[Illustration: _CONGRESS OF FRANCE._]
A COLORED MAN
ROUND THE WORLD.
BY A QUADROON.
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR.
1858.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by
DAVID F. DORR,
in the Clerk's office of the District Court, for the Northern
District of Ohio.
TO MY SLAVE MOTHER.
Mother! wherever thou art, whether in Heaven or a lesser world; or
whether around the freedom Base of a Bunker Hill, or only at the
lowest savannah of American Slavery, thou art the same to me, and I
dedicate this token of my knowledge to thee mother, Oh, my own
mother!
YOUR DAVID.
INDEX.
PAGE.
DEBUT IN A FOREIGN LAND, 13
LONDON, 19
THE QUEEN IN HYDE PARK, 22
I AM GOING TO PARIS, 25
FIRST DAY IN PARIS, 29
FIRST NIGHT IN PARIS, 33
I MUST ROVE AWAY FROM PARIS, 43
SPICY TOWNS OF GERMANY, 49
DOWN AMONG THE DUTCH, 57
COL. FELLOWES LEARNING DUTCH, 61
ON! ON! TO WATERLOO, 71
THE BIAS OF MY TOUR, 77
COUP D'ETAT OF NAPOLEON III, 81
THE SECRETS OF A PARIS LIFE AND WHO KNOWS THEM, 87
ROME AND ST. PETER'S CHURCH, 97
NAPLES AND ITS CRAFT, 102
ST. JANUARIUS AND HIS BLOOD, 108
CONSTANTINOPLE, 114
THE DOGS PROVOKE ME, AND THE WOMEN ARE VEILED, 121
A COLORED MAN FROM TENNESSEE SHAKING HANDS WITH THE
SULTAN, AND MEN PUTTING WOMEN IN THE BATH AND
TAKING THEM OUT, 125
GOING TO ATHENS WITH A PRIMA DONNA, 130
ATHENS A SEPULCHRE, 134
BEAUTIFUL VENICE, 143
VERONA AND BOLOGNA, 149
FRIENZA DE BELLA CITA, 153
BACK TO PARIS, 159
EGYPT AND THE NILE, 163
EGYPTIAN KINGS OF OLDEN TIME, 167
TRAVELING ON THE NILE 800 MILES, 171
THEBES AND BACK TO CAIRO, 175
CAMELS--THROUGH THE DESERT, 179
JERUSALEM, JERICHO AND DAMASCUS, 183
CONCLUSION, 189
PREFACE.
The Author of this book, though a quadroon, is pleased to announce
himself the "Colored man around the world." Not because he may look
at a colored man's position as an honorable one at this age of the
world, he is too smart for that, but because he has the satisfaction
of looking with his own eyes and reason at the ruins of the ancestors
of which he is the posterity. If the ruins of the Author's ancestors
were not a living language of their scientific majesty, this book
could receive no such appellation with pride. Luxor, Carnack, the
Memnonian and the Pyramids make us exclaim, "What monuments of pride
can surpass these? what genius must have reflected on their
foundations! what an ambition these people must have given to the
rest of the world when found the glory of the world in their
hieroglyphic stronghold of learning," whose stronghold, to-day, is
not to be battered down, because we cannot reach their hidden
alphabet. Who is as one, we might suppose, "learned in all the
learning of the Egyptians." Have we as learned a man as Moses, and if
yes, who can prove it? How did he come to do what no man can do now?
You answer, God aided him; that is not the question! No, all you know
about it is he was "learned in all the learning of the Egyptians,"
that is the answer; and thereby knew how to facilitate a glorious
cause at heart, because had he been less learned, who could conceive
how he could have proved to us to be a man full of successful logic.
Well, who were the Egyptians? Ask Homer if their lips were not thick,
their hair curly, their feet flat and their skin black.
But the Author of this book, though a colored man, hopes to die
believing that this federated government is destined to be the
noblest fabric ever germinated in the brain of men or the tides of
Time. Though a colored man, he believes that he has the right to say
that, in his opinion, _the American people are to be the Medes and
Persians of the 19th century_. He believes, from what he has seen in
the four quarters of the globe, that the federal tribunal of this
mighty people and territory, are to weigh other nations' portion of
power by its own scale, and equipoise them on its own pivot, "_the
will of the whole people_," the federal people. And as he believes
that the rights of ignorant people, whether white or black, ought to
be respected by those who have seen more, he offers this book of
travels to that class who craves to know what those know who have
respect for them. In offering this book to the public, I will say, by
the way, I wrote it under the disadvantage of having access to no
library save Walker's school dictionary. In traveling through Europe,
Asia and Africa, I am indebted to Mr. Cornelius Fellowes, of the
highly respectable firm of Messrs. Fellowes & Co., 149 Common St.,
New Orleans, La. This gentleman treated me as his own son, and could
look on me as as free a man as walks the earth. But if local law has
power over man, instead of man's effects, I was legally a slave, and
would be to-day, like my mother, were I on Louisiana's soil instead
of Ohio's.
When we returned to America, after a three years' tour, I called on
this original man to consummate a two-fold promise he made me, in
different parts of the world, because I wanted to make a connection,
that I considered myself more than equaled in dignity and means, but
as he refused me on old bachelor principles, I fled from him and his
princely promises, westward, where the "star of empire takes its
way," reflecting on the moral liberties of the legal freedom of
England, France and our New England States, with the determination to
write this book of "overlooked things" in the four quarters of the
globe, seen by "a colored man round the world."
THE AUTHOR.
DEBUT IN A FOREIGN LAND.
This day, June 15th, 1851, I commence my writings of a promiscuous
voyage. This day is Sunday. I am going from the Custom house, where I
have deposited my baggage to be searched for contraband goods, and
making my way along a street that might be termed, from its
appearance, "The street of cemeteries." This street is in Liverpool,
and is a mercantile street in every sense of the word, and the reason
why it looked so lonesome and a business street at that, is wanting.
I must now explain why so great a street looked dismal. The English
people are, indeed, a moral people. This was the Sabbath, and the
"bells were chiming," discoursing the sweetest sacred music I had
ever heard. The streets were very narrow and good. Their material was
solid square stones closely packed together. The houses were very
high, some being six stories. Not one house for half a mile had a
door or window ajar. It was raining; consequently not a person was to
be seen. All of a sudden the coachman drew up to the side walk, and,
opening the coach, said, "Adelphi, sir." I was looking with
considerable interest to see the hotel of so much celebrity on board
the ship. Captain Riley had informed me that it was a house not to be
surpassed in the "hotel line," and I had put an estimated interest on
this important item to travelers that Southerners are too much
addicted to. I mean to say, that I, a Southerner, judge too much by
appearance, instead of experience. I had been taught at Orleans that
the "English could whip all the world, and we could whip the
English," and that England was always in great danger of being
starved by us, and all her manufactories stopped in double quick time
by Southern cotton-planters. But, the greatest absurdity of all was,
that England was very much afraid that we would declare war against
her, and thereby ruin what little independence she still retains. I,
under this dispensation of knowledge, looked around to see the
towering of a "St. Charles or Verandah," but when I saw a house
looking like all the rest, I came to the conclusion that the English
were trying to get along without making any improvement, as it was
not certain how long we would permit her to remain a "monarchial
independent nation." Just then a well-dressed gentleman opened the
door and descended the steps with an umbrella to escort me in. "Come
right in here, sir," said he, leading me into a large room, with an
organ and hat-stands as its furniture. The organ was as large as an
ordinary sized church organ. The gentleman took my overcoat and hung
it up. He then asked me some questions concerning the voyage, after
which he asked me to walk to the Bureau and register my name. This
done we ascend one flight of stairs and enter my room. He asked me if
I wished fire. I answered in the affirmative. He left me.
Having seated myself _a la American_, I listened very attentively to
"those chiming bells." Tap, tap on my door called forth another
American expression, "come in." The door opened and a beautiful girl
of fifteen summers came in with a scuttle of coal and kindling. She
wore on her head a small frilled cap, and it was very small. A snow
white apron adorned her short, neat dress. A man is a good deal like
a dog in some particulars. He may be uncommonly savage in his nature,
and as soon as he sees his sexual mate, his attention is manifested
in the twinkling of an eye. She looked so neat, I thought it good
policy to be polite, and become acquainted. Having finished making a
lively little fire, she rose up from her half-bending posture to
follow up her duty through the hotel. "What is your name, Miss," said
I; "Mary," said she, at the same time moving away. "I shall be here a
week said I, and want you to take care of me." Mary's pretty little
feet could stay no longer with propriety the first time.
In fifteen minutes the gong rang for dinner. I locked my door, and
made my way through the narrow passages to hunt head quarters.
Passing one of the inferior passage ways, I saw Mary half whispering
to one of her companions about the American, and laughing jocularly.
Her eyes fell upon me just as mine did on her. In the twinkling of
an eye she conveyed an idea to her comrade that the topic must be
something else, which seemed to have been understood before conveyed.
"Mary," said I, "I want some washing done," as polite as a piled
basket of chips. She stepped up to me and said, "Are they ready,
sir?" "No," said I, "I will be up in a few minutes," (we always do
things by minutes.) "I will call for them," said she. I descended and
found a good dinner, after which I walked into the newsroom, where I
found several of the merchants of Liverpool assembled to read and
discuss the prevailing topics of interest. Seated close to a table on
which was the London Times, New York Tribune and Herald, the French
Journal, called the Moniteur, besides several other Journals of
lesser note, was a noble looking gentleman. On the other side of this
feast of news was another noble and intellectual looking gentleman.
These were noblemen from different parts of England. They were
quietly discussing the weak points in American policy. One held that
if the negroes of the Southern States were fit for freedom, it would
be an easy matter for four million of slaves to raise the standard of
liberty, and maintain it against 250,000 slaveholders. The other
gentleman held that it was very true, but they needed some white man,
well posted in the South, with courage enough to plot the _entree_.
He continued, at great length, to show the feasibility under a French
plotter. He closed with this expression, "One intelligent Frenchman
like Ledru Rollin could do the whole thing before it could be
known." I came to the conclusion that they were not so careful in the
expression of their views as I thought they ought to be. I was quite
sure that they would not be allowed to use such treasonable language
at Orleans or Charleston as that they had just indulged in.
Sitting in my room about an hour after hearing this nauseous
language, Mary came for the clothes, for that is what she asked for.
I requested Mary to wait until Monday morning, for the fact was, I
had no clothes--they were in the Custom House. Here Mary began to
show more familiarity than I had ever shown, but she only expressed
enough to show me that she only wished to return for my clothes when
they were ready. I gave her to understand that nothing would give me
more pleasure than to have her return again for them.
* * * * *
Two weeks have gone by. I am now packing my trunk for London. In half
an hour, the evening express train leaves here for a five hours'
cruise over farms of rich and poor, like a streak of lightning. I
find on the day of departure that the servants are like the servants
of all parts of my own country. It is impossible for me to do
anything for myself. I have offers from nearly all parts of the
Hotel, volunteering to do all that is to be done and more
too.--Before I commenced packing my trunk, I went down to the Bureau
(office) to have my bill made out. As I passed along the passage I
saw a large man with slippers on, with a cap denoting Cookery, bowing
and scraping. I instantly perceived that my fame, as an American, had
reached the culinary sanctum. I requested the Clerk to have my bill
ready, but found that I was too late in the information to be given.
My bill was already made out.
A quarter to 5 o'clock, I showed to Mary, my sincere wishes for her
welfare, and left my apartment. Her cap was neater than when I
located there; her apron was whiter, and her hair was neater. I done
my duty to the advice given by Murray, who is the author of the Guide
Book of all Europe, Asia, and even Africa. He says that it is best to
give a small bonus to the menials in public or private houses. The
landlord, saw me in the coach and wished me a happy voyage to London.
When the coach moved gradually away from that small Hotel, it carried
lingering thoughts of friendship and comfort. I thought of the kind
attention, and obedient but commanding language of all I had seen,
and the moral came home to my heart, saying "you have value
received." I reflected on Mary's cap and snow white apron; the old
porter's hopeful countenance; the dining room servants; and how well
they seemed to be pleased, when the driver stopped my coach and
landed me at the London station in a good humor. All aboard! The
Cars, (express train in a hurry) dashed on with fury, and I found
myself a happy man on my way to London.
LONDON.
Last night I arrived here, making the time from Liverpool in five
hours and a half. My location is between Buckingham Palace and
Trafalgar Square. I am on the second floor, in the Trafalgar Hotel,
on Trafalgar Square. The Queen, when in London, resides at this
celebrated palace. It is in St. James' Park. This July 28th, London
is the world's Bazaar. The Crystal Palace is the acquafortis of
curiosity that gives the arcadial polish to London's greatness. This
is the place where every country is trying to make a pigmy of some
other. In this great feast of genius no country is fairly
represented. The United States has many articles of arts in the
palace that are not what she has ever prided herself on as her arts.
One of our ordinary Steam Boats would have astonished the natives
beyond the admiration of all the trumpery that we ever contemplate
carrying to a World's Fair. I was, indeed, ashamed to see the piles
of India Rubber Shoes, Coats and Pants, and Clocks that stood out in
bas relief in that part of the palace appropriated to the American
Arts and Sciences.--Pegged Shoes and Boots were without number.
Martingales and Side Saddles, Horse Shoes, Ploughs, Threshing
Machines, Irrigators, and all the most worthless trash to be found in
the States. I saw everything that was a prevailing disgrace to our
country except slaves. I understood that a South Carolinian proposed
taking half a dozen haughty and sinewy negroes to the Fair, but was
only deterred from that proposition by the want of courage to risk
six fat, strong healthy negroes to the chances of escape from slavery
to freedom. In the centre of this beautiful and most splendid palace,
was a Band of Music not to be surpassed by any Band for discoursing
sweet melody. Close to this music was a beautiful fountain, throwing
sprays upward like the heaves of a shark; and round about this
fountain were seats for ladies and gentlemen to take refreshments
together. This palace resembles, in a great degree, "Paradise found;"
there is also some sparrows inside yet, that the Falcons did not run
out when those twenty thousand took possession some months ago. These
little birds light about among this gay crowd as if they were on one
of our wild prairies, lighting among the still gayer tribe of flora.
Two or three tried to light on a spray of water, but could not make
it go. I see two sitting on a piano, whilst one is trying to get an
equilibrium on the strings of a harp. The piano now opens and a
noblemen is seating one of the most handsome women there I have seen
in England. I said to a young Englishman, that is indeed a handsome
woman. He said yes, she is generally pronounced the handsomest woman
in London. I enquired her pedigree and found that it was the
benevolent Duchess of Sutherland; like a humming bird, from one
"sweet flower" to another her alabaster-like fingers darted from the
bassiest note to the flutiest. The pianos were generally enclosed
like a separate tomb with railings a yard from the pianos. After her
highness had played out "God Save the Queen" and brought an audience
round the railing, as if they really came to protect the "queen of
beauty," she played a thrilling retreat as if her intention was to
convey the idea that she must retreat or be captured. The piece
played, she rose straight up and gazed around upon the recruits she
had drummed up with the air of a successful adventurer throughout the
world; she moved along this immense crowd of various classes like a
swan in a showery storm. Whilst all was in commotion, she seemed more
herself. The noble gallant seemed to be quite conscious that the lady
he was gallanting was the _Duchess of Sutherland_.
On the outside of the Crystal Palace is a small, fairy-like house,
erected for Prince Albert and her majesty the Queen of England to
lunch in when they visit the Fair. It is said that the Prince planned
it himself. In this pretty little house is enough furniture of
various beauties to make an ordinary Fair itself.
The Police regulations about this Fair are admirable. There is no
question that can be asked about this affair but will be properly and
intellectually answered by any policeman. They are intelligent men
and seem to take an interest as well as pride in this great Fair.
THE QUEEN IN HYDE PARK.
It is now 4 o'clock. All the streets within a mile of the Crystal
Palace are crowded with people, instead of drays, carts, wagons and
other impeding obstacles to the World's Fair. For a quarter of a mile
down the street that leads to St. James' Square, where the Queen
resides, at Buckingham Palace, I presume I can see 50,000 people
bareheaded, that is to say, they have their hats off. But, at the
further end of this quarter of a mile, I see a uniform commotion, and
this commotion of heads are coming towards Hyde Park. I mean only the
commotion but not the heads. These heads are being responded to from
an open plain Calashe, that is coming as rapid as a Post Chaise from
the battle field when bringing good tidings to a King.--The object of
this exciting moment is the Queen of England. One minute and she is
gone by, as she passed me, bowing on all sides to the crowd greeting
her. I felt a sort of religious thrill pass over me, and I said to
myself "this is civilization." Her Majesty was evidently proud of
her people's homage; and her people were not ashamed to show their
loyalty to their "gracious Queen." She was looking remarkably healthy
for one living on the delicacies of a Queen. In fact she was too
healthy in appearance for a Queen. Her color was too red and
masculine for a lady. She was considerable stouter than I thought she
was, and quite as handsome as I expected to find the great Queen.
Seated opposite her, face to face, was her Maid of Honor; and seated
by her side vis-a-vis to the Queen, was a couple of the "little
bloods" of her Majesty and Prince Coburgh. I thought it strange that
his highness, Prince Albert, was not accompanying the Queen. I
learned afterwards that it was usual for the Queen to go in Hyde Park
alone. I also found that the Prince and his courtiers were gone out
deer stalking.
In the Queen's calashe was four greys. The driver rode the hindmost
left horse. In his right hand he carried a light whip which was
altogether useless. About 50 yards ahead of this moving importance, a
liveried outrider sped on at a rapid speed, that the populace might
know that he was soliciting their attention to making way for the
Queen. He wore long, white-legged boots, and held his Arab steed as
artful as a Bedouin sporting over a rocky desert. His other
habiliments were red, save his hat, which was a latest style silk.
The driver keeps him in view, and has nothing to do but mount and
drive off after this courier or out-rider, who gets his orders at the
Palace where to lead.
It is said that the Queen is not celebrated for a good temper. Like
her symbol, the lion, she is not to be bearded by any one, no matter
how important. She is a natural monarch and feels her royalty. Prince
Albert is one of the handsomest men I ever saw. The like of the
Prince's popularity among the ladies of the Court cannot be equaled
by any nobleman in England; but that popularity must be general, it
cannot be in spots, for the Queen is not unlike other women under the
influence of the "green-eyed monster." Although Prince Albert's
virtue has never been dishonored by even a hint, still the Queen is
not to be too trusty. Prince Albert is a model of a "true gentleman."
He could not suspect half as quick as the most virtuous Queen the
world has ever been ornamented with.
The English people are alone in all things pertaining to domestic
life. It would puzzle the double-width intellect of a hermit to tell
what one was thinking about; and this nonchalence of air to
surrounding circumstances is every moment blowing upon the object in
their heart. France sets the fashion for the world, but what the
morning paper say about the dress worn by the empress on the champs
d'elysee yesterday, is not what the poorest maid servant is trying to
find out to cut her calico by, but what her Majesty wore at Windsor
or Buckingham. These people were wearing the skins of the beasts of
their forests in the days of the Cæsars' invasion, and barbarous as
our Indians, but now they are the most civilized and christian power
on this earth.
A German now sitting by my side tells me this is a gross subject for
me to be writing upon. I asked what subject? He said Konigon (Queen).
On reflection I find it true, and now retire from the beading of this
chapter.
I AM GOING TO PARIS.
I am now all cap a pie for Paris. Ho! for Boston, is nothing to ah!
Paris. I have been this morning to get my last view of the great
Palace of the World's Fair. I have since been to Greenwich to eat
white bait, and I am now hurrying on to the station. Whoever wishes
to see a good deal of the country, and a broken down route, had
better take what is called the Brighton Route. If you leave London at
6 o'clock in the evening, you will stop at 8 o'clock at New Haven, a
place with a name on the map, but in fact no place at all, save the
destination of the train of this route. There you will, in all
probability, have to wait about an old building an hour or two for
the arrival of a boat to take you across the channel. Next morning,
if you are lucky, you arrive at 8 o'clock at a little old French town
called Dieppe, just in time to be too late to take the morning train
for Paris. It is said that these little old half dead towns live off
these tricks. I got a pretty breakfast _a la carte_; I say pretty,
because I had boiled eggs, red wine and white, radishes, lettuce, and
three boquets on my breakfast table. Having been disappointed in
taking the morning's train for Paris, I vented my wrath on both
bottles of wine, thereby getting an equilibrium between
disappointment and contentment. This done I went down to a little old
shed which they called the Custom House, to get my trunks which they
had been searching. I then took a ride in the country to see the
ruins of an ancient castle, captured by the first reigning king of
the present great Bourbon family, Henry Quatre, King of Navarre. This
was the first ruined castle I had ever seen, and it interested me so
much that in spite of the boat last night with no berths, sea
sickness, custom-house troubles, disappointment in getting to Paris
that day instead of 11 o'clock at night, I was in quite a good humor,
and in fact, considered myself well paid for the ride, though in an
old chaise and two poor horses.
At the ruins of this enormous pile of brick and mortar, was an old,
broken down French officer. His companion was a lonely raven. We
could go in and out of no part of this dilapidated mass of downfallen
power, without meeting the raven. He seemed to be a lonely spirit. I
caught at him once when he came within two feet of me; he jumped
about a foot further off and stopped right still, and turned his head
so that one eye was up and the other down, and kept looking up at me
as long as I looked at him, as if he would fain say _laissi moi_
(let me be). The cool treatment of the raven about these old ruins
lowered my spirits. I gave the old soldier a franc for his trouble
and information, and got in my old turn-out, and turned around to say
adieu to the old soldier when I found him too much engaged paying
Jocko with crumbs, his portion of the bonus, for services rendered.
At 4 o'clock I found myself well seated in a French car, for the
first time, direct for Paris. Here we go in a tunnel, and it is dark
as ebony; here we come out; away go the cattle as if Indians were
after them.
It would be impossible to conjecture that French farmers were lazy,
for this is the Sabbath and down in the meadows I see farmers
reaping. I can see towns in such quick succession, it would be
useless to attempt to describe them. It is now 11 o'clock, and I am
at my destination and being searched. Nothing found and I am
pronounced an honest man. But my honesty, if there be any, is like
Falstaff's, hid. I have two hundred cigars in my over and under coat,
and they are, indeed, contraband and was one of the greatest objects
of search; but, reader, if you pronounce this French stupidity you
deceive yourself. It was French politeness that allowed me to pass
unnoticed by this scrutinizing assemblage of Savans. If a man move
among these lynx-eyed prefectures as a gentleman ought to, he is,
once out of three times, likely to pass the barrier of their polite
inclinations, whilst at the same time it would give them great
satisfaction to believe that it would pay to examine you, were there
a justifiable excuse for such rudeness, overbalancing the politeness
which is characteristic of their whole national dignity. The French
are proud of their national characteristics, and least of all nations
inclined to trample them under foot.
It is now eleven o'clock, as I have before said, and I am in Paris,
trying to get across the Boulevard des Italian. What I mean by trying
is, picking my chance. I am no dancing master, and in this crowded
street might not do the dodging right the first time.
I am now across and ringing the bell at 179 Rue Richelieu. This is
the Hotel des Prince (Hotel of the Princes). Mr. Privat is the
proprietor. In this Hotel all have gone to bed except a beautiful
little woman at the concierge. She was sewing whilst stillness
reigned around her, like a deep, dark forest, just before a storm.
She received me with a smile. I, not knowing that this was her usual
behavior to all patronage of this or any other house in Paris, took
for granted I had made an extra impression right off. She took me to
an apartment which she said was merely temporary. To-morrow, she
said, I could get another to my taste. I gazed around at all the
different doors and comforts with numerous conveniencies of neatness,
and said to her, "Miss, this, in my opinion, is good enough for the
oldest inhabitant." She smiled and went away and brought me a bottle
of water with a piece of ice inside just the shape of the bottle.
"How did you put that piece of ice inside without breaking the
bottle?" said I. "It was water, sir, and it froze inside," said she,
"will you have something to eat?" I said I would like a small bit of
chicken and red wine; she rang the bell and an English and French
waiter was summoned; she went away and left me pretty certain that I
was in Paris.
FIRST DAY IN PARIS.
Next morning I felt pretty sure I was in Paris, or I "wasn't anywhere
else." Every five minutes would assure me that I was there. Before
the grey of the morn departed from Paris I had two lady visitors. One
was a beautiful girl, like "Mary of Adelphi." She was evidently
mistaken in finding a tenant in this one of her rooms, unless that
was her way. She moved up to the washstand, which was near my bed, or
rather couch, and slyly looked in the drawer and drew back. I,
wishing to let her know that if her business or adventure was
connected with me, she need not fear waking me, rose my left arm and
said, "good morning!" She, not understanding what I did say, muttered
out something like "_reste vous tranquilles_," which, I afterwards
learned, meant, don't be disturbed. She hurried out the half opened
door pulling her little starched dress, that seemed to pull back,
after her. Five minutes after this, she returned and placed on my
stand close to my bed, a bottle of ice water and a glass. I asked her
name, she said, Elverata, and winded away.
Five minutes after this another female opened my door about a foot
and leaned gracefully in. She asked me some question two or three
times, all that I could understand was Blanche, with some other
points to it like _E sirs_. Consulting my guide of the French
translated into the four following languages, French, Italian, German
and English, I discovered she was talking about washing. I got this
book in London and studied all the way to Paris, but found that I had
made no improvement; all I knew of the book was, that the words
translated were only some useful words that the solicitors would most
likely know themselves when it would be necessary to use such
expressions. She ran to me, for she was acquainted with the book
better than I was, and helped to find what she wished to say. "_Ie
trouver, Ie trouver_," she said. I gave her the book, at the same
time asking her in English what was _trouver_. She looked up at the
wall, like a Madonna, and seemed to be lost in inward study, at last
she looked me full in the face and said, "fyend." "Ah!" said I,
"find." "Yis!" said she, "what you call _cela_?" "Washerwoman," said
I. "_Ie suis washe-women_." This woman was certainly very bewitching
whilst speaking this broken English. I gave her to understand that
some other time would be more agreeable. She said she "stand" and
went out; but as she did not stand, but went out, I presume she meant
to say "I understand."
At eight o'clock I descended to the _salle a manger_ for breakfast.
Persons were coming in to breakfast, two and three a minute, and
others were going out as fast. This continued till eleven o'clock.
Thirty and forty were frequently at the table at the same time.
Mostly all were Europeans; and had everything not gone on so
regularly, an American "greenhorn" would have taken them to be the
confusion of tongues convening for a reconciliation. On the table was
more wine than coffee. The coffee was usually taken in the smoking
room, where all gentlemen assemble to discuss politics. Among this
assemblage that I am so flippantly speaking of, was three noblemen of
England, one Duke of Italy, three barons of the Rhine, and a broken
down princess. From merely gossip authority, I learned that she was
the wife of a great man in one of the Russio Turko principalities.
She was generally dressed in black, and had two servants and a
_lacquey de place_. She was handsome and that had ruined her. She was
getting from her husband 100,000 per annum to stay away from him and
his court, which seemed to meet her approbation. She roomed on the
same floor I did, and I frequently met her smiling in these narrow
and dark passage ways. She seldom dined at the "_table de hote_,"
(dinner table) but either at the _trois frere_, (three brothers) or
the _maison d'or Doree_, corner of the Boulevard and rue Lafitte. She
most always had her Cabinet, good dinners and various wines,
consequently was always full of agreeability. She would walk home
herself, and, like the rest of ladies in Paris, she was always sure
that her dress in front should not drag the ground, by a process she
had in her nature, to show her intention of keeping her dress high
enough to prevent all accidents of the kind. By this habit of hers,
she got many admirers, for what a man would then see instead of her
dress would be no disadvantage to her or her intention. Her
reputation was such that had she been once gazed upon by the Virgin
Mary, the fiery censure of her pure eyes would have been basilisks to
her poor heart; the poor Princess would have dropped dead from the
mere spark of censure which the Virgin could not, though fain would,
hold back.
The day has gone by. I stood about, looking! looking! looking! Seeing
what is novel enough to an American in Paris, in the court of the
_Hotel des Princes_. Night came on and I went to my room to prepare
to see a "Night in Paris." I shall write of a Night in Paris, and
then shall say no more of Paris until I have been to Germany and
return, where I expect to spend three or four months. After this
voyage I calculate to spend the winter here, and write something of
Paris and its manners.
My first day ends by meeting the Princess on the steps, and having
the pleasure of answering some inquiries of hers about sea-sickness,
and pleasant ships of the Cunard Line.
FIRST NIGHT IN PARIS.
My "first day in Paris" commenced at night. If sauce for the goose is
sauce for the gander, I will commence this chapter in the day by
saying, "where now! valet de place?" "Notre dame," he replied, and
the coachman drove away towards the Boulevards. In half an hour's
time, he reined before the door of that "Venerable old monument of
reality and romance." I approached it like a timid child being baited
with a shining sixpence. As my feet touched the sill, a peal came
from the belfry, one of those sonorous twangs, that have made so many
hearts flinch for hundreds of years in the "Bloody Bastile," and it
vibrated from my timid heart to all parts of my frame. At this moment
a reverend father offered me his hand, who had all the time been
concealed beneath what one might well take to be a dark black coffin
standing on end. I accepted his hand, and he led me quietly in that
vast "sepulchre of kings."
In all directions I saw magnificent aisles, and altars with burning
incense. Magnificent pictures representing all reverend worth, from
the "Son of Man," to saints of France. Golden knobs with inscriptions
thereon, adorned the footsteps of every visitor thereof, denoting the
downwardness of kings who had once ruled nations. Whilst standing
there awestruck with departed worth, I gazed downward with a
submissive heart, when lo! I stood upon the coffin of a king! I
quickly changed my position, but stepped upon a queen. The valet was
relating to me the many different opinions the people had about
stepping on noted personages, and how unnecessary it was to take
notice of such things as they were dead, when I got disgusted at his
ignorance, and stepped from a Queen to a Princess.
To describe this gorgeously furnished sanctum, it is enough to say,
that all the brilliant artists of this scientific people have been
engaged for hundreds of years in its decoration. Not only employed by
the coffers of the Church of France, but by the throne that upheld
numerous kings, as well as the wish of the whole populace of France,
and the spoils of other nations. Hundreds of people from different
parts of the world visit it every day, and all leave a franc or two.
Thousands of Parisians visit it every day, and they make no mark of
decay. It stands a living monument of Church and State.
Drive me to the national assembly, I said to the coachman. In ten
minutes I was going up the gallery. Before I went in, the valet went
to a member's coachman, and gave him a franc, and he gave in return a
ticket to the gallery. Each member is allowed so many gallery
tickets, and if he fails in giving them out, he makes his servants
presents of them, and they sell them.
They were debating republican principles. Louis Napoleon was then
President of the Republic, and on the door of every building and gate
of France were these words in legible letters, "Liberte Eqalite
Fraternite." Louis Napoleon was not there that day, and they seemed
to have a good time, like mice when the cat is away. The most
incomprehensible part of their proceeding was, sometimes two would be
speaking at once, regardless of the chair. The speaker hammered away
furiously, but it was hard to tell, unless you knew, whether he was
beating up a revival or a retreat from destruction; as they cooled
off their debative heat, there was always twenty or thirty ready to
throw agitating fuel in the furnace. As they would cool down a whiff,
mushroom-like risings, would be perceptible in four or five different
parts of the spacious hall. I could make nothing out of what was
going on, save willingness to talk instead of listening, and I left.
One handsome and intelligent looking gentleman descended at the same
time, which I learned to be the correspondent of the New York
Tribune. I then took a curve like tour back, across the Seine, by the
Tuillieries, Luxomburg, and back to the same part of the Boulevards,
which was more crowded with fashion, than when I passed along in the
forenoon, and went home. Night came on, and with it, the gayest time
of Paris. The valet said I must go to _Jardin mabeille_, (a ball), I
rode there. This is a nightly ball, but there was no less than fifty
vehicles of different comforts, which showed that a great many
foreigners were there, because Parisians generally prefer promenading
when going to such a feast of pleasure. I paid two francs and went
in.
It was a garden about a square block in size. In all parts of it was
shrubbery of the most fragrant odors. There was an immense number of
little walks, with neat rustic seats for lovers to caress in, from
the disinterested eye; and on my first preambulation, I got lost, and
intruded more than was polite, but I did not know the importance of
this discretion, until I perilously saw the danger. Had I gone on
without stopping, I would have led myself to the orchestra, where and
when I could have taken part in the amusement to the approbation of
all present. When I discovered that I did not know what I was about,
I stopped quickly and looked scrutinizingly around those snug little
bowers. All in a minute out came a "bower lover," as furious as a
cat. I asked him "where the ball was;" he discovered that I was no
Frenchman, and could not have meant intrusion; he directed me to go
straight ahead, and I left him in his bliss.
Like a round pigeon house on the end of pole, I pronounce the
orchestra. A stair ran up to the pigeon house from the platform
round the great pole, or post that supported it. A small enclosure
was under the orchestra and occasionally the band would descend to
the platform to play. Round this orchestra they danced. The
spectators seemed to be exclusively foreigners; they made a ring
around the gay lotharios as unbroken as the one they made around the
orchestra. The bassy and fluty melodious Band, discoursed the
sweetest waltz that ever tickled my admiration. Off they glided like
a scared serpent, winding their curvy way as natural as if they were
taking their chances. There they come! But there is some still going
in the ranks, and there is still a vacancy. Twice they have made the
circuit, and the hoop is complete. Now to me it is all dizziness, and
it all looked to me as a moving body of muses from times of yore.
Occasionally my eye would cling to a couple for an instant, but this
was occasioned by the contrast between a large, fat, and heavy
gentleman, that had become a troublesome neighbor to all that chose
to get in his way. Whenever any of the lighter footed would discover
their close proximity to his Appollo pedestals, like a shooting star
they would flit away, and leave him monarch of all he surveyed.
I wish to describe a few of the most conspicuous, but I will wait for
a quadrille, where I can get them to take their places in
description.
The name of my valet de place is Oscar.
"Oscar, what nation does that puny looking, red-skinned man belong
to?" "A _Maltese_," said he, as if he never would stop sounding the
ese, but he added the "I believe." I afterwards found out that he was
some of the Canary Island's stock; but the best of the stock. A
beautiful French girl held him by the hind part of his coat with her
left hand, whilst she held with her right his hand, lest he might go
off in his glee, "half shot." She was also afraid that some
interested lady might take better care of him than herself. He was
fashionably dressed, and in Paris, as a nabob, His actions
represented some rich man's foolish son.
I swear by my father's head, I see a live Turk! Turban! sack hanging
between his legs, more empty than Falstaff's! one of the genuine
breed that followed Saladin to the plains of Palestine and stood
before Richard's battle-axe with his scimitar! one of the head
choppers of Christians! Perhaps the next will be the amiable
countenance of "Blue Beard." The old Turk and his beard is trying to
dance, but his bag won't let him. He is let down, and goes off the
track. He is now mixing some oakum with tobacco. Now he is looking
on, like a poor boy at a frolic--yes! he would if he could. I am sure
his first duty to-morrow will be to hunt a mosque and give up
dancing. He is leaving and trying to get his money back.
I walked round on the opposite side, and saw several other
incomprehensibles. "What tall, fine looking, yellow skinned man is
that, Oscar, with that tall lady standing looking on?" "That, sir,"
said he, "is a very rich quadroon from Louisiana, I believe New
Orleans. He lives at No. 4, _Boulevard Possoniere_, when he is in
town, but he has his country residence nine miles in the country. He
has a very handsome French lady for a wife, and it is said he left
New Orleans on account of their prejudice to color. He is a very
popular man here, and is said to be worth $150,000." Just then I saw
Mr. Holbrook, of the New Orleans Picayune, and Mr. Fellowes of the
firm of Fellowes & Co., step up to this man and shake him warmly by
the hand, and said, "Mr. Cordevoille, don't you know me? I patronized
your tailor's shop five or six years." Cordevoille had been the
largest tailorizer in the South, and accumulated a large fortune, and
sold out to his partner, Mr. Lacroix, who still is carrying on the
firm under the name and style of Cordevoille & Lacroix. Mr.
Cordevoille was looking the very picture of a gentleman; he seemed to
be a great object of respect to those that spoke to the lady he was
conversing with in the French tongue. He reminded me more of Prince
Albert in his manners than any other person around. Had his face not
been pock marked, he would have conveyed a conception of an inferior
Appollo; his _tout ensemble_ had as many brilliant cuts of a true
gentleman's conduct, as the single diamond he wore. After some
enquiry about New Orleans, he invited some American gentlemen to his
country seat; it was to be on the following day, and they being high
toned gentlemen of sense, they accepted, not so much for pleasure
and information, as for giving Mr. Cordevoille to understand that
they understood the duty of gentlemen; no doubt they felt that if
they refused, Mr. Cordevoille might feel the weight of such a
refusal. They agreed also to stay all night, which invitation had
been extended by Mr. Cordevoille. Lest it be a censure on these
gentlemen, I refrain from going any further with a subject so
delicate.
I now walked under the roof of a very extensive hall; in it was all
kinds of refreshments. All one side of the hall was a door, so that
when the crowd in the garden was likely to be overtaken by a shower,
dancing went on in there. Immense crowds were seated about at tables
smoking, and discussing politics, but not one gentleman had his foot
on the table, except an American quietly seated in one corner in a
profound soliloquy. He was chewing tobacco. I did'nt stop to see
where he spit, for fear he might claim nationality. I learned that
several of the quietly seated, were members of the National Assembly.
It was now getting late, and gentlemen that had pretty mates were
going through the gates in compact succession. Why gentlemen with
pretty mates could not stay to the last was a mystery to me. But to
solve that mystery I followed the crowd, and discovered that the
nearer they got home, the more affectionate they got.
The most of these couples would stop at the first _cafe_ and call for
their _tass du coffee_ and _vere d'eau de vie_ (cup of coffee and
glass of brandy). They would set the brandy on fire and burn the
spirits out, and then pour it into the coffee. As soon as they began
to feel the effects of this pleasant nourishment, they would move
again for home.
At 11 o'clock at night carriages were running in all directions from
Balls, Theatres, Operas, Museums, Concerts, Soirees, Dancing Schools,
and more amusements than could be named in one article.
I went to the hotel, seeking my own amusement. I could not conjecture
a more comfortable place than the house I roomed at, after seeing all
this night's bustle. Even if I could not find my own room, I was in
the house of acquaintances.
I went to the room of an acquaintance, and talked and lingered in
agreeable conversation and amusement until near day. I approached my
own chamber, and found that whilst I was out helping to make a city
of dissipators, Elvereta had been to my room and arranged my wardrobe
_comme foi_. This ends my "first night in Paris."
I MUST ROVE AWAY FROM PARIS.
Here is the middle of August, nearly a month of uninterrupted sight
seeing has passed away, and my curiosity is surfeited. I am now on
the eve of roving away to "the hilly Oberland," where I will tire my
limbs on the rocky Alps, and crave the comfort I here have enjoyed. I
know I am but leaving Paris to enjoy the anxiety to get back.
Four days are gone by, and I have spent half a day at Chalon, and one
at Lyons, the "silk city." In this last half a day, I saw more
manufactories than I ever saw in one town. It is said that machines
to the enormous power of two hundred horse, are in some of these
factories. From 50 to 60,000 hands are engaged in manufacturing silk
daily. This is a very rich looking city, and must indeed, be very
rich. It is no doubt an older city than Paris. If a man was brought
here blindfolded, after beholding its magnificence and wealth, he
might easily be led to believe he was at the Capitol of France.
Another day is gone, and finds me not less fleeting. I am away up the
Rhone, at "_Aix le Bain_." This romantic little town of a few
thousand inhabitants, has the celebrity of chronology of 700 years
before the Christian era. It points to some warm baths, which it is
named after, as its grey hairs; and of which was its phoenix. The
Romans built it up on account of its feasibility of becoming a
"national bath tub" of Gaul. Under the ground, as far as the ambition
of a Roman chooses to go, these baths could be made profitable. There
are now from eight to ten stone walled rooms, where all a man has to
do to put the bath in readiness, is to open the door.
Some 200 or 300 Frenchmen were here passing away the summer, enjoying
themselves fishing, dancing and gaming, for there is a very rich bank
in a splendid Casino, to draw that class of France that live on
excitement, I saw one American here who was broke. He wanted to
relate his misfortunes to me, but I did not wish to hear them, as I
was well posted before he tried to post me.