F. Herve - How to Enjoy Paris in 1842

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HOW TO ENJOY PARIS IN 1842,

INTENDED TO SERVE AS A COMPANION AND MONITOR

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

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

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

_By F. Herve_

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

ILLUSTRATED BY LITHOGRAPHIC ENGRAVINGS.

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

PREFACE.

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

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

CHAPTER I.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I replied that I was very well satisfied with it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I replied that I had known France nearly fourteen years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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