Paris as It Was and as It Is Part 18

After the taking of the Bastille, it is admitted that his party was sufficiently powerful to effect a revolution in his favour; but his pusillanimity prevailed over his ambition. The active vigilance of the queen thwarting his projects, he resolved to get rid of her; and in that intention was the irruption of the populace directed to Versailles. This fact seems proved: for, on some one complaining before him in 1792, that the revolution proceeded too slowly. "It would have been terminated long ago," replied he, "had the queen been sacrificed on the 5th of October 1789."

Two months before the fall of the throne, M. d'Orleans still reckoned to be able to attain his wishes; but he soon found himself egregiously mistaken. The factions, after mutually accusing each other of having him for their chief, ended by deserting him; and, after the death of the king, he became a stranger to repose, and, for the second time, an object of contempt. The necessity of keeping up the exaltation of the people, had exhausted his fortune, great as it was; and want of money daily detached different agents from his party. His plate, his pictures, his furniture, his books, his trinkets, his gems, all went to purchase the favour, and at length the protection, of the Maratists. Not having it in his power to satisfy their cupidity, he opened loans on all sides, and granted illusory mortgages. Having nothing more left to dispose of, he was reduced, as a last resource, to sell his body-linen. In this very bargain was he engaged, when he was apprehended and sent to Ma.r.s.eilles.

Although acquitted by the criminal tribunal, before which he was tried in the south of France, he was still detained there in prison.

At first, he had shed tears, and given himself up to despair, but now hope once more revived his spirits, and he availed himself of the indulgence granted him, by giving way to his old habits of debauchery. On being brought to Paris after six months' confinement, he flattered himself that he should experience the same lenity in the capital. The jailer of the _Conciergerie,_ not knowing whether M.

d'Orleans would leave that prison to ascend the throne or the scaffold, treated him with particular respect; and he himself was impressed with the idea that he would soon resume an ascendency in public affairs. But, on his second trial, he was unanimously declared guilty of conspiring against the unity and indivisibility of the Republic, and condemned to die, though no proof whatever of his guilt was produced to the jury. One interrogatory put to him is deserving of notice. It was this: "Did you not one day say to a deputy: _What will you ask of me when I am king?_ And did not the deputy reply: _I will ask you for a pistol to blow out your brains?_"

Every one who was present at the condemnation of M. d'Orleans, and saw him led to the guillotine affirms that if he never shewed courage before, he did at least on that day. On hearing the sentence, he called out: "Let it be executed directly." From the revolutionary tribunal he was conducted straight to the scaffold, where, notwithstanding the reproaches and imprecations which accompanied him all the way, he met his fate with unshaken firmness.

LETTER XIX.

_Paris, November 18, 1801._

But if the _ci-devant Palais Royal_ has been the mine of political explosions, so it still continues to be the epitome of all the trades in Paris. Under the arcades, on the ground-floor, here are, as formerly, shops of jewellers, haberdashers, artificial florists, milliners, perfumers, print-sellers, engravers, tailors, shoemakers, hatters, furriers, glovers, confectioners, provision-merchants, woollen-drapers, mercers, cutlers, toymen, money-changers, and booksellers, together with several coffee-houses, and lottery-offices, all in miscellaneous succession.

Among this enumeration, the jewellers' shops are the most attractive in point of splendour. The name of the proprietor is displayed in large letters of artificial diamonds, in a conspicuous compartment facing the door. This is a sort of signature, whose brilliancy eclipses all other names, and really dazzles the eyes of the spectators. But at the same time it draws the attention both of the learned and the illiterate: I will venture to affirm that the name of one of these jewellers is more frequently spelt and p.r.o.nounced than that of any great man recorded in history, either ancient or modern.

With respect to the price of the commodities exposed for sale in the _Palais du Tribunat_, it is much the same as in _Bond Street_, you pay one third at least for the idea of fas.h.i.+on annexed to the name of the place where you make the purchase, though the quality of the article may be nowise superior to what you might procure elsewhere.

As in Bond Street too, the rents in this building are high, on which account the shopkeepers are, in some measure, obliged to charge higher than those in other parts of the town. Not but I must do them the justice to acknowledge that they make no scruple to avail themselves of every prejudice formerly entertained in favour of this grand emporium, in regard to taste, novelty, &c. by a still further increase of their prices. No small advantage to the shopkeepers established here is the chance custom, arising from such a variety of trades being collected together so conveniently, all within the same inclosure. A person resorting hither to procure one thing, is sure to be reminded of some other want, which, had not the article presented itself to his eye, would probably have escaped his recollection; and, indeed, such is the thirst of gain, that several tradesmen keep a small shop under these piazzas, independently of a large warehouse in another quarter of Paris.

Pamphlets and other ephemeral productions usually make their first appearance in the _Palais du Tribunat_; and strangers may rely on being plagued by a set of fellows who here hawk about prohibited publications, of the most immoral tendency, embellished with correspondent engravings; such as _Justine, ou les malheurs de la vertu, Les quarante manieres, &c._ They seldom, I am told, carry the publication about them, for fear of being unexpectedly apprehended, but keep it at some secret repository hard by, whence they fetch it in an instant. It is curious to see with what adroitness these vagrants elude the vigilance of the police, I had scarcely set my foot in this building before a Jew-looking fellow, coming close to me, whispered in my ear: "_Monsieur veut-il la vie polissonne de Madame--------?_" Madame who do you think? You will stare when I tell you to fill up the blank with the name of her who is now become the first female personage in France? I turned round with astonishment; but the ambulating book-vender had vanished, in consequence, as I conclude, of being observed by some _mouchard._ Thus, what little virtue may remain in the mind of youth is contaminated by precept, as well as example; and the rising generation is in a fair way of being even more corrupted than that which has preceded it.

"_aetas parentum, pejor avis, tulit Nos nequiores, mox daturos Progeniem vitiosiorem._"

Besides the shops, are some auction-rooms, where you may find any article of wearing apparel or household furniture, from a lady's wig _a la Caraculla_ to a bed _a la Grecque:_ here are as many puffers as in a mock auction in London; and should you be tempted to bid, by the apparent cheapness of the object put up for sale, it is fifty to one that you soon repent of your bargain. Not so with the _magazins de confiance a prix fixe_, where are displayed a variety of articles, marked at a fixed price, from which there is no abatement.

These establishments are extremely convenient, not only to ingenious mechanics, who have invented or improved a particular production of art, of which they wish to dispose, but also to purchasers. You walk in, and if any article strikes your fancy, you examine it at your ease; you consider the materials, the workmans.h.i.+p, and lastly the price, without being hurried by a loquacious shopkeeper into a purchase which you may shortly regret. A commission of from five to one half per cent, in graduated proportions, according to the value of the article, is charged to the seller, for warehouse-room and all other expenses.

Such is the arrangement of the ground-floor; the apartments on the first floor are at present occupied by _restaurateurs_, exhibitions of various kinds, billiard-tables, and _academies de jeu_, or public gaming-tables, where all the pa.s.sions are let loose, and all the torments of h.e.l.l a.s.sembled.

The second story is let out in lodgings, furnished or unfurnished, to persons of different descriptions, particularly to the priestesses of Venus. The rooms above, termed _mansardes_, in the French architectural dialect, are mostly inhabited by old batchelors, who prefer economy to show; or by artists, who subsist by the employment of their talents. These chambers are s.p.a.cious, and though the ceilings are low, they receive a more uninterrupted circulation of fresh air, than the less exalted regions.

Over the _mansardes_, in the very roof, are nests of little rooms, or c.o.c.k-lofts, resembling, I am told, the cells of a beehive. Journeymen shopkeepers, domestics, and distressed females are said to be the princ.i.p.al occupiers of these aerial abodes.

I had nearly forgot to mention a species of apartment little known in England: I mean the _entresol_, which is what we should denominate a low story, (though here not so considered), immediately above the ground-floor, and directly under the first-floor. In this building, some of the _entresols_ are inhabited by the shopkeepers below; some, by women of no equivocal calling, who throw out their lures to the idle youths sauntering under the arcades; and others again are now become _maisons de pret_, where p.a.w.nbrokers exercise their usurious dealings.

In the _Palais du Tribunat_, as you may remark, not an inch of s.p.a.ce is lost; every hole and corner being turned to account: here and there, the cellars even: are converted into scenes of gaiety and diversion, where the master of the house entertains his customers with a succession of vocal and instrumental music, while they are taking such refreshments as he furnishes.

This speculation, which has, by all accounts, proved extremely profitable, was introduced in the early part of the revolution. Since that period, other speculations, engendered by the luxury of the times, have been set on foot within the precincts of this palace. Of two of these, now in full vigour and exercise, I must say a few words, as they are of a nature somewhat curious.

The one is a _cabinet de decrotteur_, where the art of blacking shoes is carried to a pitch of perfection hitherto unknown in this country.

Not many years ago, it was common, in Paris, to see counsellors, abbes, and military officers, as well as _pet.i.ts-maitres_ of every denomination, full dressed, that is, with their hat under their arm, their sword by their side, and their hair in a bag, standing in the open street, with one leg c.o.c.ked up on a stool, while a rough Savoyard or Auvergnat hastily cleaned their shoes with a coa.r.s.e mixture of lamp-black and rancid oil. At the present day, the _decrotteurs_ or shoe-blacks still exercise their profession on the _Pont Neuf_ and in other quarters; but, as a refinement of the art, there is also opened, at each of the princ.i.p.al entrances of the _Palais du Tribunat_, a _cabinet de decrotteur_, or small apartment, where you are invited to take a chair, and presented with the daily papers.

The artist, with due care and expedition, first removes the dirt from your shoes or boots with a sponge occasionally moistened in water, and by means of several pencils, of different sizes, not unlike those of a limner, he then covers them with a jetty varnish, rivaling even j.a.pan in l.u.s.tre. This operation he performs with a gravity and consequence that can scarcely fail to excite laughter. Yet, according to the trite proverb, it is not the customer who ought to indulge in mirth, but the _artist_. Although his price is much dearer than that demanded by the other professors of this art, his cabinet is seldom empty from morning to night; and, by a simple calculation, his pencil is found to produce more than that of some good painters of the modern French school.

At the first view of the matter, it should appear that the other speculation might have been hit on by any man with a nose to his face; but, on more mature consideration, one is induced to think that its author was a person of some learning, and well read in ancient history. He, no doubt, took the hint from VESPASIAN. As that emperor blushed not to make the urine of the citizens of Rome a source of revenue, so the learned projector in question rightly judged that, in a place of such resort as the _Palais du Tribunat_, he might, without shame or reproach, levy a small tax on the Parisians, by providing for their convenience in a way somewhat a.n.a.logous. His penetration is not unhandsomely rewarded; for he derives an income of 12,000 francs, or 500 sterling, from his _cabinets d'aisance_.

Since political causes first occasioned the shuting up of the old _Theatre Francais_ in the _Faubourg St. Germain_, now reduced to a sh.e.l.l by fire, Melpomene and Thalia have taken up their abode in the south-west angle of the _Palais du Tribunat_, and in its north-west corner is another theatre, on a smaller scale, where Momus holds his court; so that be you seriously, sentimentally, or humorously disposed, you may, without quitting the shelter of the piazzas, satisfy your inclination. Tragedy, Comedy, and Farce all lie before you within the purlieus of this extraordinary edifice.

To sum up all the conveniences of the _Palais du Tribunat_, suffice it to say, that almost every want, natural or artificial, almost every appet.i.te, gross or refined, might be gratified without pa.s.sing its limits; for, while the extravagant voluptuary is indulging in all the splendour of Asiatic luxury, the parsimonious sensualist need not depart unsatisfied.

Placed in the middle of Paris, the _Palais du Tribunat_ has been aptly compared to a sink of vice, whose contagious effects would threaten society with the greatest evils, were not the scandalous scenes of the capital here concentrated into one focus. It has also been mentioned, by the same writer, Mercier, as particularly worthy of remark, that, since this building is become a grand theatre, where cupidity, gluttony, and licentiousness shew themselves under every form and excess, several other quarters of Paris are, in a manner, purified by the acc.u.mulation of vices which flourish in its centre.

Whether or not this a.s.sertion be strictly correct, I will not pretend to determine: but, certain it is that the _Palais du Tribunat_ is a vortex of dissipation where many a youth is ingulfed. The natural manner in which this may happen I shall endeavour briefly to explain, by way of conclusion to this letter.

A young Frenchman, a perfect stranger in Paris, arrives there from the country, and, wis.h.i.+ng to equip himself in the fas.h.i.+on, hastens to the _Palais du Tribunat_, where he finds wearing apparel of every description on the _ground-floor_: prompted by a keen appet.i.te, he dines at a _restaurateur's_ on the _first-floor_: after dinner, urged by mere curiosity, perhaps, if not decoyed by some sharper on the look-out for novices, he visits a public gaming-table on the same story. Fortune not smiling on him, he retires; but, at that very moment, he meets, on the landing-place, a captivating damsel, who, like Virgil's Galatea, flies to be pursued; and the inexperienced youth, after ascending another flight of stairs, is, on the _second-floor_, ushered into a brothel. Cloyed or disgusted there, he is again induced to try the humour of the fickle G.o.ddess, and repairs once more to the gaming-table, till, having lost all his money, he is under the necessity of descending to the _entresol_ to p.a.w.n his watch, before he can even procure a lodging in a _garret_ above.

What other city in Europe can boast of such an a.s.semblage of accommodation? Here, under the same roof, a man is, in the s.p.a.ce of a few minutes, as perfectly equipped from top to toe, as if he had all the first tradesmen in London at his command; and shortly after, without setting his foot into the street, he is as completely stripped, as if he had fallen into the hands of a gang of robbers.

To cleanse this Augaean stable, would, no doubt, be a Herculean labour. For that purpose, Merlin (of Douay), when Minister of the police, proposed to the Directory to convert the whole of the buildings of the _ci-devant Palais Royal_ into barracks. This was certainly striking at the root of the evil; but, probably, so bold a project was rejected, lest its execution, in those critical times, should excite the profligate Parisians to insurrection.

LETTER XX.

_Paris, November 20, 1801._

One of the private entertainments here in great vogue, and which is understood to mark a certain pre-eminence in the _savoir-vivre_ of the present day, is a nocturnal repast distinguished by the insignificant denomination of a

THe.

A stranger might, in all probability, be led to suppose that he was invited to a tea-drinking party, when he receives a note couched in the following terms:

_"Madame R------ prie Monsieur B--------- de lui faire l'honneur de venir au the quelle doit donner le 5 de ce mois."_

Considering in that light a similar invitation which I received, I was just on the point of sending an apology, when I was informed that a _the_ was nothing more or less than a sort of rout, followed by substantial refreshments, and generally commencing after the evening's performance was ended at the princ.i.p.al theatres.

On coming out of the opera-house then the other night, I repaired to the lady's residence in question, and arriving there about twelve o'clock, found that I had stumbled on the proper hour. As usual, there were cards, but for those only disposed to play; for, as this lady happened not to be under the necessity of recurring to the _bouillotte_ as a financial resource, she gave herself little or no concern about the card-tables. Being herself a very agreeable, sprightly woman, she had invited a number of persons of both s.e.xes of her own character, so that the conversation was kept up with infinite vivacity till past one o'clock, when tea and coffee were introduced.

These were immediately followed by jellies, sandwiches, pates, and a variety of savoury viands, in the style of a cold supper, together with different sorts of wines and liqueurs. In the opinion of some of the Parisian sybarites, however, no _the_ can be complete without the addition of an article, which is here conceived to be a perfect imitation of fas.h.i.+onable English cheer. This is hot punch.

It was impossible for me to refuse the cheerful and engaging _dame du logis_ to taste her _ponche_, and, in compliment to me as an Englishman, she presented me with a gla.s.s containing at least a treble allowance. Not being overfond of punch, I would willingly have relinquished the honour of drinking her health in so large a portion, apprehending that this beverage might, in quality, resemble that of the same name which I had tasted here a few evenings ago in one of the princ.i.p.al coffeehouses. The latter, in fact, was a composition of new rum, which reminded me of the trash of that kind distilled in New England, acidulated with rotten lemons, sweetened with capillaire, and increased by a _quantum sufficit_ of warm water. My hostess's punch, on the contrary, was made of the best ingredients, agreeably to the true standard; in a word, it was proper lady's punch, that is, hot, sweet, sour, and strong. It was distributed in tea-pots, of beautiful porcelaine, which, independently of keeping it longer warm, were extremely convenient for pouring it out without spilling. Thus concluded the entertainment.

About half past two o'clock the party broke up, and I returned home, sincerely regretting the change in the mode of life of the Parisians.

Before the revolution, the fas.h.i.+onable hour of dinner in Paris was three o'clock, or at latest four: public places then began early; the curtain at the grand French opera drew up at a quarter past five. At the present day, the workman dines at two; the tradesman, at three; the clerk in a public office, at four; the rich upstart, the money-broker, the stock-jobber, the contractor, at five; the banker, the legislator, the counsellor of state, at six; and the ministers, in general, at seven, nay not unfrequently at eight.

Formerly, when the performance at the opera, and the other princ.i.p.al theatres, was ended at nine o'clock, or a quarter past, people of fas.h.i.+on supped at ten or half after; and a man who went much into public, and kept good company, might retire peaceably to rest by midnight. In three-fourths of the houses in Paris, there is now no such meal as supper, except on the occasion of a ball, when it is generally a mere scramble. This, I presume, is one reason why substantial breakfasts are so much in fas.h.i.+on.

"_Dejeuners froids et chauds_," is an inscription which now generally figures on the exterior of a Parisian coffeehouse, beside that of "_The a l'Anglaise, Cafe a la creme, Limonade, &c_." Solids are here the taste of the times. Two ladies, who very gallantly invited themselves to breakfast at my apartments the other morning, were ready to turn the house out of the window, when they found that I presented to them nothing more than tea, coffee, and chocolate. I was instantly obliged to provide cold fowl, ham, oysters, white wine, &c.

I marvel not at the strength and vigour of these French belles. In appet.i.te, they would cope with an English ploughman, who had just turned up an acre of wholesome land on an empty stomach.

Now, though a _the_ may be considered as a subst.i.tute for a supper, it cannot, in point of agreeableness, be compared to a _pet.i.t souper_. If a man must sup, and I am no advocate for regular suppers, these were the suppers to my fancy. A select number of persons, well a.s.sorted, a.s.sembled at ten o'clock, after the opera was concluded, and spent a couple of hours in a rational manner. Sometimes a _pet.i.t souper_ consisted of a simple _tete-a-tete_, sometimes of a _partie quarree_, or the number was varied at pleasure. But still, in a _pet.i.t souper_, not only much gaiety commonly prevailed, but also a certain _epanchement de coeur_, which animated the conversation to such a degree as to render a party of this description the _acme_ of social intercourse, "the feast of reason and the flow of soul."

Under the old _regime_, not a man was there in office, from the _ministre d'etat_ to the _commis_, who did not think of making himself amends for the fatigues of the morning by a _pet.i.t souper_: these _pet.i.ts soupers_, however, were, in latter times, carried to an excessive pitch of luxurious extravagance. But for refinements attempted in luxury, though, I confess, of a somewhat dissolute nature, our countryman eclipsed all the French _bons vivans_ in originality of conception.

Being in possession of an ample fortune, and willing to enjoy it according to his fancy, he purchased in Paris a magnificent house, but constructed on a small scale, where every thing that the most refined luxury could suggest was a.s.sembled. The following is the account given by one of his friends, who had been an eye-witness to his manner of living.