David W. Bartlett - Paris: With Pen and Pencil
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David W. Bartlett >> Paris: With Pen and Pencil
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18 PARIS:
WITH
PEN AND PENCIL
ITS
PEOPLE AND LITERATURE,
ITS
LIFE AND BUSINESS
BY
DAVID W. BARTLETT
AUTHOR OF "WHAT I SAW IN LONDON;" "LIFE OF LADY JANE GRAY;"
"LIFE OF JOAN OF ARC," ETC. ETC.
ILLUSTRATED.
NEW YORK:
HURST & CO., PUBLISHERS,
122 NASSAU STREET.
PREFACE.
The contents of this volume are the result of two visits to Paris. The
first when Louis Napoleon was president of the Republic; and the second
when Napoleon III. was emperor of France. I have sketched people and
places as I saw them at both periods, and the reader should bear this in
mind.
I have not endeavored to make a hand-book to Paris, but have described
those places and objects which came more particularly under my notice. I
have also thought it best, instead of devoting my whole space to the
description of places, or the manners of the people--a subject which has
been pretty well exhausted by other writers--to give a few sketches of
the great men of Paris and of France; and among them, a few of the
representative literary men of the past. There is not a general
knowledge of French literature and authors, either past or present,
among the mass of readers; and Paris and France can only be truly known
through French authors and literature.
My object has been to add somewhat to the general reader's knowledge of
Paris and the Parisians,--of the people and the places, whose social
laws are the general guide of the civilized world.
[Illustration: CHURCH OF ST. SULSPICE.]
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
LONDON TO PARIS,
HISTORY OF PARIS,
CHAPTER II.
RESTAURANTS,
A WALK AND GOSSIP,
THE BOURSE,
CHAPTER III.
LAFAYETTE'S TOMB,
THE RADICAL,
A COUNTRY WALK,
CHAPTER IV.
THE CHURCHES,
NOTRE DAME,
L'AUXERROIS,
SAINT CHAPELLE,
EXPIATOIRE,
MADELEINE,
ST. FERDINAND,
VINCENT DE PAUL, &C.
CHAPTER V.
LAMARTINE,
VERNET,
GIRARDIN,
HUGO,
JANIN,
CHAPTER VI.
PLACES OF BLOOD,
PLACE DE LA CONCORDE,
CHAPTER VII.
THE LOUVRE,
PUBLIC GARDENS,
THE LUXEMBOURG PALACE AND GARDENS,
THE GOBELINS,
CHAPTER VIII.
THE PEOPLE,
CLIMATE,
PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS,
HOTEL DE INVALIDES,
JARDIN D'HIVER,
CHAPTER IX.
M. GUIZOT,
ALEXANDER DUMAS,
EUGENE SUE,
M. THIERS,
GEORGE SAND,
CHAPTER X.
PERE LA CHASE,
THE PRISONS,
FOUNDLING HOSPITALS,
CHARITABLE INSTITUTIONS,
LA MORGUE,
NAPOLEON AND EUGENIA,
THE BAPTISM OF THE PRINCE,
CHAPTER XI.
MEN OF THE PAST,
THE FATHER OF FRENCH TRAGEDY,
THE GREAT JESTER,
THE DRAMATIST,
CHAPTER XII.
THE FABULIST,
THE INFIDEL,
THE GREAT COMIC WRITER,
WHAT I SAW IN PARIS.
CHAPTER I.
LONDON TO PARIS--HISTORY OF PARIS.
LONDON TO PARIS.
Few people now-a-days go direct to Paris from America. They land in
Liverpool, get at least a birds-eye view of the country parts of
England, stay in London a week or two, or longer, and then cross the
channel for Paris.
The traveler who intends to wander over the continent, here takes his
initiatory lesson in the system of passports. I first called upon the
American minister, and my passport--made out in Washington--was _vise_
for Paris. My next step was to hunt up the French consul, and pay him a
dollar for affixing his signature to the precious document. At the first
sea-port this passport was taken from me, and a provisional one put into
my keeping. At Paris the original one was returned! And this is a
history of my passport between London and Paris, a distance traversed in
a few hours. If such are the practices between two of the greatest and
most civilized towns on the face of the earth, how unendurable must they
be on the more despotic continent?
The summer was in its first month, and Paris was in its glory, and it
was at such a time that I visited it. We took a steamer at the London
bridge wharf for Boulogne. The day promised well to be a boisterous
one, but I had a very faint idea of the gale blowing in the channel. If
I could have known, I should have waited, or gone by the express route,
_via_ Dover, the sea transit of which occupies only two hours. The fare
by steamer from London to Boulogne was three dollars. The accommodations
were meager, but the boat itself was a strong, lusty little fellow, and
well fitted for the life it leads. I can easily dispense with the
luxurious appointments which characterize the American steamboats, if
safety is assured to me in severe weather.
The voyage down the Thames, was in many respects very delightful.
Greenwich, Woolwich, Margate, and Ramsgate lie pleasantly upon this
route. But the wind blew so fiercely in our teeth that we experienced
little pleasure in looking at them. When we reached the channel we found
it white with foam, and soon our little boat was tossed upon the waves
like a gull. In my experience crossing the Atlantic, I had seen nothing
so disagreeable as this. The motion was so quick and so continual, the
boat so small, that I very soon found myself growing sick. The rain was
disagreeable, and the sea was constantly breaking over the bulwarks. I
could not stay below--the atmosphere was too stifling and hot. So I
bribed a sailor to wrap about me his oil-cloth garments, and lay down
near the engines with my face upturned to the black sky, and the
sea-spray washing me from time to time. Such sea-sickness I never
endured, though before I had sailed thousands of miles at sea, and have
done the same since. From sundown till two o'clock the next morning I
lay on the deck of the sloppy little boat, and when at last the Boulogne
lights were to be seen, I was as heartily glad as ever in my life.
Thoroughly worn out, as soon as I landed upon the quay I handed my keys
to a _commissaire_, gave up my passport, and sought a bed, and was soon
in my dreams tossing again upon the channel-waves. I was waked by the
_commissaire_, who entered my room with the keys. He had passed my
baggage, got a provisional passport for me, and now very politely
advised me to get up and take the first train to Paris, for I had told
him I wished to be in Paris as soon as possible. Giving him a good fee
for his trouble, and hastily quitting the apartment and paying for it, I
was very soon in the railway station. My trunks were weighed, and I
bought baggage tickets to Paris--price one sou. The first class fare was
twenty-seven francs, or about five dollars, the distance one hundred and
seventy miles. This was cheaper than first class railway traveling in
England, though somewhat dearer than American railway prices.
The first class cars were the finest I have seen in any country--very
far superior to American cars, and in many respects superior to the
English. They were fitted up for four persons in each compartment, and a
door opened into each from the side. The seat and back were beautifully
cushioned, and the arms were stuffed in like manner, so that at night
the weary traveler could sleep in them with great comfort.
The price of a third class ticket from Boulogne to Paris was only three
dollars, and the cars were much better than the second class in America,
and I noticed that many very respectably dressed ladies and gentlemen
were in them--probably for short distances. It is quite common, both in
England and France, in the summer, for people of wealth to travel by
rail for a short distance by the cheapest class of cars.
I entered the car an utter stranger--no one knew me, and I knew no one.
The language was unintelligible, for I found that to _read_ French in
America, is not to _talk_ French in France. I could understand no one,
or at least but a word here and there.
But the journey was a very delightful one. The country we passed through
was beautiful, and the little farms were in an excellent state of
cultivation. Flowers bloomed everywhere. There was not quite that degree
of cultivation which the traveler observes in the best parts of England,
but the scenery was none the less beautiful for that. Then, too, I saw
everything with a romantic enthusiasm. It was the France I had read of,
dreamed of, since I was a school-boy.
A gentleman was in the apartment who could talk English, having resided
long in Boulogne, which the English frequent as a watering place, and he
pointed out the interesting places on our journey. At Amiens we changed
cars and stopped five minutes for refreshments. I was hungry enough to
draw double rations, but I felt a little fear that I should get cheated,
or could not make myself understood; but as the old saw has it,
"Necessity is the mother of invention," and I satisfied my hunger with a
moderate outlay of money. A few miles before we reached Paris, we
stopped at the little village of Enghein, and it seemed to me that I
never in my life had dreamed of so fairy-like a place. Beautiful lakes,
rivers, fountains, flowers, and trees were scattered over the village
with exquisite taste. To this place, on Sundays and holidays, the people
of Paris repair, and dance in its cheap gardens and drink cheap wines.
When we reached Paris my trunks were again searched and underwent a
short examination, to see that no wines or provisions were concealed in
them. A tax is laid upon all such articles when they enter the city, and
this is the reason why on Sunday the people flock out of town to enjoy
their _fetes_. In the country there are no taxes on wine and edibles,
and as a matter of economy they go outside of the walls for their
pleasure.
When my baggage was examined, I took an omnibus to the hotel Bedford,
Rue de l'Arcade, where I proposed to stay but a few days, until I could
hunt up permanent apartments. My room was a delightful one and fitted up
in elegant style. I was in the best part of Paris. Two minutes walk away
were the _Champs Elysees_--the Madeleine church, the Tuileries, etc.,
etc. But I was too tired to go out, and after a French dinner and a
lounge in the reading-room, I went to sleep, and the next morning's sun
found me at last entirely recovered from my wretched passage across the
channel.
My second trip to Paris was in many respects different from the
first--which I have just described. The route was a new one, and
pleasanter than that _via_ Boulogne. Our party took an express train
from the London bridge terminus for Newhaven, a small sea-port. The cars
were fitted up with every comfort, and we made the passage in quick
time. At three P.M. we went on board a little steamer for Dieppe, where
we arrived at nine o'clock. After a delay of an hour we entered a
railway carriage fitted up in a very beautiful and luxurious style. At
Dieppe we had no trouble with our passports, keeping the originals, and
simply showing them to the custom-house officials. Our ride to Paris was
in the night, yet was very comfortable.
In coming back to London, we made the trip to Dieppe in the daytime, and
found it to be very beautiful. From Paris to Rouen the railway runs a
great share of the way in sight of the river Seine, and often upon its
banks. Many of the views from the train were romantic, and some of them
wildly grand. Upon the whole, this route is the pleasantest between
Paris and London, as it is one of the cheapest. There is one objection,
however, and that is the length of the sea voyage--six hours. Those who
dislike the water will prefer the Dover route.
* * * * *
HISTORY OF PARIS.
The origin of Paris is not known. According to certain writers, a
wandering tribe built their huts upon the island now called _la Cite_.
This was their home, and being surrounded by water, it was easily
defended against the approach of hostile tribes. The name of the place
was Lutetia, and to themselves they gave the name of _Parisii_, from the
Celtic word _par_, a frontier or extremity.
This tribe was one of sixty-four which were confederated, and when the
conquest of Gaul took place under Julius Caesar, the _Parisii_ occupied
the island. The ground now covered by Paris was either a marsh or
forest, and two bridges communicated from the island to it. The
islanders were slow to give up their Druidical sacrifices, and it is
doubtful whether the Roman gods ever were worshiped by them, though
fragments of an altar of Jupiter have been found under the choir of the
cathedral of Notre Dame. Nearly four hundred years after Christ, the
Emperor Julian remodeled the government and laws of Gaul and Lutetia,
and changed its name to _Parisii_. It then, too, became a city, and had
considerable trade. For five hundred years Paris was under Roman
domination. A palace was erected for municipal purposes in the city, and
another on the south bank of the Seine, the remains of which can still
be seen. The Roman emperors frequently resided in this palace while
waging war with the northern barbarians. Constantine and Constantius
visited it; Julian spent three winters in it; Valentian and Gratian also
made it a temporary residence.
The monks have a tradition that the gospel was first preached in Paris
about the year 250, by St. Denis, and that he suffered martyrdom at
Montmartre. A chapel was early erected on the spot now occupied by Notre
Dame. In 406 the northern barbarians made a descent upon the Roman
provinces, and in 445 Paris was stormed by them. Before the year 500
Paris was independent of the Roman domination. Clovis was its master,
and marrying Clotilde, he embraced Christianity and erected a church.
The island was now surrounded by walls and had gates. The famous church
of St. German L'Auxerrois was built at this time. For two hundred and
fifty years, Paris retrograded rather than advanced in civilization, and
the refinements introduced by the Romans were nearly forgotten. In 845
the Normans sacked and burnt Paris. Still again it was besieged, but
such was the valor of its inhabitants that the enemy were glad to raise
the siege. Hugues Capet was elected king in 987, and the crown became
hereditary. In his reign the Palace of Justice was commenced. Buildings
were erected on all sides, and new streets were opened. Under Louis le
Gros the Louvre was rebuilt, it having existed since the time of
Dagobert. Bishop Sully began the foundations of Notre Dame in 1163, and
about that time the Knights Templars erected a palace.
Under the reign of Philip Augustus many of the public edifices were
embellished and new churches and towers were built. In 1250 Robert
Serbon founded schools--a hospital and school of surgery were also about
this time commenced.
Under Charles V. the city flourished finely, and the Bastille and the
Palace de Tourvelles were erected. The Louvre also was repaired. Next
came the unhappy reign of Charles VI., who was struck with insanity. In
1421 the English occupied Paris, but under Charles VII. they were driven
from it and the Greek language was taught for the first time in the
University of Paris. It had then twenty-five thousand students. Under
the reign of successive monarchs Paris was, from famine and plague, so
depopulated that its gates were thrown open to the malefactors of all
countries. In 1470 the art of printing was introduced into the city and
a post-office was established. In the reign of Francis I. the arts and
literature sprang into a new life. The heavy buildings called the Louvre
were demolished, and a new palace commenced upon the old site. In 1533
the Hotel de Ville was begun, and many fine buildings were erected. The
wars of the sects, or rather religions, followed, and among them
occurred the terrible St. Bartholomew massacre. Henry IV. brought peace
to the kingdom and added greatly to the beauty and attractiveness of
Paris.
Under Louis XIII. several new streets were opened, and the Palais Royal
and the palace of the Luxembourg begun. Under the succeeding king the
wars of the Fronde occurred, but the projects of the preceding king were
carried out, and more than eighty new streets were opened. The planting
of trees in the Champs Elysees, also took place under the reign of Louis
XIV. The palace of the Tuileries was enlarged, the Hotel des Invalides,
a foundling hospital, and several bridges were built.
Louis XV. established the manufactory of porcelain at Sevres, and also
added much to the beauty of Paris. He commenced the erection of the
Madeleine. Theaters and comic opera-houses were speedily built, and
water was distributed over the city by the use of steam-engines.
Then broke out the revolution, and many fine monuments were destroyed.
But it was under the Directory that the Museum of the Louvre was opened,
and under Napoleon the capital assumed a splendor it had never known
before. Under the succeeding kings it continued to increase in wealth
and magnificence, until it is unquestionably the finest city in the
world.
I have now in a short space given the reader a preliminary sketch of
Paris, and will proceed at once to describe what I saw in it, and the
impressions I received, while a resident in that city.
CHAPTER II.
RESTAURANTS--A WALK AND GOSSIP.
[Illustration: Boulevard du Temple.]
RESTAURANTS, CAFES, ETC.
The first thing the stranger does in Paris, is of course to find
temporary lodging, and the next is to select a good _restaurant_. Paris
without its _restaurants, cafes, estaminets_, and _cercles_, would be
shorn of half its glory. They are one of its most distinguished and
peculiar features. Between the hours of five and eight, in the evening
of course, all Paris is in those _restaurants_. The scene at such times
is enlivening in the highest degree. The Boulevards contain the finest
in the city, for there nearly all the first-class saloons are kept.
There are retired streets in which are kept houses on the same plan, but
with prices moderate in the extreme. You can go on the Boulevards and
pay for a breakfast, if you choose, fifty or even sixty francs, or you
can retire to some quiet spot and pay one franc for your frugal meal. It
is of course not common for any one to pay the largest sum named, but
there are persons in Paris who do it, young men who with us are vulgarly
denominated "swells," and who like to astonish their friends by their
extravagance.
[Illustration: PARIS & ARCH OF TRIUMPH.]
Out of curiosity I went one day with a friend to one of the most
gorgeous of the _restaurants_ on the Boulevards. Notwithstanding the
descriptions I had read and listened to from the lips of friends, I was
surprised at the splendor and style of the place. We sat down before a
fine window which was raised, looking into the street. Indeed, so close
sat we to it that the fashionable promenaders could each, if he liked,
have peeped into our dishes. But Parisians never trouble strangers with
their inquisitiveness. We sat down before a table of exquisite marble,
and a waiter dressed as neatly, and indeed gracefully, as a gentleman,
handed us a bill of fare. It was long enough in itself to make a man a
dinner, if the material were only palatable. Including dessert and
wines, there were one hundred specifications! There were ten kinds of
meat, and fourteen varieties of poultry. Of course there were many
varieties of game, and there were eight kinds of pastry. Of fish there
were fourteen kinds, there were ten side dishes, a dozen sweet dishes,
and a dozen kinds of wine.
The elegance of the apartment can scarcely be imagined, and the savory
smell which arose from neighboring tables occupied by fashionable men
and women, invited us to a repast. We called, however, but for a dish or
two, and after we had eaten them, we had coffee, and over our cups
gazed out upon the gay scene before us. It was novel, indeed, to the
American eye, and we sat long and discussed it. In this _restaurant_
there were private rooms, called _Cabinets de Societe_, and into them go
men and women at all hours, by day and night. It is also a common sight
to see the public apartments of the _restaurants_ filled with people of
both sexes. Ladies sit down even in the street with gentlemen, to sup
chocolate or lemonade. There is not much eaves-dropping in Paris, and
you can do as you please, nor fear curious eyes nor scandal-loving
tongues. This is very different from London. There, if you do any thing
out of the common way, you will be stared at and talked about. _There_,
if you take a lady into a public eating-house, _her_ position, at least,
will not be a very pleasant one.
There are many places in the Palais Royal, the basement floor of which,
fronting upon the court of the palace, is given up to shops, where for
two or three francs a dinner can be purchased which will consist of
soup, two dishes from a large list at choice, a dessert, and bread and
wine. There are places, indeed, where for twenty-five sous a dinner
sufficient to satisfy one's hunger can be purchased, but I must confess
that while in Paris I could never yet make up my mind to patronize a
cheap _restaurant_. I knew too well, by the tales of more experienced
Parisians, the shifts to which the cook of one of these cheap
establishments is sometimes reduced to produce an attractive dish. The
material sometimes would not bear a close examination--much less the
_cuisine_.
[Illustration: JARDIN DU PALAIS ROYAL.]
I was astonished to see the quantities of bread devoured by the
frequenters of the eating-houses, but I soon equaled my neighbors. Paris
bread is the best in the world, or at least, it is the most palatable I
ever tasted. It is made in rolls six feet long, and sometimes I have
seen it eight feet long. Before now, I have seen a couple dining near
the corner of a room, with their roll of bread thrown like a cane
against the wall, and as often as they wanted a fresh slice, the roll
was very coolly brought over and decapitated. The Frenchman eats little
meat, but enormously of the staff of life. The chocolate and coffee
which are to be had in the French _cafes_, are very delicious, and
though after a fair and long trial I never could like French cookery as
well as the English, yet I would not for a moment pretend that any cooks
in the world equal those of Paris in the art of imparting exquisite
flavor to a dish. It is quite common for the French to use brandy in
their coffee.
People who take apartments in Paris often prefer to have their meals
sent to their private rooms, and by a special bargain this is done by
any of the restaurants, but more especially by a class of houses called
_traiteurs_, whose chief business is to furnish cooked dishes to
families in their own homes. In going to a hotel in Paris, the stranger
never feels in the slightest degree bound to get his meals there. He
hires his room and that is all, and goes where he pleases. The _cafes_
are in the best portions of the town, magnificent places, often
exceeding in splendor the restaurants. They furnish coffee, chocolate,
all manner of ices and fruits, and cigars. At these places one meets
well-dressed ladies, and more than once in them I have seen well-dressed
women smoking cigarettes. Love intrigues are carried on at these places,
for a Paris lady can easily steal from her home to such a place under
cover of the night. A majority, however, of the women to be seen at such
places, are those who have no position in society, the wandering nymphs
of the night, or the poor grisettes. It is not strange that the poor
shop-girl is easily attracted to such gorgeous places by men far above
her in station.
Outside of all the cafes little tables are placed on the pavement, with
chairs around them. These places are delightful in the summer evenings,
and are always crowded. A promenade through some of the best streets of
a summer night is a brilliant spectacle, and more like a promenade
through a drawing-room than through an American street. The proprietors
of those places do not intend to keep restaurants, but quite a variety
of food, hot or cold, is always on hand, and wines of all kinds are
sold.
I well remember my first visit to a French _cafe_. It was when Louis
Napoleon was president, not emperor of France, and when there was more
liberty in Paris than there is now. I dropped into one near the
Boulevards, which, while it contained everything which could add to
one's comfort, still was not one of the first class. Several officers
were dining in it, and in some way I came in contact with one of them in
such a manner that he discovered I was an American. At once his conduct
toward me was of the most cordial kind, and his fellows rose and bade me
welcome to France. The simple fact that I was a republican from America
aroused the enthusiasm of all. I found, afterward, that the regiment to
which these officers belonged was suspected by the president of being
democratic in its sympathies.
The reading-rooms of Paris are one of its best institutions. They are
scattered all over the city, but the best is Galignani's, which contains
over twenty thousand volumes in all languages. The subscription price
for a month is eight francs, for a fortnight five francs, and for a day
ten sous.
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