
having accomplished, he repaired to the borders of the Seine and ever
partial to Trojan associations, built a city which he called Paris after
his uncle.

However agreeable it may prove to the feelings of the Parisians to trace
their origin to the remotest antiquity, yet common sense suggests that
the account of the foundation of their city which is the most rational,
is that which is deduced from the Commentaries of Julius Cæsar, he
having been at some pains to ascertain from whence the Parisii sprung,
and was informed by persons who remembered the epoch, that they were a
people who had emigrated from their native country in consequence of the
persecutions and massacres of their enemies, and that they were supposed
to have belonged to some of the petty nations known under the common
appellation of the Belgæ, and arriving on the borders of the Seine
requested permission of the Senones, a powerful people of the Gauls, to
establish themselves on the frontiers of their territory, and place
themselves under their protection, agreeing at the same time to conform
to the laws of those whose hospitality they sought. That they were but a
very inconsiderable people on the arrival of Cæsar is proved by the
small contingent of warriors they were required to supply by the Gauls,
in their struggles against the Romans. The territory accorded to the
Parisii could not have exceeded more than ten or twelve leagues,
adjoining to the lands of a people termed Silvanectes on the one side,
and to those of the Carnutes on the other. It is conjectured that the
name of Parisii received its etymology from their being a people who
inhabited the borders, as Par and Bar are synonymous from the P and the
B having had the same signification, and which are often confused
together at the present time by the Germans; and Barisii or Barrisenses,
signifying a people inhabiting a space between other nations, hence it
is inferred that the Parisii received that appellation from their
occupying a spot on the frontiers of the Senones, separating them from
the Silvanectes and the Carnutes. Amongst the many suppositions which
have been formed as to the origin of the name of the Parisii, perhaps
the above is the most rational. Paris, or Lutetia, soon after the
conquest by Cæsar became a place of importance, as he selected that city
for a convocation of the different powers of Gaul when he required of
them supplies for his cavalry; and a short time after, when the Gallic
nation revolted from Cæsar's dominion, one of the most decided battles
which was fought was within sight of Paris, under Labienus, the Roman
general, whilst the chief of the Gauls, Camulogene, perished in the
combat with a considerable portion of his men, but the greater number
saved themselves by taking shelter in Paris, which was not attacked,
Labienus himself retreating to Agedineum. But although Cæsar fixed upon
Paris as the most convenient locality for the meeting of the Gallic
chiefs, yet it was little more than a fort like all the other towns in
Gaul, into which the natives retreated in the time of war with their
females, children, cattle and moveables; as they were accustomed in
time of peace to live in detached habitation in the midst of their
flocks, their pastures and their cornfields, only retreating within
their forts or cities for security when attacked. After the fall of
Camulogene, Gaul soon returned to the Roman yoke and Paris subsequently
became the residence of their prefects, governors and even emperors. In
1818, in digging deeply in the streets of Monceau and Martroi, near the
church of Saint Gervais, an ancient cemetery was discovered. In one of
the tombs was found a silver medal, in which a head was visible on one
side, and a head crowned on the other, having this inscription,
_Antonius Pius Aug._, who reigned from the years 138 to 161. It is
inferred from this circumstance, that the burying-place was of coeval
antiquity, but notwithstanding the many battles which occurred between
the Gauls and the Romans, Paris is not cited in history until the fourth
century, when Julian the Apostate appears to have there fixed his
residence, and in his Misopogon, which he wrote during his residence at
Antioch, often alludes to it under the name of his dear Lutetia,
although complaining that the cold was such during one winter as to
compel him to have a fire in his bed-room, expressing much
dissatisfaction at the odour emitted by the burning charcoal, to the
effects of which he was nearly falling a victim. His abode was what it
is now and has been for many ages, the Palace of Thermes, of which there
are still the remains, now converted into a museum for relics of the
Ancient Gauls; the entrance is in the Rue de la Harpe. Between the
numbers 61 and 65. Julian there resided with his wife Helen, sister of
the emperor Constantius, and in his address to the senate and people of
Athens speaks of the arrival of foreign auxiliary troops at Paris, and
of their tumultuously rising and surrounding his palace; and that it was
in a chamber adjoining that of his wife wherein he meditated on the
means of appeasing them. According to various historians, this
circumstance occurred in the year 360. Soon after this period, the same
palace was inhabited by the Emperors Valentinian and Valens. It is
supposed to have been built in the year 292, the evidence of which is
tolerably well authenticated. Whatever errors might fall to the share of
Julian, it is certain he rendered great service to Gaul, and
particularly to Paris: he cleared the adjacent country entirely of a set
of ferocious barbarians, who were eternally overrunning the different
states of Gaul. But the Parisians were not long doomed to enjoy the
quiet and prosperity which had been obtained for them by the equitable
laws instituted by Julian. In 406, hordes of enemies suddenly appeared
in all parts of Gaul, swarming in from different barbarous nations, in
such numbers that they swept all before them for ten successive years,
and about 465 the Franks succeeded in permanently establishing
themselves in Gaul, and of course Paris shared the fate of the
surrounding country; by them at length the Roman government was
overthrown, and that which was substituted was far less equitable or
calculated for the happiness of the people.

The Franks were a powerful maritime people, coming from the north-west
of Germany, obtaining possession of the different towns which they met
with in their course, until they arrived at Tournai, which was
constituted their capital; and Childeric their king is reported to have
laid siege to Paris, which resisted for several years; but dying in the
year 481, he was succeeded by Clovis his son, who, at the head of a
numerous army defeated the Roman governor Seyagrius, gained possession
of his capital, and was styled the first King of Gaul. Many authors
assert that Pharamond was the first monarch who reigned over the Gallic
states, but Lidonius Appolinarus, who wrote only fifty years after the
death of Pharamond persists that he and his three successors, who were
all predecessors of Clovis, were only kings reigning over a portion of
Gaul, and resigned their sovereignties at the retirement of the Romans.
Clovis was celebrated as one of the greatest warriors of the period in
which he lived; in the year 500 he slew Alaric King of the Visigoths in
single combat in the plain of Vouillé, near Poitou, and afterwards
several other petty kings, thereby adding considerably to his dominions.
In 508 he fixed his residence in Paris, and died there in 511, and was
buried in a church called St. Peter and St. Paul, since styled St.
Genevieve. He was called the Most Christian King. The Pope having no
confidence in the professions of any other monarch at that time, Clovis
is synonymous with the name of Louis, as the latter was formerly written
Llouis, the double l signifying in the Celtic language cl, and
pronounced in that manner at present in Welsh, as Llandovery, Llandilo,
etc., have the sound of Clandovery, Clandilo, etc., whilst the v in
Clovis has in more modern times been transformed into a u, as in all old
writings the u and the v had the same signification; hence it will be
found that Clovis and Llouis are the same word. His government being
divided amongst his four sons, Childebert received the portion in which
Paris was situated, and was styled King of Paris, which was only
retained by a few of his successors, who assumed that of King of Gaul,
or of France. The power of the monarch at that period was much
restrained, by a class of men called Leudes, Anstrutions, or faithful,
being companions in arms of the king, and sharing with him whatever
lands or booty might be gained by conquest. As a proof of the tenacity
of these gentry as to an equitable division of the spoil, when Clovis
had taken Rheims, he demanded as an act of grace from his companions in
arms, that they would grant him a precious vase for which he had
conceived a peculiar predilection; his request was accorded by his
associates, except one, who gave the vase a violent blow with his
hatchet, saying, "No, thou shalt not have any thing beyond what thy lot
awards thee." Even under the dominion of the Romans there were dukes who
had a certain number of troops or armed men in the district where they
governed, and their power was arbitrary and they had counts under them
who also had a certain number of men subjected to their orders;
sometimes these nobles carried rapine, pillage and slaughter into each
other's territories, when the government had devolved upon the Franks;
and the king took no notice of their misdeeds, as long as they observed
a certain fealty towards him, and in some instances they put aside the
monarch if he acted in such a manner as to trench upon what they
considered their privileges. A third power soon began to assume a high
authority, which consisted of the bishops, who had greatly aided the
Francs in their invasion of Gaul by their influence and intrigues, and
obtained as reward considerable grants of lands and temporal power; and
in their dioceses they exercised a sovereign will, and on account of
their possessing some instruction they maintained a certain influence
over the ignorant nobility who had in some degree a sort of
superstitious awe of them, as they were regarded as the emissaries of
saints. Under the Romans the Gauls were considered a moral people,
having become Christians in consequence of the persevering endeavours of
the missionary prelates, whilst churches were founded and a purity of
faith disseminated; taught by the Romans, a love of the arts and
sciences was engendered amongst the Gauls, and much talent was elicited
from them, philosophy, physic, mathematics, jurisprudence, poetry, and
above all eloquence, had their respective professors of no mean
abilities from amongst the natives; one named Julius Florens is styled
by Quintilian the Prince of Eloquence. In fact a brilliant era appeared
as if beginning to dawn throughout the greater portion of Gaul,
academies were establishing, learning was revered, when suddenly every
spark of refinement and civilisation was banished, by the successful
aggression and permanent occupation of the country by hordes of
barbarians; the natives being obliged to have recourse to arms for their
defence against the common enemy, and the constant excitement of
continued hostility with their ferocious oppressors, afforded no time
for study nor cultivation of the arts. Clovis, however, during his reign
improved Paris, and was converted to christianity by St. Vedast.
Clotilda, his wife, and niece to Gondebaud, king of Burgundy, was
principally instrumental to the conversion of her husband. Indeed,
amidst their ferocity and barbarism some of the early Frank kings showed
much respect for religion and morality, as is proved by an ordonnance of
Childebert in the year 554; commanding his subjects to destroy wherever
they might be found all idols dedicated to the devil; also forbidding
all disorderly conduct committed in the nights of the eves of _fêtes_,
such as Christmas and Easter, when singing, drinking, and other excesses
were committed; women were also ordered to discontinue going about the
country dancing on a Sunday, as it was a practice offensive to God. It
appears certainly very singular that a comparatively barbarous king in
the sixth century should prohibit dancing of a Sunday as a desecration
of the Sabbath, and that in the nineteenth century there should be more
dancing on a Sunday than on any other day in the week, at a period which
is arrived at the highest state of civilisation, and under the reign of
a most enlightened monarch. But although Clovis and Childebert displayed
much enthusiasm in the cause of christianity, their career was marked
with every cruelty incidental to conquest, as wherever they bore their
victorious arms, murder, rapine, and robbery stained their diabolical
course; but they thought that they expiated their crimes by building
churches. Hence Clovis in 508 founded the first erected in Paris
dedicated to St. Peter and St. Paul, afterwards called St. Genevieve,
and on its site now stands the Pantheon. Childebert in 558 built the
church of St. Germain des Près, which is still standing and much
frequented; it was at first called St. Vincent and St. Croix, and he
endowed it so richly with the treasures he had stolen from other
countries, that it was called the golden palace of St. Germain.
Chilperic imitating his predecessors, hoping to absolve himself of his
enormous crimes, in the year 606 founded the very interesting and
curious church of St. Germain, opposite the Louvre, and still an object
of admiration to the lover of antiquity. His wife Fredegonde, imagining
no doubt by that act he had made his peace for the other world, thought
that the sooner he went there the better, before he committed any
farther sins, and had him assassinated that she might the more
conveniently pursue her own course of iniquity; perhaps never was the
page of history blackened by such a list of atrocities committed by
woman as those perpetrated by her and her rival Queen Brunehault, who
was ultimately tied to the tail of a wild horse and torn to pieces in
613. Paris, however, notwithstanding the wickedness, injustice, and
cruelty of its rulers, continued to increase, and would no doubt have
become a prosperous city, had it not been for the incursions of the
Normands, who in the ninth century entered Paris, burnt some of the
churches, and meeting with scarcely any resistance, made themselves
masters of all they could find, whilst the Emperor Charles the Bald, at
the head of an army, had the pusillanimity to treat with them, and
finally to give them seven thousand pounds of silver to quit Paris,
which was only an encouragement for them to return, which they did in a
few years after, carrying devastation wherever they appeared, the poor
citizens of Paris being obliged to save their lives by flight, leaving
all their property to the mercy of the brigands. At length, the
Parisians finding that there was no security either for themselves or
their possessions, prevailed on Charles the Bald to give the requisite
orders for fortifying the city, which was so far accomplished that it
resisted the attacks of the Normans for thirteen months, who as
constantly laid siege to the grand tower which was its principal
defence, without being able to take it; when at last Charles the Fat in
887 proved as weak as his predecessors, and although he was encamped
with his army at Montmartre, consented to give the barbarians fourteen
thousand marks of silver to get rid of them, and they quitted Paris to
go and pillage other parts of France, but as by the treaty they were not
allowed to pass the bridges, in order to ascend the Seine they were
obliged to carry their vessels over the land for about two thousand
yards and again launch them for the purpose of committing farther
depredations. From this period Paris was freed from the attacks of the
the Normans, yet commerce made but slow progress having constant
obstructions arising, to impede its prosperity. Paris having for a long
time ceased to be the royal residence, was no longer considered as the
capital, Charlemagne passed but a very short period of time there,
residing mostly at Aix-la-Chapelle and Ratisbon, and although he founded
many noble institutions in different parts of France, Paris derived but
little benefit from his talents, and his immediate successors displayed
such imbecility of purpose that they suffered their kingdom to become
the prey to marauders. Learning advanced but slowly, although there were
some schools at Paris which, elicited a few authors; amongst the rest
one named Abbon, who wrote a poem in latin upon the siege of Paris by
the Normans, which was not otherwise other-worthy of remark than for its
rarity at the epoch when it was written. Whilst the kings of France
continued to reside in other cities, Paris was confided to the
governments Counts, who held not a very high rank amongst the nobility
in the first instance, but gradually increased their power until Eudes,
Count of Paris, in 922 ultimately became King of France, which also was
the destiny of two other nobles who held the same title, Robert the
brother of Eudes, and Hugh Capet.

The progress of Paris and indeed the whole of France was retarded
continually by famine, fourteen seasons of scarcity happening in the
course of twenty-three years; in fact, from 843 to 899 such was often
the state of desolation, that hunger impelled human beings to murder
each other to feed upon the flesh of their bodies, which in many
instances were sold, and bought with eagerness by those who were
famishing with want. Unwholesome food caused thousands to be afflicted
with a disease which was called the sacred fire, the ardent malady, and
the infernal evil, the sufferers feeling as if they were devoured by an
internal flame. To give some idea of the luxury of costume which existed
in those days at Paris, it is but requisite to quote an address of Abbon
the poet to the Parisians, written about the year 890, wherein hen
observes: "An _agraffe_ (a clasp) of gold fastens the upper part of
your dress; to keep off the cold you cover yourselves with the purple
of Tyre, you will have no other cloak than a chlamyde embroidered with
gold, your girdle must be ornamented with precious stones, and gold
must sparkle even upon your shoes, and on the cane which you carry. O
France! if you do not abandon such luxurious extravagance, you will
lose your courage and your country." Hugh Capet, who became king of
France in 987, fixed his residence at Paris, thus again constituting it
the capital of the kingdom, and his son and successor Robert, being a
strict devotee, built and repaired several churches which had been
greatly injured by the Normans, and Paris began in his reign to assume
an appearance of improvement, which continued until it received a check
from an ill-timed joke of Philippe the First, who made a satirical
remark upon William the Conqueror of England having become rather
unwieldy, which so provoked that choleric monarch that he laid waste a
great portion of Philippe's dominions; when his progress was checked by
his falling from his horse, which occasioned his death and thus
delivered Philippe from a most powerful enemy. In the following reign,
that of Lewis the Fat, learning began to make considerable progress, and
the colleges of Paris to acquire a high celebrity, and amongst the
professors whose reputation was of the highest, was Abelard, no one
before having succeeded in attracting so many pupils. In 1118 he
established a school in Paris, but from a variety of persecutions which
he endured, he was frequently obliged to retire to different parts of
France; his unfortunate attachment to Heloise is but too well known, and
she ultimately became the abbess of a convent which Abelard founded at
Nogent-sur-Seine, and which he called Paraclet. The number of pupils at
one time are stated to have been three thousand, and he instructed them
in the open air; it is also asserted that of his followers fifty became
either bishops or archbishops, twenty cardinals, and one pope, Celestin
II. In fact the fame of Abelard had arrived at such an altitude that he
was the means of giving a new era to Paris, which was designated the
city of letters; other professors became highly celebrated, and some
authors pretend that the immense concourse of students who ultimately
flocked to Paris, exceeded the number of the inhabitants, and there was
much difficulty in finding the means of lodging them; how great must
have been the anxiety for learning, as the masters were exceedingly
brutal and imparted their knowledge to the pupil by the force of blows,
which at length deterred many students from placing themselves under the
charge of such preceptors. This extraordinary desire for obtaining
education appears to have been almost a sudden impulse, as the immediate
descendants of Hugh Capet could not read or write, but were obliged to
make a mark as the signature to their edicts, whilst those who possessed
that accomplishment were styled clerks. Although much brilliance was
shed over the reign of Louis the Sixth by the learning of Abelard and
the professors who followed him, yet soon after the barbarous custom was
introduced of trial by combat; the idea might probably have been
suggested by Louis having challenged Henry the First of England to
decide their differences in a single encounter. Although Lewis the Fat
was so bulky as to have obtained the cognomen by which he was always
designated, he was one of the most active kings of France; constantly
harrassed by perpetual wars with his neighbours and nobles, which he
carried on personally and generally successfully, he first undertook the
fortifying of Paris and is supposed to have constructed the greater and
the lesser Châtelet, two towers on the opposite sides of the Seine,
although many authors pretend that they were of a much more ancient
date; he also built walls round a certain portion of the suburbs, which
by that time had become part of Paris. It was said of Lewis VI, "He
might have been a better king, a better man he could not." He died in
1137.

In the succeeding reign of Louis VII, surnamed the Younger, many
privileges were granted to the Parisians which greatly increased the
prosperity of the city; several public buildings were erected, amongst
the rest an hospital which was the first ever built in Paris. But
according to the descriptions of all authors who wrote at that period
upon the subject, the streets were in a filthy condition in many parts
of the city, and the names which have long since been changed were as
dirty and indecent; some were absolutely ridiculous; as Did you find me
Hard, Bertrand Sleeps, Cut Bread, John Bread Calf (alluding to the leg);
the last still exists, as also Bad Advice, Bad Boys, etc. It was in this
reign that the first crusade from France took place, and Louis VII was
followed by 200,000 persons, and after various encounters with the
Saracens, he owed his preservation to his own personal prowess; he was
divorced from his Queen Eleanor, who afterwards married Henry II of
England, and proved herself a detestable character in both kingdoms.
Louis VII abolished one law which had long disgraced France, allowing
the officers of the King on his arrival in Paris or other towns in his
dominions, to enter any private house and take for the monarch's use
such bedding or other articles of furniture as his Majesty might
require. Louis also by force of arms compelled his nobles to desist from
robbing the merchants, dealers, and the poor of their property. At this
period the _Fête des Fous_, or feast of madmen was celebrated to its
full extent, and anything more absurd, more farcical, or more
irreverential cannot well be imagined. Dulaure, in his voluminous
History of Paris, gives a most detailed account of this extraordinary
mockery, of which I will give my readers a very brief abridgment.

On the first of January the clergy went in procession to the bishop who
had been elected as the grand master of the fête, conducting him
solemnly to the church with all the ecclesiastical banners usually borne
on important occasions, amidst the ringing of bells; when arrived at the
choir, he was placed in the episcopal seat, and mass was performed with
the most extravagant gesticulations. The priests figuring away in the
most ridiculous dresses; some in the costume of buffoons, others in
female attire with their faces daubed with soot, or covered with hideous
masks, some dancing, others jumping, or playing different games,
drinking, and eating puddings, sausages, etc., offering them to the
high-priest whilst he was celebrating high mass; also burning old shoes
in the chalice, instead of incense, to produce a disagreeable scent; at
length, elevated by wine, their orgies began to have the appearance of
those of demons, roaring, howling, singing, and laughing until the walls
of the church echoed with their yells. This was often carried on until
they worked themselves up to a pitch of madness, and then they began
boxing each other until the floor of the church would be smeared with
blood; upon which most severe expiations were exacted from them; as,
however, much has been shed in the cause of the church, it was not to be
permitted that the holy sanctuary should ever be stained with aught so
impure. The ecclesiastics at last quitting the church, got into carts
filled with mud and filth, amusing themselves with flinging it upon the
crowds who followed them in such streets as were wide enough for a cart
to pass. It is conjectured that these festivities, with their
nonsensical ceremonies, were of pagan origin, and probably the
celebration of the Carnival is derived from the same source; many
attempts were made to abolish so disgraceful a custom as the continuance
of the Fêtes des Fous, with the absurdities incidental to its revelries,
but it was not until the Parisians became more enlightened that any
monarch could succeed in its entire suppression.

In 1180 Philippe Auguste succeeded his father, and did more for Paris
than all the works of his predecessors united; he reconstructed Notre
Dame, and made it such as it now is with respect to the grand body of
the building; but the variety of little chapels contained within it, and
the elaborate workmanship, with the bas, mezzo and alto relievos with
which it abounds, occupied two centuries. On the exterior of the
building on the south side, about three feet and a half from the ground,
is an inscription in raised letters nearly two inches long, and the date
being perfectly distinct is 1257 written thus, MCCLVII. The two last
characters have dropped, but the impression of them is clearly visible;
the inscription itself is difficult to decypher, it is in Latin, and
some of the letters are missing, others so curiously formed as to render
them doubtful exactly as to their import. The greater part of the
characters are Roman, the others resemble more the Saxon, yet are not
quite so; at all events I recommend the inscription to the attention of
the curious. A vast space, which is now covered with streets, commencing
at the Rue des Saints Pères, and extending to the Invalids, consisted
entirely of meadows, and was called the Pré aux Clercs, or the Clerks'
Field, from the students and a number of young men who possessed some
education, usually enjoying their recreations in this spot, but
certainly not in the most innocent manner, in fact, the disorders
committed in this privileged piece of ground, which the students
considered as their own, were such as to be often named in history, and
to have formed the subject of a favourite Melo Drama; it retained its
character as being the scene of turbulence and disorder even to the
time of Louis XIV.

Amongst other useful undertakings effected by Philippe Auguste was that
of establishing markets with covered stalls, and he it was that first
conceived the idea of paving Paris, which he partially effected, and
surrounded the town with a wall, part of which is still standing in the
Rue Clovis. Paris increased and flourished under his reign; he in fact
did all that was possible to augment its prosperity, and amongst other
measures he granted the utmost protection in his power to the students,
knowing that the more the population of the city increased, the more
flourishing was its condition; by such means he induced scholars to come
in numbers from the most distant parts to study in the colleges of
Paris, two of which he erected, as well as three hospitals; he also
instituted many good laws, which protected the tradespeople and
repressed the robberies and extortions of the nobles. But Paris was
still subject to calamities, a flood having occurred from the
overflowing of the Seine, which reached as high as the second floor
windows of some houses. A great part of Paris was occupied with
monasteries and convents, which with their gardens covered an immense
space; in the course of time, however, the monks found it advantageous
to dispose of their lands for the purpose of building dwelling-houses,
and in the Revolution numbers were suppressed; and in some quarters of
the city there are warehouses in the occupation of different tradesmen,
which formerly formed part of the old monasteries. Many of the streets
by their names still indicate the order of the convents by which they
were occupied, as the Rue Blanc Manteaux (White Cloaks), Rue des Saints
Pères (Holy Fathers), Filles de Dieu (Daughters of God), which now is
one of the narrowest and dirtiest streets in Paris, and inhabited by
daughters of a very different description. Such are the extraordinary
changes which time effects. Philippe Auguste dying in 1223, was
succeeded by his son Louis VIII, surnamed the Lion, whose short reign of
four years was occupied by war, leaving no leisure for effecting any
great improvement in Paris; but under his successor Lewis IX, styled
Saint-Louis, much was effected, although his efforts were principally
directed towards the erection of religious institutions, being much
under the dominion of the priests, and naturally possessing a fanatic
zeal. Churches at that period were too often but monuments of
superstition for the celebration of mummery, for sheltering criminals,
receptacles for pretended relics, and in fact instruments for
maintaining the power of priestcraft. This same Saint Louis, so lauded
by some authors, had some excellent notions of his own, and was very
fond of practising summary justice, recommending to his nobles that
whenever they met with any one who expressed any doubts regarding the
Christian religion, never to argue with the sceptist, but immediately
plunge their swords into his body.

Rhetoric at this period was a study much followed and admired, but the
logic of Saint-Louis, I suspect, was the most forcible and best
calculated to remove all doubts, having a great objection to language
that was what some persons would style far too energetic; where an oath
was suffered to escape, he ordered the intemperate orator's tongue to be
pierced with a hot iron and his lips burnt; hence many of his subjects
were compelled to endure that operation; but this was considered in
those days all very saint-like. They had strange ideas in some
instances, in days of yore, according to our present notion of words and
things. Louis the First, surnamed the _Débonnaire_ (the gentle), had his
nephew Bernard's eyes bored out; this act was certainly very like a
_gentle_ man. Hugh the Great, so called on account of his splendid
virtues, in the year 1014 thought it proper that he should be present at
the burning of a few heretics, and his lady, with her ardent religious
zeal, stepped forward and poked out the eye of her confessor, who was
one of the victims, with her walking cane, before he was committed to
the flames. Louis however had some redeeming qualities; he founded the
Hospital of the Quinze-Vingts, which still exists; he also enlarged and
improved the Hôtel Dieu, the principal hospital in those days, in which
he even exceeded the munificence of his predecessor, Philippe Auguste,
who published an ordonnance commanding that all the straw which had been
used in his chamber should be given to the Hôtel Dieu, whenever he
quitted Paris and no longer wanted it; such overpowering kindness one
would imagine must have had the effect of curing some of the invalids
who were capable of appreciating the high honour conferred upon them, in
being suffered to lie upon straw which had been trodden by royal feet.
Saint Louis also founded the celebrated College of the Sorbonne, which
is still existing, and maintains a high character; he also built the
curious and interesting chapel adjoining the Palais de Justice, which is
well worth the amateur's attention; he founded the Hospital of Les
Filles de Dieu, for the purpose of reclaiming women of improper conduct.
The Mendicant Monks, the Augustines, and the Carmes were established in
France during his reign, and he founded the convents of the Beguines,
Mathurins, Jacobins, Carthusians, Cordeliers, and several others of
minor importance, in Paris, with the chapels attached to them; besides
different churches with which I shall not tire my reader with
recapitulating, as there are none of them now standing, except the
chapel belonging to the Palais de Justice; he also added several
fountains, contributing to the comforts of the Parisians, as well as
embellishing their city. The number of churches which have been
demolished in Paris within the last fifty years, exceeds the number of
those which are now standing, many of them during the Revolution, which
might have been expected; but an equal number under the Restoration in
the reigns of Louis the Eighteenth and Charles the Tenth, who being
rather devotees, one would have imagined might have been induced to
repair and preserve all religious monuments, also highly interesting as
specimens of the architecture of the different ages in which they were
founded. Louis Philippe has better kept up the spirit of the
_restoration_ in having rescued from demolition the ancient and
beautiful church of St Germain l'Auxerrois; which was to have been
pulled down to make way for a new street, according to the plan
projected by his predecessor; instead of which, it has been repaired
with the greatest judgment, carefully preserving the original style of
the building wherever ornaments or statues required to be renewed. Thus
this noble edifice has been preserved to the public, which would not
have been the case had the Revolution of the Three Days not occurred, as
its doom was sealed prior to that period. In fact, since the accession
to the throne of Louis Philippe, I do not believe that any church has
been pulled down, though several others have been built, and others
finished, which have greatly added to the embellishments of the city.
The memory of Louis IX has ever been cherished as that of a Saint, and
if a man be judged by the number of religious establishments he
instituted, certainly he deserved to be canonised; but however grand may
be the reputation of having founded and erected so many public
monuments, yet when it is considered that numbers of the inmates of the
different convents and monasteries erected by this Saint were obliged to
demand alms from house to house, and of persons passing along the
streets, it will be proved that the grand result of Saint Louis'
operations was to fill Paris with beggars; although it certainly must be
admitted that some of his other acts in a great degree compensated for
those into which he was led by superstition and religious fanaticism: he
was succeeded by his son Philippe the Bold in 1270, who suffered himself
to be governed by his favourite, La Brosse, formerly a barber, in which
it must be admitted that Philippe displayed rather a _barbarous_ taste,
which ended in his pet being hanged; his reign, however, was signalised
by the establishment of a College of Surgeons, who were designated by
the appellation of Surgeons of the Long Robe, whilst the barbers were
styled Surgeons of the Short Robe; he also recalled the Jews, whom his
father, after having persecuted in divers manners, banished and
confiscated their property; amongst other indignities which were put
upon them by Saint Louis, was that of forcing them to wear a patch of
red cloth on their garment both before and behind, in the shape of a
wheel, that they might be distinguished from Christians, and marked as
it were for insult. In Philippe's reign, however, merit found its
reward, no matter how low the origin from whence it sprang, and several
authors, particularly poets, wrote boldly against the extreme hypocrisy
which existed in the preceding reign, and literature made great
progress.

In 1285 Philippe the Fair, so named on account of his handsome person,
succeeded to the throne of his father; in his ardent thirst for money he
changed the value of the coinage three times, and caused a riot which
ended by his hanging twenty-eight of the conspirators at the different
entrances of Paris, and had numbers of persons accused of crimes in
order to have them executed that he might obtain possession of their
property; thus hundreds were burned alive and tortured in various
manners. One act, however, threw a degree of lustre on his reign, and
that was the organisation of the Parliament at Paris, establishing it as
a sovereign court, their sittings being held in the Palais de Justice,
the residence at that period of the kings of France. For several
succeeding reigns Paris appeared to make but little progress; some
churches were built as also other establishments, but none which are now
standing, except some portions of them which may have escaped
destruction and are now in the occupation of different tradespeople. The
government became exceedingly poor, and several measures were adopted in
order to repair the finances of the state; amongst others, that of
suffering serfs to purchase their emancipation, of which many availed
themselves, but not sufficient effectually to replenish the exhausted
treasury. For the same reason the property of the Lombards was
confiscated, next recourse was had to the Jews, and even the exactions
imposed upon them were inadequate to the wants of the nation. The
succession of several weak kings had brought affairs into this state,
when Philippe the Sixth of Valois crowned the misfortunes of the country
by entering into a war with England, at a time when the funds of his
kingdom were at the lowest ebb; constantly engaged in hostilities, he
had not leisure or the means of attending to the welfare of the
Parisians, and the disasters he encountered caused his reign to be
remembered as a series of misfortunes. Several colleges, however, were
founded in his reign; amongst others, that of the Collége des Ecossais
(Scotch College) then in the Rue des Amandiers, but now existing in the
Rue des Fossés St. Victor. It was first instituted by David, Bishop of
Murray, in Scotland, but the present building was erected by Robert
Barclay in 1662.

The Collége des Lombards was founded by a number of Italians, and was
some years afterwards deserted, but in 1633 was given by the government
to two Irish priests, and has from that period become an Irish seminary;
and several other colleges, which have either been abandoned or their
locality changed, and often united to other colleges, some of which are
still existing. On the death of Philippe, John, surnamed the Good,
ascended a throne of trouble in 1350, and encountered a succession of
misfortunes of which Paris had its share; from the immense number of
churches, monasteries, colleges, hospitals, and other public edifices,
the wall which surrounded Paris, built by Philippe-Auguste, enclosed too
limited a space to contain the houses of the increased population, which
continued to augment, notwithstanding all the impediments which bad
government could create. A more extended wall therefore became necessary
to protect those inhabitants who resided beyond the limits of the first,
and whose position was likely to be compromised by the position in
which France was placed by the battle of Poitiers, by a band of
ruffians called the Companions, who carried desolation wherever they
appeared, and by what was termed La Jacquerie, hordes of peasants who
were armed and levied contributions upon the peaceable inhabitants as
they traversed the country, in groups too numerous to be withstood by
the tranquil residents. The extension of the wall was erected under the
superintendence of Etienne Marcel, called _Prévôt des Marchands_; what
might be termed Mayor or Chief Magistrate of the tradespeople, a man of
extraordinary energy, which he exerted to the utmost for the benefit of
his fellow citizens, and at this period first began the custom of
putting chains at night across the streets as a measure of security, as
notwithstanding that Paris was menaced on all sides by enemies from
without, insurrections of the most violent nature took place within its
walls, commencing on account of the Dauphin, who was governor of Paris
and regent of the kingdom (in consequence of the imprisonment of his
father John in England), issuing a coinage consisting of base metal
which he was compelled to recall; but the fire-brand was kindled, other
grievances were mooted, thirty thousand armed Parisians assembled headed
by Etienne Marcel, who himself stabbed Robert de Clermont, Marshal of
Normandy, and Jean de Conflans, Marshal of Champagne, in the presence of
the Dauphin; but to save the latter from the fury of the people, Marcel
changed hats with the Prince, thus affording him a passport, by causing
him to wear a hat that bore the colours of the people, blue and red.
After a tremendous slaughter, Marcel and his principal friends were
themselves dispatched by the partisans of the Dauphin. During all these
convulsions in the interior of Paris, it was surrounded on one side by
the troops of the King of Navarre, whilst the forces of the Dauphin were
hovering under the walls, the different parties skirmishing with each
other, and all living upon the pillage and contributions levied on the
inhabitants of the adjacent country.

Meantime famine thinned the population of Paris, cut off from any means
of receiving provisions from without; but on account of the wall
constructed by Marcel, Edward III of England found it impossible to make
any progress in the siege, and having exhausted the country for some
leagues of extent, was obliged to retreat for want of food to maintain
his army. The scarcity of money was such in Paris at that period, that
they were compelled to have a circulation of leather coin, with a little
nail of gold or silver stuck in the middle; yet when John returned from
his captivity in England, the streets were hung with carpets wherever he
had to pass, and a cloth of gold borne over his head, the fountains
poured forth wine, and the city made him a present of a silver buffet
weighing a thousand marcs. At this period schools existed in Paris
sanctioned by the government, when the pay for each scholar was so
contemptible that they must have been for the use of the middle
classes, whose means were very confined; they were called _Petites
Écoles_ (Little Schools), and paid a certain sum for having the
privilege to teach; the number in the reign of John was sixty-three, of
which forty-one were under masters, and twenty-two under mistresses. In
some of the streets of Paris it was the custom to have two large doors
or gates, which were closed at night, and the names of several streets
still bear evidence of that practice, as the _Rue des deux Portes_; the
_Rue des Deux-Portes-Saint-Jean_, _des Deux-Portes-Saint-Sauveur_, etc.

During the reign of John, about 1350, a poem appeared, which contained
advice as to the conduct ladies ought to observe who wished to act with
propriety, and as my fair countrywomen are generally willing to _listen_
to good counsel, no matter how remote the period from which it is
derived, I cannot resist giving them the benefit of some of the
recommendations of the sapient poet to the Parisian belles, some of
which are certainly highly commendable. The verses were written by a
monk, whose name I have forgotten.

"In walking to church never trot or run, salute those you meet upon the
way, and even return the salutations of the poor; when at church it is
not proper to look either to the right or the left, neither to speak nor
to laugh out loud, but to rise to the Gospel and courteously make the
sign of the cross, to go to the offering without either laughing or
joking, at the moment of the elevation also to rise; then kneel and
pray for all Christians; to recite by heart her prayers, and _if she can
read_, to pray from her psalmody.

"A courteous lady ought to salute all in going out of church, both great
and small.

"Those whom nature have endowed with a good voice ought not to refuse to
sing when they are asked.

"Cleanliness is so necessary for ladies, that it is an obligation for
them to cut their nails.

"It is not proper for a lady to stop in passing the house of a
neighbour, to look into the interior, because people may be doing things
that they do not wish others to know.

"When you go and visit a person, never enter abruptly, nor take any one
by surprise, but announce your coming by coughing.

"At table, a lady should not speak nor laugh too much, and should always
turn the biggest and the best pieces to her guests, and not choose them
for herself.

"Every time a lady has drank wine she should wipe her mouth with the
table-cloth, but not her eyes or her nose, and she should take care not
to soil and grease her fingers in eating, more than she can possibly
help." The reader must remember that forks were not used until the reign
of Henry III. The author also cautions the ladies to be very careful not
to drink to excess, observing that a lady loses talent, wit, beauty, and
every charm, when she is elevated with wine; they are also recommended
not to swear.

He continues: "Ladies should not veil their faces before nobles; they
may do so when they are on horseback or when they go to church, but on
entering they should show their countenances, and particularly before
people of quality.

"Ladies should never receive presents from gentlemen of jewels or other
things, except from a well intentioned near relation, otherwise it is
very blameable.

"It is not becoming for ladies to wrestle with men, and they are also
cautioned not to lie or to steal." Then follow certain instructions for
ladies as to the answers they should make and the manner they should
conduct themselves when they receive a declaration. I hope English
ladies will be much edified by the above instructions. The cries of
Paris at this period were constant and absolutely stunning; Guillaume de
la Villeneuve observes that the criers were braying in the streets of
Paris from morning to night. Amongst the vegetables, garlick was the
most prevalent, which was then eaten with almost every thing, people
being in the habit of rubbing their bread with it: the flour of peas and
beans made into a thick paste was sold all hot; onions, chervil,
turnips, aniseed, leeks, etc., a variety of pears and apples of sorts
that are now scarcely known, except Calville, services, medlers, hips
and other small fruits now no longer heard of; nuts, chesnuts of
Lombardy, Malta grapes, etc.; for beverage, wine at about a farthing a
quart; mustard vinegar, verjuice, and walnut oil; pastry, fresh and
salted meat, eggs and honey. Others went about offering their services
to mend your clothes, some to repair your tubs, or polish your pewter;
candles, cotton for lamps, foreign soup, and almost every article that
can be imagined was sold in the streets, sometimes the price demanded
was a bit of bread. The millers also went bawling about to know if you
had any corn to grind, and amongst those that demanded alms were the
scholars, the monks, the nuns, the prisoners and the blind.

It was the custom in those days, when a person wished to be revenged
upon another, to make an image of him in wax or mud, as much resembling
as possible. They then took it to a priest and had it named after the
person they wished to injure, with all the ceremonies of the church, and
anointed it, and lastly had certain invocations pronounced over the
unfortunate image. It was then supposed that the figure had some degree
of identity with the prototype, and any injury inflicted upon it would
be felt by the person they wished to harm; they therefore then set to
work to torture it according to their fancy, and at last would plunge a
sharp instrument into that part where the heart should be placed,
feeling quite satisfied they had wreaked their revenge on their enemy.
Sometimes persons were severely punished for the performance of this
farce, and when any individuals experienced some great misfortune, they
often imagined that it had arisen in consequence of their image having
been made by their enemy, and maltreated in the manner described.

When Charles V ascended the throne in 1364, he soon began to display his
taste for civilisation by collecting books to form a library in the
Louvre, and rewarding merit, however humble the station of the
individual by whom it was possessed; and although he received the reins
of government at a period when France was surrounded with enemies, and
her finances in a ruined state, such was the prudence of his measures
that he completely retrieved her losses, and well earned the appellation
he received of Charles the Wise; he built several churches, colleges,
and hotels, none of which if standing are now appropriated to the
purposes originally intended; he also had several bridges constructed,
and embellished Paris with many edifices that were both useful and
ornamental. But all his efforts were paralysed in the following reign of
Charles VI, justly called the Simple, partly mad, partly imbecile, and
coming to the throne at twelve years of age, every misfortune that might
have been expected from a country surrounded by foreign enemies without,
and torn by intestine broils within, happened in the fullest force. The
English and the Burgundians united together in besieging Paris, which
was ultimately entered by both their armies; what with riots amongst the
Parisians, the intrigues of the Queen Isabeau de Baviere, the
dissensions of the King's uncles, and the brigandage of the nobility who
overran the country, never was a nation reduced to a more pitiable
condition; yet some monuments were added to Paris even during this
turbulent reign, the Church of St. Gervais being entirely reconstructed
in 1420, and that of St. Germain l'Auxerrois so considerably repaired as
to be almost rebuilt in 1425, besides several colleges, hospitals and
bridges; companies of archers, cross-bow men and armourers were also
established. Theatrical representations were first performed in this
reign in the grand hall of the Hospital of the Trinity, _Rue
Saint-Denis_, corner of the _Rue Grenetat_. The theatrical company
styled themselves "Masters, Governors and Brethren of the Passion and
Resurrection of our Lord." Under the reign of Charles VII, surnamed the
Victorious, France regained all she had lost, and was much indebted for
her success to the Maid of Orleans, and the gallant Dunois, who entered
Paris and defeated the English who retreated to the Bastille and
ultimately were allowed to retire to Rouen. But although more was
effected in this reign for the prosperity and glory of France, Paris
received no additions or embellishments: the King being wholly occupied
in vanquishing the enemies of his country; his son Lewis XI, who is
supposed to have conspired against the life of his father, ascended the
throne in 1461; notwithstanding his reign was disturbed by a series of
wars, he found time to occupy himself with useful institutions, and
founded that of the first society of printers in Paris; he also
established the School of Medicine, and the Post Office. Superstitious
and cruel, he first used iron cages as prisons, then instituted the
prayer styled the Angelus. Although he increased the power of France,
his tyranny, injustice, dissimulation, and avarice caused him to be
hated by his subjects. His successor Charles VIII was but thirteen when
called to the throne in 1483, inheriting the few virtues without the
many vices of his father, but showed much weakness in the administration
of his affairs; in the early part of his reign Anne his mother was the
person who principally governed as Regent, until he was of age, when he
passed the rest of his life in war, but was so beloved that two of his
servants died of grief for the loss of their master, who was surnamed
the Affable. He was succeeded by his cousin Lewis XII in 1498, who
obtained the title of Father of his People, certainly the most virtuous
monarch that ever swayed the sceptre of France; he observed that he
preferred seeing his courtiers laugh at his savings than to see his
people weep for his expenses. The Hôtel de Cluny and _Le Pont_ (the
bridge) _Notre-Dame_ were constructed in his reign and are still
standing; being the most ancient bridge in Paris. He died much
regretted, in 1515, and all France felt deeply the loss of a monarch,
whose measures were such as must have ensured the happiness of his
people could he have been spared to have accomplished the good work he
had begun.

Francis I, his great nephew, succeeded him and was considered the _beau
idéal_ of chivalry; he had been conspicuous for his accomplishments
whilst Duke de Valois, although only twenty-one when he ascended the
throne, upon which he was no sooner installed than compelled to quit his
capital to oppose the enemies of France, leaving the management of the
state to his mother Louisa of Savoy, who was not destitute of talent,
but vain and intriguing, Francis, after performing prodigies of valour,
and killing many foes with his own hand at the battle of Pavia, was
taken prisoner and conveyed to Madrid. On returning to France he was
received with the utmost joy by his subjects; in this reign the
principles of protestantism were first promulgated and several persons
were burnt for subscribing to the tenets of Luther. Francis was occupied
constantly with war, from the commencement of his reign until the year
of his death. He had many virtues but they were sullied by infidelity to
his engagements, and his persecution of the protestants whom he
sacrificed as heretics. Notwithstanding that his time was so much
occupied by his enemies that a very short period of his reign was passed
at Paris, he found means to embellish that city; the Church of St-Merri
in the _Rue St-Martin_ was built by his orders, precisely as it now
stands, in the year 1520. The style is Sarrasenzic, much richness of
sculpture is displayed, particularly over and around the middle door,
well meriting the close attention of an amateur. At the same period were
many of the churches now standing extensively repaired and nearly
rebuilt, amongst which St. Eustache, St. Gervais, St.
Jacques-la-Boucherie, of which the tower only remains, St.
Germain-l'Auxerrois, etc., several colleges and hospitals were
instituted, fountains and hotels erected, but scarcely any of them are
now to be seen, or at any rate very few as constructed in their
original form. He was succeeded by his son Henry II in 1547, who like
his predecessors was constantly occupied with war, but gained one point,
that of taking the last place which the English retained in France,
being Calais, which surrendered to the Duke de Guise; after a reign of
thirteen years Henry was killed at a tournament held in the _Rue
St-Antoine_, by Montgomery, the captain of his guard. The cruelties of
which he was guilty towards the protestants entirely eclipse whatever
good qualities he possessed, which principally consisted in desperate
courage with extraordinary prowess; he was also zealous in his
friendships. According to Dulaure, that part of the Louvre which is the
oldest, was built by Henry II from the design of Pierre Lescot. I have
found other authors attribute the erection of a portion of the Louvre to
Francis, but it appears that his son had all pulled down which was then
standing, and had it built as it now remains, except the wing in which
the pictures are exhibited, which is of a more recent date, and was not
terminated until the time of Louis XIV. The augmentation of some few
colleges and hospitals were the only acts of this reign from which any
advantages to Paris were derived.

In 1559, at the age of sixteen, Francis II ascended the throne; his name
is familiar to us as the first husband of the unfortunate Mary, Queen of
Scots; his mother, Catherine de Medici, of infamous memory, took the
reigns of government in her hands and wreaked all her fury upon the
protestants. Francis, too young to have displayed any decided tone of
character, expired in 1560; the persecution of the huguenots, as the
followers of the Reformed Church were styled, seems to have exclusively
occupied the whole time during this short reign, therefore no attention
was devoted to the improving of Paris, which was next brought under the
dominion of the young monster, Charles IX, or rather the continued reign
of his sanguinary mother, Catherine, he being but ten years of age. The
massacre of the night of St. Bartholomew is known to all. Charles
certainly had some revulsive feelings on the subject, and several times
would have given orders to stop it, but Catherine bade him assert the
claims of heaven, and be the noble instrument of its vengeance, "Go on,
then," exclaimed the King, "and let none remain to reproach me with the
deed," and after all, when daylight appeared, he placed himself at a
window of the Louvre, which overlooks the Seine, and with a carbine he
fired at the unfortunate fugitives who tried to save themselves by
swimming across the river. In his reign was built the Tuileries, he
himself laying the first stone; it was intended for the Queen Mother,
but Catherine did not inhabit it long, her conscience not permitting her
to enjoy repose anywhere. Charles died a few months after the dreadful
massacre of the protestants, a prey to all the pangs of remorse, and was
succeeded in 1574 by his brother Henry III. Brought up in the same
pernicious school, under the same infamous mother as his predecessor,
little could be hoped from such a being; he was inclined, however, to
be somewhat more tolerant than his brother, but was frightened into
persecuting the protestants; his mother died at the age of seventy,
goaded by the consciousness of the crimes she had committed; civil war
raged during the reign of Henry, and he was obliged to quit his capital
and join the protestants, whom he soon, however, betrayed; without
energy to adopt any certain line of conduct, he balanced between the two
parties of catholics and protestants, until both sects despised him, and
at length he was stabbed by a fanatic friar, named Jacques Clement.
Several convents and religious establishments were founded in his reign,
amongst the rest the Feuillans, which was extensive and had a church
attached, but in 1804 the whole was demolished, and on its site, and
that of the monastery of the Capucins, were built the Rue Rivoli,
Castiglione, and Monthabor, and a terrace of the gardens of the
Tuileries is still called the Feuillans. The Pont Neuf was also built in
this reign. In 1589, Henry IV, surnamed the Great, succeeded to the
throne; he was of the house of Bourbon, and descended from Robert, the
second son of Louis the Ninth. He was compelled to begin his reign by
laying siege to his own capital, which was in the hands of his enemies,
who defended it with 58,000 troops, and 1,500 armed priests, scholars
and monks, and after three years' vain endeavours he was obliged to
renounce the protestant religion, and conform to the catholic
ceremonies, which produced a truce, and Henry at last entered Paris. By
his mild and judicious conduct he regenerated the prosperity of France,
and published the famous edict of Nantes in favour of the protestants,
and acted with considerable wisdom under the difficult circumstances in
which he was placed, by the intemperate zeal of the catholics and
huguenots. At last, after many unsuccessful attempts upon his life, he
was stabbed in his own carriage by Ravaillac, a religious fanatic, who
conceived that the King was not sufficiently zealous in the cause of
catholicism; he was regretted by every worthy character throughout his
realms, for, although he had many of the faults common to men, yet he
had such redeeming qualities that he well merited the title of _Great_.
During his reign Paris was considerably embellished, the improvement of
the city being with him a favourite object. The Hospital of Saint Louis
was built by his orders, himself laying the first stone; it is still
standing, and is generally filled with patients, who receive the most
humane treatment. It is situated in the Rue Carême Prenant, near the
Barrière du Combat. He established a manufactory of Persian carpets, on
the _Quai de Billy_, No. 30.

The Rue and Place Dauphine, the Place Royale, which still exhibits a
square of houses unaltered in style since the day they were built, owed
their construction to his mania for building and passion for augmenting
and improving his capital. Several other streets were extended and in
part rebuilt under his reign, besides which he founded different
institutions, had divers fountains and gates erected, as well as
bridges, and some other public edifices, which having since disappeared
or become the houses of individuals, workshops, warehouses, etc., it is
not worthwhile to recapitulate them, as they cease to be objects of
interest. Several theatres were established at this period for the first
time, the performers having merely given representations in large rooms
belonging to public buildings where they could get accommodation,
particularly in the Hôtel de Bourgoyne, in the Rue Mauconseil, which at
last acquired the name of a theatre; but a company of Italians received
such encouragement from Henry IV, that they were enabled, in a situation
assigned them regularly, to establish a theatre in the Hôtel d'Argent,
Rue de la Poterie, corner of the Rue de la Verrerie. He was equally the
patron of literature, and of the arts and sciences; the Tuileries and
Louvre, under his directions, received the material and superintendence
which was requisite for their completion, as far as the design extended
at that epoch.

In 1610 Louis XIII, but nine years of age, became heir to the throne,
and Marie de Medici, his mother and widow of Henry IV, was nominated
Regent; her first act was to call into power all her husband's enemies,
which consisted of her own favourites, through whom she governed, and
when her regency ceased, her son followed her example and became the
instrument of others, until the power of governing was exclusively
acquired by Cardinal Richelieu, who devoted his extraordinary talents
in a degree to the interests of his country, but more especially to the
gratification of his vanity, and the promotion of his ambitious
projects; descending to the extremes of injustice, dissimulation, and
cruelty, to accomplish his object, he became the persecutor of Mary, who
had raised him from comparative obscurity, and caused her exile, in
which she died in poverty, which she certainly merited by her
misconduct, but not by the instigation of her _protégé_ Richelieu. But
with all his sins, he effected much good; he founded the Royal Printing
establishment, the French Academy, also the Garden of Plants; he built
the _Palais-Royal_ and rebuilt the Church and College of the Sorbonne.
In this reign more religious establishments were founded than in any
preceding, amongst which were the Convent of the _Carmes Déchaussés_,
No. 70, _Rue de Vaugirard_, the monks of which possessed a secret for
making a particular kind of liquid which is called _Eau des Carmes_, and
is still in demand; the church and building belonging to the
establishment are now standing, and were recently occupied by nuns. The
Convent of _Jacobins_ between the _Rues du Bac_ and _St-Dominique_, with
its Church, which still remains and is called _St-Thomas d'Aquin_, is
well worth notice, and the monastery is now occupied by the armoury
which is one of the most interesting sights of Paris. The _Bénédictines
Anglaises_, No. 269, _Rue St-Jacques_, was formerly occupied by English
monks, who fled their country on account of some persecution in the
reign of Henry VIII.

In 1674, Father Joseph Shirburne, the prior of monastery, pulled down
the old building, and erected another in its place more commodious, also
a church attached to it in which James the Second of England was buried,
as also his daughter Mary Stuart. It has now become the property of an
individual, and is at present occupied as a factory of cotton. The
Oratoire in the _Rue Saint-Honoré_, since devoted to protestant worship,
was built in the year 1621 by M. de Berulle, since Cardinal, on the site
of the _Hôtel du Bouchage_, once the residence of Gabrielle d'Estrées,
the favourite mistress of Henry IV. The Convent of the Capucins,
situated in the _Place des Capucins_, at present an Hospital. _Séminaire
des Oratoriens_, _Rue du Faubourg Saint-Jacques_, 254, now occupied by
the Deaf and Dumb. _Collége des Jésuites_, at present College of
_Louis-le-Grand_. Convent of _Petits-Pères_: the church of which
still remains and is situated at the corner of the _Rue
Notre-Dame-des-Victoires_. The Monk Fiacre, called a Saint, was buried
in this church; thinking that his sanctity was a preservative against
evil, they stuck his portrait on all the hackney coaches, which was the
cause of their ever after being called Fiacre.

A further recapitulation of these establishments would only be tedious
to the reader, particularly as they are now for the most part become
private houses; suffice it to say, that in the reign of Louis XIII
twenty monasteries were established at Paris. The nunnery of
_Ursulines_; No. 47, _Rue Sainte-Avoye_, now a Jews' synagogue. The
Convent of the Visitation of St. Mary, _Rue Saint-Antoine_, Nos. 214
and 216; the church, still standing, was built in 1632 after the model
of _Notre-Dame-de-la-Rotonde_ at Rome, and is called
_Notre-Dame-des-Anges_. Another convent of the same order was built in
1623 in the _Rue Saint-Jacques_, Nos. 193 and 195, and is I believe
still occupied by nuns, as it was so very recently. The convent of
_Filles-de-la-Madeleine_, _Rue des Fontaines_, between the Nos. 14 and
16, which has now become a house of seclusion for women who have been
convicted of offences. The Convent of the Annonciades Celestes or Filles
Bleues, founded by the Marchioness de Verneuil, mistress of Henry IV, is
now in spite of all its pompous titles a waggon office in the _Rue
Culture-Sainte-Catherine_, No. 29. The Assumption, a convent for nuns,
of which the church is still standing in the _Rue Saint-Honoré_, between
the Nos. 369 and 371, is remarkable for its large dome, but appears
out of proportion with the rest of the building, which is otherwise not
destitute of merit. The _Val-de-Grâce_, a Benedictine Abbey, _Rue
Faubourg Saint-Jacques_, between the Nos. 277 and 279. The Queen Anne
of Austria founded the establishment in 1621; the church is still
preserved in perfect order, and is of very rich architecture, too
profuse in ornament. The rest of the building, once inhabited by
Benedictine nuns, is now an asylum for sick or wounded soldiers, being a
military hospital. _Port-Royal_, a convent for nuns, established in 1625
in the _Rue de la Bourbe_, is now a lying-in hospital. The Convent of
the _Filles de Sainte-Elisabeth_; the first stone was laid by Marie de
Medici in 1628, but was, like a multitude of others, suppressed in 1790,
the church only remaining; it is situated in the _Rue du Temple_,
between Nos. 107 and 109.

A Convent for Benedictine Nuns founded in 1636 in the _Rue de Sèvres_,
No. 3, being suppressed in 1778, was converted into the more useful
purpose of an hospital, and as such it still remains. The Convent of the
_Filles de la Ste-Croix_, situated No. 86, _Rue de Charonne_, was
occupied as recently as 1823 by nuns; it was founded in 1639. The noble
church of _St-Roch, Rue St-Honoré_, was commenced as a chapel in 1587,
and in 1622 was converted into a parish church, but was not entirely
finished until 1740. It is now the church attended by the royal family,
and is an object of interest to every one who visits Paris. The church
of _Ste-Marguerite_ was erected in 1625 in the _Rue St-Bernard_, Nos.
28 and 30, _Faubourg St-Antoine_, and is still attended by the
inhabitants of that quarter. _Maison de Scipion_ was founded in a street
of the same name in the year 1622 by an Italian gentleman named Scipio
Sardini, and is now the bakehouse for making bread for all the hospitals
in Paris. Such were the principal edifices instituted in Paris, during
the reign of Louis XIII, either as Convents, Monasteries, or Nunneries,
with churches attached to them; I have cited the most conspicuous of
those of which any vestiges remain, indicating their different
localities, besides a number of hospitals, most of which I have stated;
that of the _Incurables_ certainly merits attention, it was founded in
1632 in the _Rue de Sèvres_, and is now a refuge for those women of
whom no hopes can be cherished of ultimate recovery. The Palace of the
_Luxembourg_ was one of the most important edifices erected in this
reign by Mary de Medici whilst she was regent in 1615, in the _Rue
Vaugirard_, at present the Chamber of Peers, after having served the
purpose of a prison, for which a portion of it is still appropriated for
criminals against the state; but with its large and beautiful gardens it
merits a more detailed description, which will be given under the head
of public monuments. The whole number of religious establishments of all
descriptions built in the reign of Louis XIII, amount to forty-nine,
besides many Bridges, Fountains, Hôtels, Statues, etc., etc.; which
altogether so augmented Paris that it became requisite to have another
wall, affording the capital more extended dimensions, which was
accordingly constructed. Notwithstanding all these improvements the
streets of Paris were in a most filthy condition, constantly emitting a
disagreeable odour; they were very narrow and the greater portion of
them very ill paved, besides which they were infested with thieves, and
complaints were continually arising against the hosts of pages and
lackeys who insulted people in the streets, and were continually
committing some disorders, both during the day and the night, when
persons were frequently killed in the skirmishes that were constantly
taking place. Ordinances and edicts were continually appearing,
forbidding the pages and lackeys to wear arms, but all of no avail; when
any one was arrested, he was rescued by his companions, and the
officers of police sometimes killed. Louis XIII, ever feeble in mind,
and probably in constitution, died at the age of 42; it was supposed
from a premature decay.

The history of the reign of Louis the Fourteenth and those which follow
to the present day are so well known to the English, that whatever I
might state respecting them would only be to my readers a repetition of
that of which they are already informed, as the continual wars for the
last two centuries between England and France have brought the nations
in constant contact; but prior to that period, even the most prominent
events of the French history are but little known to the English, and in
order to enhance the enjoyment of examining the old buildings in Paris,
I conceived it necessary to give a slight sketch of the monarchs under
whom they were erected, with the dates as accurately as could be
ascertained, but consider that it would be useless to do so as regards
those edifices constructed since the reign of Louis XIII, as they can
only afford pleasure as regards their utility or beauty; as if not two
hundred years old, the age of their date ceases to excite interest,
although I shall describe them in due course. I have often been
surprised that in all schools, although they give the history of Rome,
of Greece, and of course of England, yet of France, which is the country
the nearest to us, we are suffered to remain ignorant as to its history.
We have all heard of the battles of Cressy, Poitiers and Agincourt, and
remember that they were gained by the Edwards and Henry the Fifth, but
few persons know anything about who were the French kings under whom
they were lost; the only instances where the history of the French is
brought to our minds, is when any connexion by marriage has occurred
between the families of the sovereigns of the two nations.




CHAPTER IV.

     Paris as it is, being a general survey of the place itself, its
     attractions, its demerits, the inhabitants, their manners to
     strangers, towards each other, their customs, and occupations.

[Illustration: Church of the Madeleine.
Published by F. Sinnett, 15, Grande rue Verte.]


I know no better means of obtaining a first general view of Paris and
its inmates, than by taking a walk upon the Boulevards, I therefore will
invite the reader to imagine himself promenading with me, we will begin
at the Madeleine, and occupy a short time in surveying that noble and
majestic building; it greatly reminds me of the Temple of Theseus, at
Athens; it is perhaps one of the most perfect monuments, as regards its
exterior, in Europe, the statues and sculpture are fine as to their
general effect, but the lofty handsome pillars lose much of their beauty
from the joins of the stones being too conspicuous, and having become
black, the fine broad mass is cut up, and gives one an idea of so many
cheeses placed one upon another, or rather they resemble the joints of a
caterpillar: the interior is certainly most gorgeous, and at first
strikes the beholder as a most splendid display of rich magnificence;
but a moment's reflection, and instantly he feels how inconsistent is
all that gilded mass and profusion of ornament with the beautiful and
chaste simplicity of the exterior. I never can conceive that all that
glitter of gold is in good keeping with the calm repose and dignity
which ought to reign throughout a church. The Madeleine was begun in the
reign of Louis the Fifteenth, and was intended for different purposes as
it slowly progressed through the different reigns which have since
occurred. Louis Philippe at length decided upon completing it with the
energy that had ever before been wanting. Several public monuments had
been suffered to remain dormant during the two preceding reigns, or
their operations were carried on with so sparing a hand, that whilst a
few workmen were employed at one end of a building, weeds and moss began
to grow on the other. This pigmy style of proceeding was well-satirised
during the reign of Charles X in one of the papers, which announced in
large letters, "the workmen at the Madeleine have been doubled! where
there was one, there are now two!" But soon after the present King came
to the throne, capital was found, and the industrious employed. Thus
much for this splendid work of art; let us turn round and look about
us: Ah! see, there are the works of nature, how gay and cheerful those
flowers appear so tastefully arranged in Madame Adde's shop, whilst she
herself looks as fresh and healthy as her plants which are blooming
around her; yet with that robust and country air she is a Parisian, but,
as she justly remarked to me, she was always brought up to work hard,
and as her labours have been well rewarded, health and content have
followed. She and her flowers have already been noticed in Mrs. Gore's
Season in Paris, who used to pay her frequent visits, for who indeed
would go anywhere else who had once dealt with her, for what more can
one desire than civility, good nature, reasonable charges, and a
constant variety of the choicest articles; I therefore can
conscientiously recommend all my readers who come to Paris, and are
amateurs of Flora, to call now and then on Madame Adde, No. 6, _Place
de la Madeleine_.

Now having contemplated the beauties of art and of nature, let us
observe some animated specimens of her works: what a moving mass is
before us, 'tis a merry scene, the laughing children running after, and
dodging each other, rolling on the ground with the plenitude of their
mirth, the neat looking _bonnes_ (nursery maids) still smiling while
they chide, the jovial coachmen wrestling on their stands and playing
like boys together, but all in good humour, and content seems to sit on
every brow, and even the aged as they meet, greet each other with a
smile. How infectious is cheerfulness, when I have the blue devils I
always go and take a walk on the _Boulevards_; and what makes these
people so happy? is the natural question; because they are content with
a little, and pleased with a trifle; then they are a trifling people is
the reply. What boots it I would ask? happiness is all that we desire,
and I persist that those are the best philosophers who can obtain
happiness with the least means. But how the green trees, the white stone
houses, the gay looking shops, the broad road with the equipages rolling
along all contribute to heighten the animation of the scene. We are now
at the _Rue de la Paix_; it is certainly a noble street, and we will
turn down it to look at the statue of Napoleon on the column in the
_Place Vendôme_; the pillar, which was cast from the cannon taken from
the enemies of France, is decidedly a work of extraordinary merit and
beauty, and requires a good deal of study to appreciate the exquisite
workmanship displayed in its execution. But if it were not for the
reminiscences associated with the character of Napoleon, who could ever
admire his statue on the top of the column, in a costume so contrary to
all that is graceful and dignified; a little cocked hat with its horrid
stiff angles, a great coat with another angle sticking out, the _tout
ensemble_ presenting a deformity rather than an ornament: however there
he stands on the pinnacle of what he and men in general would call the
monument of his glory, a memento of blood, of tears of widows and
orphans. Could the names of those ruined and heart broken beings be
inscribed upon it, whose misery was wrought by his triumphs, it would
indeed tell a tale of woe. The _Place Vendôme_, in which the column
stands, has a very noble appearance, being a fine specimen of the style
of building of Louis the Fourteenth, in whose reign it was erected; and
he too fed his ambition with wholesale flow of blood, and with treasure
wreaked from the hard earned labour of his subjects, and the abridgments
of their comforts, but both were ultimately destined to chew the bitter
cud of mortification, and however bright the sun by which they rose to
imaginary glory, they were doomed to set in a starless night. But let us
turn from these lugubrious images of war, and regain the _Boulevards_
and enjoy the pleasure of beholding a peaceful people. Do not let us
fail to observe that beautiful mansion at the corner of the _rue
Lafitte_; it is called the _Cité Italienne_, and can only be compared to
a palace, the richness of the carve-work surpassing any thing of the
description throughout the whole capital; although it has recently
become so much the mode to adorn their houses with sculpture, yet none
have arrived at the same degree of perfection displayed in the _Maison
d'or_: carved out on the solid stone is a boar hunt, which is really
executed with considerable talent; to give an accurate description of
all its beauties would much exceed the space I could afford it in
justice to other objects; it is very extensive, and is I believe three
houses united in one. I have understood that the sum total expended upon
it was 1,600,000 _francs_, or 64,000_l._ But that my readers may form
some idea of the interior, I recommend them to enter the _Ancien Café
Hardy_, which is established as a _Restaurant_ within this beautiful
building, and however interested my countrymen may feel in all that is
intellectual, yet at the same time they possess that much of the
sensual, as to have a very strong predilection for a good dinner, of the
quality of which few are better judges; but with them it is not only as
regards the excellence of the viands, but also they have their peculiar
tastes as to how and where it is served; knowing so well their ideas in
this respect, I can recommend them with confidence to _Messieurs Verdier
and Dauzier_, convinced that all their different fancies will be
gratified. If they wish to be exclusive, to enjoy their meal tête-a-tête
with their friend, they will find an elegant little apartment suited to
their wishes; if they be three or four or more persons, they will still
find they can be accommodated in such a manner that they may always
imagine themselves at home; in fact there are about twenty apartments of
different sizes, which are decorated in the most handsome style, yet all
varying with regard to the pattern of the furniture, and all uniting an
appearance of comfort and elegance, the sofa, chairs, and curtains of
each little cabinet being of the richest silk, and the other decorations
are consistently luxurious. The view from the windows presents all that
can be imagined that is amusing and animating, overlooking the most
agreeable part of the _Boulevards_, being that which is designated the
_Boulevard Italien_, and is the most fashionable resort in Paris. By the
aid of a _calorifère_, the whole establishment is heated to an
agreeable degree of warmth, but for those who like to see a cheering
blaze there are chimneys which afford them the means of having that
indulgence. If they prefer dining in the public saloon, for the sake of
seeing the variety of visiters by which it is frequented, they will find
a most splendid apartment brilliantly fitted up, being entirely of white
and gold, where every thing that is useful will be found, but always so
arranged as to be rendered ornamental; in the elegant chandeliers by
which the apartment is adorned, oil on a purified principle is burned;
no attention in short has been omitted which could tend towards
rendering the establishment an attraction for the English. I happened to
be there when an apartment was arranged for a wedding party, and nothing
could exceed the taste and elegance with which the table was disposed,
presenting a perfect picture, where splendour and luxury abounded, but
yet where a certain degree of consistency was preserved. With regard to
the superior quality of the different delicacies which are provided, and
the culinary talent displayed in their preparation, even Vatel himself
might be more than satisfied. I have visited all the most celebrated
_Restaurants_ in Paris, and should certainly say, that for the good
quality of the articles of the table, for the comfortable arrangements
of the apartments, and attentive civility of the attendants, there is
not any that can surpass the _Café Hardy_, although many there are which
are infinitely more expensive. Continuing our walk upon the
_Boulevards_, it is worthy of remark how richly some of the new houses
in and about the _Rue Richelieu_ are sculptured, so as to present the
appearance of a succession of palaces, we next arrive at the _Boulevard
Montmartre_, where the influx of people is the greatest: we pass by the
_Passage des Panoramas_ but do not enter it just now, although it
contains some of the handsomest shops in Paris, but it is too crowded,
we prefer keeping our course on the _Boulevards_ where we can look about
us at our ease and contemplate the physiognomies of the varied groups
before us; let us halt a while at the Theatre _des Variétés_ and remark
with what eagerness numbers stop to scan the programme of the
entertainments for the evening, amongst them are all ages, all classes,
the common soldier, porter, and servant girl, all possessing a high idea
of their judgment in theatrical affairs; passing on a little further the
Theatre _du Gymnase_ arrests the observer's notice, where _Bouffé_ has
so long displayed his comic powers, which certainly in my recollection
have never been surpassed, and I doubt if they ever have been equalled;
there is ever a chasteness in his acting, from which he never departs,
and keeps the audience in a roar of laughter without ever having
recourse to grimace or buffoonery.

The stupendous _Porte_ (gate) _St Denis_ next strikes the eye, and has a
most imposing effect; it was built by Louis XIV in commemoration of his
victories, as I have before stated; the _bas-reliefs_ with which it is
adorned represent pyramids, and colossal allegorical figures of Holland
and the Rhine, the capture of Maestricht, the passage of the Rhine at
Tolhuys, which with two lions are its most conspicuous ornaments. Whilst
the mind is still occupied in reflecting upon this noble monument,
another awakens attention at a short distance from the last; it is the
_Porte St-Martin_, _Boulevard St-Martin_, which has been represented as
a copy of that of St-Severus at Rome; it owes its erection to the same
founder and was raised for the same purpose, that of publishing to
posterity the fame of his victories; he is allegorically represented as
Hercules defeating the Germans, the taking of Limburg, Besançon, etc. I
shall not attempt to enter into a minute detail of these objects, it
would only tire me to do so, and perhaps fatigue my reader still more; I
shall therefore content myself by stating that, taken as a whole, it has
an extremely fine effect. A few paces farther is the Theatre of the
_Porte St-Martin_, which was never a fashionable resort, but has often
produced me much entertainment, particularly when the celebrated
Mademoiselle George afforded it the benefits of her talents; proceeding
a few hundred yards distance, the Theatre of the _Ambigu-Comique_
presents itself as worthy of remark; although of a minor rank, I
remember being much amused at the long trains of persons waiting,
according to the custom in France, at the doors of this Theatre for
admission when a popular piece was played, called Nostradamus; as two
persons can only pay at once no more are suffered to enter at a time;
hence they form in pairs behind each other until they extend sometimes,
the length of a furlong; they remain very quiet occasionally for hours,
the first comers standing close to the doors, and as others arrive they
regularly take their station behind the last persons of the _queue_, as
it is styled. I remember an Englishman coming up when the tail had
attained rather an inconvenient length, and he did not relish placing
himself at the end of it, and endeavoured to slip into one of the joints
as it was much nearer the door; but a _gendarme_, perceiving his drift,
very unceremoniously marched him to the end of the queue, as precedence
is allotted to persons in proportion as they arrive earlier or later and
the most perfect order is by that means preserved; how much better is
such an arrangement than that which prevails in England at the entering
of the theatres, where physical strength alone gives priority, and the
bigger the brute the sooner he enters, whilst screams and murmurs attest
the treading upon toes, squeezing of ribs, etc.

The fountain of _St-Martin_ in front of the _Ambigu-Comique_ is one of
the most beautiful objects in Paris; a handsome font rises in the middle
from which the water falls in sheets of silvery profusion, whilst
around, lions disgorge liquid streams which all unite in the _grand
basin_; this sight is most beautiful to behold by the light of the moon.
We next enter the _Boulevard du Temple_, where there is such a number of
theatres and coffee-houses all joining each other, that there is really
some difficulty of ascertaining which is the one or the other. The
Theatre _de la Gaieté_, the resort principally of the middle or lower
classes, is one of the most conspicuous, as also the _Cirque Olympique_,
or Franconi's Theatre, where the performances resemble those at
Astley's. There is always an immense crowd on these _Boulevards_ amusing
themselves around a number of shows; or playing or looking at various
games which are constantly going forward, singers, musicians, conjurors,
merry andrews, fortune tellers, orators, dancers, tumblers, etc., are
all exerting their powers, to gain a little coin from the easily pleased
multitude; these _boulevards_ have in fact the appearance of a perpetual
_fête_ or fair, but the curious ideas that appear to me to have entered
the heads of these people in the nature of their performances, are such
as I should imagine none would ever have thought of but the French; nor
any lower orders but of that nation could have been found to appreciate
such singular exhibitions. One of this description particularly excited
my notice; a man came up with another man in his arms and popped him
down just as if he was a block; he had no sooner deposited his burden
than he began a long harangue upon the talents of the individual whom he
had just deposited before us, in acting a machine or automaton, he then
to prove his assertion gave him a knock on the back of the head, when it
fell forward just as if it had belonged to a figure made with joints; he
then gave it a chuck of the chin so violent that it sent the head back
so as to lean on the coat collar; at last he put it in its proper
position, he then operated upon the arms and legs of the image actor in
the same manner, and so perfectly lifeless did he appear, that many new
comers who had not heard the introductory speech of the showman,
absolutely thought that it was on inanimate figure made to imitate a man
that was before them, as the orator always designated his piece of still
life his _mécanique_, which means _machine_; in order to afford every
one the benefit of a close examination, he lifted up his automaton, then
flumped him directly opposite and close to the persons who formed part
of the circle and whom he judged were most likely to throw a sou,
bidding us observe that even the eye never winked and that there was not
the slightest breathing perceptible, and in justice I must say I never
saw an actor better play his part, for watch him as closely as you would
there never was the least symptom of life visible. I had often before
seen images made to imitate men, but never had till then seen a man
imitate an image: a few paces farther was a man acting a variety of
parts with extraordinary humour, an old nurse out of place, then a young
lover entreating his mistress to have pity on him, next a man in a
violent passion, presently, an epicure eating _bonbons_ on the verge of
the grave; the inexhaustible force of lungs, the incessant supply of
words and ideas that many of them appeared to possess, to me was quite a
matter of wonderment. At a short distance is a fort with cannon, whilst
persons take a cross-bow and shoot at it; if they can hit one of the
guns it naturally goes off; for the privilege of having a shot, a sou is
paid if he do not hit the cannon, but if he succeed in so doing, he
receives a sou; the reader may suppose that a miss takes place at the
rate of about seven times to a hit; and after several young countrymen
had been trying in vain, and had lost a good many pence, they began to
grumble and declare that it was next to impossible to hit the cannon
more than once in a hundred times, upon which the proprietor himself
took the cross-bow and at the same distance as the others stood, hit the
cannon five times running with the most perfect apparent ease, which
certainly silenced the grumblers, but convinced them of their own
awkwardness. My attention was next attracted by a pretty little building
surrounded by moss and trees, at the top of a large glass globe which
contained water with several gold and silver fish swimming in it, while
some canary birds, who were sometimes perching on the house, the moss,
or the trees, ever and anon flew to the bottom of the globe and were
seen fluttering about amongst the fish, then ascend to their little
building without having wetted a feather; the effect is very pretty and
the deception is pleasing, inasmuch as the birds require no torturing
tuition to perform their little parts; the secret consists in one globe
being placed in another considerably larger, the outer being filled with
water in which are the fish, whilst the inner wherein the birds are seen
is dry and empty. A fortress where canary birds are again the performers
is a sight which is extremely curious, as a proof of what these little
creatures are capable of executing under the management of a master,
where I fear gentleness has not only been exercised; a number of little
cannon are placed to which the birds apply a substance at the end of a
little stick which causes them to go off, when some fall and pretend to
die and the victors advance with their muskets, and strutting about give
you to understand that the fort is taken and that they are conquerors.

To recapitulate all the curious manoeuvres which are constantly going
forward on the _Boulevards_ would swell a volume, we will therefore pass
on to the more retired parts, where the fine vistas of high trees have
been spared the havoc of the Three Days; these once extended throughout
the whole course of the _Boulevards_, but so many trees were cut down to
form barricades, that those beautiful arches formed by rows of lofty
elms, which were merely trained on the inner side, the outer being
suffered to grow in the wild luxuriance of nature, are only now to be
met with "few and far between." Near the spot where formerly stood the
much dreaded Bastille, now rises to the view the column erected to
commemorate the Revolution of 1830; inclining to the right, the
_Boulevards_ then lead to the Seine. In many parts of these delightful
promenades, double rows of chairs are placed, and persons of the highest
respectability come from different quarters and sit for hours in them,
amused with observing the happy moving scene around them; the seats on
the _Boulevard Italien_ are often occupied by persons of fashion, who
arrive in their equipages, then take chairs for an hour or two, whilst
their carriages wait for them; the charge for each chair is one sou,
but every one takes two, one for the purpose of resting the feet, and
generally takes ices which are served from Tortoni's, long celebrated
for the supply of that cooling refreshment. It is by night that the
_Boulevards_ are seen to the greatest advantage, the innumerable lights
blazing from the different theatres, the lamps placed before the
coffee-houses, the brilliant shops, the trees, the equipages, the sound
of music and singing, the houses, which resemble palaces, the gilded
cafés all united has the air of a fairy scene to any one brought
suddenly upon them.

Some of the handsomest shops and coffee-houses are to be found on the
_Boulevards_, and dwellings where many of the most respectable persons
reside. There is always an humble traffic going on from an immense
number of stalls, in which various commodities are sold, and although
the assortment consists of a hundred different descriptions of articles,
yet all are at one price, consisting of everything that can well be
imagined, from a comb to a pair of bellows, the vender singing out the
price with stentorian lungs, perhaps twenty-five sous, more or less, and
as there is a great deal of opposition with these itinerant merchants,
they often try who can cry out the loudest, and succeed in raising a
terrific din, which amuses the mob, who consider that all is life and
spirit as long as there is noise and fun going forward; these
_Boulevards_, therefore, are just such as suit the Parisian lower
classes. Those on the south side of the Seine are an exact contrast,
most of them being so deserted, that in viewing the long lines of tall
arched elms, with scarcely an individual moving beneath them, one could
imagine that they were a hundred miles from any capital; but there is
something pleasing in retiring to these lone green shades, when fatigued
with the bustle and rattling noises of the city. The only individuals
usually to be met with in these quiet _Boulevards_ are now and then a
nursery-maid with a child, an old lady of the gone-by school, and her
female servant of the same era, who jog on at a slow and solemn pace as
they moan over the good old times that are passed, and sympathise in
expressions of horror at the vices of the present day; a tall thin
battered looking beau, whose youth was passed in the last century, meets
the antiquated pair, mutual salutations take place, the gentleman doffs
his hat, and with a graceful sort of turn and wave of the hand, at the
same time bows his body full half way to the ground, which, although
rather stiffened with age, still retains a shadow of the elegance of
former times. Madame makes a very pretty reverence, somewhat
ceremonious, according to the flippant ideas of the present day,
entreats Monsieur would put on his hat, would be in despair if he should
catch cold; he obeys, is enchanted to see her look so well, but
desolated to hear she has a little cold, and after expressing the most
fervent hopes for her getting better, he takes his leave, having too
good a notion of propriety to join the lady in her walk lest a _liaison_
between them might be suspected. How different this worn-out remnant of
the days of Louis the Sixteenth from _la jeune France_ of the present
day, when the usual greeting between the young men would be a nod of the
head, "_Bon jour, ca va bien?_" adieu, and away, which is tantamount to
"How do, quite well, good bye," and off; with a lady the abruptness
would be a little softened, but any politeness that gives much trouble
is quite at a discount with such young men of the present day in France.
A solitary workman, a sentinel, and an old soldier, if near the Hospital
of the Invalids, are probably the only persons you will usually meet on
the southern _Boulevards_, except now and then I have seen a ladies'
boarding-school thread its course beneath the thick foliage, whose
mistress perchance selects a retired spot for giving her pupils a little
air and exercise, removed from the gaze of the city throng.

Whatever pleasing impressions these shady retreats may have made upon
the mind, on re-entering Paris they are soon dissipated; if by the
public streets, the variety of noises which assail the ear, and the
confusion of so many people bustling along upon a little bit of pavement
not two feet wide, gives you plenty of occupation both to make your way,
and get out of the way; when, compelled to give place to some lady, you
descend from the narrow flags into the road, and whilst you are
manoeuvring to escape a cart you see coming towards you, "_Gare_" is
bawled out with stunning roar; you look round and find the pole of a
coach within an inch of your shoulder, you scramble out of the way as
fast as you can through mud and puddle, and are glad to clap your back
against a house to make room for some lumbering vehicle, where the naves
of the wheels stick out with menacing effect, happy to congratulate
yourself that there is just room enough for it to pass without jamming
you quite flat, and that you are quit of the danger at the expense of
being smeared with a little mud from the wheel; this is the case in many
of the streets in that part of Paris called the _Cité_, and others which
cross from the _Rue Saint-Denis_ to the _Rue Saint-Martin_ and _du
Temple_ etc. Happily for my readers, it is not very probable that many
of them will ever be called into those neighbourhoods, or if they be, it
will probably be in a carriage, when they will not stand near the same
chance of being crushed to death; but as I explore all parts and am
thereby the better enabled to give a faithful picture of Paris, I
consider it incumbent on me to inform my country people that there are
such streets that they may better know how to enjoy Paris by keeping out
of the way of them. To see Paris to the best advantage it is requisite
to get up early, that is about three o'clock in the morning in the
months of June or July, before any one is stirring; this indeed is
pretty much the case with all cities, but particularly the French
capital, because the streets being very narrow and crowded, you have not
room to look up and look about. Paris in the old quarters at that hour,
or in a bright moonlight when all are at rest, has the effect of a city
composed of chateaux or castles joined together, the height of the
houses, the great heavy _porte cochères_, the castellated style of the
attic windows and often projecting turrets, with the profusion of iron
work, combine in giving a degree of gloom that appears to tell a tale of
olden time, and many of the houses date as far back as Charles the
Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh, which is coeval with our Henry the Fourth,
Fifth, and Sixth. There is one house of which the ancient staircase
still remaining is as old as the year 1220; it is situated in the _Rue
du Four_, near the _Rue de la Harpe_, and called the _Maison Blanche_,
having been inhabited by the mother of _Saint-Louis_, but there is no
doubt that the only part now standing that could have been built at that
period is the staircase; in the same neighbourhood are many objects that
would interest the antiquary, to which I shall hereafter allude. Paris
is encircled by a double row of _Boulevards_, the north inner circle is
that which is the most frequented; the outer circle runs all along the
walls which encompass Paris, where the barriers are situated, of which
there are fifty-six, all rather handsome buildings than otherwise, and
no two of them quite alike. Many of the streets as you approach the
farthest _Boulevards_ of Paris have a very dull appearance, consisting
in many instances of high walls and habitations separated from each
other, with market gardens behind, but which cannot be seen from the
street as they are all enclosed, and grass growing here and there in
patches give them more the appearance of roads which have been
abandoned than of inhabited streets. Some of the modern parts of Paris
are extremely handsome and indeed all which has been built within the
last five-and-twenty years. The _Chaussée-d'Antin_ is the favourite
quarter; there the streets are of a fair width and are well paved, and
some very recently built are really beautiful, especially one just
finished called the _Rue Tronchet_, just behind the _Madeleine_. The
quarter round the _Place Vendôme_ is certainly one of the finest in
Paris, and most decidedly the dearest. I know persons who pay fourteen
thousand francs a year for unfurnished lodgings in the _Place Vendôme_,
that is 600_l._ a year; a whole house in a fashionable quarter of London
may be had for the same money; indeed on the _Boulevards_, in some of
the _Passages_ and the most fashionable streets in Paris, shops let for
more money than in any part of London; there is an instance of a single
shop letting for 600_l._ per annum, and not one of particularly
extensive dimensions, but situated on the _Boulevard Montmartre_, which
is perhaps the best position in Paris. One of the greatest attractions
is the _Passages_, something in the style of the Burlington Arcade but
mostly superior; of these there are from twenty to thirty, so that in
wet weather you may walk a considerable distance under cover.

The _Palais-Royal_, the favourite resort of foreigners and provincials,
also affords that convenience. Although Paris on the whole is not so
regularly built as London, yet there is a sombre grandeur about it which
has a fine effect, owing in some degree to the large lofty houses of
which it is composed; the straightness, width, and neatness of the
streets of London form its beauty, but it is astonishing how foreigners
when they first behold it, are struck with the small size of the houses.
I remember entering London with an Italian gentleman who had ever before
been accustomed to the large massive palaces of Genoa, Florence, etc.,
and the first remark he made upon our grand metropolis was that it
looked like a city of baby houses; another feature in our dwellings does
not please the foreign eye, and that is the dingy colour of our bricks,
which certainly has not so light an appearance as stone, of which the
houses on the Continent are generally built. The irremediable defect in
Paris is certainly the narrowness of the streets, although every
opportunity is turned to advantage by the government when houses are
taken down to compel the proprietors to rebuild them in such a manner as
to afford a yard more width to the public, whilst those streets that are
at present constructing are on a magnificent plan. The great beauty of
Paris consists in its public monuments, which certainly are not only
very numerous, but some upon the grandest scale, independent of those
which are generally conspicuous in a city; the Barriers and Fountains
form a considerable feature in Paris amongst its ornaments.

The Parisians generally are a remarkably persevering and industrious
people, amongst the trading classes, particularly the women, who often
take as ostensible a part in business as their husbands; except that it
is an establishment upon a very large scale, the wife is usually the
cashier, and you will find her as stationary at the counter almost as
the counter itself. The idea that exists in England with respect to
married women in France is quite erroneous, for more domestic and stay
at home is impossible to be, that is amongst the middle classes; the
same remark applies to the lower orders. As to the higher classes they
never can be cited as forming a characteristic in any country; receiving
a highly finished education, they are all brought to the same degree of
polish, and the primitive features are entirely effaced. Good nature is
a very conspicuous trait in the French character, and that is
continually displayed towards any foreigner; ask your way in the street
in a polite manner, and generally the persons become interested in your
finding the place you want, and if they do not know themselves, they
will go into a shop and enquire for you, and not feel easy until they
have ascertained it for you, but it depends much upon the manner in
which you address them. A Doctor Smith related to me a circumstance
which proves how different is the effect of a courteous and an
uncourteous mode of speaking to a Frenchman; the Doctor had with him a
friend who was a regular John Bull, and they wishing to know their way
to some place, the latter stepped up to a butcher who was standing at
his door and asked him in a very rough manner, and received an evasive
reply; the Doctor then put the same question to the man but in a more
polite form, the butcher replied, "If you will wait a minute, Sir, I
will put on my coat and show you the way," which he did in the most good
humoured manner, but remarked to the Doctor that every one in France
liked to be treated as a fellow man, and not to be spoken to as if they
were brutes. Thus it appears that even butchers in France expect to be
treated with some degree of politeness.

The women are still more tenacious in that respect than the men; they
consider, even down to a housemaid, that their sex demands a certain
tone of deference, however humble their position, and if a nobleman did
not touch his hat to them when they open or shut the door for them, with
the usual salutation of good day or good morning, they would pronounce
his manners brutal, and say, that although he was a man of title he was
not a gentleman; hence the very unceremonious manner that an Englishman
has of addressing servants, whether male or female, has kept them very
much out of favour with that class of the French community. A scullion,
or what may be termed a girl of all work, that has not met with that
degree of respect from some of our countrymen to which she considered
herself entitled, will remark, that the English may be very rich, but
they certainly are not enlightened as we are, with a little drawing up
of the head, implying their consciousness of superiority over us
semi-barbarians; your charwoman, your washerwoman's drudge, fishwoman,
or girl that cries turf about the streets, are all Madame and
Mademoiselle when they speak of each other, and with them there is no
such word as woman; if a female, she must be a lady, even if her
occupation be to pick up rags in the street. The French women certainly
excel in the art of dress and everything which appertains to the
decoration of the person, but the devotion which exists amongst them to
that passion tends greatly towards frivolising the mind; hence I find
their inferiority, generally speaking, to English women; in the latter
you will often meet, even amongst the middle classes, with a girl who
has received a good education; forming her pleasures from pursuits which
are purely intellectual, she will not only find enjoyment in that light
reading merely calculated to amuse, or that kind of music which consists
of pretty quadrilles, a few trifling songs, and two or three lessons
adapted for the display of execution, or that style of poetry and of
painting which is something of the same nature, just fit to please the
fancy without touching the heart; no, you will find that she enters into
the very soul of those mental recreations, nor does that interfere with
her domestic virtues; she is equally capable of performing every social
duty, but she devotes not so considerable a portion of her time and
thoughts to dress, nor is she so totally absorbed in the anticipation
and retrospection of balls and soirées, to the exclusion of every other
feeling, as long as the season for parties continues, which is but too
much the case with females in Paris, except with those whose business or
occupations prevent them from participating otherwise than very
sparingly in the gaieties of that description; but the class I allude
to in France, is that which consists of persons of independent fortune,
who have never been connected with anything in the shape of trade or
even professions, except army or navy, yet whose property is too small
to estimate them as belonging to the higher classes, whilst they would
consider themselves as degraded by an association with even the richer
tradespeople, generally coming under the denomination of middle classes.
This grade, immediately below the highest classes and above the middle,
is very numerous in Paris, their incomes varying from four hundred to a
thousand a-year; with the females in this class there is an exact
resemblance to those of the class above, only the sphere is more
confined; their education finished, they retain but little of what they
have learned, except dancing, singing, and music, because they are
calculated for display, and tell in society; drawing is laid aside, even
after much proficiency had been acquired, reading confined to the
reviews of the popular works of the day, the inexhaustible subjects of
conversation are the toilet, which is pre-eminent, balls, soirées, and
public places; if literature be introduced, you will find their
knowledge of it sufficient to escape the charge of ignorance,
particularly in history, as great pains are now taken with their
education, and which certainly is of the best description, whilst there
is a grace and sweetness of manner which is highly captivating; yet when
you become well acquainted with these ladies, whose surface was
enchanting, you find at last a want of soul. As a proof how seldom I
have found French females express any delight in beholding all the
phenomena of an extensive and beautiful country, and if the mind be dead
to that charm, how must it be lost to the enjoyments of descriptive
poetry and painting, as if the reality afford not pleasure how little
can be derived from the representation; I have found in France many
exceptions to this rule, women, in fact, whose society afforded a highly
intellectual treat. But they are rare, and when one speaks of a people
generally, the mass must be stated and not the exceptions. In England,
even amongst the classes of the highest fashion, many women are to be
met with, who, notwithstanding that they are whirled about in London for
months together to parties every night, sometimes to three or four in an
evening, to hear and say the nothings that pass current in assemblages
of that description, both deteriorating to health and mind, yet on
returning to their seats in the country, whilst the husband is following
the sports of the field, the females will have recourse to intellectual
occupations, and cultivate those seeds of knowledge which had been
instilled into their minds during their early youth, thus conferring
upon them those companionable powers, which are the great charm of life;
the rural scenes around them call their pencils into practice, whilst
the true spirit of poetry constantly appears to their feelings in the
forms of those beauties of nature which in fact are its life and soul.
Embosomed in the calm retirement found in such retreats, the various
objects in view engender the love of reading; hence the Englishwoman
recruits her mental powers after the frivolizing effects of a season in
town. The Frenchwoman goes into the country for the purpose of enjoying
the fresh air, she reads a little to kill time, and occupies much of it
with her embroidery and other fancy works, and after a short period
passed amongst the vine-clad hills, sighs once more to return to her
dear Paris, complains of ennui, wonders what the fashions will be at the
next Longchamp, and whether they will be such as become her or not, but
feeling herself bound to wear whatever may be pronounced the modes, and
trusts to her taste to arrange it in such a manner as to set her off to
the best advantage.

My countrywomen are not so much slaves to fashion and do not care to put
on every thing that comes out, if they think it does not suit them, but
it must be admitted that they have not the same taste as the French in
regard to costume; it is a quality that is peculiar to them, and
acknowledged by all the civilised world; in England, Russia, even
Greece, ladies of the high ton must send to Paris for their hats and
bonnets, and have them from Madame de Barennes, in the _Place Vendôme_,
which is not merely an idea, but a fact that they really are replete
with that exquisite taste for which they are so justly famed; even the
manner in which her lofty and noble saloons are arranged display an
elegance of conception, there is a chasteness which pervades the whole,
the furniture as Well as the decorations of the room are either of
white or ebony and gold, preserving that degree of keeping which is
inseparable from a truly classical taste.

I must confess that the most refined, the most charming and fascinating
women that I ever met with, were some English and Irish ladies who had
been some years in France, still retaining all those intellectual
qualities which are the brightest gems of the British female character,
united with that quiet grace which has so much of dignity and ease, and
that pleasing affability appearing but as nature in a truly elegant
Frenchwoman; at the same time I think my fair countrywomen are also much
improved when they have acquired the same degree of taste in the
arrangement of their costume for which the Parisian females have so well
merited a reputation. Of course in this comparison I am speaking of the
most well-bred females of both countries. Although I do not find the
French ladies possessing those high intellectual qualities, which are in
a great degree engendered and fostered by certain habits and early
associations, I do not conceive that the germs of talent are in the
least deficient, but on the contrary, we find them excelling in
literature and the arts, in ingenuity, and where exertion is required in
trying circumstances, that they are capable of heroism, but there is a
natural life and vivacity in the French character that inclines not to
study, nor strict application, unless the position in life renders it
necessary. The English very frequently are by nature disposed to
reflection and even like often to be alone, consequently are
undoubtedly a more thinking nation, although not so brilliant, but
experience has proved that patient and undeviating perseverance,
ultimately, outsteps the more showy and sparkling quality of genius. For
the sympathies of the heart I have found the French females most keenly
alive, no mothers can be more devotedly attached to their children than
they are, and it is repaid to them with interest by their offspring, as
a devotional affection towards parents is carried to an extreme; in some
instances I should say to a fault, as a daughter in general looks up
entirely to them, in regard to the man that they may choose with whom
she is to pass the rest of her life, without presuming that she ought to
make a selection for herself, considering that her marriage is the
affair of her parents, and that she has but to obey their wishes in
that, as well as in all other cases; hence it is rarely found that a
French young lady has aught of romance in her composition, but is on the
contrary the mild, docile, obedient, and affectionate pupil, and often
imitator of her mother. The English young lady is a little more
rebellious; possessing a more independent spirit, she very soon takes
the liberty of thinking for herself, particularly on that subject; and
could she totally have her will would act for herself also. Families are
much more united in France than in England, and agree together in a most
astonishing manner; thus when a daughter marries, instead of quitting
her home, the husband arranges his affairs so as to go and live with her
parents, and in many cases several families live together and form one
little community, which spares the pain of separation of parent and
child. The numerous offspring of the celebrated Marquis de Lafayette was
a remarkable instance of how whole families can live and agree under the
same roof; at his seat called La Grange, his married children and their
children and grandchildren were all residing together, whilst he, like
one of the ancient patriarchs, was the revered head of his people. I
know a case at Boulogne, where in one house there are living together,
two great grandfathers, one grandfather and grandmother, two fathers and
two mothers and their four children, and what renders it more curious is
that they are half English and half French, but all connected by their
sons and daughters intermarrying; but strange to say that the English
could not agree to live together in that manner, and it is a most
extraordinary circumstance much remarked by the French, that wherever
the English are settled in any town in France, they always contrive to
quarrel with each other, and find employment for the French lawyers; at
Boulogne they have at least twice as much practice for the English as
for the natives.

With regard to the conduct of the French towards foreigners, speaking
from the long experience which I have had, I should certainly state that
it was kind and attentive when brought into contact in travelling or
from any other circumstances, provided that a person does not attempt to
support a haughty or supercilious air. I do not consider that, generally
speaking, the French are so hospitable as the English, not only as
regards foreigners but even amongst themselves; it is not so much their
habit. In many houses you may pass an hour or two of an evening, and
there will never be any question regarding refreshments; not having the
custom of taking tea of an evening, that social bond which unites the
family together at a certain hour in England not existing in France,
little domestic evening parties seldom occur. I have been to a few
amongst what I call the very quiet families of Paris, which are styled
the _demi fortunes_, and cakes, beer, wine, sugar and water, etc., were
given; in the high fashionable parties tea now is always introduced at
about twelve. To ask a friend to a family dinner is not so much the
practice in France as in England, as the custom existing in the former
of having so many dishes with such a trifle in each, the platters are
often pretty well cleared by the usual inmates of the establishment, and
they are not prepared for an additional person. With the English who are
accustomed to large joints, if two or three additional guests suddenly
enter, they are still prepared. The French have also an idea that if
they ask you to dinner that they must provide so great a variety, which
entails infinitely more trouble than the more simple and more wholesome
repast, I should say, of the English.

There is a great sympathy in France towards each other in their
respective classes; if a quarrel take place in the street between one of
the lower and one of the middle class, all that pass by of the former
description will take the part of the individual of his own level; the
same will be the case with the other classes, often without inquiring
into the merits of the case. The impulse of feeling exists to a great
degree amongst the French, which is instantly displayed if a person
falls or is taken ill in the street, and much feeling is developed if
any little accident or misfortune occurs to a poor person passing by. I
remember an instance of a woman who was trudging away with a basket of
crockery and some eggs at the top, a poor man who was carrying a load
slipped, and in his fall upset the woman and broke the greater part of
her brittle goods; in this case both being poor persons, it became a
knotty point for the French to decide; very long and very warm were the
arguments adduced on both sides by the mob which had assembled, the man
declared he was too poor to have it in his power to pay for the damage
which he had caused, that he had hurt himself very much in the fall and
found that quite misfortune enough for him. The woman cried and vowed
she could not afford to lose the value of the articles broken, and the
eggs belonged to another person who had given her the money to buy them,
and persisted that the man ought to pay for what he had broken, although
she admitted it was a very hard case for him; what was to be done? a
subscription it was decided was the only means of settling the affair,
and one person giving half a franc by way of example, engaged to be
collector, and from the different bystanders, each giving a few sous,
the sum required was soon produced, and all parties departed with the
conviction that the affair had been equitably arranged.

The French are in the habit of rising extremely early, especially the
lower classes, and even amongst the middle and higher ranks they are
rarely so late in all their operations as the English. Persons in easy
circumstances amongst the French generally take coffee, with a piece of
bread, as soon as they are up, and then breakfast _à la fourchette_
about twelve, which consists of soup, meat, vegetables, fruit, and wine;
they dine about six or seven, which is a repetition of the breakfast,
with greater variety and more abundance. Wine is drank throughout the
dinner, and never after; but light as their _vin ordinaire_ generally
is, they always dilute it with water. Immediately after dinner, coffee,
without milk or cream, is taken, and lastly a glass of liqueur; no other
repast is thought of until the following day, as they neither take tea
nor supper, in their usual family habits. But in cases of invitation it
is quite another affair, several different wines of superior quality are
handed about at dinner, with which they do not mix water, and always
Champagne of course is drank without being diluted. When they give a
_soirée_, a variety of refreshments are produced, as different
descriptions of cakes, ices, orgeat and water, punch, warm wine,
limonade, etc., according to the season of the year; and often a supper
is given on a very liberal scale. Dancing, music, singing, and cards
form the amusements of the evening; the games which are played are
generally écarté and whist.

The passion for dancing pervades all classes, and even amongst the
lowest orders they always find the means of gratifying themselves with
that pleasure, but in all their enjoyments down to the public-houses in
the worst quarters of Paris, there is a degree of decorum which
surprises an Englishman accustomed to the extreme grossness of similar
classes in our own country. Determined to see as much of life as I could
in all its stages during a carnival, accompanied by a countryman I
visited many of the lowest order of wine houses where balls were going
forward; the only payment required for entrance was the purchase of a
bottle of wine, costing six sous. We expected to see a good deal of
uproarious mirth and all kinds of pranks going forward, but were quite
astonished to find the order that prevailed; the men appeared as if they
were in such a hurry for a dance that they had not waited until they
washed their hands and faces, but had just come directly from their
work, although several of them had slipped on masquerade dresses; the
women were cleaner (I suspect they were not of the most immaculate
description), and were amusing themselves with quadrilles and waltzes
alternately. Being of course very differently attired from the rest of
the assemblage, we were very conspicuous, but they took no notice of us
whatever; if they happened to run against us whilst waltzing and
whirling about, they always said "Je vous 'mande pardon, Monsieur," and
nothing farther. We observed that the men paid for the musicians two
sous each dance and the women one, and we came away rather disappointed
at finding things so much more insipid than we expected; we visited
several houses of the same description and found the same sort of scene
going forward in them all. The working people in Paris are extremely
frugal in their mode of living; bread being full seven-eighths of their
food, what they eat with it varies according to the season; if in
summer, mostly such fruit as happens to be ripe, and perhaps once in the
day they take a bit of soft white-looking cheese with their bread. In
winter they often add instead, a little morsel of pork or bacon, but
more frequently stewed pears or roasted apples. On Sundays they always
put the _pot-au-feu_, as they call it, which means that they make soup,
or literally translated, that they put the pot on the fire. Henry IV
declared that he should not feel satisfied until he had so ameliorated
the condition of the poor, that every peasant should be able to have a
fowl in his pot every Sunday; had he not suddenly been cut off by
assassination, he might have lived to have seen his benevolent wish
accomplished. Many of the wives of the working people contrive to muster
some soup for their husbands when they get home at night, and almost all
manage to have a little wine in the course of the day. On the Sunday in
the summer time they contrive to have a degree of pleasure, and go to
one of the houses round Paris called _guinguettes_, something in the
nature of the tea-gardens about London, but in Paris and most parts of
France the husband takes his wife and even his children with him if they
are old enough; indeed, you generally see the whole train together. At
these houses they mostly take beer which is not very strong, but they
make it less so by mixing it with water, as they do almost every
beverage; sometimes they have wine, lemonade, or currant juice, which is
called _groseille_, and that from the black currant _cassis_; there they
will sit looking at the dances, in which they sometimes join, and return
home about ten o'clock. This is pretty much the routine of a _regularly
conducted_ working-man in Paris, and it must be admitted that they form
by far the greater number, particularly those who are married.

Amongst the middle-classes, both husband and wife keep very steadily to
business, particularly the latter, and as they live frugally, they
generally calculate upon retiring from business in ten or twelve years,
and mostly effect their object, as they are perfectly contented when
they have amassed enough capital to produce three or four hundred a
year, which is the case with the major part of them; many are not
satisfied until four or five times that sum; but they are seldom
ambitious, nor care to get out of their class, as the persons with whom
they associate and are intimate, are mostly relations and connexions to
whom they are attached, and do not seem to fancy any pleasure in
extending their acquaintances. But before they retire from business they
have their occasional recreations; in fine weather they are very fond
of spending their Sundays in the country; in the winter they frequently
visit the theatres, but very rarely have company at home or pay visits,
except on the New Year, and in the Carnival they give one ball, and go
to several others given by their relations; this description alludes to
what may be termed the respectable class of shopkeepers. They have one
means of communication with each other, of which they avail themselves
for the advantages of business or for the purpose of recreation, if they
choose, which consists of what they term _Cercles_, much the same as we
should call clubs; they are establishments composed of perhaps 150
members, more or less, who meet in a suite of apartments fitted up for
the purpose, and certainly most elegantly, both as regards the
decoration of the rooms and the furniture they contain. A clerk is
employed, whose business it is to collect information as to the
different merchants who arrive at Paris from the various parts of France
and other countries; they find out the particular branch in which he
deals, and that member whose business it is to vend the commodity likely
to be demanded, sends him a programme of his goods and his terms. If any
one receive a commission from any country which is not in his
department, he proclaims it to the Cercle, and gives a fellow-member the
benefit of the order; thus they play into each other's hands and greatly
promote their mutual interests. Billiard-tables are fitted up for the
amusement of the members, who also occupy themselves with other games,
whilst refreshments are to be had the same as in a coffee-house. There
are many of these establishments in Paris, which afford great facilities
for the promotion of business. Although the extraordinary increase of
trade in Paris is almost incredible, yet the bankrupts are more numerous
than they were formerly; one reason is, on account of the number of
persons in each business having so much increased, and the immense
expenses which they incur in the embellishment of their shops to try and
outvie each other. A person taking a place in the Palais Royal about
three years since, first gave the occupier 40,000 francs (1,600_l._) to
quit, and then expended 110,000 francs (4,400_l._) in fitting it up as
a restaurateur's; the rent being high in proportion, the success was not
commensurate with the expenditure and the speculation failed. This is
one of the many instances which have recently occurred at Paris, causing
bankruptcy; yet some persons have laid out more than double the amount
in the decorations for restaurateurs and coffee-houses, and yet have
succeeded.

The occupations of the higher classes in Paris are much the same as they
are in other capitals; both sexes are more fond of taking baths than
they are in London, and even when they have that convenience in their
own houses, the men often prefer lounging to the most fashionable public
baths. The young sparks of fashion are very fond of sumptuous breakfasts
at the most stylish coffee-houses in Paris, and often begin by taking a
few dozen of oysters by way of giving them an appetite; beefsteaks
dressed in the English style, a few choice French dishes, two or three
sorts of wine, desert, and coffee, generally compose the repast until
the dinner hour. The time is filled up with walking, riding, driving,
practising gymnastic exercises, pistol-shooting, fencing, etc. After
dinner, which usually terminates about eight, and is in fact the same
thing as the breakfast on a more extensive scale, they proceed to the
theatres; those most in vogue with the beau monde are the Italian Opera,
the French Opera or Académie de Musique, the Comic Opera, and the
Théâtre Français. After the performances are over, they generally lounge
into some favourite coffee-house, and then close the day to recommence
another, following much the same course, with some trifling variation.
But now the favourite pursuit amongst young men of fashion, is that of
riding and every thing which is connected with horses, such as racing,
leaping, steeple chasing, and discussing their different qualities and
the various modes of breaking them in, in England and in France.

But there is no subject upon which there is so much difference of
opinion between the two nations as upon that of equestrian exercises and
the management and training of horses. Our bold fox-hunters and daring
steeple chasers, I am aware, will not for an instant imagine that there
are any riders to be found equal to Englishmen, whilst the French,
although they give us credit for doing many things better than
themselves, do not at all admire our horsemanship. They admit that our
good riders are not easily thrown, and keep their seat under many
difficult and dangerous circumstances, but they contend that the English
generally have not sufficient command over their horses in making them
obey every wish of the rider, whilst the accomplished French cavalier
will make his horse go backwards, sideways, right, or left, in a direct
line, will cause him to stop in an instant whilst at full speed, will
make him bear on his near or off leg just as he chooses, or make him
place either foot on a five franc piece, and in fact have the same
command over his horse as if it were his child. There are many
riding-masters now in Paris of superior talent, but for rendering his
pupils dauntless horsemen, capable of mounting any animal however
restive, I do not think that any can be found to surpass M. de Fitte. I
have seen him place his best pupils upon a horse, which upon signals
given, will rear upon his hind or his forelegs, changing from one to the
other with such rapidity and in such constant succession that the rider
cannot the least foresee what prank the horse is about to play, and
therefore cannot be prepared for what he has to encounter, whilst he is
seated on a saddle without stirrups or bridle, as with folded arms he
defies every manoeuvre his steed essays to throw him. The
riding-school of Mr. Fitte is at No. 113, rue Montmartre, next to the
great establishment of the Messageries royales, from whence depart the
diligences for all parts of France. He has always about forty horses of
different countries and descriptions; amongst them are some especially
trained for ladies, and such as will be found well adapted to the most
bold and the most timid rider, which he lets out at very moderate terms.

Any person must feel gratified at being present when he gives his
evening lessons to his pupils, as amongst other exercises he practises
them in what is called the _jeu de bague_, which consists of rings
loosely suspended from a post, whilst the rider carries a lance, and in
passing by at full gallop endeavours to run it through the ring, which
is about two inches in diameter, and is hung in such a manner that it
yields to the lance and remains upon it whilst the rider, without
stopping, proceeds at full speed and takes off the next. Two persons are
generally exercised together at this game, and he who takes off the most
rings wins. It is a useful practice now adopted in almost all the
riding-schools in Paris, as it teaches the pupil to forget his seat,
giving him another object to occupy his mind, till at last the young
pupil feels as easy upon a horse at full gallop as seated in his chair,
his whole attention being directed towards taking off more rings with
his lance than his competitor. Mr. Fitte during the lesson also himself
displays what can be done with different horses, in giving them that
sort of motion which he thinks proper, which is principally produced by
operating upon the animal with the muscles of the calves of the legs, of
which the French avail themselves much more in the management of a horse
than the English.

It appears quite a new era in the annals of horsemanship that an
approved English riding-master should come over to France to place
himself for two years under a French riding-master, yet such I know to
be the case. Mr. F.W., the person to whom I allude, had long been
accustomed to mount horses of all descriptions, with the full confidence
of always being able to keep his seat; but when at Paris he met with a
master who could not only defy any horse to throw him, but under all
circumstances could always preserve a graceful position, even while
baffling every attempt of a horse to floor him. In order to try the
capabilities of Mr. W., the French master placed him on all kinds of
horses, and amongst the rest those which had been taught all sorts of
tricks to fling their riders, but W. resisted all their attempts, but it
was by keeping his seat in his own way, which he knew had an awkward
air, when compared to the graceful mien the Frenchman preserved
throughout the same evolutions.

Another art he strove also to acquire from his master, that of
dominating the most vicious horse to a degree that shall render it so
docile that any moderate horseman may mount it in safety. This was
effected by the French riding-master (with whom W. placed himself),
under the most extraordinary circumstances; a horse was offered him of
extreme beauty, but so totally unmanageable that it had been given up by
three rough riders of regiments in England, and was almost considered as
worthless, as no one could be found to ride it; the Frenchman undertook
in one year so to tame its restive spirit as to render it a valuable
horse for any rider. The owner quitted France, but agreed to return in a
twelvemonth, when they were to divide the amount of what the horse might
sell for; but it so happened that the owner did not return for eighteen
months, and when the twelvemonth had expired the riding-master
considered the horse his own and sold it to Franconi for 20,000 francs
(800_l._), having so completely taught the horse to obey its master, as
to make it dance to music, to bear upon which leg he chose to dictate,
and in fact to do more than I shall venture to state, as were I to give
an accurate description it must appear an exaggeration, having met with
several Englishmen who with myself have declared they never could have
believed, had they not had ocular demonstration, that a horse could have
been taught to do that which the animal in question has nightly
exhibited at Franconi's. When the owner did return, he claimed the half
of the value the horse had fetched, but the riding-master pleaded that
the contract was annulled by his not making his claim at the time agreed
upon between them; the other persisting in his demand, the affair was
referred to a Court of Justice, and decided in favour of the
riding-master, and it is said that Franconi has since refused 40,000
francs for the horse.

There is one peculiarity in the English style of riding which is
remarked all over the Continent, and that is, the rising in the saddle,
or what is termed, adopting one's own motion, instead of that of the
horse, which is certainly much rougher and not so agreeable, and for my
own part I have found it a great relief when upon a long journey; of
course it is never adopted by our cavalry, and the French contend that
to sit as close as possible, partaking of the motion of the horse, as
soon as the rider is accustomed to it he will travel farther, and with
less fatigue than by what is termed the English method. M. de Fitte
however thinks differently from his countrymen in that respect. It is
also considered that in both our riding and driving we rein in our
horses far too much, the consequence being that the animal, accustomed
to be held up by the rider or driver, depends upon it, as what is called
his fifth leg, and if there be any negligence in thus sustaining him, he
immediately trips and often comes to the ground; whereas the horse who
is habituated to a looser rein goes more boldly, depending on the powers
nature has given him, and carries his head lower, and of course sees his
ground better, avoiding that which might occasion a false step; and
certainly the horses in France very seldom fall, except in frost or
snow, when strange to say the French have never had the wit to have them
rough-shod.

Notwithstanding all that is said upon the subject I have found the
advantage of keeping a tighter rein upon my horse than they are in the
habit of practising in Turkey, as although in a journey which I had of
seven hundred miles on horseback in that country they found great fault
with my riding, yet I kept my seat, and my horse upon his legs, without
once coming to the ground, when the Tatar, the Surdjee, and my
travelling companion were alternately prostrated from the falling of
their horses, which I attribute to their not being able to check them in
time when they tripped, to prevent their totally sprawling; it is true
that some parts of the road could only be compared to a street having
been unpaved and all the stones left loose upon the ground over which we
had to ride, consequently I took the greatest care, never for an instant
neglecting any precaution to keep my hack from stumbling. But where a
horse is liable to come upon his knees, certainly the system of rising
in the saddle is most unsafe, and I never met with any one who could
better teach his pupils to sit close and firm even with the roughest
trot than M. de Fitte, who, not content with precept, himself furnishes
the example. Amongst his pupils, are many of the fair sex as the French
ladies are now beginning to imitate the gentlemen in their passion for
equestrian exercises, and frequently in the Champs-Élysées and Bois de
Boulogne display the progress they have made in the art.

Although their pursuits are not so numerous nor so various as those of
the men, yet their opportunities of killing time are greater; as
shopping alone employs often some hours of the day, the importance
attached to a bonnet, a cap, a turban and above all to a dress, causes
many and long dissertations. Exhibitions and morning concerts frequently
occupy also much of the ladies' leisure, a little walking in the
Tuileries gardens at a certain hour and in a certain part whilst their
carriage waits for them, an airing in it, or a turn on horseback, fill
up the rest of the day, and after dinner, if not at the theatre, they
either receive or pay visits, as it is the fashion to do so of an
evening in Paris.

I must not quit this sketch of the Parisians and their occupations
without giving my readers some idea of what is called _La Jeune France_,
which consists of a number of young men, who wear comical shaped hats,
their hair very long hanging below their ears, and let the greater part
of their beards grow; they also have their throats bare and their shirt
collars turned down; they have rather a wild look, and their political
theories are somewhat wilder than their looks; they are republican in
principle, and in manner, adopting a sort of rough abrupt style, as far
from courteous as can well be imagined. They amount to perhaps a few
thousands in Paris, comprising a number of the students in law and
medicine, many of the painters, musical professors, and at least half
the literary characters in Paris; some of them are either the editors
their subs or the communicators to two-thirds of the newspapers at
Paris. I must do them the justice to say that I believe they mean well,
and that they are actuated by pure principles of patriotism, full of
candour and of courage, but mistaken in their views, led away by false
notions imbibed from an enthusiastic admiration of the deeds of heroes,
recorded in the histories of Rome and Greece, until they imagine that
they are bound in modern days to re-enact the glorious examples of their
progenitors in their self devotion for their country; hence the
wonderful resistance that they made in 1832, which although in a bad
cause, proved their contempt for life, and how ready they were to risk
it in what they falsely thought their country's cause.

But as they get older and reflect more, they become more temperate in
their mode of reasoning, at present, and indeed for some time past, they
have been more calm and one hears less of them.




CHAPTER V.

     Anecdotes illustrative of the ideas, feelings, and characters of
     the Parisians, also narrating some of their most striking national
     peculiarities.


The French generally have been celebrated for possessing no
inconsiderable share of conceit, but in regard to a most exalted respect
for themselves, the Parisians far surpass all their provincial brethren;
the very circumstance of their happening to be born in Paris, they
imagine at once confers upon them a diploma of the very highest acme of
civilisation, causing them to feel a sort of pity for a person who is
born elsewhere; however, as one of these enlightened spirits once
observed to me, that a person might by coming to live at Paris in the
course of time imbibe the same tone of refinement. Now this was said in
all the true spirit of human kindness; he knew that I was not born in
Paris, and conceiving that I might feel the bitterness of that
misfortune, though it might afford me a degree of consolation to be
assured, that there were some means of repairing the disadvantages under
which I laboured, from not having made my entrance to the world in the
grand metropolis of France.

It matters not how low may be the calling of a Parisian, he will still
flatter himself that the manner in which he acquits himself in the
department in which he is placed, evinces a degree of superiority over
his fellow labourer, and gratifies his _amour propre_ with the thought.
Even a scavenger would endeavour to persuade you that he has a peculiar
manner of sweeping the streets exclusively his own, and that his method
of shovelling up the mud and pitching it into the cart is quite unique,
and in fact that his innate talent is such that, it has eventually
placed him at the summit of his profession. This may appear, perhaps, to
some of my readers rather overdrawn, but the following instance which
came under my own observation is not much less extravagant.

A man who was in the habit of cleaning my boots, had a most incorrigible
propensity for garrulity, and as I like in a foreign country to obtain
some insight into the ideas and feelings of all classes, I did not care
to check the poor fellow in the indulgence of his favourite _penchant_,
particularly as his remarks were always proffered with a tone of the
most profound respect for my august person. Finding one morning that my
boots had not been polished quite so well as usual, the next time I saw
the shoeblack I mentioned the circumstance to him. "_Ah! Sir_," he
exclaimed with a deep sigh, "that is one of the many instances of the
ingratitude of human nature; I confided those boots to the boy whom you
must have seen come with me to fetch yours and the other gentlemen's
shoes or clothes for brushing, etc. Well, sir, that young urchin is a
protégé of mine; I took him, sir, from the lowest obscurity and made him
what he is; I taught him my profession, I endowed him with all the
benefit of my experience, and with respect to blacking shoes, I have
initiated him into all the little mysteries of the art, and can declare
that there is not one in the business throughout all Paris that can
surpass him, when he chooses to exert his talents; and therefore it
renders it the more unpardonable that he should slight one of my best
customers." Judging, I suppose, from the expression of my countenance
that I did not appear to be deeply infused with a very exalted idea of
what he termed the mysteries of his art, he continued, "You may think as
you please, sir, but there is much more ability required in blacking
shoes than you may imagine, and that boy is well aware of it; he knows
how I began by first instructing him in all the fundamental principles
of the art; and gradually led him on until I accomplished him in giving
the last polish, and can now proudly say he is a true artist in the
profession."

On entering a diligence once at Lyons, I found two persons in it, of
very decent aspect; the one a middle aged man, the other a youth of
about eighteen or nineteen; the former soon found an opportunity of
informing me that he was a Parisian, but lest that should not adequately
impress me with a sufficiently high idea of his importance, he added
that he was _chef de cuisine_ to the Duke of ----, and that Monsieur,
pointing to the youth opposite, was an _aspirant_, who had been placed
under his auspices. The young man bowed assent, and appeared most
sensibly to feel the vast magnitude of the honours to which he was
aspiring; but the whole was announced with such an air of solemnity and
consequence, that a minister of state with his secretary would never
have attempted to assume. An Englishman under the same circumstances
would have merely said, "I am head cook to the Duke of ---- and that
young man is my 'prentice." However, my travelling companions were
overpoweringly civil, and I of course was deeply awed by finding myself
in company with such elevated personages, of which they no doubt were
sensible, and where we stopped for dinner they gave us the benefit of
their professional talent, by entering the kitchen, giving the inmates
to understand who they were, and the advantage of advice gratis, as to
the arrangement of such dishes for which they were still in time to
superintend; and when we sat down at the table d'hôte, the _chef de
cuisine_ did not fail to inform me that he had done as much as laid in
his power to ensure our having a good dinner, as my being a foreigner he
was particularly anxious that France should sustain her high reputation
for the culinary art in my estimation; but regretted that in the first
place he arrived too late to effect much good, and indeed, had he come
before it would have been but of little avail; for the provincials were
such complete barbarians, that it was difficult for an enlightened
person to commune with them: that absolutely he and they appeared to be
quite of another species.

It is a happy circumstance for the French, that their pride does not
consist in a desire to get out of their station, but an extreme anxiety
to exaggerate the importance of the station in which they are placed; a
cook, for example, has the most exalted idea of the art of cookery, and
wishes to impress everyone with the same idea of its high importance,
and all his ambition is to be considered a cook of the first-rate
talent. In England it is different, one of the great objects with a
tradesman is the hope, that by making his fortune he shall be enabled to
get out of his class and take a higher walk in society. For this purpose
they bring their sons up to the liberal professions, and often retire
into the country at a distance from London, where they flatter
themselves that the circumstance of their having been in business may
not travel; their plan seldom succeeds, but has in several instances
when they have come over to France, as being rich, appearing
respectable, and their children highly educated, they have obtained the
_entrée_ to French society, which has ultimately led to that of the
English. I remember one instance of a hatter marrying his five daughters
to persons of the higher classes, three to English and two to French,
who now with their father have that position in society, into which at
one period he never could have dreamed of entering; had they remained in
England, they would have had but little chance of emerging from their
original station, even with the aid of all their wealth.

Street scenes often afford amusing exhibitions of natural
characteristics; I remember one which I witnessed, which developed a
feeling truly French; two common-looking men had been disputing for some
time, when one upbraided the other with want of delicacy and not having
a nice sense of honour, but finding his reproaches made but little
impression upon the accused, at last said, "As I see you are destitute
of any mental susceptibility, I must try if you have any bodily feeling,
and thrash you as I would a dog or any other brute." So saying, he
advanced to put his threat into execution, but the assailed proving far
the strongest, soon overcame the assailant and laid him prostrate;
rising from the ground, he regarded the conqueror with a dignified air,
and said, "Yes! you have the physical force, but I have the force of
reason," and with a flourish of the head he strutted off with as
triumphant a demeanour as if he had vanquished a host of enemies.

The French are exceedingly fond of moralizing; a few days before the
Revolution occurred, whilst a man was driving me through the Place de la
Concorde, I observed a scaffolding in the middle, and asked what it was
for, and having informed me that it was for the purpose of erecting a
statue of Louis the Sixteenth, being the spot in which he was beheaded,
he exclaimed, "What an absurdity! but those Bourbons are incorrigible;
would it not be much better to let such events as those sink as much as
possible into oblivion, instead of endeavouring to perpetuate them. One
would have thought," continued he, "that the adversity and exile which
that besotted family had endured would have operated upon them as a
lesson, but they will never benefit from any lessons; one, however, will
be tried upon them very soon, if they do not mind what they are about,
and we shall see what impression that will make." The man's words came
to pass, they did indeed receive a severe lesson, which involved them in
ruin and disgrace.

Having observed a number of persons assembled on the Boulevards, I asked
the cause, and was told that some cavalry was expected to pass in a few
minutes, for which the people were waiting. I took my station amongst
them, which happened to be next to two bakers' boys, who were in earnest
conversation, when I was edified by the following observations. "Do you
know why Alphonse left his place?" "Yes," replied the other, "because
his master gave him a cuff on the head." "That certainly was a very
great indignity;" observed the younger; "to receive a blow is very
humiliating." "That is true," replied the other, "but figure to yourself
the folly of a lad, for the sake of a paltry thump, to sacrifice all his
future prospects; in a few years, had he put up with the insult, he
might have been head man in a bakehouse in the Rue St. Denis, which is
one of the most populous quarters in Paris." "True," said the younger,
"it would have been wiser to have sayed; but when excited, reason does
not always come to one's aid."

I have translated the discourse as literally as I could, that I might
preserve as nearly as possible the expressions which the boys used, as
it has often struck me how much more refined they are, than those to
which lads of the same age and class would have had recourse in England.

Some of the scenes at the tribunals are very amusing; I remember a very
rough ferocious-looking man having been brought up for returning to
Paris, from which he had been sent away on account of some offences
which he had committed, and was ordered to some small obscure town in
the provinces, under _surveillance_. Finding his banishment very
irksome, an irresistible impulse brought him back to Paris, and
repairing to his old haunts, he sought the Rue de la Mortellerie, which
had in part been pulled down, on account of some improvements which were
going forward; whilst he was gaping about, looking in vain for his dear
Rue de la Mortellerie, he was recognised by a Serjeant of police and
very unwillingly lodged in the _Corps de Garde_ (guard-house), and
brought before the Tribunal of Correction; he was interrogated as to his
having dared, in defiance of the law, to return to Paris. He replied,
"indeed, Monsieur le President, I was so overcome with ennui, that I
found it impossible to exist there any longer; now, only imagine for an
instant, M. le President, the idea of a Parisian, as I am, to be sent to
a little bit of a place where there was no theatre, no promenade, not
even a public monument."

He was interrupted by the President telling him, that whatever the place
might have been, there he should have staid to the end of his time, and
must be punished for returning to Paris. "But," continued the
delinquent, "the vile little hole to which I was exiled contained no
society whatever, the inhabitants were merely a set of illiterate
beings, and how could any enlightened person vegetate amongst such a
mic-mac of semi-barbarians; but tell me, M. le President, what has
become of the Rue de la Mortellerie?"

Without deigning to answer, the President was proceeding to condemn the
prisoner, when interrupted by his exclaiming, "Now I intreat, M. le
President, that you who are no doubt a very enlightened personage, would
only place yourself in my position, and conceive how it was possible to
exist buried alive as it were among such a set of Goths, and above all
do tell me what has become of my Rue de la Mortellerie?"

The President, out of all patience, sentenced him to imprisonment in one
of the goals of Paris for three years.

"Well," said the garrulous and incorrigible offender, "I shall have one
satisfaction, that of knowing that I am still in Paris, that seat of the
arts, that centre of civilisation, and terrestrial paradise; but pray
tell me, M. le President, before we part, do tell me what have they done
with my dear Rue de la Mortellerie?" Without affording him time to
occupy the court any longer with his irrelevant questions and
explanations, they hurried him away, whilst he continued to murmur what
could possibly have gone with his dear Rue de la Mortellerie which was
no other than a little narrow filthy street which it would be difficult
to match in the worst neighbourhoods in London.

I also recollect an instance of the deliberate coolness of a man who was
tried and found guilty of the robbery and murder of a farmer; being
asked if he knew his accomplice, he observed "As to knowing him, M. le
President, that is more than I can say; you must be aware that it is
extremely difficult to _know_ a person, you may have seen a person
often, and even conversed with him for years, and yet never _know_ him."

"Are you acquainted with him," was the next question.

"As to that," continued the prisoner, "I am a man who has very few
acquaintances, being naturally of a reserved character and rather
diffident in my nature, I shrink from entering much into society; being
of a reflecting habit, I like often to pass my hours alone, having
rather an indifferent opinion of human nature."

How long he would have gone on in the same strain, it is impossible to
say, when he was imperatively demanded if he knew him by name, by sight,
and had talked, or walked, or ate, or drank with him.

"Really you put so many questions to me at once that you tax my memory
beyond its means; I never was celebrated for having a very retentive
memory, my mother used to say."

The court out of patience again interrupted him, but with all their
efforts could never elicit from him a direct answer; but the
circumstantial and testimonial evidence being perfectly convincing, he
and his accomplice were condemned to death. When he heard the sentence
he very coolly asked which would be guillotined first; he was answered
that the other would, and that it was to be hoped that the sight of his
companion's fate might bring him to some sense of his awful situation.
When the time arrived for their execution, he displayed the same
imperturbable audacity; as his accomplice was about to suffer, he
elbowed the person who was standing next to him, and pointing to his
fellow criminal, he smiled and said, "Look, poor wretch, he is afraid, I
declare he even trembles." When it came to his turn he mounted the
ladder with as cheerful an air as if he was merely going to his
breakfast, and to the last moment preserved the same sang-froid.

A brutal sort of fellow, who was once condemned for an assault, in an
instant snatched off his wooden shoes and threw them at the head of the
President, who it appears had a good eye for avoiding a shot, and
managed to escape the missiles.

Sometimes the avocats (barristers) avail themselves of causes in which
they are engaged, so as to render them vehicles for displaying their wit
or humour, and afford much amusement to the court; a case some time
since occurred which excited much interest and some mirth and
entertainment; the parties concerned were a Madame Dumoulin who had
invented stays of a peculiar nature. Another person who was English
styling herself the inventor, and making them in the same manner,
notwithstanding the former had been granted a patent, an action was the
consequence. It was observed that the hostile parties in this instance,
although French and English, were neither decked with helmets nor armed
with pistols, swords, nor muskets, but entered the scene of combat in
long shawls and velvet bonnets, announcing themselves without the aid of
heralds, the one representing the French army the other the English
host. The champion on the side of the former being a Monsieur Ch. Ledru,
against whom Monsieur Ducluseau entered the lists on the British side of
the question; what made it more remarkable, was, that the belligerents
resided in the same street, the residence of M. Ducluseau, the advocate
for the English defendant, merely separating the mansions of the two
combatants.

Victory declared for Madame Dumoulin after many subtle and learned
arguments were adduced on both sides, and an English lady, the mother of
several daughters, tells me if I have any regard for my fair
countrywomen I must recommend to their notice the stays of Madame
Dumoulin, truly observing that as the object of my work was to render
every possible service to all my readers, certainly the ladies must have
a pre-eminent claim, and although there are certain articles of the
toilet with which it might be observed man should never meddle, as he
could not be any judge of such habiliments as ought only to be worn by
the ladies, and a few dandies who are neither one thing nor the other,
yet when three scientific societies condescend to award medals to the
inventor and patentee of the articles alluded to, I trust I shall be
pardoned if with an intention to serve the fair sex I trench upon their
privilege in calling their attention to the useful and ornamental
corsets, which have caused so much controversy.

These stays are so contrived as to be totally without gussets, and adapt
themselves to the form with such perfect facility, that there is not
that restraint which, instead of bestowing grace to the female figure,
is rather calculated to deform, that, which, if left in a degree to
nature, would have displayed both elegance and ease. As an artist
accustomed to contemplate the beauty of feature and of form, I have
often regretted that common error into which such numbers of females
fall, by torturing themselves in tightening the waist to such an
unnatural degree, confining the person as it were in a vice, and totally
preventing that movement in the person, which is indispensable in giving
that elasticity in walking which alone can produce a graceful carriage,
devoid of that stiffness which is ever occasioned by too great a
restraint. The stays invented by Madame Dumoulin are universally admired
as aiding nature, in affording the utmost freedom to the wearer, at the
same time that they improve the figure.

These stays, have not only received the approbation of the scientific
world by the presentation of three medals, but have also been
recommended by several distinguished members of the faculty, who
consider they are calculated rather to improve than deteriorate the
health of those who wear them. The action which Madame Dumoulin was
obliged to bring against her competitor has been of the utmost service
to her, not only by the triumph she has received and the confirmation of
her patent, but in giving her that vogue that not only the influential
Parisian ladies, but Russian, German and Spanish princesses have
patronised her ingenuity; her residence is Rue du 29 Juillet, no 5.

In the Courts of Justice in France and particularly in Paris, I have
found that both the prisoners and the witnesses have far more self
possession than in the tribunals in England; they are not so soon
embarrassed by the brow-beating and examination of the counsel, and
sometimes give such replies as turn the sting upon their examiners;
having like the Irish a sort of tact for repartee, they are not often
to be taken aback; the lower classes in Paris are naturally extremely
shrewd and penetrating, they recognise a foreigner instantly, before he
speaks, as a friend of mine found to his cost, who although an
Englishman would anywhere in his own country be set down for a Frenchman
from his external appearance. On the Saturday following the three
glorious days, he was standing amongst one of the groups near the
Hôtel-de-Ville, when a man of a very rough appearance with his arms bare
and besmeared with proofs that he had been in the strife, turned to him
and asked what he thought of the Revolution. My friend, who was in
feeling a thorough bred John Bull, neither liking France, the French,
nor any of their proceedings, did not think it was exactly the moment to
give vent to all his feelings, answered that it was very fine.

"Oh!" said the Frenchman, "you find it very fine, do you, you're a
foreigner, what countryman are you?"

"I am an Englishman," was the reply.

"An Englishman! eh!" muttered the Frenchman scanning him with a very
scrutinising eye, "and you find our Revolutionary fine, eh! well," added
he! "will you come and take a glass of wine with me?"

The invitation was declined on the plea of business.

"Business," repeated the Frenchman, "there can be no business to-day, it
is a day of fête;" upon which the Englishman, not seeing any means by
which he could well get off of it, said he would be happy to take wine
with him and should also have great pleasure in paying for it.

"Pay for it," sternly said the Frenchman, "what do you talk of paying
for it, when you are invited, follow me;" the Englishman obeyed, but
wished himself well out of the scrape; his conductor took him to one of
the lowest sort of wine-houses and they entered a large room where there
were above twenty seated, drinking round a table. His new acquaintance
introduced him in due form, saying, I have brought you an Englishman who
finds our Revolution very fine; there was a degree of order amongst them
and they had a president and vice president, but were very much such
rough looking fellows as the one who announced him; as a stranger, he
was awarded the seat of honour to the right of the president, but had no
sooner been seated, than one man addressed him, saying,

"I have been in England, I was a prisoner and very ill treated."

"I am sorry for that," replied the Englishman.

"I was almost starved," added the other.

"That was not the fault of the people or the intention of the
government," observed my friend, "but was caused by a few rascally
contractors who received a handsome sum for the supply of the prisoners,
and to make the greater profit they provided bad articles."

"Well," said another, "I have seen extracts from the English papers and
they speak very highly of our revolution, particularly the Times."

They next proceeded to give accounts of the share they had taken in the
struggle which had just terminated, and some began to state the number
that they killed, all of which was far from edifying to my friend, who
sat upon thorns notwithstanding they all drank his health, hitting the
glasses together according to the custom of olden time. At several
periods he made an effort to go, but they assured him that they could
not part with him so soon, called him a _bon anglais_, now and then
giving him a smack on the shoulder as a proof of their friendly feeling
towards him. The Englishman began at last to wish himself anywhere but
where he was, and in that manner they kept him for three hours in
durance vile; at last he made a bold push for a retreat, declaring he
could not stay a minute longer.

"Then," said his conductor, "I shall see you safe home to your door;"
now that was the very thing that my friend did not want, as he was
particularly desirous of dropping the acquaintance as soon as possible,
therefore did not wish him to know where he lived; so at last he thought
of a person with whom he dealt, and said he must go, and see a friend
there with whom he had an appointment; and the Frenchman accompanied him
to the door, always carrying his drawn sword with him, and when taking
leave asked the Englishman when and where he should see him again; my
friend answered he was going to England.

"Going to England," repeated the other, "what are you going to England
for, if you find our Revolution so very fine, what do you want to go
away from it for, not to abuse it to your country people, I hope?"

"Oh no," replied the Englishman, "I am only going to England for a
little while, on business, and shall be back soon, and shall have it in
my power to tell my countrymen all about the Revolution, and what an
heroic struggle it was."

"Ah!" said the Frenchman; then holding out his great rough hand, bade
the Englishman "bon soir," and "bon voyage."

My friend declared that it was impossible for him to describe to what a
degree he was rejoiced at seeing his new acquaintance depart, although,
however rough his appearance, the man might have been perfectly
harmless, except when called upon to fight for what he considered his
country's cause.

I was myself living in Paris during the struggle of the Three Days, and
can bear witness to the humanity and moderation of the people during the
contest, and of their forbearance after their victory; they came to the
house at which I was living and asked for wine; but they brought with
them pails of water into which they threw what was given them, thereby
proving their extreme temperance and forbearance, but certainly a band
of a more ruffianlike looking set of fellows, it would be difficult to
imagine, and the manner in which they were at first armed, had something
in it of the horrible, and at the same time of the ludicrous; iron bars,
pokers, pitchforks, and in fact anything that could be converted into a
weapon was taken possession of by the unwashed horde, who swarmed
towards the centre of Paris from the manufacturing suburbs; soon,
however, the public armouries, and the gunsmiths' shops, the musquetry,
and other arms taken from the soldiers during the battle, contributed to
arm them more formidably.

But in justice to the Parisians I must cite two circumstances; the one
is, that whatever they seized upon in the public institutions, as
instruments of offence and defence, were restored when the contest was
over; the librarian at the Royal Library told me that they took all the
ancient and modern arms from their establishment, but with the exception
of seven they were all brought back, and most likely the bearers of
those which were missing had been killed.

The other instance which does high credit to the Parisian mob, is that
they would not permit of any robbing or pillage in any house or building
which they might enter, but, as might be expected, some of the regular
thieves of Paris mixed amongst the people; one at length being caught
purloining an image in the palace of the Tuileries, they formed a circle
round the thief, tried him in an instant, and shot him; this was summary
justice with a vengeance, and certainly not exactly what ought to have
been done, but it showed the principle which existed. In fact honesty is
undoubtedly a quality existing in France to a most extraordinary degree,
a greater proof of it cannot be adduced than the fact that when any
person quits a theatre with the idea of returning in a few minutes they
leave their handkerchiefs on their seats by way of retaining their
places, which custom is even practised at the lowest theatres, where the
admittance is only half a franc.

Ingenuity and a tact for invention are certainly features peculiar to
the French character, but they are far behind the English in their
methods of transacting business; this remark is applicable even to most
of the public offices; that France is extremely flourishing, and Paris
more particularly so, cannot be denied, but were it in the hands of the
English there is no doubt their produce, manufactures, and commerce,
both home and foreign, would be considerably greater than it now is.
France has been most peculiarly favoured by nature, her soil produces
everything that can be grown in England, and besides three commodities
which are not genial to our climate, and are of immense value, oil, silk
and wine; hence the products of the soil of France amount annually to
the immense sum of 240,000,000_l._, or 6,000,000,000 francs; having such
a basis, or one may even say such a capital to work upon, to what an
incalculable extent might business be carried on, with the amazing
industry that exists in France, as in the first place their population
exceeds ours by nearly six millions; then their general temperance is
such, there is not so much time nor labour lost as there is in England,
consequently there are more hands available, and those generally for a
longer period of time, as every one who is familiar with many
manufacturing and even agricultural districts in England must be aware
that there are numbers of workmen who never appear on the Monday,
vulgarly called St. Monday, but spend it at the public houses.

I myself have had farming men whom I hired by the day in Kent, who did
not appear until Wednesday morning, but that, however, is some years
since, and the evil is now correcting. The great deficiency in France is
not only want of great capitalists, but men of enterprise, who are not
afraid to enter upon colossal undertakings; and now, looking at the
speculative works of the greatest magnitude which exist in France, it
will be found that Englishmen are concerned in them, either as partners
in a firm, or the principal shareholders in any company or association.
The promptness of the English for adventuring their funds in all sorts
of schemes is the wonderment of all Europe; whenever there is any
discovery which may be rendered available for trade, an Englishman is on
the spot with his capital in his hand and his calculation in his head.
Recently a vein of coal was found near the coast of Brittany, three
Englishmen were there as if they had dropped from the clouds, quite
prepared to enter into all the arrangements requisite for working the
mine and rendering it productive of profit.

But although the French are deficient in those qualities requisite for
commencing and conducting gigantic enterprises, yet they are rapidly
improving in every point that is necessary for the management of
business and augmenting their foreign commerce to a great extent,
particularly with America; from the town of New Orleans alone, last
summer, there were eighty merchants in Paris at one time, and the amount
from all the United States was estimated at two thousand; in fact if
France remain at peace, the increase of her prosperity in every branch
of industry must be certain, as if she obtain English machinery, which
she must ultimately, with those who know how to set it in motion also,
as provisions are cheaper, and always will be than with us, because she
needs not so much taxation, her debt being so much smaller than that of
England, labour must be lower, therefore she will have an advantage over
us which it will be impossible for England, with all her talents, to
circumvent. Already the Americans purchase, not only silks and fancy
articles in France, but also even cotton goods of the superior
qualities; the only obstacle which prevents the French from making still
more rapid advancement than is at present the case, is first timidity of
capitalists, deficiency of knowledge of the higher order of business,
and extreme slowness in proceeding with any grand national operation, as
for instance, her railroads, in which she has not only seen England
surpass her tenfold, but other neighbouring countries; but as there is a
sort of system of centralization in favour of the metropolis, Paris
improves more rapidly in proportion than the rest of France.




CHAPTER VI.

     The monuments of Paris, the gardens, promenades, markets,
     libraries, etc.


In order to facilitate the progress of the reader in viewing the
monuments and different objects of interest in Paris, I shall classify
them within certain limits, so that they may be viewed in the shortest
possible time, stating those which are contiguous to each other, so that
a greater number may be visited in a day, than if the traveller went
from one distant quarter of Paris to the other promiscuously, as he
happened to hear of any building or monument he wished to see, and thus
have to return perhaps two or three times to the same neighbourhood
instead of finishing with one district first, then taking the others in
rotation; as I shall suppose that some of my readers can only afford ten
days or a fortnight to view Paris, I shall be as chary of their time as
possible; having been accustomed to show the lions to many different
friends or acquaintances from England, I trust I am tolerably _au fait_
at that operation. I shall begin with that part of Paris denominated La
Cité, because it is the most central and the most ancient; we will
therefore proceed to it by the Pont-Neuf, which as I have already stated
was built by Henry III about 1580. There are several shops upon it
contained within small stone buildings, which, when viewing the bridge
at a short distance, have rather a picturesque effect; it is ornamented
with a number of heads according to the taste of that day, and which now
give it rather an antique appearance. When well upon the bridge which
rises as it approaches the centre, I would advise the spectator to look
around him, as the view well repays the trouble, the quays having a most
noble appearance, adorned by the Louvre, the Tuileries, the Institute,
and other public buildings.

Now let us look about us at more immediate objects; what a noisy
bustling scene it is at present, and has been for centuries past, as in
the reign of Henry IV it is described as absolutely stunning; now you
are assailed by the hissing of fried potatoes, fish, and fritters, which
are bought up as fast as they are supplied, women and men are seated
with their little apparatus for shearing cats and dogs, and clipping
their tails and ears if required, which is a calling that appears to be
followed by numbers in Paris who all seem to take their stations on the
bridges; situated amongst them are several shoeblacks, who appear to
take their posts in uniform array with the trimmers of cats and dogs;
they operate upon your boots and shoes as you stand, therefore if you
wish to patronise them you may take that opportunity of looking about
and getting disburthened of some of the Paris mud, quite certain if it
be wet weather that you will soon get more. Fruit in all its variety,
books, prints, blacking, and nick-knacks of every description offer
themselves to your notice. But let us direct our attention to a more
interesting object; the fine bronze equestrian statue of Henry IV: one
could almost think the good and merry monarch was going to utter some of
his witty sallies. Now let us turn round and behold those antique
looking houses which face us and were built in his reign, at a distance
they have a sort of castellated appearance: before we quit the bridge
let us look down on the Baths Vigier with their pretty garden; we will
enter the place Dauphine, and then take one look at the bust of Desaix,
the victim of the battle of Marengo, and next we will turn on to the
Quai de l'Horloge and view the north side of the Palais de Justice; it
presents two round towers, which have the appearance of being very old,
and I was assured by an architect who employed much of his time in
poking about after such morsels of antiquity as he could find, that they
were built by the Romans, but I doubt it.

We must not miss the Tour de l'Horloge, which is certainly of the middle
ages, and the clock is I believe considered the oldest in Paris; turning
to the right we view the grand front of the Palais de Justice, a very
handsome iron grating in part gilded, decorates the entrance to the
front court, and you ascend a bold flight of steps to the principal
door; four doric pillars with figures representing Justice, Fortitude,
Plenty, and Prudence, adorn the grand façade of the building; an immense
hall to the right, in which is a noble statue of the good and venerable
Malesherbes, well worth attention, and is the apartment where formerly
ambassadors were received and the nuptial ceremonies of princes were
celebrated, but now the rendez-vous of lawyers, barristers, and their
clients.

Several other halls, chambers, galleries, corridors, etc, are worth
notice, and that which is beneath them, has a shuddering kind of
interest; it is called the Conciergerie, and if its victims were there
consigned by the harsh decree of rigid justice, surely mercy and charity
were not allowed to enter, whilst it formed the prison of the hapless
Marie Antoinette and the brave Pichegru, but we will draw a veil over
those scenes which are but fraught with sad reminiscences. Many of these
dark covered alleys, belonging to this extraordinary building, have been
long occupied by venders of shoes, slippers and a variety of articles
which remind one of the old Exeter Change.

This singular edifice which almost resembles a town is considered to
have been founded by Eudes, count of Paris, about the year 890, but the
most ancient part now standing, was built by Saint Louis who founded the
chapel, which is considered to be a complete type of the _pure_ gothic
architecture, and which in that respect is not exceeded by any other in
Europe; it has the most decided air of antiquity, with a richness and
elegance which certainly characterise it as the beau idéal of that
period. It is termed the Holy Chapel and now appropriated to the
conservation of ancient records. From this interesting monument we turn
with regret, but a new scene bursts upon us; it is the flower market,
which is held under trees and furnished with large bassins constantly
supplied with water; the numerous display of flowers mostly in pots done
up in such a manner with white paper so that it forms the background,
gives much light and life to the colours, buds, and blossoms, which
bloom on this enlivening spot. Wednesdays and Saturdays are the market
days, and I recommend the reader not to miss so pleasing a spectacle. On
the Quai du Marché-Neuf, on the southern bank of the island, a very
opposite sight may be seen, being the Morgue, a little building for
receiving all dead bodies found, and not owned.

We now proceed to Notre-Dame, which is in the form of a cross; it was
began about the year 1150, in the reign of Louis the Seventh, but
continued in that of Philippe-Auguste, and completed under Saint-Louis
in 1257, which date, as I have already stated, it now distinctly bears.
Its magnitude and extent surpasses every other church in Paris, it is in
the arabic style, and being now totally detached from any other building
has a most grand effect; it is only in the present reign that this great
improvement has been effected, as it was formerly joined on one side to
the archiepiscopal palace. The immense number of grotesque figures which
surround and surmount the doorway, give it a most rich appearance,
although they are in the rudest style of barbarism; above is a large
window called the rose, which is a most beautiful and curious object.
The interior at the first view has a most striking effect; one hundred
and twenty pillars supporting a range of arches afford a most splendid
_coup d'oeil_, the middle aisle presenting an uninterrupted view of
the whole church, which being very lofty has a most majestic appearance;
the sumptuous altar, the fine gloom pervading the pictures, the curious
Gobelin tapestry which decorate the sides, combine in affording a rich
effect which is still heightened by the chapels which are perceptible
between the columns. Although it might be urged that there is rather a
profusion of decoration with the bas-reliefs, and other ornaments, yet
the edifice is on so colossal a scale that it still presents so broad a
mass, that a tone of simplicity pervades the whole. The beautiful choir
is after a design by De Goste, the altar and sanctuary are of marble and
porphyry, whilst tesselated pavements and variegated shrines adorn the
numerous chapels. The pictures are good in general; as to the tapestry,
I think it had better be removed, which I dare say it will be as taste
refines. It is to be regretted that the towers of Notre-Dame have so
heavy and black appearance, which is increased by a parcel of dark
unseemly shutters. On the outside towards the north, there are some
pieces of sculpture well worth examination; they are beautifully
executed although much deteriorated by time, and appear to be works of
about the thirteenth century. There are some curious brasses which would
be very interesting to persons capable of decyphering them, one in
particular to the left on entering, but so much in the dark that it is
difficult to make it out, especially as the characters at best are not
easy to understand, but I recommend them to the inspection of those
persons who have time and inclination to study such subjects. The view
of the city from the towers affords an ample panorama, and displays the
positions of the principal monuments.

The Hôtel Dieu is one of the finest establishments of the kind in
Europe, it is an hospital for the sick, in which they can make up 1,500
beds, but there is nothing in its external appearance that is very
striking. The Archiepiscopal Palace had not a very attractive exterior,
but now, as they are partly demolishing and rebuilding it all, remarks
must be suspended until it be finished. No other object presents itself
particularly worth notice on this island, once the celebrated Lutetia,
but many of the houses have a very old appearance, and are some of them
probably of three or four hundred years standing; the curious observer
inspecting them will here and there find indications of the middle ages.
If the reader like to pass over to the Isle St. Louis, it will but take
him a few minutes, which is about as much as it is worth; the only
object exciting attention is the Hôtel Chamisot, No. 45, Rue St. Louis,
and the church of St. Louis, built in 1664. In this edifice there are
some pictures worthy remark and a curious spire. The Hôtel Lambert, No.
2, Rue St. Louis, also merits attention, being most richly adorned with
paintings, gilded mouldings, frescos, etc. Voltaire lived in it, and
Napoleon had a long conversation in the gallery in 1815 with his
minister, Montalivet, when he found all was lost.

I shall now conduct my reader from the little Isle St. Louis by the Pont
de Tournelle to the Quay de Tournelle, from which we proceed to that of
St. Bernard, where every one must be struck with the Halles aux Vins, or
Wine Halls; they are all arranged with extreme regularity, and forming
altogether a whole, have a most singular effect; the neatness of the
appearance is remarkable; and the extent is such that they might contain
sufficient inhabitants to people a small town. As we proceed along the
quay, we have a good view of the Pont d'Austerlitz, it is quite flat,
built of iron, and is extremely light and handsome.

Upon our right is the great attraction, so interesting to all nations,
the Garden of Plants; the first view of it through the iron railing is
most striking, rows of sable looking trees, forming a fine contrast to
the broad expansive beds of flowers, their gay colours blooming forth so
thickly as to resemble at some distance the brightest and richest
carpet; broad walks are between these brilliant masses; at the end of
which is the building which contains the Museum of natural History; to
give the reader anything like an accurate idea of this establishment, it
is necessary to exercise one's ability in condensing to the utmost
degree, as to furnish a comprehensive analysis of the wonders of this
institution would require a folio volume. I knew an English couple who
took lodgings in the immediate neighbourhood for three months that they
might go every day and study the numberless interesting objects this
establishment contains. The long promenades are formed by picturesque
trees and shrubs which have been collected from every clime; the immense
number of labels, as one approaches more closely, rather disfigure the
display of flowers, but as usefulness is the object, it is impossible
otherwise than to approve the extreme order and regularity with which
every plant, according to its genus, is classified, affording a most
delectable treat to a regular botanist. This arrangement has been
effected under the superintendence of Monsieur du Jussieu himself, no
doubt one of the most scientific botanists thatever has appeared; his
residence and that of his family was in the gardens, when I was in Paris
twenty years back, and I believe some of them still are concerned in the
botanical arrangements of the institution.

The tremendous vocabulary of long latin names inscribed on the labels is
really enough to appal the most retentive memory that ever existed, and
to a person who has never dipped at all into the mysteries of botany I
can imagine the terms are rather alarming, words with nineteen letters
in them are but trifles compared to others, and a regular John Bull who
was scanning them very justly remarked, pointing to the flowers, that it
was certainly a favoured spot of Flora, and then alluding to the fruits
observed the same of Pomona, but added, he should like very much to know
who was the goddess of hard words as he would recommend her to descend
upon the same beds, as she would there find a more numerous progeny
than either of her rival goddesses. I believe that there are now nearly
10,000 plants arranged according to the system of De Jussieu, in the
most simple and perfect manner, so that the student is enabled at once
to comprehend the plan, and numbers of both sexes attend even as early
as six in the morning copying the names of plants and studying their
classification. Although this establishment is called the Garden of
Plants, it has many other objects of the highest interest besides what
its name indicates. It is at the same time a most extensive menagerie,
which first gave the idea that has since been adopted of the Zoological
Gardens in Regent's Park; formerly the arrangement exceedingly
interested and delighted the English visiter, but now that he has the
same thing at home, it has ceased to be a novelty. Each animal having
plenty of room to walk about in, was certainly a beautiful thought, and
great improvement on confining them in cages, which is now only found
necessary with ferocious animals. The bears form a great source of
amusement to the people, they are in large square pits about ten or
twelve feet below the level of the promenades, and each has a large pole
in the middle, with several branches upon which they climb, whilst the
visiters throwing bread to them are exceedingly diverted at their
successful or unsuccessful attempts to catch it. It would be superfluous
to enter upon a description of the great variety of animals assembled in
this collection, suffice it to say that I believe there is no living
animal who can exist in a Parisian climate, that is not to be found in
this garden; generally there are several of a kind, and in case one dies
it is immediately replaced by another. The monkeys are the principal
objects of attraction, and as soon as they are let out into their little
paddock in front of their dwellings, which is only when the day is
considered sufficiently warm, crowds of people assemble to witness their
grimaces and gambols; they and the bears may be considered as the
principal dramatis personæ of the menagerie, and who certainly perform
their parts most admirably, never failing to afford the utmost
entertainment to the audience: and it is indeed a sort of rivalry
between Jocko and Bruin which should play their _rôle_ the best; for my
own part I really think I give the preference to the latter, there is
something at once so comic and so good natured-looking in the bears,
that I feel almost inclined to descend into their pits and caress and
pet them as I would a favourite dog, but am only deterred by fearing
they would give me a reception rather too warm, and their friendly hug
be too overpowering for me to sustain.

There are several buildings in this garden which are applied to various
purposes, amongst the rest an Amphitheatre where lectures on all the
branches of natural history are delivered. A Cabinet of Anatomy most
richly stored occupies one mansion; dissections of the human form, as
well as those of almost every animal are here found, besides numerous
other curiosities. Amongst other things the progress of a chicken in the
egg is exemplified, from its first speck until it has life, which is
imitated with the most extraordinary exactness in wax, as also are
several fishes which cannot be preserved, besides a numerous collection
of foeti and monsters. To see these things properly; would require to
pass several days in these rooms; but a week would not suffice to do
justice to the grand Museum, every description of bird and beast that
has been known to exist in our days may be found here stuffed, and
preserved in glass cases with the nicest care; it appears strange to see
an enormous elephant and a tall ostrich within a glass case. Here also
are to be found every species of fungus, chrysalis, sea-weed, eggs, and
nests. But the shells, minerals, and fossils, form so extraordinary and
numerous a collection that they are the subject of admiration of every
beholder; the polish of the shells, the brilliance of the colours of the
plumage of the birds, and the glossy smoothness of the skins of the
beasts are as perfect as if they were living, but the same cannot
exactly be said of the fishes. The marbles, porphyry, and granite, the
lava, basaltes, barks of trees, bones of animals known and unknown, some
within stones, are arranged by the celebrated Cuvier, whilst the ores,
crystals, jaspers, and extraordinary varieties of ornamental articles
formed of these materials occupy several apartments.

In addition to all these objects of high interest, there is a most
excellent library, giving every possible information regarding the
contents of this delightful establishment; a statue of the great
illustrator of the wonders of nature, Buffon, is here most
appropriately placed, as also some paintings of plants and animals.
Hence it may be easily imagined that persons who have much leisure, and
are fond of the study of natural history, may well choose to take up
their abode in the neighbourhood, for the convenience of long poring
over the beauties of this wonderful Museum. From hence other schools of
botany are supplied with seeds, cuttings, suckers, etc., whilst the
hospitals of Paris are gratuitously furnished with whatever is requisite
for the purposes of medicine; nor must I omit to state that there is a
most beautiful aviary, the birds of which are choice selections of the
finest of their species, and for those of an aquatic nature, there is a
basin of water from the Seine. Even specimens of soils, manures,
ditches, ha-has, palisades, frames, and every thing necessary for
forming fences are to be found here in every variety. Even to persons
who have no scientific information nor desire to obtain knowledge, to
walk in the Jardin-des-Plantes (Garden of Plants) affords delight, the
number of attractions are such, and of so varied a description that even
the dullest mind must be awakened to a sense of pleasure, yet some
persons I have seen who regarded all the phenomena collected here with
the most stoical indifference; the fact is, that a number of people will
not take the trouble to think, and lose the enjoyment they might receive
from the wonders of nature; how different if they would but devote to
them a little reflexion.

With our minds still deeply impregnated with the impression of the
objects we have just contemplated, we will leave the garden, and turning
round to the right, we find ourselves upon the Boulevard de l'Hôpital,
just facing the Hôpital de la Salpêtrière, which makes up 500 beds for
females, who are lunatics, idiots, otherwise diseased, or 70 years of
age; it is of immense extent, and conducted with so much order, and such
cleanliness prevails both with regard to the inmates and the
establishment itself, that it may be considered one of the most
gratifying sights in Paris; in fact I have heard many English ladies,
much to their credit, declare that not any of the interesting objects
which they had seen in the French capital, afforded them more pleasure
and satisfaction. Just near it is the terminus for the Orleans railway,
which is worthy of observation, and then we will cross over to the horse
and dog market and observe the regular system with regard to the stalls
and other arrangements which are adopted; it is principally for
draught-horses, Wednesdays and Saturdays are the market days, and
Sundays for dogs. We must next glance at the Hôpital de la Pitié,
founded in 1612 for paupers, it has been since annexed to the
Hôtel-Dieu, and contains 600 beds; it is situated No. 1, rue Copeau.
Sainte-Pélagie being just by in the Rue de la Clef, we ought to afford
it a half hour; it was formerly a convent of nuns, political prisoners
are now here confined when committed for trial, or if sentenced to but
short terms of imprisonment; it is also appropriated for other offenders
whose sentence of confinement is of brief duration, but the military
surveillance within and around it is very strict.

The Fountain Cuvier, at the corner of the street of that name, and the
Rue St. Victor, must claim a few minutes' attention; it is certainly one
amongst those of modern erection possessing great merit. In the Rue
Scipion we will cast one look at the great bakehouse for all the
hospitals in Paris, to which I have before alluded. The Amphitheatre of
Anatomy must occupy some attention, being a suite of anatomical schools
only recently built, on a most commodious scale; it forms a corner of
the Rues du Fer and Fossés St. Marcel. One thought in passing the
ancient Cimetière de Ste. Catherine, closed in 1815, must be devoted to
Pichegru, who lies buried there; we then hurry on without loss of time
to the manufacture of the Gobelin tapestry. As the little river Bièvre
is considered to be peculiarly adapted for dyeing, that process has been
carried on from a very remote period on the spot where the present
establishment now stands, which owes its foundation to Jean Gobelin in
1450, and under Louis the Fourteenth it was formed into a royal
manufactory. To me this is indeed one of the greatest wonders of Paris,
how such beautiful specimens of art can be produced when the work is all
done behind the frame, so that the artist cannot see the effect of what
he is doing, is to me most miraculous; the material used is woollen and
silken threads, so woven together, that a perfectly smooth surface is
produced, having all the softness and gradation of tints to be found in
the finest oil painting, without that glare which varnish produces; the
execution of these works is attended by a most tedious application,
requiring sometimes six years to complete one piece, which, at 18,000
francs, about seven hundred pounds, is not adequate to recompensing the
workmen equal to their merit and perseverance; about 120 men are
constantly employed, principally for the Government or the Royal Family.

Attached to this establishment is the Royal Carpet Manufactory; such as
are here produced are considered superior to those of Persia, with
regard to the evenness of the surface, the strength, durability, and
fineness of the workmanship, the beauty of the designs, and the
brilliance of the colours, which are such as can never be surpassed, but
if they were ever allowed to be sold, the price would be so enormous
that some would amount to 150,000 francs (6000_l._) The accuracy with
which the pictures of Rubens have been copied is most extraordinary, as
it may be said that the operative works in the dark. One carpet has been
produced for the Gallery of the Louvre, consisting of seventy-two
pieces, forming a total exceeding 1,300 feet which is supposed to be the
largest carpet ever made. The same facility exists for foreigners seeing
this exhibition, as with all others, the passport being presented,
Wednesdays and Saturdays, from one to three in winter, and from two to
four in the summer.

A curious old house, termed the Maison de St. Louis or de la Reine
Blanche, is worth notice, in the Rue des Marmouzets; it may have been
inhabited by a queen of that name, but certainly not the mother of St.
Louis, as it is not sufficiently ancient, being of about the time of
Charles the Seventh, when it was the rage to build houses in that style
of architecture, about the period of from 1440 to 1460. The church of
St. Medard, in the Rue Mouffetard, offers nothing remarkable, but a
mixture of different styles of architecture, according to the epochs at
which it was repaired and embellished; in 1561 a tremendous attack was
made upon it by the Calvinists, when several of the congregation were
killed, and the Abbé Paris, having been buried in the cemetery attached
in 1727, his tomb, it is pretended, had certain convulsions in 1730, and
was the origin of the sect called convulsionists, and the scenes which
occurred caused the cemetery to be closed in 1732. A picture of St.
Genenieve, by Watteau, in the chapel of that saint, must be admired,
having much merit. In the Rue de l'Oursine, No. 95, is an hospital which
is a refuge for sinning and afflicted females (something in the nature
of the Magdalen, in London), containing 300 beds. To the fountain of
Bacchus, at the corner of the Rue Censier, we will give a look _en
passant_, as also to the School of Pharmacy, formerly a convent, in the
garden of which was formed the first botanical garden, in 1580; there is
here a cabinet of specimens of drugs and a collection of mineralogy
worthy of examination; it is situated in the Rue de l'Arbalète, No. 13.

The Hôpital Militaire and Church of the Val de Grâce is in the Rue St.
Jacques (vide page 96) and is one which particularly merits attention of
the visiter; the vault of the dome is painted upon the stone by Mignard,
and is justly celebrated as one of the most splendid frescos in France;
the heart of Anne of Austria, the foundress of it, was sent here, as
also those of many succeeding members of the Royal Family. The interior
of the church is much admired for the richness of its architecture. At
No. 3, Rue de la Bourbe, is the Lying-in Hospital, formerly the Abbey of
Port Royal, containing 445 beds; any woman, eight months advanced in
pregnancy, is admitted, if there be room to receive her, without an
inquiry, if she be in distress; she enters into an engagement to support
the child, and if she cannot fulfil it, she must make a declaration and
it is sent to the Foundling Hospital, but if she retain it, clothing and
a small sum of money is given her on quitting the hospital. A school for
midwifery is established here, the practitioners being females, who,
when considered competent, receive a diploma from the physicians who are
appointed judges.

Just by this establishment is the Observatory, erected in the reign of
Louis XV; it is a most curious piece of architecture, having in it
neither wood nor iron; it is not a large building, but has a fine
appearance, and Perrault was the architect; it is vaulted throughout,
and a geometrical staircase, having a vacuity of 170 feet deep, merits
particular notice. There is a circular universal chart upon the pavement
of one of the apartments. By means of mechanical arrangements the roof
and cupola open, and every night, the weather permitting, astronomical
observations are taken. M. Arago, the most celebrated astronomer of
France, lectures here, where there is every facility, and every
instrument to be found requisite for the promotion of the science of
astronomy; there are two pluvia-meters, for ascertaining the quantity of
rain that falls in Paris during a year. There is a general map of
France, called the Carte de Cassini, containing 182 sheets, a marble
statue of Cassini (the author of the work) attests the high estimation
in which he was held; he died in 1712, aged eighty-seven. This
institution is the just admiration of all scientific men from every
civilized part of the world, but it is an astronomer alone who can
thoroughly appreciate its merits.

The little hospital, founded by M. Cochin, in 1780, being just by No. 45,
Rue du Faubourg St. Jacques, may claim our hasty look, it contains 114
beds, and the patients receive the attendance of the Soeurs de St.
Marthe. At No. 9, Rue des Capucins, Faubourg St. Jacques, is an hospital
for men and youths above fifteen, whose excesses have brought on
disease; it is styled Hôpital des Vénériens, and contains 300 beds; the
attendants are all males.

Near to the Barrière d'Enfer is the entrance to the Catacombs,
containing the bones of 3,000,000 persons which are all systematically
arranged so as to have the most extraordinary effect; they are formed
into galleries of an immense length, and occupy a considerable space of
ground under a great portion of Paris, on the south side of the Seine;
but now they cease to be such objects of interest as they formerly were,
as the public are not now permitted to visit them; they were formerly
large quarries from which the stone was drawn for building most part of
ancient Paris, and when it was decided to clear many of the cemeteries
within the capital, the bones were placed in these quarries in 1784, and
the operation of piling them as they now are was effected in 1810. In
the Rue d'Enfer, No. 86, is the Infirmary of Marie Thérèse, founded by
Madame la Vicomtesse de Chateaubriand, in 1819, named after the Duchess
d'Angoulême, its protectress; it is destined for females who have moved
in respectable society, the accommodations and food being far better
than are found in the generality of hospitals; the establishment
consists of fifty beds. At the Barrière of St. Jacques, the guillotine
is erected when criminals are to be executed. Beyond the Barrière
d'Enfer, on the Orleans road, No. 15, is the Hôpital de la
Rochefoucauld; it is devoted to the reception of old servants of
hospitals, and other aged persons, it also receives poor persons on
their paying, according to circumstances, 200 francs a-year, or upwards,
or on paying a sum on entering varying from 700 to 3000 francs. The
number of beds is 213.

As we descend the Rue d'Enfer, we find, at No. 74, the Foundling
Hospital, founded by the good and celebrated St. Vincent de Paule, in
1632. Any child is received at this institution on the mother making a
declaration that she has not the means of supporting it, when she
receives a certificate signed by a commissary of police; the average
number admitted in the last two or three years is rather over three
thousand; they are attended by the Soeurs de Charité (Sisters of
Charity) in the most praiseworthy manner; in the same building is the
Orphans' Hospital, where the children are placed when two years of age,
and of poor persons who fall ill and are obliged to go to an hospital,
the children may be sent here until the parents are cured. The children
are all taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, and are placed to
various trades at the proper ages; they are treated with the greatest
care and kindness, it is open to visiters, and the sight of it produces
the most heartfelt gratification; many of the most respectable members
of society have come from this institution. Turning into the Rue de
Faubourg St. Jacques, at the corner of the Rue des Deux Eglises, is the
institution for the Deaf and Dumb, founded by the benevolent Abbé de
l'Epée, who, with only 500_l._ a-year, took the charge of maintaining
and educating forty deaf and dumb pupils, whom he taught to write and
read, even on the most abstruse subjects.

The Abbé Sicard followed up the plan to the highest perfection; 80
pupils are now admitted gratis and are brought up to different trades,
others pay according to their means; the Chambers grant generally
4,000_l._ a year to this institution. At No. 67, Rue d'Enfer, is the
Convent of the Carmelites, where Mademoiselle de La Vallière, the
beautiful favourite of Louis XIV, took the veil. The church of St.
Jacques-du-Haut-Pas, which is at the opposite corner, offers nothing
very remarkable, the first stone was laid in 1630, by Gaston of Orleans,
brother to Louis XIII. Four fine paintings of Saints however are worthy
of notice.

The Pantheon, formerly the church of Sainte Genevieve, stands to the
left as we descend the rue St. Jacques, and strikes upon the eye as a
most noble and imposing building; it was Louis XV who laid the first
stone in 1764, near the spot where stood the ancient but ruined church
of St. Genevieve. It is affirmed that he was persuaded by Madame de
Pompadour to erect this monument as a thanksgiving after his having had
a severe illness. The architect was Soufflot, the style is purely
Grecian. Twenty-two fluted Corinthian columns, 60 feet in height and 6
in diameter, sustain the portico, and 32 the great dome, above which is
a lantern terminated by a figure in bronze 17 feet high. There is a
great deal of sculpture about the building, some allegorical, others
portraiture; its total height is 282 feet. The exterior is in the form
of a Grecian cross. The paintings are by the Barons Gros, and Gerard;
although a most noble structure, yet it is not consistently grand in all
its bearings. Monuments of the great men of France are now erected here;
and amongst the rest the immortal Lafayette. The stranger is recommended
to ascend the dome, from which a most amusing view is afforded. The
vaults beneath are extremely curious and interesting; whatever the
faults of this edifice may be, there is a solemnity about it which takes
great possession of the mind, particularly when there is a funeral and
the light of the torches are seen glimmering amongst the priests in the
"long drawn aisle," as they slowly and solemnly wend their way.

In the Rue des Postes, No. 26, is the seminary for young men destined for
missionaries to the colonies; a bas relief representing a missionary
preaching, above the pediment of the church, is the only striking
object. At No. 3, Rue de Fourcy, is the Irish college, rather a handsome
building, with some trees about it which add to the effect. Many Irish
of distinction are buried here and it is still kept up, there being
about 100 students; the regulations are the same as in the English
Universities, about 25 priests are sent out from here to their own
country every year. In the rue des Fossés St. Victor is the Scotch
College (vide page 78), it is now a sort of school, but the tablet over
the door with Collége des Ecossais inscribed still remains, and there
are many interesting monuments of Scotch nobility. Next door is the
Convent of English Augustin Nuns, the only religious house never
molested during the Revolution; it contains a small chapel with some
English tombs, the inmates now occupy themselves with the education of
their young countrywomen. At the back of the Pantheon, rather to the
south-east, is the very curious and interesting church of St.
Etienne-du-Mont; it is an odd mixture of styles of architecture, a tower
and circular turret which are detached from the church, are supposed to
be of the date 1222; a staircase of most singular construction and of
peculiar lightness is the first object which strikes the spectator on
entering; there is a great deal of richness and scroll work, with some
Arabic, Greek and Gothic styles intermingled. Some of the pictures in
this church are exceedingly good, and are by Lebrun and Lesueur. The
pulpit is supported by Sampson, and there are other smaller figures, the
whole having a beautiful effect; the design is by La Hire, and executed
by Lestocard, it is altogether a church of high interest, often the
subject of the modern artists' pencils. There is a tomb which was found
in the vaults beneath, which is said to be that of St. Genevieve, and
bears the date of 511.

The library of St. Genevieve is close by, and besides containing 200,000
volumes, and 2,500 manuscripts, it possesses other objects of interest,
being a series of portraits from Philippe the Bold to Louis the XV, and
one of Mary Queen of Scots. This library belongs to the Collége Henry
IV, which on the side towards the Rue Clovis is very modern, but the
lower part of the curious old tower is supposed to have been built in
the reign of Clovis. The young princes of the reigning family in France
were educated at this College, there are 907 pupils, of whom 500 are
boarders. The École de Droit which stands in front of the Pantheon was
also erected in the reign of Louis XV, and Souflot, the architect. At No.
123, is the Collége de Louis-le-Grand, formerly the Collége de
Clermont, founded in 1560, but the present building was erected in
1618; it contains 1,180 pupils, of whom 520 are boarders. It possesses a
large library, and a good collection of philosophical instruments.
Behind this College, in the Rue de Rheims, at the corner of the Rue des
Chollets, a gateway and building of the time of Francis I. is worth
attention, supposed to belong to the old Collége des Chollets. The Royal
College of France, situated No. 1, Place Cambrai, was founded in 1529, by
Francis I, but the present edifice was erected in 1774. It is a spacious
building and very commodious, 23 professors attend and give gratuitous
lectures upon almost every subject, whether scientific or literary, and
particularly upon languages, both ancient and modern, Oriental and
European. In a court opposite the college is a very curious square tower
of the 12th century, called la Tour Bichat, or la Tour de St.
Jean-de-Latran; it is all that is remaining of the Hall of Knights
Hospitaliers, established in 1171, afterwards called Chevaliers de
Malte.

The remains of a chapel of very ancient date will be found in the
adjoining Cour de la Vacherie, in the far corner to the right, now
occupied as a charcoal depot. We will next proceed to the rue de la
Montagne St. Genevieve, and view the Polytechnic School, formerly the
Collége de Navarre, and where still remain a hall and chapel of the 14th
century; a new façade much less interesting has been recently added, and
the establishment is altogether badly situated. There are many
emblematical bas-reliefs which possess no extraordinary merit. But the
institution itself is one that deserves the highest encomiums, the young
men are received at from 17 to 20, after they have passed the ordeal of
a very severe examination in Paris or their respective departments. They
are instructed in every branch of education connected with military
science, and are afterwards admissible in the engineers, artillery,
pontooners, miners, inspectors of highways, public works, etc; they pay
1,000 francs a year, find their own uniforms, and whatever may be
requisite for their studies; they remain two or three years, as
circumstances may demand. Strangers wishing to view this establishment
must have a permission from the Minister of War.

The Rue des Carmes has an interesting appearance as containing some of
the old colleges, now otherwise appropriated. One was the College de
Lisieux; the buildings remain with a curious chapel, which fronts the
Marché des Carmes, but its entrance is at No. 5, Rue St.
Jean-de-Beauvais. In the Market there is a fountain in the middle built
in 1818; this Market is now designated la Place Maubert, and occupies
the site of the Convent des Carmes. Mounting a few steps in the Rue St.
Victor, we arrive at the church of St. Nicholas-du-Chardonnet; the body
of the building was completed in 1709, but the lower is of the 16th
century. The general effect of the interior is fine, but the paintings
in different chapels, on either side, are highly interesting; some of
them are extremely good, of the schools of Lesueur, Moise Valentin, and
Mignard, the ceiling of the chapel of St. Charles is painted by Lebrun;
there is also a monument of himself and his mother. At No. 68, Rue
St-Victor is the Royal Institution for the juvenile Blind, founded by M.
Haüy in 1791. There are here maintained 60 boys and 30 girls, at the
expense of the State, and as boarders, any blind children may be
admitted, either French or foreign; they are taught reading, music,
arithmetic, and writing, by means of characters raised in relief.
Admittance is freely accorded to strangers, but the establishment is
about to be removed to the corner of the Rue de Sèvres, on the Boulevard
des Invalides, where 250 pupils will be accommodated. At No. 18, Rue de
Pontoise, is the seminary of St. Nicholas du Chardonnet, and at No. 76,
the ancient College of Cardinal Lemoine, founded in 1300; some parts of
the original building exist, and on the doors are still seen a
cardinal's hat and arms, and numerous iron spear-heads. Close by, in the
Marché aux Veaux, is still one of the dormitories of the Convent of the
Bernardins, which must be of the 13th century, as also some remains of
their chapel, in a house adjoining the Market. On the Quai de la
Tournelle, No. 35, is the Hôtel de Nesmond, of the reign of Henry IV,
and at No. 5, the Pharmacie Centrale, for keeping all the drugs and
chemical preparations for the hospitals of Paris.

The Rue de Fouarre, by which we will pass, is one of the meanest and
filthiest in Paris, but has been cited by Petrarch, Dante and Rabelais,
as in it were several of the schools where public disputations were
held; the Rue Galande, the Rue des Rats, and many other dirty streets of
the same description is the quarter where existed the old University,
and still known by the name of the Quartier Latin.

Thus having completed our survey, which I shall call the south-east
division, we will proceed to the south-west, and begin by the church of
St. Severin at No. 3, in the street of the same name, called after a
hermit who died in the year 530, but had on this spot an oratory and
cells, where he conferred the monastic habit on St. Cloud. The present
building was erected in 1210, in the reign of Philippe Auguste, has been
repaired and enlarged at several different periods, which is perceptible
by the different styles displayed in the architecture; there is a great
deal of elaborate workmanship about this church that is exceedingly
beautiful and interesting, the lower part of the tower is coeval with
its first erection; a few good pictures of the old French school are
amongst the attractive objects contained within this edifice.

Ascending the little unseemly streets des Prétres and Boutebrie, we find
ourselves in the Rue du Foin, No. 18, being called the Hôtel de la Reine
Blanche; she was living about the year 1210, when the church of St.
Severin close by was founded in the reign of her father-in-law, and very
probably resided in the neighbourhood, perhaps on the very spot where
the house stands which is now called after her, but evidently not in the
same building which is now shown as such, although the staircase is of
a very ancient appearance.

In the same street, at the corner of the Rue Boutebrie, is the old
Collége de Maître Gervais, founded in 1370, at present appropriated as a
barrack for infantry. The visiter now must prepare for a grand treat, as
we turn round into the Rue de la Harpe, and at No. 63, we find the
venerable and crumbling remains of the Palais des Thermes (vide page
55). Julian, who was born in 332, inhabited it for some time, and many
imagine it was built by his grandfather, but others state that it was
alluded to at a still earlier period. Of what now remains there is
principally a large hall and a smaller, forming together one room; the
architecture is simple but noble, the walls are adorned by three grand
arcades, the middle being the loftiest. The vaulting of the roof rests
upon supports, representing the sterns of ships; human figures may be
distinguished in one of them. Beneath the hall are vaulted apartments
extending under most of the neighbouring houses. An aqueduct is traced
as having been brought from some leagues, for the purpose it is supposed
principally of supplying the baths. The masonry is alternately of stone
and brick, in parts covered with a thick stucco. It seems almost
incredible that a monument so ancient, and of such high interest should
have been for so long a period totally disregarded by the government,
and suffered to be occupied by a printer, a traiteur, and a cooper. The
Municipality of Paris have now however purchased it, and intend to
convert it into a museum for the reception of antiquities that can be
collected of the ancient Gauls. After the overthrow of the Roman yoke,
the Palais des Thermes was inhabited by the earliest kings of France. To
view these ruins the stranger must apply to the concierge, No. 68, Rue
de la Harpe, directly opposite, and a trifle should be given to the
party showing them.

The Hôtel de Cluny which is almost adjoining, is also an object highly
meriting the attention of the observer. It is one of those edifices of
the middle ages, of which there are so few remaining. In 1505, in the
reign of Louis the Twelfth, this curious building was erected by Jacques
d'Amboise, Abbot of Cluny, on the site and with a part of the ruins of
the Palais des Thermes. There is a richness about the architecture and
the ornaments around the windows, that is particularly striking; the
chapel is most highly interesting, and in it was married Princess Mary,
the widow of Louis the Twelfth, and sister of Henry VIII, to the duke of
Suffolk, as also James V of Scotland to Magdalen, daughter of Francis I.
Having at length become the property of M. Sommérard, all the value of
his acquisition is duly appreciated, and he has formed within this
curious and beautiful edifice, a collection of specimens of the middle
ages, which are arranged chronologically; he is the author of a most
interesting work on the subject which may be procured upon the premises.
The stranger will find a visit to the Hôtel de Cluny one of the most
gratifying of any he can bestow, and on writing to M. Sommérard, he may
be certain of procuring admission. Following the Rue St. Benoît, we
arrive at the Theatre du Pantheon, Rue St. Jacques, opened in 1832; it
is partly formed by the church St. Benoît anciently that of St. Benedict
built in 1517, much famed during the ligue, where the assassination of
Henri III was applauded by Jean Boucher in his sermons. The performances
are vaudevilles and melodramas. Highest price two shillings, lowest
six-pence.

We now re-enter the Rue de la Harpe, and notice the Royal College St.
Louis, originally founded by Raoul Harcourt in 1280; the present
building was erected in 1675, but part of the ancient edifice exists,
the greater portion of the structure was built in 1814; and the college
opened in 1820. There is a chapel attached, and at the lower end a
gateway, formerly the entrance to the Collége de Bayeux, founded in
1308, which bears an inscription to that effect, and probably of the
same date. A very few steps bring us to the Collége de la Sorbonne,
built on the site of a school founded by Robert Sorbon in 1253; it is
filled with historical associations, the church and all about it has a
very gloomy appearance, it is cruciform and of the corinthian order,
surmounted by a dome the interior of which is painted by Philippe de
Champagne. The tomb of Cardinal de Richelieu, in the southern transept,
is the chef-d'oeuvre of Gérardon. The college is a plain building of
sombre aspect, but the accommodation for the professors is on a handsome
scale; the lectures delivered are all gratuitous.

We will now proceed to the School of Medicine in the street bearing the
same name. The first stone was laid by Louis XV, in 1769, it is a truly
elegant building, a peristyle of the ionic order with a quadruple range
of columns unite the two wings and support the library, and a fine
cabinet of anatomy. The grand court is 66 feet in length by 96 in
breadth, the amphitheatre which is opposite the entrance is capable of
containing 1,400 people; there are several allegorical and emblematical
bas-reliefs, and on the whole it is a building which excites much
admiration both in an ornamental and in a useful point of view, there
not being a single object that can in any manner facilitate the study of
medicine that is not to be found within this institution. At No. 5, in
the same street, is a gratuitous school of drawing, established in the
ancient amphitheatre of surgery, chiefly intended for artisans, to
instruct them in the principles of drawings and architecture, and
lectures are given on geometry, mensuration, etc. Opposite to the École
de Médecine, is the Hôpital clinique de la Faculté de Médecine,
established in the cloister of the Cordeliers, of which there are some
remains still visible; it is rather a handsome building and contains 140
beds. The body of the building is in the Rue de l'Observance. In the
same street as the École de Médecine; is the Musée Dupuytren, being the
valuable pathological collection of that celebrated anatomist, bought by
the University of his heirs, and placed in the refectory of the
Cordeliers which has been fitted up in the style of the 15th century,
the date of its erection.

Adjoining to this Museum is the School of practical Anatomy, being a set
of dissecting rooms for the use of the students. As we are so near I
must conduct the visiter to the Rue Hautefeuille; on the west side is a
house of the 16th century, which once belonged to a society of
Premonstratensian monks. In the same street, Nos. 23, 13, 9 and 5, and
at the corner of the Rue du Paon and Rue de l'École de Médecine, the
houses have ancient turrets, and are stated to have been built in the
reign of Charles VII. In the house, No. 18, of the latter street, in a
dirty backroom, Charlotte Corday stabbed that beau idéal of monsters,
Marat. We will now make our way to the Rue d'Enfer, and at No. 34 is the
Hôtel de Vendôme, at present the royal School of Mines; this noble
mansion was erected in 1707 by the Carthusian monks, but being purchased
by the Duchess of Vendôme was called after her. Every description of
tool or instrument used in mining will here be found, and perhaps the
extensive mineralogical collection is unrivalled anywhere in Europe, and
arranged in the most scientific manner by M. Haüy, with a ticket
attached to each explanatory of their quality and locality. The
geological specimens have been collected by Messrs. Cuvier and
Bronguiart; weeks might be passed in this museum by those partial to
studying mineralogy, geology, and conchology, and subjects for
examination and meditation would still not be exhausted. We will now
turn into the gardens of the Luxembourg Palace; they are in the true
French stiff style, but look at them in a slanting direction and all
the formality is lost; the statues are seen intermingled with the trees,
shrubs, flowers, parterres, walks, vases, fountains, etc. and the
coup-d'oeil has a most beautiful effect, and some of the retired walks
amongst the high trees have a very inviting though solitary appearance.

The Palace (vide page 98) was erected by Marie de Medicis, and is now
with the recent additions a very extensive building, and taken in a
general sense is decidedly a very fine monument, but I certainly think
the pillars being in such bad taste with large square knobs sticking out
all the way up the columns, in a degree spoil the effect of the whole
edifice, still there is a heavy grandeur in the ensemble which has an
imposing appearance. After having been occupied by various royal
personages, it was given by Louis the Sixteenth to his brother
afterwards Louis XVIII, who resided in it until he quitted France in
1791; it has since been appropriated to many different purposes, and is
now used as the Chamber of Peers; for their discussions a new apartment
has been constructed 92 feet in diameter, the form is semi-circular. In
the middle of the axis is a recess in which the president's and
secretaries' seats are placed; above are a range of statues in recesses,
the chairs of the peers are arranged in an amphitheatrical manner and
occupy the space in front of the president; the peer who speaks takes
his place below the president's desk.

There are altogether in this palace so many statues, apartments,
sculpture and galleries to describe, that it would monopolise far too
much space in my little volume if I were to attempt to do it justice. I
must therefore content myself with advising the reader to take the first
opportunity of viewing it with its beautiful gallery of pictures, many
of which are the chefs-d'oeuvre of the best living French artists. In
the new divisions which have been lately constructed there are some fine
specimens of painting from the pencils of Messrs. Delaroche, Scheffer,
Boulanger, Roqueplan, etc., and the chambers voted 800,000 fr.
(32,000_l._) for the artistical decorations of the recent erections
added to the original building.

Le Petit Luxembourg is a large hotel contiguous and may be considered as
a dependency of the great palace, it was built by Cardinal Richelieu who
made it his residence whilst the Palais Royal was building, when he
afterwards gave it to his niece the Duchess d'Aiguillon. It is now
occupied by the Chancellor of France, as President of the House of
Peers; it also contains a small prison for persons committed for
political offences, and tried by the Court of Peers: the ministers of
Charles X were here confined in 1830. In the same street, No. 70, is the
Convent of the Carmelite Sisters, already mentioned, a portion of the
building is still devoted to sacred purposes, the chapel is dedicated to
St. Joseph, and of the Tuscan order, it was founded by Marie de Medicis.
Here first began the massacres in Paris of the 2nd of September, 1792,
when a number of priests here imprisoned were murdered. This is the
convent which has long been famed for the _Eau de Mélisse_ and _Blanc
des Carmes_, which are still sold here.

At the southern gate of the Garden of the Luxembourg is the _Jardin
botanique de l'École de Médecine_, where every medicinal plant agreeing
with the climate is raised, and ticketed as classified by Jussieu.

The Odéon Theatre which is near the Luxembourg has been twice burnt
down, but was finally restored in 1820; it is situated fronting the
street, and in the _place_ of the same name; it is certainly a very
handsome building both as to the exterior and the interior, which is
fitted up in a most superior style, but all exertions to render it
successful seem in vain, although the present director has it rent free
from the government; dramatic pieces in general are here represented,
but its situation prevents its ever being much frequented; the principal
front having a portico of eight doric columns ascended by nine steps has
a fine effect; it is capable of containing 1,600 persons.

A very few steps bring us to the magnificent church of St. Sulpice.
Although the first stone was laid by Anne of Austria, in 1655, it was
not totally finished until 1777. The portico, by Servadoni, is splendid;
the two towers not being similar, rather spoil the effect, but the
interior baffles all description to do it justice; a simplicity and
grandeur pervades the whole, which is heightened by a soft light thrown
upon the Virgin directly behind the altar, who appears to be descending
midst the lightest clouds upon the earth, to which she presents her son.
The corinthian order prevails throughout the interior, the statues are
bold and finely conceived, some of the paintings are exquisite, that of
the ceiling, particularly. Two immense shells, placed within the
entrance, for containing holy water, resting on rocks of marble, were
presented to Francis I, by the Republic of Venice. The pulpit is
supported by two flights of steps, with the figures of Faith, Hope, and
Charity, producing a most splendid appearance. The organ is ornamented
with no less than seventeen figures playing on musical instruments, or
sustaining cornucopies carved in the most perfect manner. The pillars on
the different sides of this edifice comprise the four orders of doric,
ionic, corinthian, and composite. I cannot conceive a more sublime and
delightful sensation than that which is caused when the first low notes
of the organ begin to swell; the aisles being extremely lofty and
vaulted, the sound appears gradually to peal through the building with a
degree of softness which seems as if it came from a considerable
distance, and has a most extraordinary and enchanting effect. We will
now quit this noble edifice by the grand front, and looking to the left
cast an instant's glance upon a large plain building, which is the
Seminary of St. Sulpice, and has 210 students.

Descending the Rue Mabillon a few paces, we come to the Market St.
Germains, where formerly flourished the great fair under the same name.
It was built in 1811 on a most commodious plan, and has every requisite
that can be thought of for the convenience of a market, with an
extremely handsome fountain in the middle, which the visiter should not
omit to observe. Quitting the Market by the Rue Montfaucon brings us in
front of the prison of the Abbaye, in the Rue St. Marguerite, now only
used for confining military offenders; here it was that some of the
greatest horrors were committed during the Revolution, it has a small
turret at each corner, and seems to be a building of about two hundred
years standing. Not many yards off is the very ancient church of St.
Germain des Près (vide page 61), which has often been pillaged, burnt,
and otherwise injured, but the lower part of the tower is coeval with
the foundation, 558. The document relative to the establishment of the
monastery and church is still preserved amongst the archives of the
kingdom, and bears the date 561. The nave is simple and of the time of
Abbot Modardus, in the year 900; additions and repairs have been made at
different periods, but in many instances the style of architecture
displays its early date, the capitals of the pillars are remarkable for
the grotesqueness of the devices. There are some pictures of merit, and
many interesting tombs, one of Casimir, the King of Poland, who
abdicated his throne in 1668, and died abbot of the monastery attached
to the church in 1672, also of the Duke and Earls of Douglas and Angus.
The Abbot's palace still stands at the east of the church, in the Rue de
l'Abbaye, directly facing the Rue Furstemberg; it was built in the year
1586 by Cardinal Bourbon. It is a large heavy-looking red brick
building faced with stone, with a large garden behind; it is at present
let out to different tenants.

We shall now descend the Rue Furstemberg, and taking the Rue Jacob, to
the right shall get into the Rue de Seine, and mounting the little
Passage du Pont-Neuf, one of the oldest in Paris, we find ourselves
opposite the Rue Guénégaud cited by Sterne, as also the Quai Conti, on
which stands the Mint or Hôtel des Monnaies, a very extensive building
and rather handsome; it was built in the reign of Louis XV in 1771,
after designs furnished by M. Antoine; an entablature supported by ionic
columns forms the principal front, with six statues of Peace, Commerce,
Prudence, Fortitude, Plenty and Law. On the right is a noble staircase
ascending to apartments fitted up with the splendour of a palace. The
collection of coins and medals here are extremely interesting, the first
are two of Childebert, the dates being 511-568, and they are nearly
complete of the respective kings up to the present day, amongst others
are some of the gold pieces of 10 louis, each of the reign of Louis
XIII, very large and beautiful. A medal of Charlemagne of most exquisite
execution, and others of almost every country or celebrated monarch or
chief, with a collection of the ores in their mineral state, every
instrument used for coining and in fact every object appertaining to
such an establishment, which would demand much space and time to
describe, and a work is written solely on the subject. This interesting
museum is open to foreigners with their passports on Mondays and
Thursdays, from twelve till three.

Contiguous and on the western side stands the Palais of the Institute,
or as we should call it the Royal Academy. It was founded by Cardinal
Mazarin in 1661, from designs by Levau. The segment of a circle
describes the front, whilst pavillions upon open arcades terminate the
extremities, a portico in the centre with corinthian colums surmounted
by a pediment, whilst a dome crowns the summit, and vases upon the
entablature combine to give it a fine effect. In the great hall of this
building the members of the Academy hold their sittings; the vestibules
are adorned by marble statues of men whose intellectual powers have
rendered their names renowned throughout the world, as Montesquieu,
Molière, Corneille, Racine, Sully, etc., etc. The Mazarine library is
attached to this institution and contains 120,000 printed volumes
besides 4,500 manuscripts. There is also under the same establishment
the library of the Institute, which includes 115,000 volumes; in the
gallery in which they are contained is a marble statue of Voltaire, by
Pigale, highly celebrated for its execution. This building was for some
time called the Palais des Quatre-Nations, as the founder at first
designed it for natives of Roussillon, Pignerol, Alsace, and Flanders.
The subjects discussed within the halls of this institution are the
Belles-Lettres, the fine Arts, moral and political Sciences, etc.
Persons desiring tickets for the meetings of the members must inscribe
their names at the office of the secretary of the Institute. Directly
opposite is a light elegant bridge, called the Pont-des-Arts, it is
constructed of iron and is merely for foot passengers.

Passing to the Quai Voltaire we turn into the Rue des Petits-Augustins,
and stop before the front of the Palais and École des Beaux-Arts, or
School of fine Arts; this is one of the many institutions which exist in
Paris requiring a volume to describe all its beauties and utility, there
are a great number of professors belonging to the establishment which is
divided into two sections, the one for sculpture and painting, the other
for architecture, both of which the pupils are taught, and when they
excel, receive annual prizes. The present building was erected upon the
garden of the Convent of the Petits Augustins, but there are still some
remains of antiquity, which are rather strangely intermingled with the
modern erection, as the front of a château at Gaillon built in 1,500 and
transported here by M. Lenoir, who collected together on this spot
relicks of the middle ages, which are now again dispersed to the great
regret of every resident or visiter in Paris. There is also the portal
of the Château-d'Anet built by Henri II for Diana of Poitiers, with many
other objects extremely curious; amongst the rest a large stone basin
from the Abbey of St. Denis, 12 feet in diameter, ornamented with
grotesque heads, said to be a single piece of stone, some letters upon
it prove that it must be of the 13th century, and many other fragments
over which the antiquary likes to pore. Here every aid is given to the
young artist, that can facilitate his progress in his art, and he who is
adjudged to have painted the best piece upon a subject given, is sent to
Rome to study three years, at the expense of the government. The visiter
will here find paintings, sculpture, models, and in fact, every thing
connected with the fine arts. He must also visit the ancient chapel of
the convent, containing a most beautiful screen of stone and marble, and
on the walls are some very good paintings: Mr. Ingres, perhaps the most
celebrated draftsman now existing, made a present to this institution of
fifty pictures, copies he had executed at his expense in the Vatican,
from Raphael. Foreigners must apply with their passports for admission
at the office to the right on entering.

We return on the Quay and remark the Pont du Carousel, an iron bridge of
three arches of an elegant construction, it was built by a company, who
have laid a toll both on foot and carriage passengers. No. 1, Rue de
Beaune, on the same quay, is the hôtel where Voltaire resided, and died
in 1788. His nephew, M. de Villette, and afterwards Madame de
Montmorenci, kept his apartments closed for forty-seven years. We must
now ascend the Rue des Saints Pères, and in passing by, notice the
Hôpital de la Charité, at the corner of the Rue Jacob, which has such a
dismal appearance outside, that it almost makes one ill to look at it;
indeed, to pass it often, one would soon be in a fit state to become
one of its inmates; it was founded by Marie de Medicis, as a religious
community, called Brothers of Charity, who were all surgeons and
apothecaries, administering relief both for body and soul; it contains
426 beds. Besides those belonging to the medical and chemical school
attached to it, there are several gardens in which the patients are
allowed to walk; the same diseases are here treated as at the Hôtel
Dieu, de la Pitié, etc. Turning to the right into the Rue St. Dominique,
at the end of the second street on the north we shall see the church of
St. Thomas d'Aquin; it was formerly a convent of Jacobins, founded by
Cardinal Richelieu. The present front was built in 1787, by Brother
Claude, one of the monks; it has two ranges of columns, doric and ionic,
surmounted by a pediment with a bas-relief representing Religion,
terminating with a cross. The interior is decorated with corinthian
pilasters, the effect is altogether fine, the high altar is of white
marble, and some of the pictures are extremely good; the nobility attend
much at this church, and it is rather famed for its preachers. The Musée
d'Artillerie is adjoining, and contains the armour worn from the
earliest ages, as also the weapons which have been used, and those of
different countries. Here will be found the armour of many heroes famed
in the annals of chivalry, as Bayard, Dunois, Duguesclin, etc., and an
equestrian figure of Francis I. There is also the helmet of Attila, who
was slain by Clovis, in 453; another, on which are some verses from the
Koran, of Abderama, killed by Charles Martel. The dagger with which
Ravillac assassinated Henri IV, having a black crape round it. There
are, besides, models of all kinds of machines connected with war; the
armour of Joan of Arc will be regarded with interest, as also of many
others whose names have been celebrated in history; a catalogue
descriptive of every object is to be had at the door for one franc.
There is a military library attached to the establishment, with naval
charts, etc. Strangers are admitted on Thursdays and Saturdays, from
twelve till four, with their passports.

A few steps take us into the Rue du Bac, which we will ascend to the Rue
de Grenelle, and observe one of the finest fountains in Paris, erected
after the designs of Bouchardon, in the reign of Louis XV, began 1739
and finished in 1745; it is most richly adorned by statues and
allegorical subjects. At No. 120, Rue du Bac, is the church of St.
Francois Xavier, or of Foreign Missionaries, it was built in 1683,
consisting of two parts, one on the ground floor, and the other above,
the lower is perfectly plain, the upper is of the ionic order; there are
some good paintings of the French school of the period. Behind is the
seminary for the instruction of young men intended as missionaries in
the requisite sciences and languages. The worthy Abbé Edgeworth, the
attendant of Louis XVI in his last moments, was one of the members of
this institution.

Just by in the Rue de Babylone is a barrack for infantry, famed for the
attack and defence carried on in the Revolution of the three days. In
the rue Vanneau is a recently built house, a complete type of the style
of Francis I. In the Rue de Varennes are several grand hôtels of the
nobility of France, with their family names inscribed over the immense
gateways; it is in fact one of the most interesting streets in Paris;
amongst others, at No. 23, is the hôtel of the late Duchess de Bourbon,
now belonging to Mme Adélaïde d'Orléans. No. 35, is the hôtel d'Orsay,
recently restored and embellished, and several others of the same
description. At the north-west corner of the street stands the hôtel de
Biron, now converted into the celebrated convent and seminary of the
Sacré Coeur (Sacred Heart), where so many daughters of the French,
English and Irish catholic nobility have been brought up. No. 16, the
offices of the Minister of Commerce, and No. 10, Rue Hillerin-Bertin, is
the École royale des Ponts-et-Chaussées, established in 1747. The
pupils, who are all taken from the Polytechnique, are instructed in
every thing connected with the projection and construction of bridges,
canals, ports and public works. Their collection of plans, maps, and
models relative to these operations is very rich. But a few paces
southward bring us facing the ancient convent of Panthémont, now used as
a barrack for cavalry, forming the corner of the Rue de Belle-Chasse and
that of the Rue de Grenelle; the chapel, which has a dome, is an
interesting architectural object.

This is one of the aristocratic streets of Paris, where the most
ancient families of France have their town residences; the Rue St.
Dominique is of the same description, and many others in this
neighbourhood, but in too many cases immense gateways and high walls are
all that are to be seen in the streets, as the hotels are situated
behind them at the end of large court-yards, similar to several houses
in Piccadilly the most of which are now pulled down: on the west side of
Cavendish square one is still standing (I believe Lord Harcourt's), and
several others in different parts of the west end of the town. The most
conspicuous hotels in the Rue St. Dominique, are those of the Duke de
Lynes, No. 33, the hotel of the late Duchess Dowager of Orléans, No. 58,
formerly inhabited by Cambacérès. The Hôtel de Grammont, No. 103, and
the Hôtel de Périgord, No. 105. At 82 and 86, are the residence and
offices of the Minister of War, where there is a very valuable library,
with a most interesting collection of plans, maps, and drawings. We will
now return to the Rue du Bac, and at No. 132, we shall notice the Hôtel
Châtillon, now occupied by the sisters of St. Vincent de Paule, better
known as the Sisters of Charity.

At the top of the street we find the Rue de Sèvres, and turning to the
left we shall view, at the corner of the Rue de la Chaise, the old
Hospital entitled Hospices des Ménages; it was built in 1554 on the site
of an old establishment for afflicted children, and is now appropriated
to the reception of the aged, whether married couples or single; there
are 264 beds, and an extensive garden attached to the establishment.
Strangers may visit this hospital every day, and will find the detail of
the regulations very interesting. A few yards eastward bring us to the
Abbaye-aux-Bois, so called when it was founded in 1202 from being in the
midst of the woods; this church possesses a few good pictures, amongst
which are a Virgin and dead Christ, by Lebrun, and a portrait of Mlle de
la Vallière. Opposite is the Maison du Noviciat des Religieuses
Hospitalières de St. Thomas de Villeneuve. Still continuing in the Rue
de Sèvres, at No. 54, is the hospital for women who are incurable; it
was founded in 1634 by Cardinal de la Rochefoucault, which is indicated
by an inscription over the door; it contains 600 beds. There is a large
chapel attached, in which there are some pictures, and one bearing the
date of 1404 with a handsome monument of the founder.

The Egyptian fountain in this street is well worth attention, it was
built in 1806, and is a very handsome monument. At No. 104, corner of
the Boulevards, is the convent of the Dames de St. Thomas de Villeneuve,
with a very pretty little gothic chapel. At No. 95 is that of the
Lazarists, with a small chapel fronting the street. At the corner of the
Boulevard on the north side are new buildings, erected for the reception
of the juvenile blind. No. 149 is the Hôpital des Enfants malades; it is
wholly appropriated to the reception of sick children, who are admitted
from 2 to 15 years of age; it contains 500 beds, which number is to be
considerably increased. Next door is an hospital founded by Madame
Necker in a building which formerly was a convent of Benedictine nuns;
it is for the reception of the sick in general, and contains 300 beds;
the chapel attached has two fine statues of Aaron and Melchizedek, in
marble, discovered in digging the foundations of a house; a short
distance farther on, is an Artesian well, which after many long,
expensive, and most laborious attempts, at last emits water from the
enormous depth of nearly 1800 feet; it rises to the height of 65 feet,
and falls into the respective conduits destined to receive it. It is
situated at the entrance of the Abattoir de Grenelle which is one of the
extensive slaughter-houses at the outskirts of Paris, all of which are
justly celebrated for the regularity of the buildings, the order with
which every thing is conducted, and the great convenience of their being
situated where they cannot be any source of annoyance to the inhabitants
of the interior of the capital.

The École Militaire stands at the end of an avenue of trees, just before
us; it was founded by Louis XV, in 1751, for educating gratuitously 500
young gentlemen, the sons of poor nobility, but it is now converted into
barracks for 4,000 men, either cavalry, artillery, or infantry. One
front, looking to the Champ de Mars, is adorned with ten corinthian
pillars, sustaining a pediment decorated with bas-reliefs, whilst a
quadrangular dome, rises from behind, with figures of Time and
Astronomy; there are besides in other parts of the edifice, rows of
tuscan, doric, and ionic pillars, the buildings surround two spacious
court-yards; on the first floor is the Salle de Conseil, embellished
with pictures and military emblems. The chapel attached to the
establishment is most splendid, the roof is supported by thirty fluted
corinthian columns: the entrance to the École Militaire is by the Place
de Fontenoy.

The Champ-de-Mars is a most extensive oblong piece of ground, in which
has been celebrated many extraordinary epochs in the history of France;
the sloping embankments on each side were formed by the people of Paris;
as many as 60,000 persons of both sexes kept working at them until they
were finished, when the fête de la Fédération took place on the 14th
July, 1790. It was also the scene of several other public
demonstrations, and in 1837, on the 14th of June, during the rejoicings
for the celebration of the marriage of the Duke of Orléans, 24 persons
lost their lives by being either suffocated or trodden to death in
passing through the gates. The Paris races are held here in May and
September, as also the military reviews, inspections, manoeuvres, etc.
Proceeding by an avenue from the north-cast corner of the Champ-de-Mars
we arrive at the Hôtel des Invalides, which is certainly the grandest
monument that exists of the reign of Louis XIV. It is a most delightful
asylum for crippled or worn-out old soldiers, it was built after the
designs of Bruant, begun in 1671, and completed in 1700. The façade
towards the Seine, though heavy, is grand and imposing, adorned by the
statue of Louis the XIV, and colossal figures of Mars, Minerva, Justice
and Prudence, in bas-relief, and at the sides by emblematical
representations of the four nations conquered by the founder.

The first court has the most pleasing appearance, the arcades render it
light and elegant, and although ornamented with figures, arms, horses,
and trophies, they are not exuberant, and its simplicity is not
deteriorated. The church is a most magnificent structure, presenting an
extraordinary mixture of military and religious decorations. The dome,
which has an effect truly noble, is adorned by paintings of the twelve
Apostles by Jouvenet, surmounted by a glory from the pencil of Lafosse,
with a beautiful tesselated pavement beneath; there are some other good
paintings, but many very bad. The gilding, although extremely gorgeous,
harmonises well with the varied colouring which prevails throughout this
beautiful edifice, and has not a gaudy appearance. There are monuments
of several of the governors of the hospital; numbers of portraits, and
banners taken from different countries, which amounted to as many as
3,000, but on the evening prior to the allies entering Paris, Joseph
Bonaparte ordered them to be burnt. To give any thing like a
comprehensive idea of this wonderful building, would require many pages,
there is such an immense number of interesting objects, the description
of which would compel the omission of other matter equally important;
but, whether taken for its exterior or its interior, it certainly is
one of the grandest monuments extant. The approaches to it are
particularly fine, being by long vistas of high trees, with a most noble
esplanade in front. A library belongs to the establishment which was
founded by Napoleon; it consists of 30,000 volumes, and his portrait by
Ingres is one of its valuable ornaments. It is gratifying to see so many
of the Invalids constantly in the library, amusing themselves with
reading; it is a pleasing sight to be there at meal-time to witness the
cleanliness and comfort which prevails. Besides board and lodging, every
soldier receives 2 francs a month, and officers and non-commissioned
officers in proportion; 5,000 is the number the establishment can
contain.

In quitting this extraordinary building, the visiter must notice the
Hôtel du Châtelet at the corner of the Rue de Grenelle, now occupied by
the Austrian ambassador, being a fine specimen of the days of Louis XIV.
We then pass into the Rue St. Dominique, and at No. 185 find the Hospice
Leprince, so called after the founder, erected in 1819; it contains 10
beds for men and 10 for women; almost opposite is the church of St.
Pierre-du-Gros-Caillou, which was built in 1822, and is much admired for
its beautiful symmetry; the whole is consistently of the tuscan order.
Farther to the west is the military hospital founded by the Duke de
Biron for the French guards, containing 700 beds and erections for 500
more are to be added shortly. Directly opposite is the Fountain of Mars
built in 1813, a monument very well worth the visiter's attention.
Continuing a few yards farther to the west, we enter the Avenue de la
Bourdonnaye, and turning to the right we come to the Atteliers de
Sculpture, consisting of two handsome buildings where sculptors employed
by government on public monuments may proceed with their operations;
stone-yards, sheds, a house for the director, and the whole arrangement
is most complete for the attainment of the object; visiters may obtain
tickets from the Director of public Monuments, Palais du Quai d'Orsay.

The royal Manufactory of Tobacco, Snuff, and Cigars is at a short
distance eastward, No. 57, Quai d'Orsay, an extensive establishment for
the preparation of the articles, with a handsome modern house for the
offices, and residence for the director. The profits of this
establishment in 1839 to the government were 66,001,841 francs, upwards
of 2,500,000£. We will now proceed along the quai, and notice the
bridges; first the Pont de Iena, terminated in 1813, it is completely in
a horizontal line, and is certainly a perfect structure, uniting
elegance, beauty, and simplicity.

The Pont des Invalides is a handsome suspension bridge for carriages as
well as foot passengers; a toll is paid in passing over it. Pursuing our
course eastward we arrive at the Palais Bourbon, and Chamber of
Deputies, which was erected by the dowager Duchess of Bourbon, in 1722,
begun by the Italian architect Girardini, and continued by Mansard. It
was afterwards much enlarged when possessed by the Prince de Condé, but
not completed when the Revolution of 1789 occurred. In 1795 it was
appropriated as the Chamber for the sittings of the Council of Five
Hundred, and next occupied by the Corps Legislatif. At the Restoration
in 1814 the Prince de Condé retook possession, but so arranged that the
portion which had been converted into a locality for the sittings of the
Legislative Assembly, and which had been partly rebuilt, should be
appropriated to the use of the Deputies, and finally was bought by
government for 5,500,000 francs. At the death of the Duke de Bourbon
this palace devolved upon the Duke d'Aumale, and is leased to the
Chamber of Deputies for the residence of the President, but will soon
become the property of the country by a negociation at present pending.
The entrance of the Palais Bourbon is by the Rue de l'Université, and
being approached by a long avenue of trees has the air of a country
seat; formerly the apartments were gorgeously furnished, now simple
beauty and utility alone prevail; there are a few good pictures, and one
room decorated with bucks' horns, and different emblems of the chase;
there is a large garden laid out in the English style. The grand front
of the portion styled the Chamber of Deputies is exactly opposite the
handsome bridge called the Pont de la Concorde, and is from thence seen
to the best advantage; it is a noble massive building with colossal
statues of Sully, Colbert, l'Hôpital, and d'Aguesseau, there are besides
several allegorical figures, and 12 noble corinthian columns,
supporting a fine bas-relief recently completed, approached by a flight
of 29 steps; for so much weight as there appears in this building, I
should say there was not sufficient height, and the breadth is immense,
still the effect is dignified and imposing.

The Chamber itself is a semi-circular hall with 24 white marble ionic
columns and bronze capitals gilt. The president's chair and the tribune
form the centre of the axis of the semi-circle, from whence the seats
rise of the 459 deputies, in the shape of an amphitheatre. A spacious
double gallery capable of containing 700 persons surrounds the
semi-circular part of the Chamber, arranged with tribunes for the royal
family, the corps diplomatique, officers of state and the public. There
are a number of very fine statues, as well as some extremely clever
pictures by the first French artists, and there, is a library of 50,000
volumes. Anyone with a passport may visit the Chamber, but for the
debates a letter post-paid must be addressed to M. le Questeur de la
Chambre des Députés, who will send a ticket of admission. A short
distance to the east is the Palace of the Legion of Honour, erected in
1786 after designs by Rousseau for the Prince de Salm, after whom it was
called. The entrance is by a triumphal arch, and a colonnade of the
ionic order with two pavillions. At the end of a court yard is the
principal front consisting of a fine portico, adorned with large
corinthian pillars. The side which fronts the Seine is particularly
light and graceful, having a circular projection adorned with columns
supporting a balustrade with six statues. When the Prince de Salm was
beheaded in 1793, the hôtel was put up to lottery, and won by a journey
man hairdresser, and in 1803 it was appropriated to its present object;
strangers are admitted without any difficulty.

The Palais du Quai D'Orsay is almost adjoining, and although one of the
most magnificent, yet one of the most chaste edifices in Paris; it has
never received any decided name. It was begun under Napoleon, and then
remained dormant until 1830, and in the present reign has been finished
in the most perfect style. The grand front which faces the river
presents a long series of windows formed by arches beneath a tuscan
colonnade on the ground-floor; the one above is similar, except being of
the ionic order, surmounted by a sort of corinthian attic; the court is
surrounded by a double series of Italian arcades, there are four
staircases, placed at each corner, one styled the escalier d'honneur, is
absolutely splendid, both as regards the construction and the richness
of its ornaments. The chief entrance is in the Rue de Lille, and there
are side gateways into other streets. The ground-floor is appropriated
to the Council of State and the offices attached, the first floor to the
Cour des Comptes, and the third to the conservation of the Archives of
these two public bodies. This noble structure has cost upwards of twelve
million francs.

We will now cast one glance at the Hôtel Praslin, which also has its
entrance in the Rue de Lille, No. 54; its terrace is perceptible from
the quay, it is one of the most extensive and grandest mansions of the
old nobility. The next building is a barrack for cavalry, which is
totally devoid of any ornament or beauty. We now arrive at the Pont
Royal, an old but substantial bridge, built by a Dominican friar in
1684. The river here was formerly crossed by a ferry (bac), which gave
the name to the Rue du Bac.

I shall now advise that we take a boat and see how Paris looks from the
water, affording us a good view of the quays as we pass between them; we
also get an excellent sight of the Point Neuf already described, and
which has a very fine effect as we approach it. We next come to the Pont
au Change, formerly a wooden bridge; in 1141 Louis VII fixed the
residence of the money changers upon it, hence it derived its name; the
present structure was built in 1639. The Pont Notre Dame soon after
arrests the eye (vide page 87), it was begun 1499 and finished in 1507,
after the designs of Jean Joconde; on the western side is an engine
called Pompe du Pont Notre Dame, consisting of a square tower erected
upon piles, having a reservoir into which water is elevated, by
machinery impelled by the current of the water. We next pass under the
Pont d'Arcole, built in 1828; it is a suspension bridge, and there is a
toll upon it. The circumstances from which it derives its name are very
singular. A young man, in 1830, during the murderous conflict which here
took place between the royal guard and the people, rushed on the bridge
with a flag in his hand, heading the patriots, and was killed under the
archway in the middle; his name was Arcole, and the same trait of
courage was displayed by Napoleon on the bridge of Arcola; hence its
present designation.

A little farther on we pass close to the house where it is pretended
lived Fulbert, uncle of Heloise; the outward part of the building does
not bear the impression of being as old as the period when Abelard
lived, as he was born in 1080, and died in 1142; the cellars, however,
have a very ancient appearance; visiters are admitted, on applying to
the owner of the dwelling, which is situated No. 1, Rue des Chantres, on
the north-eastern side of the Isle de Paris, not far from Notre Dame.

[Illustration: Paris in the 19th Century. Published by F. Sinnett, 15,
Grande rue Verte.]

Resuming our course upon the water we come to the Pont Louis-Philippe, a
fine suspension bridge constructed in 1834, of iron wire, with two bold
arches of stone. The next bridge is called the Pont Marie, and was built
in 1641, but had two arches; and 22 houses, out of 50, which stood upon
it, were carried away by a flood in 1648. We now arrive at the Pont de
Damiette, another suspension bridge connecting the north and southern
quays of the Seine with the Ile Louviers, until very recently an immense
dépôt for fire wood, but now many handsome residences are being erected,
with which the whole of the little island will soon be covered. We shall
now land on the Quay des Célestins, and explore the north-east quarter
of Paris, beginning with the Arsenal which contains a library of
200,000 printed volumes, and 6,000 manuscripts, amongst which are some
beautiful missals. Henri IV having appointed Sully grand-master of the
artillery, he resided in the buildings constructed on this spot
purposely for him, and they now show a bed-room and a cabinet in which
he used to receive his royal visiter; they are richly gilt according to
the style of that period, and may be seen with passport by applying to
the Director. Close to the Arsenal on the Quai des Célestins are the
remains of the once celebrated Convent of the Célestins, and of their
small church which after that of St. Denis contained more tombs of
illustrious individuals than any in Paris. It was particularly remarked
for the chapel d'Orléans, which enclosed the remains of the brother of
Charles VI and his descendants. The architecture is interesting as being
a specimen of the pointed style prevailing in Paris in the 14th century,
a part of the convent buildings are converted into cavalry barracks, and
the rest are in a state of dilapidation. Facing the Arsenal is the
Grenier de Reserve, on the Boulevard Bourdon, which is an immense
storehouse for corn, grain and flour requisite for the consumption of
Paris for four months.

It was began by Napoleon in 1807, it is 2,160 feet in length and 64 in
breath. Every baker in Paris is obliged to have constantly deposited
here 20 full sacks of flour, and as many more as he pleases by paying a
trifle for warehouse room. Just a few steps northward is the Government
Dépôt of powder and saltpetre.

At a short distance in the Rue St. Antoine, No. 216, is the small church
of the Visitation built by Mansard in 1632, for the Sisters of the
Visitation. It has a dome supported by Corinthian pillars, and the
interior is richly ornamented with scroll work, wreaths of flowers, etc.
It is now appropriated to the protestant worship, and there is service
on Sundays, and festivals at half past 12. On the southern side of the
Boulevard St. Antoine is the Theatre St. Antoine, erected in 1836; the
performances are vaudevilles, little melodrama, and farces. The admission
is from 6_d._ to 2_s._ 6_d._ It contains 1,226 places. The Place de
la Bastille is now before us, and still may be seen the desolate remains
of the great plaster cast of the enormous elephant, intended by Napoleon
to have been placed on this spot, which is now decorated with what is
called the Column of July. The capital is said to be the largest piece
of bronze ever cast, the height is 163 feet, and it is surmounted by an
orb on which is placed the figure of Liberty; and is ornamented with
lions, heads, cocks, children bearing garlands and other emblematical
objects, but the effect of the whole is not happy, there is a sort of
indescribable deficiency, although the cost was 1,200,000f., besides an
immense outlay, years before, for the foundation. The ceremony of its
inauguration took place on the 28th of July, 1840, when fifty coffins,
each containing twelve patriots, were placed in the vaults for them
underneath. Many persons descend to view the arrangements where the
sarcophagi are stationed, which are 14 feet in length, and the trouble
is well repaid; as also for ascending to the summit of the monument, but
the staircase is not considered to be as solid and secure as could be
wished.

At No. 38, Rue de Charenton, will be found the Hôpital Royal des Quinze
Vingts, devoted to the reception of the blind. This establishment was
originally founded by St. Louis, at the corner of the Rue St. Nicaise,
in the Rue St. Honoré, and ultimately removed to the present building.
There are as many as 300 families living in this Hospital, as the blind
are suffered to bring with them their wives and children, and encouraged
to marry, if single; there are besides 600 out-door pensioners. There is
a chapel attached to the institution, which was built in 1701, but
possesses no particular interest. At No. 128, Rue Faubourg St. Antoine,
is a building founded in 1660 by M. Aligre and his lady, for orphans,
but the children having been sent to another establishment, it is
intended to be formed into a Hospice for 400 old men. Just by, is the
Marché Beauveau, built in 1799, and is a sort of rag fair, well
appropriated to the neighbourhood in which it stands. At no 206, Rue
Faubourg St. Antoine, is the Hôpital St. Antoine, formerly the Abbey of
St. Antoine; the present building was erected in 1770, the number of
beds is 270, it is appropriated for the reception of the sick in
general, and may be visited by strangers upon any day. Some little
distance to the north, in the Rue St. Bernard, is the Church of St.
Marguerite, erected in 1625; it has no other attractions than that of
its pictures, which are numerous and some of them beautiful, and would
well repay the visiter for turning out of his way to view them, they are
principally of the old French school, but there are no records to state
how they ever came there. A few streets to the south-west, lead to the
Rue de Reuilly, where some barracks will be found in a large pile of
buildings, established by Colbert, for the Royal Glass Manufactory of
Mirrors (removed to 313, Rue St. Denis); a little further on, at the
south-eastern corner of the Rue Faubourg St. Antoine and that of Picpus,
is a great market for forage, and at No. 8 in the latter street, is the
Maison d'Enghien, founded by the mother of the unfortunate Duke of that
name, the Duchess of Bourbon, in 1819, and now supported by Madame
Adélaïde d'Orléans; it contains fifty beds, of which eighteen are for
women, and the utmost cleanliness and order prevail.

At No. 18 is the Hôpital Militaire de Picpus. Somewhat farther on, at No.
16, was once a Convent of the Order of St. Augustin, now a
boarding-school, but the chapel still remains; attached to it is a
cemetery, where rest the remains of some of the noblest families of
France, as de Grammont, de Montaigu, de Noailles, and that purest and
most perfect of private and public characters, Lafayette, in a spot
hardly known, in a quiet corner, beneath a very simple tomb, beside his
wife, and in the midst of his relations. We shall now return westward,
and view the Barrière du Trône, which is still unfinished, but
consisting of two noble lofty columns; very conspicuous from their
height, with a fine open circular space, on which festivals are
celebrated on public days, and plans are now pursuing for finishing and
embellishing this spot. A pleasant walk along the Boulevards will bring
us to the celebrated cemetery of Père-La-Chaise, on which there has been
so much written by tourists, poets, and even novelists; thus I fear all
I can state upon the subject will appear but tame, after such choice
spirits have favoured the public with their inspirations on so
interesting a retreat, I shall, therefore, only attempt to give a few
matter of fact indications.

It consists of a large tract of ground on the slope of a hill, was
celebrated for the beauty of its situation in the fourteenth century,
and under Louis the XIV as the abode of Père-La-Chaise, having for 150
years been the favourite country house of the Jesuits, and at present
the favourite burying place of the Parisians. In the 14th century a
house was erected on the spot by a rich grocer, named Regnault, and was
by the people named La Folie Regnault; after belonging to different
parties, it was purchased for 160,000 francs, for its present purpose.
Its extent is nearly 100 acres; all that trees, shrubs, plants, and
flowers can avail towards embellishing a spot, has been effected; the
sculptor's hand has also been contributed in a most eminent degree, and
fancy seems to have exhausted her caprices in conceptions of forms and
fashions with regard to the monuments here assembled, and some are as
highly picturesque as can be well imagined; others are grand and
imposing, whilst a few there are, whose simplicity render them the most
interesting, so much is there in association that perhaps none is more
touching than that of Abelard and Heloïse; it is formed of stones
gathered from the ruins of the Abbey of Paraclete, founded by Abelard,
of which Heloïse was the first abbess. Amongst the number of monuments
here assembled, there will be found those whose names have lived and
will live in history: marshals, admirals, generals, authors, travellers,
senators, and celebrated characters of all nations, in fact what with
the extreme beauty of the scene, the splendid view that expands before
one, and the tone of reflexions that are engendered by the many
affecting appeals there are to the heart, upon the different monuments,
I know of no spot that one can visit, calculated to excite deeper
impressions. We have imitated near London the same description of
cemetery, but they will be long before they can arrive at the same
beauty; it has been observed, that Père-La-Chaise is not kept in such
nice order as those in England, and the remark is just, but I am not
quite sure but that I prefer the degree of wildness which there is in
the former, and although it may not be so neat and trim as the latter,
yet on the whole there is infinitely more of the sublime, aided no doubt
from the extreme beauty of the position, and the greater number of
splendid monuments, than an infant establishment can be expected to
possess.

On quitting this delightful spot, we must pass by the Prison de la
Roquette, destined for the reception of prisoners condemned to the
galleys or to death; the excellent system that is here followed with
regard to the airiness, cleanliness, and strict order, is such that it
is styled the model prison; 318 is the number of prisoners that it can
contain. Just opposite to it is the Prison pour les jeunes Détenus, or
for juvenile offenders, and is a most extraordinary establishment; its
exterior has the air of a baronial castle, and the interior is so
arranged that it might answer the purpose of an hospital, as well as
that of correction; it has circular turrets at the angles, and the
central building is isolated from the others, and only approachable by
iron bridges; the whole of the upper part of the building is a chapel,
so contrived, that when the prisoners enter it from the different
divisions, although they are all together, they can only see the
individuals composing their own section, and the pulpit and altar; the
prisoners are arranged in the different wings, according to their ages,
and the degree of morality; there are about 500, and the different
regulations are so meritorious, and the plan of the building so curious
and ingenious, that the stranger will derive much pleasure from visiting
this singular establishment. Just by, is the Abattoir de Popincourt, or
de Ménilmontant, which is considered to be the largest and finest of all
the five immense slaughter-houses round Paris, and for those who are
curious of regarding such buildings, this should be the one they ought
to visit. At a few steps from the Abattoir, in the Rue Popincourt, is
the church of St. Ambroise, which was built for a convent of nuns called
the Annonciades in 1639; some tolerable pictures are the only
attractions it possesses for a stranger; a few doors from it is a large
barrack, and an ornamented Fountain. We must now descend the Rue du
Chemin-Vert, until we come to the Canal St. Martin, and just pause a
minute and notice its neat quays, and the good order in which its locks
are kept, and all arrangements connected with it, and then proceed to
the Boulevards: a short street, called Rue de la Mule, will take us into
the Place Royale, which stands upon the site of the celebrated Palais de
Tournelle, the court and offices of which extended to the Rue St.
Antoine, and over several of the neighbouring streets, but was pulled
down by order of Catherine de Medicis in 1565, on account of her husband
Henry II having been killed in one of the courts in a tournament.

The Place Royale, as it now stands, was built in 1604, under Henri IV
(vide page 92), it is now inhabited by persons of small incomes who like
to have spacious and lofty apartments without incurring the expence of
such; in the more fashionable quarters, the arcades all round the
square, the fountains, the trees, and the handsome railing, give it a
very fine though curious appearance, and the houses have a most
venerable aspect. We will now leave the Place Royale by the southern
gateway, and enter the Rue St. Antoine, and nearly opposite to No. 143,
is the Hôtel de Sully; being the work of the celebrated architect
Ducerceau, and the residence of the noble character whose name it bears.
It is well preserved, and its court is richly adorned with sculpture. At
No. 120, in the same street, is the Collége de Charlemagne, formerly a
college of the Jesuits, founded in 1582, the buildings are only
remarkable for their extent. The Passage Charlemagne, No. 102, leads
through the court of the Hôtel de Jassau, or d'Aguesseau, 22, Rue des
Prêtres St. Paul, said to be the site of a palace, and a turret of the
time of Francis I still remains at the corner of the court, as also some
ornaments and figures. At the corner of the Rue St. Paul, and the Rue
des Lions, is a small square turret of the time of Henri IV, and a
little eastward, part of the church of St. Paul embodied in the house,
No. 29, Rue St. Paul. By the side of the College of Charlemagne is the
church of St. Paul and St. Louis, it was began in 1627, and finished in
1641, and within it Cardinal Richelieu performed the first mass in the
presence of Louis XIII and his court. The noble front rising from a
flight of steps, is adorned with three ranges of corinthian and
composite columns, and the interior is decorated with ornaments even to
profusion; a fine dome with figures of the Evangelists and four kings of
France give it altogether a very handsome appearance. Opposite the
College of Charlemagne, is the Fontaine de Birague; consisting of a
pentagonal tower, with a dome and lantern. Above a pediment supported by
doric pilasters is an attic with a naiad. At the corner of the Rue
Culture Ste. Catherine, is the Hôtel de Carnavalet, where resided Madame
de Sévigné and her daughter, a fine mansion of the 16th century, having
been erected in 1544; most of the sculpture is from the chisel of the
celebrated Jean Goujon, and is of a most interesting description; the
cabinet in which the letters of that highly gifted woman were written is
still shown, also a marble table upon which she and her daughter used to
dine under the sycamores in the garden, two of which remain. M. Viardot
occupies this Hôtel, and with pleasure shows it to strangers; he keeps
an academy and has written a history of the edifice, which may be had of
the porter. It was at the corner of this street that the Constable de
Clisson was assailed and severely wounded by 20 ruffians, headed by
Pierre de Graon, Chamberlain of the Duke of Orleans, who was murdered by
the Duke of Burgundy.

In the Rue du Roi de Sicile is the prison of La Force, containing 700
prisoners, and excellent regulations, but another, in a more retired
part of Paris, is soon to be constructed. This building was formerly the
Hôtel of the Duc de la Force, hence the origin of its name. In the Rue
Pavée, which is on one side of the prison, will be found, at No. 3, the
Hôtel de la Houze, and in the same street stood the Hôtels de Gaucher,
de Châtillon, and d'Herbouville, or de Savoisi. We will now go a little
out of our way to see the fine long and broad street of St. Louis,
which we shall soon reach by keeping straight on along the Rue Payenne,
and then turning to the east by the Rue Parc Royal, shall proceed to one
of the ornaments of the Rue St. Louis, the Church of St. Denis du
Sacrement; it is quite modern, but is conceived according to good taste;
the order is ionic, which is consistently preserved both throughout the
exterior and the interior, much chasteness of design, in fact has been
observed in the construction of this simple but elegant edifice. The
Fountain of St. Louis is worthy of attention _en passant_. Formerly this
street was filled with nobility, as even so late as the beginning of the
reign of Louis XV it was rather a fashionable quarter, at present it is
the cheapest in Paris.

We must now retrace our steps, which will bring us to the Rue Francs
Bourgeois; No. 25 is an hôtel of the time of Henri IV, No. 7, Hôtel de
Jeanne d'Abret, of Louis XV's days, and No. 12, the former residence of
the Dukes de Roquelaure, and at the corner will be observed a little
turret belonging to a house, one side of which is in the Vieille Rue du
Temple; there is some curious work upon it, and it is supposed to have
been standing at the time the Duke of Orleans was murdered by order of
the Duke of Burgundy, which was just about this spot, in 1407. At No. 51,
Rue Franc Bourgeois, is the Hôtel de Hollande, so called from its having
belonged to the Dutch Ambassador, in the reign of Louis XIV; amongst the
sculpture is perceived the date of 1660; this handsome hôtel was once
the residence of Beaumarchais. At the corner of the Rue Pavée is the
Hôtel de Lamoignon, one of the handsomest mansions of the ancient
nobility. It is of the sixteenth century, some of the carved work is
most curious, and merits attentive examination; a picturesque turret and
balcony must excite the attention of every observer. A few steps further
is the large central establishment of the Mont de Pieté, No. 18, Rue des
Blancs Manteaux, lending money on pledges, much the same as our
pawnbrokers, only on more advantageous terms for the borrowers. In the
same street is Notre Dame des Blancs Manteaux, once the chapel of a
religious house, so called from their dress consisting of white
garments; there was formerly a monastery here, of which there may be
discovered some remains to the east, and evidently in the left wing of a
house at No. 25; the chapel remaining has a plain exterior, but the
corinthian style of the interior is handsome, and worth attention; there
is also a very admired picture of the Burial of St. Petronilla, which is
eighteen feet by eight, it is of the school of Guercini, but it is not
known by what means it came to be placed in this church. Facing this
street is the Market des Blancs Manteaux.

At the corner of the Rue Vieille du Temple, and that of the Rue de
Quatre Fils, is the Palais Cardinal, now the Imprimerie Royale; it was
erected in 1712, and is named after its owner, the Cardinal de Rohan,
whose intriguing spirit so much involved Marie Antoinette; in this
hôtel the scenes occurred concerning that extraordinary affair; the
front of the building is quite plain, towards the garden it is
ornamented by columns, and as a mansion, is one of the largest in Paris.
It is now occupied as the Royal Printing Establishment, and it is
impossible to surpass the order and regularity with which it is
conducted; 750 men, women, and children, are employed in it. It is
considered to possess the richest collection in the world of matrices
and fonts of types, having them in every written language, and when Pope
Pius VII visited the establishment, he was presented the Lord's Prayer
in 150 languages. A library with specimens of typography, executed on
the premises, is an object of the highest gratification to every
visiter, even if they be not connaisseurs in the art. For admission to
this establishment, application must be made a few days beforehand to M.
le Directeur de l'Imprimerie Royale, who appoints a fixed hour on
Thursdays. Almost facing one part of the Imprimerie Royale, in the Rue
d'Orléans, is the Church of St. François d'Assise. Neither the exterior
nor the interior possess any striking beauty; it was founded and erected
in 1623. It contains some very good paintings, and the kneeling figure
of the saint of the church in his monastic dress; the hands and head are
of white marble, and it is supposed to be Egyptian; one of St. Denis is
opposite to it.

Adjoining to the Imprimerie Royale, is the Hôtel des Archives du
Royaume, which is entered by the Rue du Chaume, No. 12. It was formerly
a palace of the Prince de Soubise and the family of the Rohans. The
south and western part of the edifice is of the 15th century, the turret
is probably what belonged to the gatehouse. The decorations of the
apartments are extremely rich with gilt cornices and paintings, some of
them possessing great merit. In the _petits appartements_ is a boudoir
which belonged to the Duchess de Guise, with a window looking into the
Rue du Chaume, from whence it is asserted that her lover precipitated
himself at the approach of the Duke. A new building has been added, the
first stone having been laid in 1838, which has cost a million of
francs. Under Napoleon the whole edifice was appropriated to the
preservation of the national archives. Amongst them are documents of
diplomas granted to different monastic institutions, by Childebert,
Dagobert, Clothaire and Clovis II. The collections of the different
acts, deeds, charters, administrative, domanial, historical, judicial,
legislative, etc., fill 60,000 portfolios. There is besides a library of
14,000 volumes, amongst which are the _Records Commission_ of England,
presented by the British Government. There are also in an iron chest,
the golden bulls and papal decrees, most of the keys of the Bastille,
the wills of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI, with his journal, autograph
letters of Napoleon, one written by him to Louis XVIII, with a variety
of other most interesting objects. For admission apply (post paid) to M.
le Garde General des Archives du Royaume, No. 12, Rue du Chaume.

The Fontaine de la Naiade in the same street, has a clever bas-relief by
Mignot. By the Rue des Vieilles-Haudriettes we pass into the Rue
Ste-Avoye; No. 63 is worth notice, several of the houses here having
been the hôtels of nobility. No. 57 is the Hôtel St. Aignan, built by Le
Muet; on its site stood the Hôtel de Montmorency, it is an extensive
noble building, but has been spoiled by having had two stories added.
Henry II often resided in it when it was called Hôtel de Montmorency.

Taking the Rue Ste. Croix de la Bretonnerie, we shall find that the
first turning in it is the Rue des Billettes, where stand the Lutheran
Church; it was built in 1745, and belonged to the Carmelite Friars. In
1808, it was bought by the city of Paris, and given about four years
after to the Protestants of the Augsburgh confession. It is a plain neat
building. The Duchess of Orléans attends service here when in Paris,
which is in German at 2 and in French at 12. From hence we cross the Rue
de la Verrerie, and proceeding by the Rue des Mauvais Garçons, we arrive
at the Church St. Gervais; an inscription under the first arch of the
northern aisle of the choir, states the church to have been dedicated in
1420, although other parts of the building would indicate a more recent
construction, but with all its incongruities, from its having been built
at various periods, it excites a deep interest; the light gleaming
through the painted glass gives a rich though rather sombre effect, the
windows behind the altar have a most imposing appearance. The western
front was began in 1616, Louis the XIII laying the first stone, and is
not equal to other parts of the building; some of the chapels of this
church are particularly fine. Amongst the pictures, of which there are
many very good, is one by Albert Durer, with the date upon it of 1500.
Scarron, the husband of Mme. de Maintenon, lies buried here, as also the
celebrated painter Philippe de Champagne, and one of his performances is
amongst the pictures which decorate the church, being that of Jesus with
Martha and Mary in the chapel of Ste. Genevieve; there are several other
objects in this noble edifice so interesting, that no person who visits
Paris should omit seeing it. We may now take the Rue de la Tixéranderie
where at the corner of the Rue du Coq is a house and turret of the 15th
and 16th century, most probably the former, according to the statements
of M. Dulaure.

[Illustration: The Hôtel de Ville.
Published by F. Sinnett, 15. Grande rue Verte.]

We now arrive at the Hôtel-de-Ville, Place de Grève; the first stone of
this interesting and venerable pile was laid in 1533, but was not
completely finished until 1606, in the reign of Henry IV. The style of
architecture is that which the French call La Renaissance des Arts, it
is rich, rather heavy, and has an antique appearance; it is exactly
according to the taste which prevailed in the 16th century, and was
brought into vogue by Italian architects. There is a great deal of
ornament about the building, and a profusion of statues, still they
appear consistent with the style of the building, and have not the
effect of redundancy. Over the doorway is a bronze equestrian statue of
Henry IV. Along the principal front is a flight of steps, and an arcade
and portico with ionic columns, between the arches facing the entrance
is a fine bronze statue of Louis XIV. The Grande Salle or Salle du Trône
is a most splendid apartment, and has been the scene of many most
important events, being the room where Robespierre held his council and
in which he attempted to destroy himself, and from which Louis XVI
addressed the people with the cap of liberty upon his head. Most
extensive additions and alterations have recently been effected, the
original façade having been doubled in length and the whole body of the
building nearly quadrupled, forming an immense quadrangle, preserving
the same style of architecture as the original. The expense of these
additions and improvements is estimated at four millions of francs, and
they have been effected with a rapidity that is quite surprising,
notwithstanding the number of public buildings in progress at the same
time in Paris. The multitude of apartments, the richness of their
decorations, and tasteful manner with which they are arranged, are only
to be equalled by the careful attention which has been devoted to their
distribution with regard to convenience and comfort. As Louis-Philippe
justly observed when he recently inspected the exterior of the whole
building, that it should no longer be called the Hôtel-de-Ville, but for
the future the City Palace, as the splendour within it is not exceeded
in any of the other palaces in Paris. The library belonging to this
establishment consists of 55,000 volumes, and is very rich in
manuscripts.

The Place de Grève has been the scene of more sanguinary tragedies than
perhaps any spot of the same extent in Europe, and could the stones but
speak, each could tell a tale of blood. In the north-west corner is
still to be seen a relic of the middle ages, in a curious turret
attached to one of the houses. Taking the Rue Poterie, we shall get into
the Rue de la Verrerie, and proceeding westward will bring us to the
church St. Merri, but to view it properly must enter the Rue St. Martin,
and stand facing it, and well examine its curious and beautiful
sculpture (vide page 88), presenting all the minute and singular
characteristics of the period of its construction (1520); the carve-work
is quite like lace, so minutely elaborate. The interior possesses
several interesting objects in architecture, and some inconsistencies,
the pulpit is extremely curious, and its effect is very striking. There
are also some pictures above mediocrity, principally by French artists
of the past school. The tower of this church is famed from the desperate
resistance which was made from it by a few young men in 1832 against the
king's troops.

We must follow the course of the Rue St. Martin, and observe No. 151, a
fine hôtel of the time of Louis XIV, with a front adorned by ionic
pilasters, and handsome entrance: a few paces farther on the opposite
side, is the church of St. Nicolas-des-Champs, the west front was
erected in 1420, as it now stands, and in 1576, the choir and chapels
behind were constructed, and the tower probably at that period or
since. A church has existed on the same spot ever since 1119, then
standing as the name indicates in the fields, but it is doubtful whether
any part of the old fabric remains. There is something fine and imposing
in the interior, with regard to its general effect, although there is
not any thing particularly remarkable in its architecture; the pictures
it contains form its most striking feature, some of which are very good;
many celebrated persons lie buried here, and amongst the rest
Mademoiselle Scuderi.

A few steps to the north is the Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers. This
edifice was formerly the ancient abbey of St. Martin-des-Champs, the
chapel and refectory of which were built about the year 1240, and are
still standing, the latter is in excellent preservation, and is one of
the most curious and perfect specimens of the architecture of the period
at which it was built; at the eastern end of the chapel are the remains
of a building still more ancient, which is plain, and has not any thing
striking in its appearance. In this establishment is to be found every
description of machinery, and in fact all that ever can be imagined
relative to the promotion of industry; scarcely any invention has been
made public, of which there is not a model to be found in this curious
museum, with specimens of all the various mechanical contrivances which
Europe possesses. The celebrated Vaucanson, who was one of the greatest
contributors to this institution, having quarrelled with the people of
Lyons, vowed he would teach an ass to do what they did, and he
absolutely invented machinery of such a description that it could be
worked by that humble animal, and a piece of drugget with flowers is
shown, which was produced by the united ingenuity of M. Vaucanson and
the patient labour of the ass. Models of potteries, breweries,
smelting-houses, steam engines, railways, etc. are amongst the number of
interesting objects, and the names of our countrymen appear prominent,
as Watt, Maudsley, Barker, Atkins, etc., who have benefited the world by
their inventions. On ascending a very handsome staircase, the visiter
finds a range of apartments, with a wonderful collection of models of
pulpits (which in France are generally most ornamental objects), mills,
turning machines, engineering and surveying instruments, with an immense
number of others far too many to recapitulate, and an assortment of
coloured papers stamped, and some exquisitely cut out; fans of mother of
pearl of most elaborate workmanship, with other objects equally
ingenious and beautiful. This venerable abbey appears to advantage from
the garden, as a plain substantial old fashioned building, part of which
is used as the Mairie of the 6th Arrondissement, and lecture rooms for
the professors of the institution.

A short distance from it, is the Fontaine St. Martin, which is erected
against a tower formerly belonging to the old abbey with which it was
connected by a wall with a series of towers, but there is now no other
remaining. Close by, is the market St. Martin, with 400 stalls, formerly
the abbey gardens; there is a handsome fountain in the middle, of
bronze, with three allegorical figures of the genii of hunting, fishing,
and agriculture, there are also smaller fountains, and at the back of
the market a little promenade planted with trees. From hence we pass
eastward by the Rue Royale, and turning to the left, we shall see the
Rue des Fontaines, in which we shall find the Maison d'Arrêt des
Madelonnettes, formerly belonging to nuns called the Filles de la
Madeleine, now appropriated to the temporary detention of 500 men and
boys. A few steps farther, and the Temple appears before us in the Rue
du Temple, now a nunnery occupied by the Dames Benedictines de
l'Adoration perpetuelle du St. Sacrement. It formerly belonged to the
society of Knights Templars, and afterwards to those of Malta; the
palace of the grand prior is all that now remains of the ancient
building, which was erected by Jacques de Souvré in 1566. The front has
a portico formed of doric colums, and on each side a fountain with a
colossal statue (by Pujol), upon a pedestal. The front towards the court
is adorned with eight coupled ionic columns, and above are figures of
Justice, Prudence, Hope and Abundance. A new chapel was built in 1823,
which belongs to the convent, it is of the ionic order throughout, and
though not particularly striking, is not inelegant, and remarkably neat;
it may be seen on application at the porter's lodge, but from the
nunnery strangers are most rigidly excluded. There was a tower
belonging to this building, where the unfortunate Louis XVI was
confined, as also Sir Sydney Smith and Toussaint-Louverture, but it was
demolished in 1805. Behind the Temple is an immense space of ground
called the Marché du Vieux Linge, containing 1888 shops or stalls, where
old clothes, linen, shoes, tools, hats, old iron, and a variety of other
articles are sold at low prices, and behind is an oval-formed arcaded
building, with shops erected on the site of the ancient Temple and its
dependencies.

The Fontaine Vendôme, named after the Chevalier de Vendôme, grand prior
of France, was attached to the old wall of the Temple, it has a cupola
and a military trophy. At No. 107, Rue du Temple, is the church of Ste.
Élisabeth (vide page 96), which has had so many modern repairs and
additions, that there is not much left of the first construction, but
except the front it has little in it to attract notice; there are a few
pictures and some painted windows by an Englishman named White. In
proceeding northward to the Boulevards, we will just take a look at the
Rue Vendôme, as it is full of hôtels, amongst which are some of the
finest in Paris; on reaching the Boulevard du Temple, No. 50 may be
remarked, it is always pointed out to strangers as the house from whence
Fieschi discharged in 1835 his infernal machine (which is now to be seen
at Madame Tussaud's exhibition in Baker Street, London). By the means of
that diabolical affair, Marshal Mortier, Colonel Rieussec, and many
others, were killed and wounded, but the King, at whom it was aimed,
fortunately escaped. We shall now proceed by the Rue du Faubourg du
Temple; at No. 68 is a large barrack which has been formed for infantry,
but is a few steps out of the way, and hardly worth looking after, in an
architectural point of view. I should therefore advise turning to the
left, by the northern bank of the Canal St. Martin, and observing the
Grand Entrepôt des Sels, from whence annually 9,000,000 lbs. of salt are
distributed for the consumption of Paris. Opposite, on the southern
bank, is the Entrepôt de la Compagnie des Douanes, which was built in
1834 by a joint stock company, for receiving goods in bond, consisting
of a spacious area in which stand two large warehouses 250 feet in
length, with a court covered in between for stowage, besides a number of
sheds. They are constructed on a most solid plan, being built of stone
with brick arches, and the wood-work of oak enclosing pillars of iron.
It is altogether on a most extensive and commodious plan, with such
regulations as have rendered it highly serviceable to the purposes of
commerce. Adjoining are the warehouses of the Custom House, called the
Douanes de Paris, the entrance is in the Rue Neuve Sanson, the house of
the Director is attached, and particularly neat; the whole of the
buildings, although constructed upon a solid principle, are light and
handsome.

The first turning to the right, brings us to the Rue de l'Hôpital, in
which is the hospital of St. Louis, a most noble establishment founded
by Henry IV, in 1607. It contains 800 beds, and is justly celebrated
for its excellent medicated and mineral baths. There is a chapel
attached to it, of which the first stone was laid by Henry IV. It was
called after St. Louis, from having been originally devoted to persons
infected with the plague, he having died of that disease at Turin in
1270. At present it is appropriated to such as are afflicted with
cutaneous complaints. As we cross the canal, we must notice the charcoal
market, close to which is the Hospital of Incurables, for men, No. 34,
Rue des Récollets, established in 1802 in the ancient convent of the
Récollets. The number of men admitted is 400, male children 70. Those
boys Who are capable, are encouraged to learn different trades, and at
20 years of age are sent to the Bicêtre. Strangers are admitted every
day except Sundays and festivals. The church of St. Laurent is facing,
in the Place de la Fidélité and Rue du Faubourg St. Martin; it was first
built in 1429, enlarged in 1543, and in part rebuilt in 1595, and the
porch and perhaps the lady chapel, added in 1622. A gridiron is the only
object which attracts notice on the exterior, and the interior offers
little more; the key stones of the vaulting ribs are deep pendent masses
of stone, carved into groups of figures, fruit, etc., and in the
vaulting there is some bold sculpture displayed in the northern aisle of
the choir, which is the most ancient part of the church. The Foire of
St. Laurent merits being visited, it is a market which has been built by
a company for the supply of this part of the capital. The design is
elegant, consisting of a parallelogram of two stories, with covered
galleries and a fountain in the middle of the court. The whole is
covered in by lateral windows, and a roof of glass. The street St.
Laurent conducts immediately to the Maison Royale de Santé, No. 112, Rue
Faubourg St. Denis, an institution in which invalids are received;
persons who cannot afford the means of sustaining an expensive illness
are admitted on paying from 3 to 6 francs a day, advice, medicine,
board, and if required, surgical operations included. It contains 175
beds, the utmost attention is paid to the comforts of the patients.

Opposite, at No. 117, is St. Lazare, formerly the ancient Convent of the
Lazarists, or Priests of the Mission, now a prison for female offenders.
It was once a place of much importance, the remains of the kings and
queens of France were carried to the convent of St. Lazare, prior to
being conveyed to St. Denis, the coffin being placed between the two
gates of the building on a tomb of state, with all the prelates of the
kingdom surrounding it, chanting the service of the dead, and sprinkling
it with holy water. It is now appropriated to the imprisonment of
misguided women, and every encouragement is afforded them to amend, for
which purpose they are allowed two-thirds of their earnings, and a
variety of occupations are constantly going on. Children, under sixteen
years of age, are kept by themselves; in all there are mostly from 900
to 1000 persons confined in St. Lazare, but the order, cleanliness and
apparent comfort is such as to give an air of happiness to the whole
establishment, and for the humane, it is one of the most gratifying
sights in Paris. Attached to this institution is the general bakehouse,
laundry, and linen dépôt for all the prisons. A chapel is in the midst
of the building, and the women attend service every Sunday. We will now
return to the Boulevards, and taking the Rue de la Lune, we shall there
find the church of Notre Dame de Bonne Nouvelle: the old building was
destroyed during the wars of the League, in 1593, but was rebuilt in
1624; of this second construction the tower alone is still standing, the
body of the present church having been erected in 1825, it is a plain
edifice of the doric order, a fresco by Pujol merits attention, but is
the only object throughout the edifice which can excite much interest.
We must now retrace a few steps, and by the Rue St. Claude turn into the
Rue St. Denis, and proceeding southwards observe the establishment of
Les Bains St. Sauveur, at the corner of the street of that name, from
which a street communicates with the Rue Thevenot, and about here was
the Cour des Miracles, cited by Dulaure, and afterwards by Victor Hugo,
as the resort of thieves and beggars, where five hundred families lived
huddled together in the greatest state of filth that could be imagined;
it was not until the year 1667 that they were partly dispersed. The
stranger must not forget the manufactory of mirrors, No. 313, Rue St.
Denis, he will there find an immense plate glass warehouse; the concern
having been established since 1634; it is carried on to a great degree
of perfection. A Frenchman named Thévart first discovered the art of
casting glass, that of polishing it was invented by Rivière, and now
glasses may be had at this establishment 154 inches by 104. The largest
table of iron for polishing glass was made a few months since, weighing
twenty-five tons. At No. 121 is the Cour Batave, so called from being
erected by a company of Dutch merchants, in 1791; it is disfigured now
by shops, but had the original design been carried out, instead of
having been disturbed by the Revolution, it would have been one of the
handsomest monuments of the capital.

A short distance northward, in the same street, is the church of St. Leu
and St. Gilles; on the spot a chapel was erected in 1230, and in a small
tower to the west a date is inscribed of 1230, but it has been repaired
several times since that period, particularly in 1320; the nave,
however, is supposed to be of the thirteenth century, and most likely of
the date of the foundation, but other parts of the building are
evidently of a more recent epoch, possibly of 1320; judging from the
style of the architecture. Amongst the pictures is one of St. Margaret,
Queen of Scotland, washing the feet of the poor; there are others which
are well worthy attention, as also a representation of the Creation,
which is a very curious piece of carve-work. As St. Leu had the credit
of healing the sick, the kings of France, on their accession to the
throne, for nine days successively used to visit this church to implore
the saint to grant them health. We must now proceed to the southern
extremity of the street, and take the last turning to the left, which is
called the Rue St. Jacques de la Boucherie, and in groping about amongst
some dirty streets, we shall find the tower of the same name; it is a
remarkably curious object, and it is much to be regretted that the
church belonging to it no longer stands it was begun in 1508; and
finished in 1522, it is 156 feet high, and had formerly a spire thirty
feet high; the style of architecture is rich and very singular, the
gargouilles, or gutter spouts, are of a tremendous size; as it has been
recently purchased by the Municipality of Paris from an individual,
there are hopes that this interesting monument will be fully repaired
and restored. Around its base a market is established for linen and old
clothes. A little filthy street to the south will take us into the Place
du Châtelet, where we can breathe a little fresh air; here stood the
celebrated Châtelet, at once a court of justice and prison of olden
time. In the middle is a fountain, from which rises a column
representing a palm-tree, and upon it are inscribed the victories of
Napoleon. Amongst other allegorical decorations, the statues of Justice,
Strength, Prudence, and Vigilance adorn the pedestal, and joining hands
encircle the column, the whole surmounted by a statue of Victory. At No.
1, upon the Place, is the chamber of notaries, where landed property and
houses are sold by auction.

We must now return to the Rue St. Denis, and follow it until we come to
the Rue de la Ferronnerie, which is to the left, into which we must
proceed, and shall find that the second turning to the left is the Rue
des Déchargeurs, and at No. 11 is an edifice of the seventeenth century,
which is now the Dépôt général des Bonneteries (Hosiery) de France.

Returning a few steps northward, brings us to the corner of the Rue St.
Honoré, and against No. 3 is a bust of Henry IV, and a stone with a
latin inscription, indicating that it was exactly opposite that spot
that he was stabbed by Ravaillac. The street was very narrow at that
period, and at the moment when the deed was perpetrated, the carriage of
Henri IV was stopped by a number of carts which choked up the passage. A
little street nearly opposite, takes into the Marché des Innocents,
which occupies an immense space formerly the cemetry of the Innocents.
In the middle of the area is a fountain built by Pierre Lescot, in 1551,
and is decidedly a most beautiful object, which is not sufficiently
noticed by strangers, as it is surrounded by a crowded market and not at
all hours easy of approach; the court-yard of a palace would be a more
appropriate situation for this elegant edifice, and I particularly
request my readers to pay it a visit. Around this fountain is certainly
the largest and most frequented market in Paris, not only each
description of vegetables, poultry, and almost all kind of eatables are
sold here, but cloth, a large building being purposely constructed for
that object 400 feet in length; another division is for every
description of herbs, the northern side is devoted to potatoes and
onions; a triangular building a little farther, is on purpose for
butter, eggs, and cheese, whilst another edifice is for fish. At a short
distance, in the Rue Mauconseil is the great hall for the sale of
leather, which was formerly the Hôtel de Bourgogne, where the players
used to perform scriptural pieces in the 15th century. To the west of
the Marché des Innocents is the curious street de la Tonnellerie, an
open passage running, through the ground floors of some of the houses,
inhabited mostly by dealers in rags, cloth, and old furniture; in this
street is the bread market, where it is sold cheaper than at the bakers
in Paris. At the south end of the street at No. 3, is the site of the
house where Molière was born, which was held by his father who was an
upholsterer and valet de chambre to Louis XII; against the house is a
bust of the author, with an inscription specifying the event.

Following the Rue de la Tonnellerie brings us opposite St. Eustache,
which after Notre-Dame is the largest church in Paris, built on the site
of a chapel of St. Agnes. The present edifice was begun in 1532, but not
supposed to have been finished until 1642. The portico is more recent,
being after a design by Mansart de Jouy, and erected in 1754: combining
altogether a most incongruous mixture of styles and orders of
architecture, originally commenced with the design that it should be a
sort of mixed gothic, of which the southern door and front bear
evidence, whilst the western portico has doric and ionic columns, and
at the northern end are corinthian pillars, notwithstanding it is a bold
imposing structure, and the interior has the appearance of a fine abbey,
and is a monument which every stranger ought to visit. It is a pity that
a number of little square knobs have been suffered to remain sticking
out from different parts of the shafts of the columns of this church; it
is strange that the French could not be made to understand that the
beauty of a pillar in a great degree consists in a bold broad mass,
which should never be cut up into littlenesses, by rings or any
obtruding projections. In this church lie buried several celebrated
persons, amongst the rest the great Colbert, which is indicated by a
very handsome sarcophagus, sculptured by Coysevose. The sacred music
here is sometimes most exquisitely delightful, the organ being
particularly fine. Facing the southern front is the Marché des
Prouvaires, a sort of appendage to the Marché des Innocents, and
opposite the east side of the church, is the Fontaine de Tantale, at the
point formed by the two streets, Montmartre and Montorgueil, which will
repay the observer for a few minutes devoted to its examination. The
west front of the church faces the Rue Oblin, which we will take, as it
leads to the Halle au Blé, a fine extensive circular building, with a
noble dome, it is built on the site of the Hôtel de Soissons, erected
for Catherine de Médicis, in 1572, which in 1748 was demolished, and the
present Halle constructed in 1763; the roof has a round skylight, 31
feet in diameter, and from the system adopted in its formation, it is
considered by connaiseurs a _chef d'oeuvre_ in the art of building. It
is indeed altogether so curious, and so commodious a building for the
purpose for which it is designed, that the visiter must be highly
gratified in viewing it: there is besides another attraction, which is
on the southern side, one of the immense doric columns which once
composed the noble Hôtel de Soissons; it was erected for the purposes of
astrology, and contains a winding staircase, and is ornamented with
emblematic symbols, of the widowhood of Catherine de Médicis, as broken
mirrors, C. and H. interlaced, etc. An ingenious sundial is placed on
its shaft, and a fountain in its pedestal.

By taking the Rue Sartine we shall arrive at the Rue Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, and there find the Hôtel des Postes or General Post Office; it
was formerly an Hôtel belonging to the Duke d'Epernon, and was
afterwards inhabited by different proprietors, until 1757, when it was
purchased by government, for its present purposes. It is an extensive
building but badly situated amongst narrow streets, many additions have
been made since it has become government property. Taking the Rue
Verdelet, the street which runs along the north side of the building,
and proceeding westward, we come to the Place des Victoires, which was
built in 1685; in the centre is a very fine equestrian statue of Louis
XIV, in bronze, which although weighing 16,000 lbs is entirely sustained
by the hinder legs and the tail. It is the work of Bosio, and was
modelled in 1822.

Proceeding to the south-west, by the Rue de la Petite-Vrillière, the
Bank of France is before us. It was formerly the Hôtel de Toulouse,
erected by Mansard, in 1720; for the Duke de la Vrillière; it is well
situated, and adapted to its present use, but it has no striking
architectural beauty. The Rue Vide Gousset, to the north-west of the
Place des Victoires, leads to the Église des Petits-Pères, or de
Notre-Dame des Victoires, erected in 1656. It was called Petits-Pères,
or little fathers, on account of Henry IV, on two of the community of
small stature having been introduced into his antechamber, asking, "who
are those little fathers?" The convent which was attached, is now used
as barracks for infantry. The portal of the church was built in 1739,
and is composed of columns of the ionic and corinthian orders. The
interior has some handsomely decorated chapels and altars; the pictures
by Vanloo also are fine. Lulli, the musical composer, lies buried here.
In the Rue Notre-Dame des Victoires is the immense establishment of the
Messageries Royales, from whence start diligences to all parts of
France; we will pass through the yard into the Rue Montmartre, at No.
44, is the Marché St. Joseph, at 166, the Fontaine de la Rue Montmartre,
and at No. 176, the Hôtel d'Uzès erected by Le Doux, considered one of
the finest hôtels in Paris.

We will now enter the Boulevard Poissonnière, by turning to the right,
and in passing along to the Boulevard Bonne-Nouvelle must notice the
very handsome Bazaar called the Galeries de Commerce, and the noble
building called Maison du Pont de Fer with its curious iron bridge,
uniting the back and front premises with the Boulevard. Taking, the Rue
de l'Échiquier, to the left, will conduct us to the Rue du
Faubourg-Poissonnière, and opposite, at No. 23, we find the Garde Meuble
de la Couronne, containing all the furniture of the crown not in use,
the regalia, and other articles of immense value, but to obtain
admission is extremely difficult. Annexed to this building is the
Conservatoire de Musique and the Salle des Menus Plaisirs. In this
street are several handsome mansions particularly at Nos. 26 and 60, the
gateway of which, with its fine ionic columns, is one of the most
imposing in Paris; there also are large barracks for infantry with
military trophies over the entrance. From thence a few steps lead into
the Rue Lafayette, and will bring us to a new church which promises to
be, when quite finished, one of the most elegant in the capital, it is
situated at the summit of the Rue Hauteville. The order is ionic, which
is solely and consistently preserved throughout the building, all the
ornaments are in good taste, and the paintings promise to be in keeping
with the rest, so that it augurs well towards being quite a
chef-d'oeuvre of art. It is intended to replace the old church of St.
Vincent de Paule, which stands about a furlong from it to the west in
the Rue Montholon, to where we will proceed, and look at the
altar-piece, being the apotheosis of the philanthropist to whom it is
dedicated, and the only object in the church worth attention.

Keeping straight on westward, we come to the beautiful church of
Notre-Dame-de-Lorette, finished in 1837, it is exactly fronting the Rue
Lafitte, from which the noble portico of corinthian columns has a most
beautiful effect. The interior is splendid, indeed gorgeous, all that
painting, sculpture, and gilding can produce, is here combined, and the
effect is dazzling, and excites almost universal admiration, and would
mine also were it a theatre, but the chaste, still solemnity of a holy
sanctuary exists not here, amongst the gay colours and lurid glare which
every where meets the eye from the glitter, which blazes around in this
too profusely decorated church. Yet one must do justice as one examines
it in detail, and admit that in point of execution all its different
departments are most exquisitely wrought, and magnificent as a whole,
only not consistent with our associations connected with a temple of
worship.

We will now descend by the Rue Faubourg Montmartre to the Boulevards,
and bearing a little westward, shall come to the very handsome Rue
Vivienne, through which we will proceed until we are opposite the Bourse
(Exchange), and there we pause and contemplate what I consider the _beau
idéal_ of fine architecture; its noble range of 66 corinthian columns
have no unseemly projections to break the broad mass of light, which
sheds its full expanse upon their large rounded shafts, no profusion of
frittering ornaments spoil the chaste harmony which pervades the whole
character of this building, which to me appears faultless. If there were
any improvement possible, I should say that if the bold flight of steps
which leads to the front entrance had been carried all round the
building the effect would have been still more grand than it now is. The
interior is adorned with paintings in imitation of bas relief, which are
executed in the most masterly style. The grand Salle de la Bourse in the
centre of the building, where the stock-brokers and merchants meet, is
116 feet in length by 76 in breadth, entirely paved with marble. The
whole arrangements are such as to render it in every respect the most
commodious for all commercial purposes.

From hence we proceed by the street opposite to the Rue Richelieu, and
turning to the left, we arrive at the Place Richelieu, and must pass a
few minutes in admiring the elegant bronze fountain in the centre with
its noble basins and four allegorical figures representing the Seine,
the Loire, the Saône, and the Garonne, round which the water falls from
above, and flows beneath, producing a most beautiful effect.

Opposite is the Bibliothéque du Roi, or Royal Library, which certainly
is the most extensive and most complete of any in the world, possessing
nearly 1,000,000 books and printed pamphlets, 80,000 MSS, 100,000
medals, 1,400,000 engravings, 300,000 maps and plans. This institution
may be considered to owe its foundation to St. Louis, who first made the
attempt of forming a public library, and arranged some volumes in an
apartment attached to the Holy Chapel; under successive reigns the
number gradually increased, whilst the locality assigned for them was
often changed, and it was not until the reign of Louis XV that they were
placed where they now are, in a most extensive building, formerly the
residence of Cardinal Mazarin, which, seen from the Rue Richelieu,
presents nothing but a great ugly dead wall, with a high roof to it, and
here and there a few square holes for windows, but when you enter the
court-yard, you find rather a fine building than otherwise, and the
interior displays, by the vast size of the apartments, some idea of what
its former grandeur must have been; the richness of the ornaments and
decorations in most instances are destroyed, and replaced by books, with
which the walls are covered. The engravings occupy the ground floor, and
amongst them are to be found fifty thousand portraits, including every
eminent character which Europe has produced, and presenting all the
varieties of costumes existing at the different epochs in which they
flourished; in one of the rooms where the prints are kept is an oil
portrait, in profile, of the unfortunate King John of France, which is
curious as an antiquity, being an original, and executed at a time when
the art of portrait painting was very little known, as John died in the
year 1364. On ascending the staircase to the right, a piece of framed
tapestry must be remarked, as having formed part of the furniture of the
chateau of Bayard.

Those who are curious in typographical specimens must ask to see the
most ancient printed book _with a date_, being 1457, also the Bible,
called Mazarin, printed in 1456, with cut metal types. The oldest
manuscript is one of Josephus, and others are of the fifth and sixth
centuries; the amateurs of autography will be gratified in seeing
letters from Henri IV to Gabrielle d'Estrée, and the writing of Francis
I, Turenne, Madame de Maintenon, Voltaire, Rousseau, Racine, Corneille;
Boileau, Bossuet, etc. Amongst other interesting objects is the chair of
Dagobert, which is supposed to be much older even than his time, and of
ancient Roman fabric, the vase of the Ptolemies, the famous cameo
representing the apotheosis of Augustus, the seal of Michael Angelo, and
the armour of Francis I, and the admirers of _vertu_ must be delighted
with the collection of exquisitely beautiful intaglios and cameos. Two
globes, twelve feet in diameter, being the largest extant, cannot be
overlooked. Mount Parnassus in bronze, which the French poets and
musicians are ascending with Louis XIV on the summit, is a fine piece of
workmanship; there is also a model of the Pyramids of Egypt, with
figures and trees to denote their height. There are a few very good
paintings, and many objects calculated to excite the highest interest,
which it would take years properly to examine and appreciate. The
prayer-books of St. Louis and Anne of Brittany, and one which belonged
in succession to Charles V Charles IX, and Henri III, bearing their
signatures are exceedingly curious. Amongst the books and manuscripts
may be found some of every known language which has characters. This
noble institution is open daily for students; authors; etc., from ten
till three, except Sundays and festivals; and those who merely wish to
view the establishment may be admitted from ten till three on Tuesdays
and Fridays; except during the vacation, which is from the 1st September
to the 15th October.

In the same street, a little farther southward, at the corner of the Rue
Traversière, the preparations will be observed for a statue to Molière,
on the spot where stood the house in which he died, and nearly opposite
is a small passage which passes under a house; and takes one opposite
another of a similar description, which leads into the Palais Royal:
suddenly emerging from the little dark alleys into a beautiful area, has
a most extraordinary and pleasing effect; you see before you a
parallelogram of 700 feet by 300, completely surrounded by a beautiful
building with arcades, and having flower-gardens; statues, and a
splendid fountain in the centre. To see this extraordinary scene to the
greatest advantage, the first visit should be by night, and the
impulsive coup-d'oeil tempts the beholder to imagine that he has
around him the realization of some gay dream of a fairy palace, the
immense glare of light glittering on the falling waters, the brilliance
of the illuminated shops; the magnificence and richness of the articles
therein displayed, with reflecting lamps so contrived as to throw a
powerful light on their sparkling jewels and glittering ware, the
vistas of trees, the borders of flowers, the well dressed company and
animated groups, with the gilded coffee-houses beaming all round, form
such a picture as it is more easy to imagine than describe. Four
galleries with shops encircle the garden of the Palais Royal, three of
them are under piazzas opening to the grand area, the fourth, called the
Galerie d'Orléans, is enclosed on both sides, and the roof is formed by
one immense skylight, whilst the effect of the whole is superb. Over the
shops are mostly either coffee-houses or restaurateurs, some of them
splendidly decorated and most brilliantly lighted; as may be imagined,
this amusing locality forms the lounge of thousands, and no stranger
ever comes to Paris without making an early visit to the Palais Royal.
It was originally intended by Cardinal Richelieu for his own residence,
but the magnificence which he had already developed, with intentions of
augmenting his design to so extravagant and luxurious a degree, began to
excite the jealousy of Louis XIII, and finally the Cardinal made him a
present of it shortly before his death. Since then it has been inhabited
by several royal visiters, and such changes have been made that the
original plan is scarcely to be traced, it having formerly been so much
more extensive as to occupy several of the surrounding streets. So
numerous are the shops, and so various are the articles within them,
that it has been observed that a person might live in the Palais Royal
without ever stirring out of it, finding all within it required to
supply the wants of a reasonable being.

Although under the comprehensive title of Palais Royal, the whole extent
is included, not only garden but all the surrounding shops and the
stories above, yet that part which specifically is the Palais Royal, or
Royal Palace, is situated at the southern extremity, looking into two
court-yards, and where the present King with his family resided until
1831, when he removed to the Tuileries. It is entered by the Rue St.
Honoré, and may be considered rather a fine building; the doric, ionic,
and corinthian orders are visible in different parts of the edifice, in
the interior there are some extremely handsome apartments, beautifully
furnished but not very large for a palace; there are many very
interesting pictures, particularly those relative to the King's life,
from the period, of his teaching geography in a school in Switzerland,
to his return to Paris; also the subjects connected with the events of
the Palace are well worth attention, and many of them painted by the
first rate artists. The apartments may usually be seen on Sundays from 1
till 4, on presentation of the passport.

Opposite the Palais-Royal is an open space called the Place du Palais
Royal, on the southern side is the Château-d'Eau, a reservoir of water
for supplying the neighbouring fountains; it is decorated with statues,
and two pavilions. Just near it is the Rue St. Thomas-du-Louvre, where
formerly stood the famous Hôtel de Longueville, the residence of the
Duke de Longueville, and Elboeuf, where the intrigues of the Fronde
were carried on, during the minority of Louis XIV, against Mazarin; it
is now in part occupied by the king's stables, containing 160 horses,
and may be visited any day by applying at the porter's lodge. We will
now retrace a few steps eastward to the Rue St. Honoré, and passing by
the large establishment of Laffitte, Caillard, et Compagnie, for
diligences to all parts of France, we shall come to the Oratoire, built
for the Prêtres de l'Oratoire in 1621, but now devoted to the protestant
worship; it is adorned with doric columns, with a range of corinthian
pillars above, and in the interior, the roof of which is highly
ornamented. Service is performed in French every Sunday at half past 12.
Within a hundred yards eastward is the Fontaine de la Croix-du-Tiroir,
at the corner of the Rue de l'Arbre-Sec, rebuilt by Soufflot (on the
site of one erected under Francis I). Adorned by pilasters and a nymph,
which would have been graceful but is spoiled by their painting over it.

The first turning in the Rue de l'Arbre-Sec, is the Rue des Fossés St.
Germain-l'Auxerrois, and at No. 14 is the house formerly called the
Hôtel Ponthieu, in which Admiral Coligni was assassinated on St.
Bartholomew's day, in 1572; in the very room where the event took place
the witty actress, Sophie Arnould, was born, in 1740, then called the
Hôtel Lisieux, and in 1747, it was occupied by Vanloo the celebrated
painter. We return to the Rue de l'Arbre-Sec, and a few steps southward
bring us in front of the venerable and mouldering church of St.
Germain-l'Auxerrois (vide page 61); the oldest part still standing and
supposed to be of the 14th century, is the western front; the porch was
built by Jean Gausel in 1431, several other parts have been built at
later periods; altogether it is a most interesting building and is
connected with many sad historical associations, it was the bell of this
church that tolled the signal for the massacre of the protestants on the
night of St. Bartholomew; in a little street adjoining the south side of
the church, is a house with a picturesque turret, supposed to have
belonged to some building attached to the church; there is a very
remarkable piece of carve-work in wood and some interesting pictures
within the church; we will now leave its tranquil vaulted aisles, and
quitting by the western porch, the most beautiful façade of the Louvre
rises before us, which was erected in the reign of Louis XIV, after a
design by Claude Perrault.

[Illustration: Champin del. Lith. Rigo Frères Cie
St. Germain l'Auxerrois.]

The Louvre has been so often described in works of so many different
natures, descending the different grades from histories to pamphlets,
that I shall not fatigue my readers with a too detailed review of its
wonders, but endeavour to give them some impression of its grandeur,
with as little prolixity as possible. I have already, in the historical
sketch of Paris, touched upon its foundation, and the various epochs at
which the different parts of the building were erected, and certainly
let any one place himself in the middle of the grand court, and behold
the four sides, and see if he can call to mind any thing equal to it,
take it, for its all in all; I am well aware that there is rather a
redundancy of ornament to satisfy the purest taste, and in that respect
there is undoubtedly a deviation from perfection, but the approach is
sufficiently near to excite the warmest admiration. Each side is 408
feet, and although there is a degree of uniformity, taken _en masse_,
preserved, with two of the façades particularly, yet on examination the
ornaments are found to be different, each side requires much close study
after a _coup-d'oeil_ has been taken of the whole, and the more it is
inspected, the more beautiful will it be found; the statues and
different devices are by five different sculptors, the most celebrated
of their day, the order of the pillars is generally corinthian, but
there are some, which are composite. The external façades are by no
means burthened with ornament, the north and western sides being
perfectly plain, the south side has a noble effect, and faces the quay,
having plenty of room to admit of its being properly viewed and justice
rendered to its noble range of forty corinthian pilasters; this is by
Perrault, as well as the eastern side, which is certainly one of the
finest specimens of modern architecture that can be imagined.

A grand colonnade composed of 28 coupled corinthian columns has the most
splendid effect, the basement story being perfectly simple, whilst the
central mass of the building which forms the gateway is crowned by a
pediment of stones, each 52 feet in length and three in thickness; all
is vast, all is grand about this noble front, which is justly the
admiration of every architectural connoisseur, no matter from what part
of the world he may come.

Of the interior volumes might be said, I must first, after conducting my
reader to the great door on the southern side of the building, direct
his attention to the grand staircase, which is of a most splendid
character, as to design, and consistently beautiful as to execution. The
visiter after passing by a small room filled with very old paintings
enters a larger when the grand gallery extends before him, which is
unrivalled in the world, being above a quarter of a mile in length, and
42 feet in width, filled with paintings, principally from the old
masters, but of them I will treat in a future chapter; it contains 1406
pictures some of them being of immense size. We will now pass on for the
moment to the other apartments. The bed-room of Henry IV must arrest our
attention, and the eye naturally falls on the alcove where his bed was
placed, the oak carving, and gilded mouldings have been preserved
exactly in the same state that they were when he died. We next proceed
to a suite of rooms containing paintings of the Spanish, French,
Flemish, and Italian schools; others devoted to drawings; of the latter
there are 1293. Another range of apartments is on the ground floor and
called the Museum of Antiquities, containing statues and various
specimens of sculpture, in all 1,116 objects. Other suites of rooms are
appropriated to Egyptian, Greek, and Roman antiquities, and in some of
the apartments are objects of great value; that the amount of real
worth of the contents of the Louvre must be incalculable, one casket
alone of Mary de Medicis is estimated at several thousand pounds, and
there are many articles equally costly. One portion of the building is
devoted to every thing that concerns naval architecture and an immense
variety of marine objects, with a number of curious models. The Louvre
may be entered on presenting the passport, every day, and new wonders
and beauties may be discovered at each visit, although they be repeated
for months together.

We now pass on westward, and enter the Place du Carrousel, so called
from Louis XIV having held a grand tournament there in 1662, but it was
not then so extensive as at present. The triumphal arch erected by
Napoleon in 1806, first strikes the eye a beautiful monument composed of
different coloured marbles, of works in bronze with figures, and devices
relative to war, and commemorative of the campaigns of the French army
in 1805; all the different parts are admirable from the exquisite manner
of their execution. On our left is the grand picture-gallery of the
Louvre, communicating with the Tuileries, on the right, the same
description of building exists in part, but is not yet completed. Before
us spreads the extended dimensions of the palace of the Tuileries; with
all deficiences it must be admitted that it is a noble pile, and has a
grand, though heavy imposing air, the height of the roof is certainly a
deformity, but we will enter the grand court-yard, which is separated
from the Place du Carrousel by a handsome railing with gilt
spear-heads, and then pass under the palace, and view the façade on the
garden side, where the sameness of the building is relieved by a
handsome colonnade in the centre, adorned with statues, vases, etc.; the
wings also have a fine effect, they are more massive than the body of
the building, which although not a beauty as respects the edifice in
general, yet the execution of all the different parts is admirable in
the identical detail; having a fair share of ornament not injudiciously
disposed, situated as the Palace is seen, at the end of a splendid
garden, it has a most striking and beautiful effect.

The interior contains many apartments which are, as might be expected,
exceedingly handsome, one termed the Galerie de Diane is 176 feet long
by 32 broad, it is of the time of Louis XIII, and rich in gilding and
paintings, but generally the furniture is not so magnificent as might be
imagined; those occupied by the Duke of Orléans are an exception; being
very splendid. Amongst the numerous objects of _vertu_ which here abound
is the large solid silver statue of Peace, presented to Napoleon by the
city of Paris after the treaty of Amiens. The pictures are generally by
the most eminent French artists. The Salle des Maréchaux contains the
portraits of the living Marshals of France; Soult, Molitor, and Grouchy
are the only remaining, whose names figured in the campaigns of
Napoleon; on the whole it may be remarked that the apartments generally
in the Tuileries are not equal in point of extent and decoration, to the
saloons of many of the nobility of Paris. When the King is absent, the
Palace may be viewed by applying to M. le Commandant du Château des
Tuileries, and the same is the case with the apartments of the Duke of
Orleans.

The gardens present a most agreeable aspect, although too stiff and
formal to be in good taste, yet the mélange of noble high trees, wide
gravel walks, marble basins, beautiful fountains, the most classic
statues, beds of flowers, ornamental vases, and the commanding view to
the Triumphal Arch, certainly form an _ensemble_ which produces the most
delightful sensation; in fact, I never enter them, such is the cheering
effect upon me, without having but one unpleasant feeling, and that is,
to think that I have not time to go there oftener, and pass hours
amongst such charming scenes. To view the number of sweet merry looking
children, with their clean and neat _bonnes_ (nursery maids), all
playing so happily together, enlivens the heart, then the retired walks
between the dense foliage in the heat of summer invites the mind to
meditation. The exquisitely beautiful statues are also most interesting
objects of study, and I recommend them particularly to the attention of
the visiter. On the northern side of the gardens, extends the handsome
Rue Rivoli, with its noble colonnade; at No. 48, is the Hôtel des
Finances, a spacious building covering a large extent of ground,
containing several courts, with offices, and splendid apartments for the
Minister. We shall now cross the Rue Rivoli, and take the Rue des
Pyramides, also having an arcade all through the Rue St. Honoré, and
facing us rises the noble church of St. Roch (vide page 97). The
entrance is approached by a flight of steps, which have witnessed some
sanguinary scenes, when Napoleon poured forth the iron hail of his
artillery upon the opposing force which was there posted; again, in
1830, on the same spot, the people made a firm resistance against the
gendarmerie of Charles X. The portal has two ranges of columns of
corinthian and doric orders, the interior, although plain, has a fine
appearance, heightened by the effect produced by many handsome monuments
to illustrious characters who have been buried here, amongst the rest,
Corneille; painting as well as sculpture has lent its aid in decorating
this church, as it contains some fine pictures. The Royal Family attend
here, and the music is very fine, but generally there are such crowds
that it is difficult to enter. At No. 13 in the Rue d'Argenteuil, behind
St. Roch, in 1684, Corneille died. A black slab in the court-yard bears
an inscription and the bust of the poet.

Returning to the Rue St. Honoré, we proceed westward, and pass by the
Rue Marché St. Honoré on our right, in which is a most commodious
market. Pursuing our course we look down the Rue Castiglione, which
communicates with the Rue Rivoli, and the Place Vendôme; it is
remarkably handsome, and has a fine colonnade, at the corner is a
fountain, which is plainer than they usually are, and a little farther
to the west, at No. 369, is the Assomption (vide page 96). This church
formerly belonged to a convent of nuns, styled Les Dames de
l'Assomption, the remains may be perceived in the Rue Neuve du
Luxembourg, and are now occupied as barracks. It was completed in 1676.
It contains some interesting pictures. A chapel is contiguous, dedicated
to St. Hyacinthe, which was erected in 1822. Continuing to follow the
Rue St. Honoré, we cross the Rue Royale, displaying the fountains of the
Place de la Concorde to our left, and the Madeleine on our right, we
enter the Rue Faubourg St. Honoré, in which are many most superb hôtels,
amongst the rest, the British Ambassador's, formerly the Hôtel Borghèse,
occupied by the Princess Pauline, sister of Bonaparte; the next hôtel is
that of the Baroness Pontalba, and is one of the most splendid in Paris,
which the visiter must not fail to remark. We next come to the Palais de
l'Elysée Bourbon, erected in 1718, and afterwards purchased and occupied
by Madame de Pompadour, since when it has had many masters, amongst the
rest, Murat, Napoleon, the Emperor of Russia, the Duke of Wellington,
and the Duke de Berri, but it now belongs to the crown, and combines an
appearance of splendid desolation, with a variety of associations, that
cause us to muse on the fall of the great. The library which is over the
council chamber was fitted up by Madame Murat, in the most exquisite
style, as a surprise for her husband after his return from one of his
campaigns; it next became the bed-room of Maria Louisa, and the
birthplace of the daughter of the Duke and Duchess de Berri. Here also
is shown the bed-room, and bed in which Napoleon last slept in Paris,
after the battle of Waterloo. The building itself is handsome, and
though not large, has an elegant appearance, some of the apartments are
very splendid, but now having a solitary aspect. The garden, which is
large, contains some noble trees, and is laid out in the Italian style.
To see this Palace, apply for admission to M. l'Intendant de la Liste
civile.

Facing the Elysée Bourbon, is the Hôtel Beauveau, in the Place Beauveau,
occupied by the Neapolitan Ambassador. Still proceeding westward we come
to the church St. Philippe du Roule, which was completed in 1784. It has
but very little ornament, but is an exceedingly chaste production, the
columns of the portico are doric, and those of the interior are ionic.
It contains several good pictures. Nearly opposite is a handsome
building with tuscan columns, and is used as stables for the King, and
also a receptacle for his carriages. A short distance farther on is the
Hôpital Beaujon, founded by the banker of that name in 1824, a handsome
and well arranged building, having an air of health and cheerfulness; it
contains 400 beds, and the situation is particularly salubrious, and so
well ordered that the inspection of it will afford much gratification to
the visiter. The Chapelle Beaujon, opposite, is by the same founder as
the hospital, and may be considered as belonging to it.

We must now travel back as far as the British Ambassador's, and facing
is the Rue d'Aguesseau, in which is the Episcopal Chapel, entirely
appropriated to the English protestant worship, a building well adapted
in every respect to the purposes for which it was erected. A few steps
farther we turn to the right, which will bring us to the Rue de la
Madeleine, in which we shall find the Chapelle Expiatoire, built over
the spot where Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were buried, immediately
after their execution, and the interior is adorned by their statues;
their remains were afterwards removed to St. Denis. This chapel is one
of the most elegant and interesting monuments in Paris, it is in the
form of a cross, with a dome in the centre. A short distance eastward,
is the Collége Royal de Bourbon, No. 5, Rue St. Croix, which was built
for a Convent of Capuchins, in 1781. It consists of a doorway in the
centre, with columns, and two pavilions at the ends, one of which was
the chapel of the convent, but is now the church St. Louis, a plain
building of the doric order, but decorated by some fine fresco
paintings, and four large pictures of saints, painted in wax. From hence
we may take the Rue Joubert, opposite, and proceed until we arrive at
the Rue de la Victoire, formerly called the Rue Chantereine, where
resided Napoleon after his Italian campaign, and from hence went forth
to strike the _coup d'état_ which dissolved the government on the 18th
Brumaire. The house was built for the famous dancer Guimard, then passed
to Madame Talma, who sold it to madame Beauharnais, afterwards the
Empress Joséphine, who added the pavilion at the nearer end. Bertrand
inhabited this mansion a short time after his return from St. Helena, at
present it is untenanted, and undergoing repair; it belongs to the widow
of General Lefebvre Desnouettes. In the garden is a bust of Napoleon,
which certainly possesses no great merit. If disposed to extend our
walk, we may proceed northward to the Rue de Clichy and there find a
prison for debtors, in an airy, healthy situation, which is satisfactory
information for some of our prodigal countrymen, too many of whom, I
regret to say, have been, and are still, inhabitants of this building,
which contains from 150 to 200 persons. In returning we will amuse
ourselves in wandering about many of the streets of the
Chaussée-d'Antin, both right and left, which have in them some most
beautiful houses decorated with statues and the most elaborate
carve-work. On returning to the Boulevards by the Madeleine, as we pass
along we notice the Hôtel des Affaires Etrangères, or residence of the
Minister of Foreign Affairs, corner of the Rue Neuve-des-Capucines,
formerly belonging to Marshal Berthier, we then proceed to the eastward,
and turn down the Rue Neuve St. Augustin, which will bring us to the
point where the streets La Michodière and Port Mahon meet, at the
beautiful Fontaine de Louis-le-Grand, with the statue of a Genius
striking at a dolphin, with consistent ornaments extremely well
executed.




CHAPTER VII.

     A matter of fact chapter, more useful than amusing; advice to
     Englishmen visiting or sojourning at Paris; several serviceable
     establishments recommended; hints as to management and economy.


Although I have already afforded my readers a transient glance at the
Champs-Élysées on entering Paris, yet so charming a spot must not be
passed over altogether in so hurried a manner; possessing as it does so
many attractions for the happy portion of the Parisians, which do not
only consist of its fine vistas of high trees, its broad walks, flowing
fountains, etc., but a wide open space is left, where the people
recreate themselves with athletic games, whilst in other parts there are
swings, merry-go-rounds, shows, music, dancing, and every variety of
amusement that can afford pleasure to those who are merrily inclined.
Franconi has also a Theatre here for the display of horsemanship during
the summer, which is extremely well conducted, and constantly filled.
The prices are from 1 to 2 francs. In the south-western portion of the
Champs-Élysées, is a quarter called Chaillot, in which is situated, at
No. 78 bis, the Chapelle Marboeuf, where protestant service is
regularly performed every Sunday. At No. 99 is Sainte Perine, a refuge
for persons above 60 with small incomes, who by paying 600 francs a
year, are comfortably provided for, or by depositing a certain sum at
once, on entering. It was formerly a monastery, and can accommodate 180
men and women. The church of St. Pierre is a little farther on, in which
there are a few pictures, and the choir is of the 15th century. There
are a great number of very handsome houses about the Champs-Elysées;
which is a favourite neighbourhood with the English, and it is an
agreeable vicinity, on account of its airy position, its picturesque
appearance, and affording pleasure in viewing the numbers who crowd
there for the purpose of enjoyment, and with the determination to enjoy.
It is also a fashionable resort for pedestrians, equestrians, and
carriages, and whilst I am dilating on the attractions of the
Champs-Elysées, I must not omit to direct the attention of my readers to
the very delightful establishment which Doctor Achille Hoffman has
formed in the Avenue Fortuné, which is called the _Villa Beaujon_,
uniting within its interior every object desirable for health, comfort,
and pleasure.

This establishment has been formed by the Doctor on such a system, as to
render it in every respect a cheerful and agreeable residence for
boarders; hence every rational and intellectual amusement is provided
within its walls, a piano, and instruments for forming a quartetto, a
billiard room, newspapers, periodical works, baths, etc., alternately
present the inmates with a fund of amusement: possessing also the
greatest advantage in having Madame Hoffman at the head of the
establishment, who from the good society she has been accustomed to
frequent, and her mental qualifications, is enabled, by her
conversation, ever to cause the hours to pass most pleasantly with the
residents of the Villa, to whose comforts, and wants, she pays the most
unremitting attention, and unites the advantage of speaking English.
Doctor Hoffman is willing to receive any patients except such as may be
afflicted with either contagious complaints, or with mental alienation,
and to attend them upon the homoepathic principles, in which he has
attained considerable celebrity, having for many years practised upon
that system with the greatest success. The apartments are fitted up in a
style of elegance which at once convinces the spectator of the good
taste of the director, and although they are numerous, each has its
peculiar attraction, either in the view from the windows, or from the
internal arrangement: but the quality which is most recommendable in
this establishment, is the peculiar care which has been devoted to every
minutia which can in any degree tend to comfort, and particularly for
that season when it is most required, having by the means of two immense
calorifères, so contrived that the whole house is warmed by a pure air,
which is introduced from the garden, and conveyed not only into every
apartment, but also to the staircases, corridors, and even into the
closets, the degree of heat being regulated exactly to the grade
desired; thus a person may pass a whole winter in this little Elysium,
without ever feeling any of its baneful effects, which is a great
desideratum for persons of delicate health, or having the slightest
tendency to consumption, to whom the most powerful enemies are _cold_
and _damp_, two intruders who are never permitted to enter under any
pretext the Villa Beaujon.

For the pedestrian the greatest treat is afforded, as the neighbourhood
consists of a most numerous variety of delightful walks, and for those
who desire to enjoy the beauties of nature, without fatigue, the most
favourable opportunity is offered, a terrace having been formed at the
summit of the premises which commands a panoramic view for fifteen
leagues round, comprehending within its circle an immense variety of
villages, châteaux, hills, wood, water, and every description of
picturesque scenery. There is also a garden prettily arranged, and kept
in the nicest order, with kiosques and a _jet d'eau_, in fact there is
no attraction omitted which could possibly contribute towards rendering
the Villa a most desirable residence for every season; the charge is
moderate, and the treatment in every respect the most liberal, the
Doctor being in such a position that emolument is not an important
object. Amongst other advantages which the establishment possesses, is
that of always having one English servant. The situation which has been
selected by the Doctor for his residence, is not only the most agreeable
but considered decidedly one of the most healthy round Paris, as the few
houses which are immediately around it are of the better order and
environed by gardens, therefore the purity of the air is untainted by
smoke or any effluvia arising from closely inhabited cities; indeed in
that instance Paris has a great advantage over London, on account of
wood being the principal fuel burnt in the former, and coal in the
latter, hence Paris seen from a height, every object is visible from the
clearness of the atmosphere, whilst London under the same circumstances
is capped by a murky sort of cloud by which the greater part of the city
is generally obscured.

Although the French capital is above three degrees south of the English,
yet the former is colder in the winter, only that it is dryer,
consequently more wholesome and the cold weather is of much shorter
duration, as the springs are always finer and forwarder than in England,
which is proved by the vegetables being much earlier in Paris, peas
being sold cheap about the streets on the 20th or 25th of May, and other
leguminous crops in proportion. The autumns are often very fine,
generally, indeed, I have known the month of November to be quite clear
and sunny, but of latter years the summers have been wet. The English in
most instances have their health better in France than in England, which
is considered to arise from several different causes; the lower and even
some of the middle classes in London and other large towns are much
addicted to drinking quantities of porter and ale, which are not so
accessible in Paris or in any town in France; hence after a time they
accustom themselves to the light wines of the country, and with the
higher classes of English the case is nearly similar, as they renounce
port, sherry, and Madeira, for Burgundy, Bordeaux, etc., and as a
draught wine _even_ good _ordinaire_, but a grand point is to obtain it
of the best quality, proportioned to the price; perhaps there is not a
town in the world where there are so many persons who sell wine as in
Paris, but as there is a great deal of quackery and compounding
practised, I must caution my countrymen not to purchase at any house to
which they are not particularly recommended. I shall therefore advise
them to give the preference to the old established house of Meunier,
which has existed ever since 1800, now conducted by Messrs. Debonnelle
et Guiard; I have myself long dealt there, as also my friends, and have
ever found their prices the most reasonable, and the qualities
unexceptionable; their tarif comprehends all descriptions of wine, and
the charges in proportion, commencing on so moderate a scale that they
are attainable to the most modest purse, and as there is no description
of known wine which they do not possess, of course some there are at
very high prices; the same case may be stated of their liqueurs, of
which they have every variety. In this establishment persons may either
be accommodated with a single bottle, or may purchase by the pipe, as
they carry on an extensive wholesale business; their great warehouses
are at Bercy which is the grand dépôt for the wine merchants of Paris.
This is one of those houses to which I have before alluded as having,
although nearly in the centre of the city, a delightful garden, and in
the present instance quite a little aviary of canary and other birds,
which is open to the street, situated No. 22, Rue des Saints-Pères,
Faubourg St. Germain. The present proprietors were clerks in the house
as long back as 1810, and have never since been absent from the
business, which has been considerably augmented by their extreme
attention and civility to their customers, and the reputation which they
have acquired for keeping good articles, and vending them at fair
prices.

As a great object of my work is to render it as serviceable as possible
to my readers, I must not omit some cautionary remarks upon the
tradespeople of Paris; an opinion has generally existed of their
predisposition to overcharge the English, and in a great many instances
it has been the case, when they first came over to France; an idea
existed that they were extremely rich, and a bad feeling prevailed of
making the wealthy pay: even amongst their own country people, they do
the same, it is a common phrase with them, "Il est riche, alors
faites-lui payer," "He is rich, so make him pay," and that system of
calculating the weight of a person's means and making the charge,
accordingly, is still followed in a degree; even the government have in
some measure encouraged the practice, no doubt from a good motive, which
has prompted them at certain periods to enforce regulations, that some
articles should be sold for less to the poor, such as bread, and other
necessaries of life. Another circumstance caused the French to continue
their impositions upon the English, their having been duped by the
latter, and in many instances to a considerable amount, as amongst the
crowds who came over, were many persons who were not very scrupulous
with respect to paying their debts, to whom the French willingly gave
credit, the English name at that period having stood extremely high in
the estimation of the French, but having sustained several losses on
account of their too great facility in giving credit, they determined to
make such of the English as they could attract, pay a portion towards
what they had been mulcted by their runaway country-people. The French
are not alone in that respect, as some of the fashionable tailors in
London charge an immense price for their coats, because they say they
only get paid for two out of three, therefore they make those pay dearly
for such as do not pay at all.

The system now is rather better in Paris, so many shopkeepers having
adopted the plan of selling at "Prix fixe" as they call it, which means
fixed prices, from which they seldom or ever depart; but then there is a
great difference with regard to the value of the articles in which they
deal, some shops being infinitely cheaper than others, I therefore have
been at considerable pains to discover those who conduct their business
in an honourable manner and shall give my readers the benefit of my
researches. With respect to provisions there certainly is a difference
with regard to the quarters, which are the more or the less fashionable,
the former being somewhat dearer than the latter, but there is a
proportionate difference with regard to the quality, and therefore in
some instances the higher priced articles are the cheapest in the end;
for instance, M. Rolland, of No. 363, Rue St. Honoré, sells none but the
very best meat; certainly in some of the obscurer parts of the town, and
in the markets it is to be had cheaper; but the quality far inferior. I
have heard the English complain of the meat not being so good in Paris
as it is in London, but if they dealt with M. Rolland they could not in
justice make the remark, he is always the possessor of the ox which is
exhibited on Shrove Tuesday, and which weighed the last time nearly
4,000lbs; he retains a well executed portrait of it, which he shows to
his customers, but he has often beasts approaching that weight, as about
a dozen every year are fatted by the Norman graziers for the prize, and
he is the principal purchaser; his other meat is proportionately fine,
therefore I fancy that a good manager will find that economy is promoted
by dealing with M. Holland in preference to any one who may sell at a
nominally lower price.

Now that economy is on the _tapis_, I must endeavour to enlighten my
reader as much on that head as I can, by giving him all the advantage of
my own experience in the art, and as I am an old practitioner, I have
the vanity to flatter myself that my advice on that score may count for
something. On quitting England I advise my readers to disburthen
themselves of all their clothes, except such as are absolutely requisite
for travelling, and then on arriving at Paris to order those of which
they may stand in need; indeed for myself, when I return to England I
always provide a good stock of habiliments, convinced that the cloth
procured in France is so much more durable than that obtained in
England, and the workmen being paid much less, you have a superior
article in France for a lower charge. As to the difference of fashion or
cut, I leave that to be decided by a committee of dandies of the two
countries, and to prevent my readers from getting into bad hands, I
recommend them at once to M. Courtois, aux Montagnes Russes, No. 11, Rue
Neuve-des-Petits-Champs, facing the Rue Vivienne, there the stranger is
sure of being fairly treated with regard to the worth of the commodity,
the solidity and neatness of the execution, and punctuality in the
fulfillment of his engagements. The difference of prices between a
fashionable London and Parisian tailor is immense, the former will make
you pay 7_l._ 7_s._ for a coat of the best cloth, whilst M. Courtois
only charges 100 francs (4_l._) for the same article, equal in every
respect, and furnishes every other description of clothing on equally
moderate terms.

I shall now bid my reader to doff his hat, and obtain one that will sit
so lightly on his brow, that he will scarcely be conscious that his head
is covered, of which I had experience under circumstances rather
ludicrous than otherwise. I entered a glover's shop with my mind I
suppose occupied with divers meditations, and like a true uncourteous
Englishman forgot to take off my hat to the Dame de Comptoir, as she is
styled, but having obtained what I sought, in the act of departing I
took up a hat which was on the counter, not dreaming that I had already
one upon my head, but as I was making my obeissance to the mistress of
the shop, she observed, very archly, that she should have thought
Monsieur might be satisfied with having a hat on his head, without
requiring to have one in his hand; surprised at finding myself
absolutely committing a robbery, I made the best excuses the subject
would admit, and retired after having furnished a subject of amusement
for Madame, for Monsieur whose hat I had so illegally appropriated to
myself, and to some pretty laughing-looking demoiselles who were
ensconced behind a counter. These aerial hats are to be procured of M.
Servas, No. 69, Rue Richelieu, who is the inventor, and for which he has
received a medal from a scientific society, they are of so light and
elastic a nature, that they do not cause the slightest pressure upon the
brow, nor leave that unsightly mark upon the forehead, that is often a
great annoyance to those gentlemen who object to having a stain upon the
_blanche_ purity of that feature, and as those who are tenacious in that
respect must naturally be so with regard to the form and the material of
which their hat is composed, they may rest assured on that point they
will be suited in those of M. Servas, which have long had an
acknowledged superiority and celebrity on that account, his
establishment having for upwards of 30 years been famed under the firm
of Coquel and Quesnoy, which by the ingenuity of his recent invention
he has considerably augmented.

As I am now on a chapter devoted to usefulness, I must recommend my
readers to get well and _comfortably_ shod, particularly if they have
any intention of visiting the monuments and antiquities I have
described, for which purpose they must procure their shoes in Paris, the
leather being prepared in such a manner as to render it infinitely more
soft and flexible than it is in England, consequently one can walk twice
the distance, without tiring, in French shoes, than one can in English;
hence with the former all the tortures of new shoes are never felt,
being fully as easy as an old pair of the latter, and for this purpose
no one can better supply the article desired, than M. Deschamps, No. 14,
Galerie d'Orléans, Palais-Royal, who stands so high in the estimation of
my countrymen, that he is obliged to go to London twice a year to supply
their demands. An attention to comfort in this respect is to me so
essential, that in returning to England I always provide myself with a
plentiful stock of boots and shoes, although not to the same degree that
one of our celebrated tragedians practised this precaution, having
furnished himself with thirty-six pair to the no small amusement of the
Dover custom-house officers when they overhauled his luggage. One of the
great advantages of the French shoes is that the upper leather never
cracks nor bursts, and indeed I have not only found the material better,
but also the workmanship. M. Deschamps has acquired much celebrity for
the very elegant manner in which his shoes for balls and _soirées_ are
executed, after a system of his own, which have now become the fashion
in all the saloons in Paris. Perhaps my readers may think I have devoted
too much space to this subject, but being a great pedestrian, it is one
of peculiar importance, to me (and it is so natural to judge every one
by one's self), and in order to see all the interesting little bits of
architectural antiquity, which are so numerous in Paris, the visit must
be performed on foot, as it is sometimes requisite to go into little
courts and alleys where no carriage can possibly enter; besides an
antiquarian must peep and grope about in places where a vehicle would
only be an incumbrance.

Whilst my memory is on, or, as some people would say, whilst my hand is
in, I must not forget to recommend the stationer's shop, No. 159, Rue
St. Honoré, next door to the Oratoire, as it is presumable that my
readers, who intend to sojourn a while at Paris, must want to pay some
visits, consequently will need visiting cards, with which they will
provide themselves at the above establishment on terms so reasonable as
quite to surprise a Londoner; also the visiter must write, and will here
find an assortment of sixty different descriptions of English metal pens
of Cuthbert's manufacture, and every variety of stationary that can be
desired, and the manner in which they get up cards and addresses, with
regard to the neatness of the engraving, printing, and quality of the
card, is really surprising, for the price; whilst the mistress receives
her customers with so much politeness, that having been once, is sure to
prove the cause for other visits, when any of the articles in which she
deals are required; and punctuality in the execution of the orders
received is a quality to be met with in her, and in good truth, I cannot
say much for the Parisians in general on that score, and one great cause
is that they have too much business, and far more than they can attend
to in a proper manner.

In the same street, at No. 416, is an establishment of which the English
ought to be informed, being that of M. Renault, wherein good cutlery is
to be obtained at very moderate prices; there is every variety that can
be desired, either for the table or other purposes, all of the finest
description; his shop is situated in the quarter most convenient for the
English, being that in which they so frequently reside.

As health is a desideratum which is requisite for the pursuit of every
occupation, and particularly for such as mean to enjoy Paris to its full
extent, which will require a considerable degree of exercise, I must
recommend the visiter a chymist and druggist on whom he may rely, where
he may find the means of re-establishing any relaxation of strength or
other malady to which all human nature is ever prone. There are
innumerable establishments of this nature in Paris, and especially of
those who announce English medicines, but the one which I have
understood as possessing such as are truly genuine both in French and
English pharmacy, is that of M. Joseau, and as a testimony of
confidence in the respectability of his establishment, it has been made
the chief depository of a medicine entitled the Copahine Mége, so
particularly recommended by the Royal Medicine Academy of France, who
have voted their thanks to the author, and granted him a patent for
fifteen years, having proved so efficacious where patients have by their
excesses deteriorated their health, and in fact, in all cases of
blennorrhagies. M. Joseau may be also useful to my countrymen, who are
in the habit of riding much on horseback, in providing them with belts
of his own invention, which are made of India rubber, and in general use
with the French cavalry. The establishment of M. Joseau is situated at
No. 161, corner of the Rue Montmartre, and of the Gallery Montmartre,
Passage Panorama, where my countrymen will be sure of meeting with the
most assiduous attention, both from himself and his assistants, and that
whatever they may require in his department will be of the best
description, and at the most moderate prices; I know of no business
whatever in which there is such an immense difference in the charges
both in London and Paris, that it appears to me that chemists and
druggists make you pay _ad libitum_, without having any fixed system,
therefore I never enter any of their shops without I have had them
particularly recommended.

Before I quit this chapter of shreds and patches, although of solid
utility, a very useful establishment must be introduced to my readers,
belonging to Messrs. Danneville, No. 16, Rue d'Aguesseau, Faubourg St.
Honoré, facing the Protestant Chapel, consisting of every description of
earthenware and crockery, on a very extensive scale, with a very quiet
exterior, the premises having more the appearance of warehouses than
shops; the assortment is quite of a multitudinous description, including
vessels of the cheapest and most useful nature, at the same time
containing numbers of superior articles, wherein extreme taste is
displayed. The concern has been a long time established, and is quite in
the centre of the quarter which such numbers of English choose for their
residence; the proprietors are civil, quiet, unassuming people, and
their articles exceedingly reasonable.




CHAPTER VIII.

     Novel introductions of different branches of industry.--Recent
     inventions.--Extensions of commerce in various
     departments.--Establishments of several new descriptions of
     business, now flourishing, and formerly unknown.


The commerce of Paris has now extended to so vast a scale, that it has
become an immense entrepòt for all the productions and manufactures of
France; the foreign merchant now feels that in visiting Paris he shall
there find the cheapest, the choicest, and the most extensive assortment
of all that the nature of the country, aided by art, is able to produce;
he is aware that he need not repair to Lyons, to Lille, Rouen, or other
manufacturing districts, for their respective articles, for which they
are famed, as he knows that in the great emporium of the Continent, all
that the ingenuity of man can produce will there be found. Independent
of that advantage, there are many branches of industry confined to
Paris, first invented within its walls, improved, and wrought to a state
of perfection, which is unrivalled in any other capital, and affording
employ to an immense number of hands, from the multitude of
ramifications into which these branches diverge; so that Paris once
principally celebrated as a city of pleasure and gaiety, still retaining
that reputation, is now also renowned for its extraordinary
manufactures, and the curious and splendid specimens of art and
ingenuity emerging from its numerous _ateliers_, and which would require
an extent far beyond the limits of this work, to give a just and
accurate review of their merits; but some there are which being of a
nature totally novel in the annals of commerce, and having merely been
introduced within the last few years, we shall devote some space to
their description in order to afford our readers an idea of their beauty
and utility.

Amongst the various articles of the above description, none perhaps
occupy a more prominent position for beauty, taste, and ingenuity, than
the extraordinary variety displayed in what is termed fancy stationary,
the fabrication of which is now extended to such a degree, as to have
become an important branch of the commerce of Paris. Its introduction is
but of recent date, as in the reign of Charles X all the paper required
for notes, letters, dispatches, etc., was procured from England, on
account of its extreme superiority over that of France; the Court never
using any other, the example was followed not only by the major part of
the French nobility, but by all foreigners of distinction who happened
to be sojourning at Paris, hence the importation of paper from England
was to a considerable amount. But when Louis Philippe came to the
throne, he with his usual policy observed, that paper of French
manufacture was good enough for his purposes, it was therefore adopted
at the Court, and the noblesse and gentry, following in the same line,
that encouragement was afforded to their countrymen, that engendered the
idea of rendering their own paper so tasteful and elegant that now the
affair is quite reversed, and England takes from France an immense
quantity of this beautiful manufacture, which employs even artists of
talent for designing the elegant and fanciful devices which ornament
their envelopes, with their enclosures of various sizes and forms, in
which the arts of drawing, painting, gilding, stamping, etc., combine to
render them so pretty and so gay, that one feels loath to destroy any of
these ornamental epistles, however trifling their import; the subjects
of the devices are as various as those which they are intended to
illustrate, history, the heathen mythology, religion, friendship, a more
tender passion, etc., are all allegorically or emblematically
represented, in the fancy stationary, offering the writer the means of
choosing a subject consistent with the text of his letter, as an
invitation to dinner is designated by paintings of pheasants, game,
etc., to a _soirée dansante_, the note is adorned by couples waltzing,
etc., to a whist party, the cards and players are introduced, and if to
tea, the cups and saucers of gilded and glowing hue, bedeck the gay
margin; so that before a word is written in the letter, it foretells its
errand.

There are very many who have gradually contributed their talents to this
branch of industry, but it is M. Marion who may be considered the
inventor, he having availed himself with the most effect of their
abilities, and concentrated their respective merits, in which he has
displayed much perseverance, taste, and judgment, as also in the manner
in which he has organised this branch of commerce, and promoted its
extension. At his establishment at No. 14, Cité-Bergère, will be found a
most extensive assortment of fancy stationary, comprehending every
description of variety that the most fertile imagination could depict,
the prices of ordinary paper commencing at the very humble price of six
sheets for a sou, and according to the degree that it is ornamented,
gradually rising to 25 francs a sheet. M. Marion has also an
establishment in London, at No. 19, Mortimer Street, Cavendish Square,
exactly on a similar plan as that in Paris, containing an equal variety
of specimens of this new branch of art.

When the visiter has a half hour to spare, he would not find it thrown
away in visiting the establishment of Madame Merckel, she having found
the means of applying the phosphorus and chemical matches, which she has
invented, to such a number of purposes, and of introducing them in so
curious and ingenious a manner into divers articles, calculated both for
utility and ornament, that her manufactory might be considered quite a
little museum; amongst a variety of pretty things, I was first struck
with a time-piece which acts as an alarum, and not only answers the
purpose of awakening you at any hour which you may desire, but a little
figure representing a magician, at the instant strikes a magic mirror,
by which means the taper he holds is ignited, and with all possible
grace, he presents you with a light just as you open your eyes. A night
lamp next attracted me, which represented Mount Vesuvius, and the means
by which it is lighted, proceeds from an enormous dragon emitting fire
from his throat; this article is equally useful as a paper press.
Another night lamp I found particularly elegant, though perfectly
simple, consisting merely of a gilded branch, gracefully carved into a
sort of festoon, from which was suspended a little lamp of most classic
form. The inkstands consist of an indescribable variety, displaying all
kinds of contrivances, some so portable as easily to go into the pocket,
and containing instantaneous light on touching a spring, with pens, ink,
seal and wax. Amongst the endless number of paper presses is one with a
blacksmith, who, when light is required, strikes the anvil and fire
appears; abundance of cigar stands with matches are arranged after a
variety of whimsical methods, some of them very tasteful, and having
quite an ornamental effect. Fortunately, Madame Merckel has in a great
degree met with the reward her ingenuity merits, receiving the greatest
encouragement from the public, and not only having had a patent granted
her to protect her inventions, but she has also been presented with
medals from three scientific Societies. As her prices are as various as
the objects are numerous, every purse may be accommodated, as there are
some as low as a sou, whilst there are others which rise as high as
twenty pounds, the charge elevating according to the degree of ornament
or utility. It appears surprising that a business which was not known
until within the last few years should have risen to such importance, as
Madame Merckel not only transmits her merchandise to every town in
France, but also to the principal cities throughout Europe. The
manufactory is No. 24, Rue du Bouloi, in the Cour des Fermes; there is
besides a similar establishment in London, at No. 30, Edmund Place,
Aldersgate Street, which is entirely furnished by Madame Merckel,
possessing the same varied assortment, and undertaking to execute the
same extent of supply.

How very simple are some descriptions of inventions, and how very simple
one is apt to think one's self in not having before thought of that
which appears so trifling and easy when once known. So it is with a sort
of portable desk, invented by M. Tachet, for which he has procured a
patent; it needs no table nor any kind of support, as the student places
it under him, and his own weight keeps it perfectly firm and steady; the
plane (on which he writes or draws) being attached to the part on which
he sits, rises before him, capable of accommodating itself to such
elevation as may be desired; its principal utility is for sketching from
nature, but as females could not make use of this desk in the same
manner as men, M. Tachet has also such as are adapted to their
accommodation, the base lying on the lap, and fastened by a band round
the waist, which keeps it perfectly firm. M. Tachet has also devoted
much time and attention in forming a collection of angular and carved
pieces of wood, shaped and finished with extreme neatness, describing
almost every form that can well be imagined, and composed of such wood
as has been so well seasoned that it can never warp, either ebony, box,
pear-tree, or indeed of every different country which produces the
hardest woods; they are particularly used by engineers and architects,
for drawing plans or elevations of buildings, as every curve or angle of
any dimensions which can be required, may be traced by these curved and
angular rulers. In French, on account of the form resembling that of a
pistol, the curved pieces are called _pistolet_, which comprehends a
complete set, and great demands for them come from England. At the
establishment of M. Tachet will also be found almost every article that
is required by the artist, and it is in fact the only house in Paris
where there is any certainty of procuring _real English_ colours, as
there are so many counterfeits of them exposed in almost all the
colour-shops in Paris, with the names and arms upon them of some of the
most eminent English colour manufacturers. But I can assure my
countrymen that those they obtain from M. Tachet are genuine, and that
they may deal with him in the same confidence as they would with what we
call a true Englishman; he has likewise a most complete collection of
mathematical instruments; his shop is situated at No. 274, Rue St.
Honoré, at the bottom of the court-yard, and although it has not so
brilliant an appearance as many establishments of the same nature, it is
not the worse for its quiet exterior, but on the contrary, the same
articles will be found with him at a more moderate charge than they ever
can be procured of his dashing rivals.

Another branch of industry which has risen into extreme importance
latterly is that of producing such exquisitely beautiful objects in cut
glass, for which the establishment of Messrs. Lahoche-Boin and Comp. has
for many years been celebrated, and ever conspicuous on account of its
glass staircase, but I should be afraid to trust myself with beginning
to describe the multitude of tasteful and elegant articles assembled in
this exhibition (for it is really much more worthy of being so called
than many that bear the name), lest I should be inveigled into too much
prolixity. Into many of their richly wrought services of glass, gold is
so happily introduced, that the two brilliant substances seem to
sparkle in rivalry of each other, and the deeper tone of bronze
sometimes lends its aid and heightens the effect of both. Glass is now
appropriated to a variety of purposes, formerly never thought of, as
balustrades, the handles of locks and plates to doors, instead of brass,
and a number of other objects; indeed from this establishment there is
always emanating something new, and for the beauty of the works which
they displayed at a national exhibition of specimens of art and
industry, they were awarded the gold medal. Amongst other articles which
attract the attention in their splendid collection, are some of the most
magnificent china vases, painted by talented artists in that department,
also services of Sèvres porcelain for the table, in the taste of times
past; others of glass, gilded and elaborately carved, which style was
also much in vogue with our ancestors; some likewise of a more simple
description but always possessing a degree of elegance which excites
admiration. The proprietors of this concern are merchants of
respectability, and besides furnishing the Royal Family of France, and
several of the courts of Europe, they have transactions with most parts
of the world, charging themselves with the execution of orders for any
country, and requiring the remuneration of a very moderate commission.
The establishment of Messrs. Lahoche-Boin and Comp. is at Nos. 152, 153,
Palais-Royal, and the carriage entrance, No. 19, Rue de Valois. This is
one of those houses in Paris (of which doubtless there are many) where
the stranger may feel every confidence that he will meet with none but
the most honourable treatment.

For those of my countrymen who like to proceed to the fountain head, and
obtain articles from the manufacturer himself, instead of purchasing
them of the shopkeeper who vends them at a higher price, I would
recommend a visit to the establishment of M. Vincent, which is in fact
like a little town, the number of warehouses, workshops, offices, etc.,
on the premises, amounting to no less than 84. In this manufactory an
endless variety of articles are produced, consisting of every
description of knick-knackery, if I may be allowed the term, as
snuff-boxes, cigar-cases, memorandum books, souvenirs, bon-bon boxes,
tablets, tooth-picks, card and needle-cases, pocket mirrors, housewives,
paper presses, port-crayons, rulers, seals, musical snuff-boxes, etc.,
etc. The above articles being executed in every possible variety that
can be imagined, of tortoise-shell, ivory, or mother of pearl, inlaid
with gold and silver in the richest and most elaborate manner, miniature
frames of every description, composed of fancy woods, with chased
circles, metal gilt, stamped tortoise-shell, bronze and of every sort of
material adapted for the purpose, albums and pocket-books in great
variety, dressing-cases both for ladies and gentlemen, tea caddies,
work-boxes, and an infinity of articles too numerous to recapitulate,
for some of which patents have been obtained. It is from this
establishment that most of the showy shops in Paris, who deal in
articles of the same nature, are provided, hence much economy is
effected by purchasing of M. Vincent, the profit of the shopkeeper being
saved by procuring the object from the manufacturer. Tradesmen who come
to Paris from London, would find their interest in applying to this
establishment, where they could obtain the goods they require of the
descriptions stated, at considerably more advantageous terms than from
other quarters. I will cite one article which will prove how very low
are the charges compared to what we are accustomed to in London; the
musical mechanism of a snuff-box, 10 francs (eight shillings) playing
two airs, rising gradually in price to 90 francs, or about 3_l._ 12_s._
playing six tunes, which of course can be afterwards set in any
description of box which the purchaser chooses, of gold, silver, or
tortoise-shell, as fancy directs. All other articles sold by M. Vincent
are equally reasonable. His residence is No. 4, Rue de Beauce, at the
corner of the Rue de Bretagne, near the Temple, certainly not in a very
desirable neighbourhood, but manufactories are seldom carried on in the
most agreeable vicinities.

An art which has been recently brought to an astonishing degree of
perfection in Paris, is that of dyeing, cleaning, scouring, and
restoring almost all descriptions of habiliments; this has been effected
by M. Bonneau, but not until he had visited the principal manufacturing
towns, and had passed many years in studying the art scientifically,
aided by persevering researches into the depths of chymistry, to which
he is indebted for being able to perform that which has not until now
been accomplished. I have seen instances of a soiled, faded, cashmere
shawl, almost considered beyond redemption, committed to his charge, and
reappear so resuscitated that the owners could scarcely believe it was
the same dingy, deplorable-looking affair they had sent a fortnight
before. The same power of restoring is effected upon all descriptions of
satin, even that of the purest white, which, although so soiled as to be
of a dirty yellow colour, is brought forth perfectly clean and with all
its original lustre; with silks, merinos, gros de Naples of the
tenderest tints, the process adopted is equally successful; blonde,
guipure, and all descriptions of lace, no matter how discoloured, are
restored to their original whiteness. With the apparel of men, the same
advantages are obtained, silk, cashmere, velvet, and other waistcoats
that many would throw aside as totally spoiled, or too shabby to be worn
any longer, by being sent to M. Bonneau, are returned, having the
appearance of being quite new. His establishment, at No. 17, Rue
Lepelletier, just facing the French Opera, is well known to many English
families; but having heard so much of the wonders he performed in
reviving the lost colours of the elaborate borders of ladies' cashmeres,
and rendering them their pristine brilliance, I determined to visit his
premises, upon which he carried on his operations, in the Rue de Bondy,
No. 40. I there found everything conducted upon a most methodical system
of regularity and order, each room was appropriated to its peculiar
department, and heated and ventilated by a certain process, and that
which does M. Bonneau much honour, is, that all is so arranged, with the
utmost consideration for the health of his work-people, by taking care
that they shall be kept as dry as possible, and that a proper degree of
warmth and air shall be admitted into every chamber. When required, M.
Bonneau sends his men to clean furniture at persons' houses, which would
be rather incommodious to remove. When any article is sent to him, the
bearer is informed what day it will be completed, and is sure not to be
deceived, and he has an apartment so arranged for preserving whatever is
confided to him, from any injury which might be caused by moths or other
insects.

Amongst those articles for which France used to depend upon England, but
wherein the case is reversed by England taking from France, is that of
pencil-cases, in which small pieces of lead are inserted, and emitted or
withdrawn at pleasure; numbers of these formerly were sent from London
and Birmingham to Paris, but recently M. Riottot has invented and
obtained a patent for a pencil-case which has a little elastic tube of
tempered steel placed at the end which is used, and into which the lead
is inserted, and tightly held within it, so that there is no risk of
breaking, either in the act of fixing in the lead, or from its
afterwards shaking, the steel tube operating as a spring, retains it so
firmly that it remains, even whilst writing with it, perfectly
immoveable; these are arranged in gold or silver cases, more or less
ornamental as may be required, and are found so infinitely more
serviceable than those on the former principle, that as they are
becoming more known in England, the demand for them continues to
increase. The term by which they are designated, is Porte Crayon à Pince
élastique; their advantages are such as tend to economy, as they are
neither liable to fall out nor break, besides the convenience of their
never moving about whilst one is using them, to which the previous
system was constantly liable. M. Riottot has also an assortment of pens
and pen-holders, either plated or of silver or gold, richly chased or
simple, with a variety of seals and other articles; he likewise retains
a stock of lead, properly prepared for inserting into the pencil-cases.
His address is at No. 27, Rue Phélippeaux, Passage de la Marmite,
Escalier A, completely in the quarter of Paris inhabited by the
operatives, surrounded by workshops of different descriptions, not
exactly calculated for very delicate ladies.

For the benefit of a little purer air, we will quit the working
mechanics' rendez-vous, and take a lounge in the Palais-Royal, and as
soon as we breathe a little freely, we will examine the engraved seals
of M. Leteurtre-Maurisset, No. 33, Galerie d'Orléans, which, from the
extreme delicacy of the execution, are objects well worth attention; his
talents in this department have obtained him the distinction of being
engraver to the Chamber of Deputies and to the royal museums; some of
his specimens of armorial bearings, his designs for stamping
impressions, in relief and heraldric devices, are extremely clever; he
engraves on stones of different descriptions, with equal accuracy and on
any kind of metal, as plates for visiting cards, etc., and whatever he
undertakes he executes in the most perfect manner, that the nature of
the work will admit. As he is attached to his profession, however
trifling the order he may receive, he enters into it with the same zest
as if it were of the first importance, of course it is engraving
subjects for seals in which he finds the most pleasure, as it is in
those that he has the greatest scope for the display of his abilities,
and seldom fails to excel.

Although the progress which France has made in almost every branch of
industry is most extraordinary, yet none is so striking as the advance
which has been effected in cutlery, as I well remember when I first came
to France, it was a common joke amongst the English, when speaking of
the rarity of an object, to observe that it was as scarce as a knife in
France that would cut, its appearance also was as dull as its edge, soon
however their cutlery, with their ideas, began to brighten, and to
sharpen; but even as recently as 1830, they were still so outshone by
England, that if it was known that you were going from Paris to London,
with the intention of returning, every lady asked you to bring her a
pair of scissors, every man a pair of razors, and by all medical friends
you were assailed to bring them over lancets or other machines for
cutting and maiming human flesh; thanks to the genius, talents, and
perseverance of M. Charrière, one is no longer troubled with such
commissions, he having improved every description of surgical
instruments to such a degree of perfection, that now many of our English
surgeons provide themselves from his establishment on returning to
England; not only has M. Charrière produced every variety of instrument
used by our faculty, but he has invented several others, which have
merited and obtained the thanks of his country, with letters and medals
from several scientific societies. Even foreigners from all parts of
Europe, from America, and from the East, are now becoming acquainted
with the utility of his inventions, which are already well known in
London and Edinburgh, and will soon be as much in demand in England as
they are now in France. Some idea may be formed of how far M. Charrière
has raised this branch of industry, when it is stated that but a few
years since, the whole number of workmen occupied in this department was
but 30 and now he alone employs 150! M. Charrière in fact possesses one
quality which generally ensures success, a passion for his art; he is
not to be regarded simply as a vender of cutlery, but as one possessing
a scientific knowledge of his profession, and as a mechanic of
considerable talent. To recapitulate all his inventions, with their
respective merits, and the approbatory letters that he has received from
different academical institutions, would half fill my little volume;
suffice it to say that he is the only person in his business, to whom
has ever been awarded the gold medal; besides which, the Royal Academy
of Sciences have presented him with 1800 francs, for the improvement he
has effected in surgical instruments. There is scarcely a disease and
certainly not a single operation that can be performed on the human
frame, for which M. Charrière has not the requisite materials in the
utmost perfection, even for the fabrication of artificial noses; and for
one invention he merits the gratitude of all mothers, the _biberon_, a
machine for the purpose of supplying an infant with milk, when
circumstances prevent the mother from affording that nourishment. This
instrument is so contrived that the part which meets the lips is in
point of texture exactly the same as that which nature provides, uniting
an equal degree of softness and elasticity, that the child takes to the
substitute, with the same zest as if it were the reality. I have known
instances where the lives of children have been saved by this machine,
the parents declaring to me that such was the case, and that they
considered that every mother ought to be provided with so useful an
instrument. The address of M. Charrière is No. 9, Rue de
l'Ecole-de-Médecine. A variety of cutlery is kept of as perfect a
description as those articles for which he has attained so high a
celebrity.

It has generally in modern days been a reproach to France, that she has
been rather lax in regard of religious matters; what there may be in the
hearts of the inhabitants of that or other countries I shall not
presume to give an opinion, but can only say that I find the churches in
Paris, both protestant and catholic, always during service time nearly
full, and many to overflowing. Not only that, but the French are much
attached to holy associations, hence the prints of our Saviour, the
Virgin, and the Saints, have a most inexhaustible sale; I need give my
readers no greater proof than recommending them to visit the
establishment of M. Dopter, No. 21, Rue St. Jacques, they will there
find amongst his immense collection of engravings and lithographies, the
portrait of every saint that ever was heard of, an innumerable variety
of religious subjects for which there is a most extensive and incessant
demand. Some of these are stamped and illuminated in a most splendid
manner, and I verily believe there is scarcely a subject connected with
the christian religion, of which M. Dopter has not a representation; his
establishment is therefore known throughout all France, and many parts
of Europe, to which he transmits numbers of his publications.

He likewise has a most useful assortment of maps and geographical
illustrations, with portraits of celebrated characters, particularly
those connected with the campaigns and adventures of Napoleon, as also
his battles, and remarkable events of his life, as well as a great
diversity of historical subjects, landscapes, academical studies, etc.,
etc.; M. Dopter is also the inventor of the new style of covers for
binding, of which the present volume is a specimen, having them of an
innumerable variety of patterns, and of every size likely to be
demanded.

It has often struck me that maps were very incomplete, in consequence of
their not being capable of giving the degrees of elevation of hills or
mountains except in a very inefficient manner; the same idea, I suppose,
actuated M. Bauerkeller, and induced him to invent those maps in relief,
which are now becoming so generally demanded, as giving such an accurate
illustration of the surface of a country, which is most beautifully
exemplified in many of his specimens, but most particularly in that of
Switzerland; every object having a degree of elevation proportioned to
the reality, and coloured in a great measure similar to the subject
intended to be represented, thus the snow-capped mountains of
Switzerland have their white summits distinctly expressed, their blue
lakes, their green meadows, grey rocks, etc., given with such fidelity,
that a person obtains a most perfect notion of regions he may never have
an opportunity to visit. This system of forming maps or plans upon
embossed paper, is peculiarly applicable to cities, as the public
buildings appear to such advantage, and M. Bauerkeller has already
executed those of London, Paris, St. Petersburg, Vienna, New York, the
city of Mexico, Hamburg, Basle, a Panorama of the Rhine from Coblentz to
Mayence, besides several other cities and countries, and there is no
doubt that in a short time the whole of Europe and many other distant
districts will be illustrated in the same manner, as he is constantly
adding to his collection which already excites the highest interest. M.
Bauerkeller's plan of executing charts, maps, or views in relief, can be
equally produced either upon velvet, silk, or leather, for the
illustration of a diversity of subjects which can be applied to an
innumerable variety of purposes, as shades for lamps, men's caps,
slippers, reticules, stands for decanters, screens, etc., etc.; already
he has extended his connexions to such a degree that he receives
applications from all parts of Europe and America for different articles
in which his invention is introduced. Some of his works which were
displayed at the national exhibition excited universal admiration, and
obtained him a medal; he has also been granted a patent for fifteen
years. This invention is not only valuable in having rendered maps more
ornamental, but it assists the study of geography; by the objects being
rendered so much more distinct, it increases the interest and
consequently makes a deeper impression on the memory; in fact, the
numerous advantages to be derived from this system of giving plans in
relief may be easily imagined, but are too long to be described. A
specimen of the art will be found at the beginning of this work: M.
Bauerkeller's address is No. 380, Rue St. Denis, Passage Lemoine.

Amongst the number of inventions which are constantly emanating from the
brain of man, I know of few which unite more ingenuity, utility, and
simplicity than that of M. Martin (gun-maker at No. 36, Rue
Phélippeaux), relative to the improvement of every description of gun
that is impelled by percussion. According to the system he has
introduced, and for which he has obtained a patent, all the
inconvenience to which the sportsman is subjected in priming is entirely
obviated, as instead of having to place the percussion cap with one's
fingers, so disagreeable in very cold weather, it is at once effected by
the act of cocking, and the gun may be fired from 80 to 100 times,
always as it were priming itself, as the number of percussion caps
required are introduced through the butt, and conducted to the point
desired. The method of inserting the percussion caps is perfectly easy;
pressing a little button or nut at the bottom of the butt causes a plate
to open, when two spiral wire-springs must be taken out, as also a
moveable tube, from the interior of the gun, and the latter filled with
percussion caps, which must be poured into fixed tubes which communicate
with the anvil; they may contain from 40 to 50 each; when this number is
introduced replace the spiral wire-springs which press the percussion
caps exactly, regularly and successively as they are needed to the point
desired, then fasten in the springs with the little hook attached for
that purpose, lastly replace the moveable tube and shut the plate at the
bottom of the butt. This process is executed in a far shorter time than
it can be described. The _immense_ advantage of this invention may not
appear at the first view; but when it is considered how much more rapid
may be the fire of an army in consequence of the time gained, which
would be occupied in priming, the power it will give them over an enemy
must be evident, and there is no doubt but that in a very short time
they will be universally adopted. All such of my countrymen who come to
Paris I would recommend to call on M. Martin; he will give them every
possible explanation on the subject in the most obliging manner, and
also give them practical evidence of the manner in which it operates.

However deficient the French were until a very few years since in almost
every thing which relates to mechanics, yet in some articles they have
now made such rapid strides, that it becomes a question whether they
will not surpass us, if we do not exert the same energy in the spirit of
improvement with which they have been recently actuated. Formerly the
inferiority of French pianos to ours was most evident, and perhaps,
generally speaking, I should still say it was the case, but there are a
few manufacturers, the tone of whose instruments is superb; of such a
description are those of M. Soufleto. It is really surprising how he has
been enabled, in a small upright piano, to produce the force and depth
of tone which he has found the means of uniting in comparatively so
small a volume, the bass having absolutely the power and roundness of an
organ; but that part of an instrument which most frequently fails, is
that which is composed of the additional keys or the highest notes,
which are apt to be thin and wiry, but with Mr. Soufleto's pianos it is
not the case, the tone being soft and full, with a proportionate degree
of force with the rest of the instrument. His merit has been duly
acknowledged, having not only received the King's patent, but having
been twice presented with medals, and appointed manufacturer to the
Queen. As most English families who come to Paris for the purpose of
residing or sojourning for a certain time, are desirous of hiring or
purchasing a _good_ piano, I can assure them that such they will find at
M. Soufleto's, No. 171, Rue Montmartre, and that his terms are extremely
moderate in consideration of the excellence of his instruments.

I am sure my readers will approve of my directing their attention to the
establishment of M. Richond, styled the Phoenix, No. 17, Boulevard
Montmartre, near the Rue Richelieu. They will there find such a splendid
assortment of time-pieces, as constitutes a most beautiful sight,
equally gratifying to the artist and the amateur, many of the subjects
being perfectly classic, and exhibiting the tastes and costumes of
different ages; some of these magnificent time-pieces are adorned with
figures, either bronze or gilded, representing historical characters,
after the designs of the first masters, which are most admirably
executed, and indeed there is such a variety of subjects, that one might
pass hours in the shop, deriving the greatest pleasure from the
examination of so many interesting subjects. It is also a satisfaction
to know that the works of M. Richond's time-pieces are equal to their
external beauty. In fact it is a house that has been long established
and has ever supported a good name, having a considerable connexion,
not only throughout France, but in foreign countries, particularly with
England, and is by far the most recommendable of any in Paris in that
line of business. Every object has the price marked upon it, which is
always adhered to, and the charges are as moderate as could possibly be
expected from the superiority of the articles over those which are sold
in so many other shops in Paris; some time-pieces there are which of
course amount to a high price, consistent with their splendour. There is
a stamp fixed by government upon the internal works of each time-piece,
to prove that it is verified as being of the best quality. M. Richond
undertakes, at his own risk, the conveyance of time-pieces to London
which have been purchased at his shop, and warrants them against any
accident which may happen to the works in travelling, having a
correspondent in London who is in the same business, and is commissioned
to execute any repairs which may be requisite.

Amongst other branches of industry which now have risen into
considerable importance, is one which at present constitutes an
extensive business of itself, although formerly only considered as a
minor department of different concerns; that to which I allude is what
the French term _chemisier_, which I can translate no otherwise than
shirt-maker. There are now many following this business in Paris, but
the largest establishment, and from which many others spring, is that of
M. Demarne, No. 39, Rue Croix-des-Petits-Champs, and he has so exerted
his ingenuity in this peculiar line that he has obtained a patent for
the perfection to which he has elevated it; he has been twice honourably
mentioned in the reports published of two national exhibitions in which
he had specimens of his works. His fame has already travelled throughout
the Continent, and he is patronised by the princes of several courts of
Europe, amongst others Prince Ernest of Cobourg, and noticing the names
of several of the English nobility, in a list which he showed me to
prove the encouragement he received from my _compatriots_, I remarked
that of a noble lord of sporting notoriety whose shirts were at the
price of _only_ 150 fr. (6_l._) each. However, it must not be supposed
that M. Demarne is dearer than other people, the price of all his
articles are proportioned to the nature of the materials of which they
are composed, and many are at the most moderate charges. At his
extensive establishment will also be found an assortment of shirt
collars, cravats, braces, silk handkerchiefs, etc., etc., arranged
according to the prevailing fashions. One of the most curious, ingenious
and incomprehensible inventions of any I have seen is that of M. Paris,
coiffeur to the Princes and Princesses, 25, Passage Choiseul, and 22,
Rue Dalayrac, near the new Italian Theatre, relating to all descriptions
of false hair, which he contrives to arrange in such a manner that the
skin of the head is seen through where the hair is parted, and the roots
represented as springing from the head in so natural a manner, that the
deception cannot be discerned even on the closest inspection; the
extreme delicacy of the work in these fronts and toupies is really
inimitable, a person may put one on the back of their hand, and the
division appears so transparent that the skin is seen under it as clear
as if not a single hair crossed it, and yet by some invisible means the
parts are held together, which can only be by light transparent hairs
which are not discernible to the naked eye. He has obtained a patent for
this invention, and although I know my countrywomen have generally very
fine heads of hair, yet as from fevers or other causes they are
sometimes deprived of it, also that grey hairs will intrude, I cannot
too strongly recommend them to patronise the talents of M. Paris, and
which under similar circumstances will be found equally serviceable to
gentlemen.

Whilst dilating upon different inventions which either contribute to
comfort or convenience, I must not omit that of M. Cazal, who has
obtained two patents, and medals for the umbrellas and parasols he has
invented, with which he furnishes the Queen and Princesses, and which
are entirely superseding all those of any other construction. In such as
M. Cazal has brought into vogue, instead of the catches or springs which
retain the umbrella when open or shut, being inserted in the stick,
which always contributes towards weakening it, they are attached to the
wire frame-work, and by merely touching a little button will slide up or
down as required with the greatest facility, without those little
annoyances which so frequently happen in the old method, of either
pinching one's fingers, or the glove catching in the spring, or the
latter breaking or losing its elasticity, etc., etc. The stick by this
system, it must also be observed, is stronger, therefore can if desired
be thinner, and consequently lighter. Another description, called
travelling umbrellas, is also invented by M. Cazal and is particularly
convenient, containing a cane inside the stick, by which it may be used
as one or as the other, according as the weather or caprice may require;
these are extremely desirable for lame persons who require a stick, as
the umbrella when closed answers the purpose, and if required to be
opened the cane drawing out equally affords support. M. Cazal has an
assortment of canes and whips the most varied that can be imagined; it
would be difficult to fancy any pattern or form that is not to be found
in his numerous collection. His establishment is No. 23, Boulevard
Italien, where there is always some one in attendance who speaks
English. Whilst so near, I cannot resist mentioning so respectable a
tradesman as M. Frogé, tailor, with whom the fashionable Englishmen
sojourning at Paris have dealt for above twenty years, and ever found
him so honourable in his transactions that they still continue to afford
him their patronage; his address is No. 3, Boulevard des Capucines.




CHAPTER IX.

     To the ladies.


As I have set out with professing to render my work of as much utility
as possible, I am desirous of giving my fair countrywomen the benefit of
my own experience in Paris, by indicating to them those establishments
wherein they may abstract a portion of the contents of their purse,
without having cause to think that it has been recklessly dissipated, as
no one more than myself would regret to see their "glittering money fly
like chaff before the wind," so am I extremely tenacious that they
should only barter it for its full value, and as I know ladies must and
will have perfumes, however superfluous in most instances, for it is but
adding "sweets to the sweets," I shall conduct them to the emporium of
delicious odours, appertaining to M. Blanche, whose dealings I can
assure them are as pure as his name; he has besides the merit of being
an excellent chymist, and the still greater merit of having devoted his
talents to the fair sex, and in that point which they appreciate most
highly, the embellishment and preservation of their personal
attractions; he has therefore invented a peculiar description of
vegetable soap, called _Savon Végétal de Guimauve_, which is so renowned
amongst the Paris belles, that I should not be surprised at their
forming themselves into a committee, and voting an address of thanks to
M. Blanche for the signal services he has rendered to the cause of
beauty, as not only are the medicinal powers attributed to this _savon_,
of removing any impurities and softening the skin, but also that of
giving it a smooth satiny lustre, which may be compared to adding the
last _coup de grâce_ to the female charms. In addition to these
advantages it possesses that of having the most agreeable scent; its
merits have in fact obtained it a patent and it is only sold at the
establishment of M. Blanche, No. 48, Passage Choiseul, where also may be
procured every description of perfumery and a variety of other articles,
all good of their kind, as the proprietor would consider the vending of
an inferior quality as a stain upon his character and upon his _fair_
name.

Formerly the English ladies were very _sharp_ and _pointed_ in their
reflexions upon French needles, much more so indeed than the objects to
which their sarcasms were directed, which in fact were but blunt and
brittle ware, and the consequence was that they not only tried all their
own little arts to smuggle over as many as they could when they came
from England, but they exacted the same pecadillo from their unfortunate
friends; now of all things I most hate smuggling, principally I admit
from the fear of being caught; which I think excessively disagreeable.
Judge then how rejoiced I was when informed by some of my fair friends
that there were as good needles to be had at the Maison Bierri, à la
Ville de Lille, 32, Faubourg St. Honoré, as any that could be procured
in London, and one respectable matron insisted that it was a moral duty
incumbent upon me to mention an establishment so exceedingly useful to
my countrywomen, not only because it contains so many articles which
females are constantly requiring, but that every thing they have is of
so superior a quality; in fact nothing would satisfy the good lady but
my going myself to see how it was crowded with purchasers.

I obeyed, and in good truth found the shop quite like a fair, but the
most perfect order and arrangement prevailing, the proprietor constantly
upon the watch to see that the young people were civil and attentive to
the customers, who were purchasing a variety of articles and
particularly ribbands; of which there appeared a most brilliant
assortment, and I heard it observed that in that department the Maison
Bierri had a celebrity _unique_. There were also as great diversity of
fringe, net, blonde, muslin, mercery, lace, jaconas, linings, worsteds,
all kinds of haberdashery, etc., etc. I also remarked that in every
drawer, containing the different articles which were produced, the
prices were marked, so that in case of the least demur regarding the
charge, a reference to the label decides the affair. By the excellence
of his goods, the regular system upon which the business is conducted,
and the assiduity of all concerned in the Maison Bierri, he has
attracted numbers of the English, and amongst the rest the Ambassadress,
and there is always some person attending who speaks their language. In
the exterior there is no attempt at display; like many of the most
respectable establishments, it depends so entirely on its extensive
connexions, as not to need any efforts to promote publicity, and every
one residing at Paris must have heard of the reputation of the Maison
Bierri; it is particularly convenient for the English, being in the
quarter in which they mostly dwell.

As there is no department of the toilet by which ladies either so
disfigure or embellish themselves, as the hat, bonnet, or cap, I must
beseech my fair countrywomen to procure those articles from such persons
alone who have as it were obtained a diploma for good taste; as I am
most anxious that when Englishwomen are in France, that they should in
every respect appear to the best advantage; now as I consider that which
adorns the head as having so important a bearing upon the beauty of a
female, deep and frequent were my cogitations upon the subject, before I
could make up my mind what _modiste_ I should recommend to the patronage
of my countrywomen, as I would not have the sin upon my head, for all
the mines of Golconda, of having been accessary to an Englishwoman
putting on a hat or bonnet that did not become her; therefore, after
mature deliberation, I determined to call a council of all my female
acquaintances, and beg of them to hold a debate upon this knotty point;
the result was most satisfactory, the question being carried without a
division, in fact there was not one dissentient voice, the name of
Madame de Barenne being pronounced by one and all at the same moment;
it being observed that there were several persons who had attained a
certain degree of celebrity as _modistes_, but for uniting grace,
elegance and simplicity with an artistical _gusto_, there were none in
Paris who surpassed Madame de Barenne (14 place Vendôme). I have before
alluded to this lady, and certainly have observed that her manners, her
apartments, and every thing around her has an air _distingué_, and
although I would never have the presumption of giving an opinion upon
articles so far above my judgment, yet I can record the opinion of those
who are considered true connaisseurs, from whom I learn that at Madame
de Barenne's, hats, bonnets, caps, and turbans, of every variety, are
arranged with the utmost perfection, the materials being of the most
superior description consistent with the season of the year, adorned
with marabouts, bird of paradise feathers, aigrettes, flowers from the
celebrated Constantin, all selected from those houses which have the
most renown for the respective articles in which they deal, but which
are introduced with so much taste and judgment, that besides her
ingenuity, having obtained a patent, she has been specially appointed
modiste to the Queen of Belgium, the Princess Clémentine, and the
Duchess de Nemours.

Not far from the English Ambassador's, in the centre as it were of what
may be termed the English quarter, is an establishment styled _La
Tentation_, which from the variety and excellence of its goods operates
on the visiter consistently with its title. It is a _Magasin de
Nouveautés_, containing almost every article appertaining to the toilet,
as linen, drapery, hosiery, fancy goods, etc., and is on that extensive
scale, that their assortment possesses every diversity that can be
desired, whilst even the most fastidious cannot fail of meeting that
which must suit their taste. This establishment is not like many in the
same way of business, who spend a little fortune in advertising their
goods, incurring tremendous expenses in obtruding themselves and their
merchandise before the public, and then making that public pay the
outlay they have made upon newspapers, pamphlets, etc., by either
charging higher prices, or laying in stock of inferior quality, thereby
even at an apparently moderate price they are enabled to obtain higher
profits, whilst by continuing their puffing advertisements, they hope
constantly to attract a new supply of dupes.

_La Tentation_, on the contrary, calculate only upon obtaining and
retaining connexion, by keeping none but good articles, and selling them
at a small profit; strict attention and civility to their customers, and
having a stock ever consistent with the changes of the fashions and
seasons, by a constant adherence to these objects a durable success has
been effected. The progress of this establishment has been worthy of
remark, commencing under a humble roof upon a modest scale, until with
the process of time the proprietors were emboldened to enlarge their
premises when at length it increased to its present magnitude, occupying
a considerable portion of a noble mansion This has been achieved by a
judicious selection of stock, with constant perseverance, and conducting
their business on honourable principles, it is just such an
establishment as is calculated to please the English, where great
neatness and cleanliness is observed, and everything conducted in a
quiet and unassuming manner. The charges on each article are fixed at a
price that will admit of no diminution, and the English have the
satisfaction of knowing that they pay no more than the French, which
perhaps is not the case in all houses in Paris; persons wishing to view
the goods are not pressed to purchase unless they feel disposed to do
so, and however trifling may be the amount, they are not tormented, as
in too many shops, to buy more than they wish. Whatever articles are
selected are sent punctually to the residence of the parties at the time
required, and orders, whether personally or by letter, meet with the
strictest attention. There is always some person belonging to the
establishment who speaks English. La Tentation is situated No. 67, Rue
Faubourg St. Honoré, at the corner of the Avenue de Marigny.

Perhaps there is no branch of the arts which has been wrought to so high
a perfection as that of making artificial flowers, and no place in the
world where it is practised to such an extent as Paris, or with so high
a degree of talent; but although it has been long and justly celebrated
for the exquisite taste developed in forming bouquets, wherein all the
varieties of colour are so assembled as to display each other to the
best advantage, yet so arranged that a certain harmony should pervade
the whole; still M. Constantin has discovered the means of availing
himself of the abilities of the Parisians in this department of the art,
that he has elevated it to a degree of altitude it had never before
attained, and in fact his flowers have become so exclusively the mode,
that if a lady wear any whatever, it would be offending her to suppose
that they were any other than those of M. Constantin. Indeed, it is
impossible to enter his apartments without feeling a thorough conviction
of the elegance of his taste, first passing through a long corridor
between two rows of real flowers, proving that he fears not the rivality
of nature, conscious that his own works unite the same beauties of tints
and colours which her highest powers can produce, and one room into
which his customers are introduced, unites a degree of taste in the
richness and splendour of its ornamental objects, with that proper tone
of keeping which is pleasing to the eye; but it is at his little boudoir
that the beholder is astonished, such luxuriant magnificence as is
therein displayed can only be imagined from a description presented in
the Arabian Nights! in fact the Dutch Ambassador was so delighted with
the exquisite arrangement of this superb specimen of sumptuous
decoration, that he requested permission to bring an artist to take an
exact copy of the elegant little chamber and its contents, to form a
similar boudoir for the Queen of Holland. As M. Constantin is now
arrived at the summit of his profession, he is enabled to command
prices commensurate with his talents, and has some bouquets as high as
1000 francs, but there are articles which may be purchased at the
moderate charge of 10 francs; his residence is No. 37, Rue Neuve St.
Augustin. M. Constantin possesses the recommendation of being extremely
particular as to the morality and propriety of conduct with his young
persons, and that degree of decorum is constantly preserved, that any
ladies visiting his apartments will find the same order and discipline
maintained as in the strictest boarding-schools.

I know not whether it is the case with all men, but I believe it is,
that the first time I see a lady, I naturally look in her face, then my
next impulse is to look at her foot; now as I have already done my
utmost for my countrywomen for the ornamenting of the former, in
recommending them to Madame de Barenne, I must now endeavour to serve
them in respect to the latter, reminding them that in Lord Normandy's
novel of "Yes and No," he observes, speaking of the feet of Parisian
females, "How exquisitely they decorate that part of the person," and as
I have already remarked that I do not wish English ladies in any one
particular to yield to Parisian or any other ladies, I must request that
they will, as soon as possible after they arrive at Paris, apply to M.
Hoffman, No. 8, Rue de la Paix, who will fit them in such a light and
elegant manner, giving such a "_jolie tournure_" to the foot, that they
will scarcely know their own feet again, after having been accustomed to
be shod in the English fashion; for although I have a very exalted idea
of the transcendant talents of my countrymen, I do not consider that the
vein of their abilities at all runs in the shoemaking line. M. Hoffman's
residence is at the end of a court-yard, almost as quiet and as retired
as if it were in a convent; his articles will be found of the best
quality, both he and Madame speak English, and rival each other in
attention and civility to their customers; they have an assortment of
the different specimens of their work, consisting of every variety which
is worn, according with the fashion and season.

I believe every lady before she quits England with the intention of
visiting Paris, has already made up her mind to make some purchase of
lace pretty soon after her arrival; to prevent them therefore from
falling into bad hands, I recommend them to go at once to one of the
most extensive and respectable establishments in that department of any
in Paris, indeed I believe I may truly add the most so. It is one of
those large wholesale houses of the French metropolis that transact
business with all parts of the world in lace, ribbands, and silks; it is
situated at No. 2ter, Rue Choiseul, the firm is Messrs. Bellart, Louys
and Delcambre, where every description of blonde and lace, in all its
multitudinous variety, from the most simple to the richest, rarest and
most costly, will be found, and at extremely reasonable prices, as so
many retail dealers furnish themselves from this establishment; besides
which, they are themselves manufacturers of black Chantilly lace and
white blonde. This concern has the character of being solely wholesale,
but they make an exception with regard to lace. Their collection of
ribbands is unrivalled both for the beauty and extent. They have also a
most valuable assortment of silks, satins, velvets, stuffs, brocade,
embroidery of gold and silver, etc., etc., selected with extreme taste
and judgment, and indeed Mme de Barenne owes a great portion of her
success to having supplied herself from this house with the material
which she required, as being of so very superior a quality, it gave
great vogue to whatever was produced by her ingenuity, to which
certainly her own talents contributed in the taste displayed in the
disposition and arrangement of the different articles, independent of
their own excellence.

Whatever rivalry there may be between different countries, respecting
their divers produce and manufactures, with regard to gloves none would
have the audacity to cast the gauntlet at France, which has ever held
the supremacy over other nations in that department, yet it has recently
been elevated a step higher by an invention of M. Mayer, of No. 26, Rue
de la Paix, for which he has been granted a king's patent, consisting in
what are termed ball gloves, which are so made as to button and lace
about half way up the arm, which prevents them from slipping down upon
the wrist, they are besides furnished with trimmings also invented by M.
Mayer, which may either be of the utmost simplicity, or of the richest
description, and may be composed of either satin, velvet, lace, gold, or
even pearls and diamonds may be and are frequently introduced; they may
be also furnished with tassels which may be formed of materials equally
costly, thus the trimmings of these gloves may either be had for four
francs or may cost twenty guineas and upwards, according to the desires
of the wearers. In fact M. Mayer has introduced a degree of luxury and
splendour in the decorations of gloves, which has given them an
importance in the toilet which they never before possessed, and have
become so much the vogue with ladies of the highest distinction, that
they have obtained for M. Mayer the privilege of furnishing the royal
family of France, the Empress of Russia, the Queens of Naples, Spain,
Belgium, etc. M. Mayer also occupies himself with gentlemen's gloves,
and has just invented a peculiar description, without gussets between
the fingers, by which means they set closer to the hand, and are not so
liable to be come unsewed as by the former method; he has them likewise
so arranged as to button at the side instead of the middle, which always
left an unsightly aperture. Now I think of it, these last few lines had
no business in the ladies' chapter, as they allude to that which are
worn solely by gentlemen, but I dare say that my fair readers, if they
find M. Mayer's gloves merit my commendations, will be equally anxious
that their husbands, brothers, or sons should furnish themselves at the
same place and excuse the intrusion. M. Mayer has a private apartment
tastefully fitted up, appropriated for the ladies, where they can make
their selections as uninterrupted and unobserved as at their own homes.

Next door to M. Mayer's, at No. 28, is an establishment which has
received very distinguished and extensive patronage, known by the
appellation of La Maison Lucy Hocquet, not only for hats, bonnets,
capotes and turbans, but also for pelerines, fichus à la paysanne,
_canzous_, chemisettes, collars, habit shirts, parures de spectacles,
etc.; in these articles they have been so celebrated for the taste and
elegance with which they are arranged, that the fame of their talents
has attracted around them many of the most influential ladies in Paris,
as also several of the most celebrated _artistes_ whose good taste and
jugement are proverbial; amongst others may be cited Mlle Rachel. La
Maison Lucy Hocquet likewise furnishes several crowned heads, as the
Empress of Russia, Queen of Portugal, etc., and amongst the leading
personages of Paris, the Princess Demidoff, the Duchesses d'Eckmühl, de
Montebello, de Valmy, Marquise d'Osmond, etc. To the above list might be
added many names of the English nobility, who still continue to be
supplied from this establishment, which independent of the merit which
is displayed in the arrangement of every article which it produces, is
also highly recommendable on account of the attentive civility which
they extend to all who may have occasion to apply to them.




CHAPTER X.

     The present artists in France and their productions, improvements
     in Paris, fortifications, humanity to animals, education of
     females, personal appearance of the French, army and navy,
     scientific Societies, and commercial enterprises.


Never perhaps at any period was there so much encouragement given to the
arts and sciences in general in France as at the present, nor ever was
there a monarch who reigned over the French, who so much endeavoured to
promote every object which tended to usefulness, or to the advancement
of the fine arts. No country in the world has such advantages as France
for nurturing talent, and giving it the opportunity of developing
itself, so numerous are the societies and institutions where lectures
and instruction are afforded gratuitously, hence the great assistance to
young artists; without any expense or trouble, they are admitted into a
drawing academy, where they may acq