How to Enjoy Paris in 1842 Part 2

After a tremendous slaughter, Marcel and his princ.i.p.al 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 skirmis.h.i.+ng 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 pa.s.s, 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 cla.s.ses, whose means were very confined; they were called _Pet.i.tes ecoles_ (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 pa.s.sing 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 n.o.bles; 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 p.r.o.nounced over the unfortunate image. It was then supposed that the figure had some degree of ident.i.ty 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 n.o.bility 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 Pa.s.sion 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 vanquis.h.i.+ng 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 inst.i.tutions, and founded that of the first society of printers in Paris; he also established the School of Medicine, and the Post Office. Superst.i.tious and cruel, he first used iron cages as prisons, then inst.i.tuted 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 princ.i.p.ally governed as Regent, until he was of age, when he pa.s.sed 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 t.i.tle 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 Hotel 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 ideal_ 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 dest.i.tute 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 pa.s.sed 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 inst.i.tuted, 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 princ.i.p.ally consisted in desperate courage with extraordinary prowess; he was also zealous in his friends.h.i.+ps. 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 ma.s.sacre 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 a.s.sert the claims of heaven, and be the n.o.ble 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 ma.s.sacre 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 circ.u.mstances 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 t.i.tle 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 Careme Prenant, near the Barriere 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 pa.s.sion for augmenting and improving his capital. Several other streets were extended and in part rebuilt under his reign, besides which he founded different inst.i.tutions, 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 Hotel 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 a.s.signed them regularly, to establish a theatre in the Hotel 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 _protege_ 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 Dechausses_, 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 _Benedictines 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 s.h.i.+rburne, 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-Honore_, since devoted to protestant wors.h.i.+p, was built in the year 1621 by M. de Berulle, since Cardinal, on the site of the _Hotel du Bouchage_, once the residence of Gabrielle d'Estrees, the favourite mistress of Henry IV. The Convent of the Capucins, situated in the _Place des Capucins_, at present an Hospital. _Seminaire des Oratoriens_, _Rue du Faubourg Saint-Jacques_, 254, now occupied by the Deaf and Dumb. _College des Jesuites_, at present College of _Louis-le-Grand_. Convent of _Pet.i.ts-Peres_: 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 sanct.i.ty 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 t.i.tles a waggon office in the _Rue Culture-Sainte-Catherine_, No. 29. The a.s.sumption, a convent for nuns, of which the church is still standing in the _Rue Saint-Honore_, 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 dest.i.tute of merit. The _Val-de-Grace_, 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 mult.i.tude 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 Sevres_, 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 n.o.ble church of _St-Roch, Rue St-Honore_, 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 princ.i.p.al edifices inst.i.tuted 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 Sevres_, 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, Hotels, 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 const.i.tution, 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 repet.i.tion 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 n.o.ble 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 ma.s.s 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 ma.s.s 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 ma.s.s 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 n.o.ble street, and we will turn down it to look at the statue of Napoleon on the column in the _Place Vendome_; 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 workmans.h.i.+p displayed in its execution. But if it were not for the reminiscences a.s.sociated 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 c.o.c.ked 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 Vendome_, in which the column stands, has a very n.o.ble 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 _Cite Italienne_, and can only be compared to a palace, the richness of the carve-work surpa.s.sing 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 s.p.a.ce 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 Cafe 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 tete-a-tete 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 fas.h.i.+onable resort in Paris. By the aid of a _calorifere_, 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 surpa.s.s the _Cafe 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 pa.s.s by the _Pa.s.sage 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 Varietes_ and remark with what eagerness numbers stop to scan the programme of the entertainments for the evening, amongst them are all ages, all cla.s.ses, the common soldier, porter, and servant girl, all possessing a high idea of their judgment in theatrical affairs; pa.s.sing on a little further the Theatre _du Gymnase_ arrests the observer's notice, where _Bouffe_ has so long displayed his comic powers, which certainly in my recollection have never been surpa.s.sed, 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 pa.s.sage of the Rhine at Tolhuys, which with two lions are its most conspicuous ornaments. Whilst the mind is still occupied in reflecting upon this n.o.ble 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 publis.h.i.+ng to posterity the fame of his victories; he is allegorically represented as Hercules defeating the Germans, the taking of Limburg, Besancon, 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 fas.h.i.+onable 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 Gaiete_, the resort princ.i.p.ally of the middle or lower cla.s.ses, 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 mult.i.tude; these _boulevards_ have in fact the appearance of a perpetual _fete_ 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 a.s.sertion 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 _mecanique_, 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 pa.s.sion, 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 gla.s.s 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 pa.s.s 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 fas.h.i.+on, 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 cafes 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 a.s.sortment 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 cla.s.ses. 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 pa.s.sed, and sympathise in expressions of horror at the vices of the present day; a tall thin battered looking beau, whose youth was pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sail 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 pa.s.s 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 _Cite_, 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 inc.u.mbent 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 cocheres_, 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 encompa.s.s 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 gra.s.s 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 _Chaussee-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 Vendome_ 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 Vendome_, that is 600_l._ a year; a whole house in a fas.h.i.+onable quarter of London may be had for the same money; indeed on the _Boulevards_, in some of the _Pa.s.sages_ and the most fas.h.i.+onable 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 _Pa.s.sages_, 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 astonis.h.i.+ng 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 ma.s.sive 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 cla.s.ses, 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 cas.h.i.+er, 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 cla.s.ses; the same remark applies to the lower orders. As to the higher cla.s.ses 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 circ.u.mstance 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 wis.h.i.+ng 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