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[Illustration: ON THE CHAMPS ÉLYSÉES.]
OLD AND NEW PARIS
Its History, its People, and its Places
BY
H. SUTHERLAND EDWARDS
AUTHOR OF “IDOLS OF THE FRENCH STAGE” “THE GERMANS IN FRANCE” “THE RUSSIANS
AT HOME” ETC. ETC.
VOL. II
_WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS_
CASSELL AND COMPANY LIMITED
_LONDON PARIS & MELBOURNE_
1894
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
STREET CHARACTERS. PAGE
The “Cocher”--The Bus-driver--The Private Coachman--The Hackney
Coachman--The Public Writer--The Flower-girl--The Oyster-woman.....1
CHAPTER II.
THE ENGLISH AND AMERICANS IN PARIS.
The Englishman Abroad--M. Lemoinne’s Analysis--The Englishwoman--Sunday
in London and in Paris--Americans in Paris--The American Girl.....9
CHAPTER III
MORE PARISIAN TYPES.
The Spy--Under Sartines and Berryer--Fouché--Delavau--The Present
System--The Écuyère--The Circus in Paris.....17
CHAPTER IV.
THE DOMESTIC.
The French Servant, as described by Léon Gozlan and by Mercier--The Cook
and the Cordon Bleu--The Valet.....20
CHAPTER V.
PARISIAN CHARACTERISTICS.
Parisian Characteristics--Gaiety, Flippancy Wit--A String of Favourite
Anecdotes.....24
CHAPTER VI.
THE STREETS.
The Arrangement of the Streets--System of Numbering the Houses--Street
Nomenclature--Street Lamps--The Various Kinds of Vehicles in Use.....28
CHAPTER VII.
THE SEINE AND ITS BRIDGES.--THE MORGUE. The Various Bridges over the
Seine--Their Histories--The Morgue--Some Statistics.....33
CHAPTER VIII.
THE REFORMATION IN PARIS.
D’Étaples, the Pioneer of the Reformation--Nicolas Cop and
Calvin--Progress of the Reformation--Persecutions--Catharine de
Médicis--St. Bartholomew’s--The Edict of Nantes.....36
CHAPTER IX.
THE UNIVERSITY OF PARIS AND THE COLLEGE OF FRANCE.
The French Educational System--Lycées and Collèges--The University of
Paris--The College of France.....44
CHAPTER X.
THE SORBONNE.
Robert de Sorbonne--The Sorbonne, its Origin and History--Richelieu--The
Revolution--The New Sorbonne--Mercier’s Views.....49
CHAPTER XI.
THE INSTITUTE.
The Institute--Its Unique Character--The Objects of its Projectors--Its
Constitution.....53
CHAPTER XII.
THE ACADÉMIE FRANÇAISE.
The Académie Française--Its Foundation by Richelieu--Its
Constitution--The “Forty-first Chair”.....55
CHAPTER XIII.
THE PANTHÉON.
The Church of Clovis--The Church of Sainte-Geneviève--France in the
Thirteenth Century--The Building of the New Church under Louis
XV.--Mirabeau and the Constituent Assembly--The Church of
Sainte-Geneviève becomes the Panthéon......59
CHAPTER XIV.
THE POLYTECHNIC SCHOOL.
The “Central School of Public Works”--Bonaparte and the Polytechnic--The
College of Navarre--Formal Inauguration in 1805--1816--1830.....67
CHAPTER XV.
THE HÔTEL CLUNY.
The Rue des Carmes--Comte de Mun and the Catholic Workmen’s Club--The
Place Maubert--The Palais des Thermes--The Hôtel Cluny--Its History--Its
Art Treasures.....71
CHAPTER XVI.
THE MUSÉE D’ARTILLERIE.
The Museum of Artillery--Its Origin and History--The Growth of its
Collection of Armour and Weapons of all Kinds.....83
CHAPTER XVII.
THE VAL DE GRÂCE--RELICS OF THE GREAT.
The Deaf and Dumb Institution--The Val de Grâce--Hearts as Relics--Royal
Funerals--The Church of Saint-Denis.....89
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE CATACOMBS: THE OBSERVATORY.
Origin of the Catacombs--The Quarries of Mont Souris--The
Observatory--Marshal Ney--The School of Medicine.....99
CHAPTER XIX.
THE ODÉON: THE LUXEMBURG PALACE.
The Odéon--Its History--Erection of the Present Building in 1799--Marie
de Médicis and the Luxemburg Palace--The Judicial Annals of the
Luxemburg--Trials of Fieschi and Louvel--Trial of Louis Napoleon--Trial
of the Duc de Praslin.....109
CHAPTER XX.
THE PRISONS OF PARIS.
La Santé--La Roquette--The Conciergerie--The
Mazas--Sainte-Pélagie--Saint-Lazare--Prison Regulations.....131
CHAPTER XXI.
THE PARIS ZOO.
The Jardin des Plantes--Its Origin and History--Under Buffon--The Museum
of Natural History--The Tobacco Factory.....147
CHAPTER XXII.
SOME HISTORICAL BUILDINGS.
Abailard and Héloise--Fulbert’s House in the Rue des Chantres--The
Philip Augustus Towers--The Hôtel Barbette--The Hôtel de Sens.....156
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE MONT-DE-PIÉTÉ.
“Uncle” and “Aunt”--Organisation of the Mont-de-Piété--Its Various
Branches--Its Warehouses and Sale-rooms.....160
CHAPTER XXIV.
PARIS MARKETS.
The Halles-Centrales--The Cattle Markets--Agriculture in France--The
French Peasant.....166
CHAPTER XXV.
SAINT-GERMAIN-DES-PRÉS.
Its Origin and History--Its Library--Its Organ--Saint-Sulpice.....170
CHAPTER XXVI.
PRINTING IN PARIS--THE CENSORSHIP.
Rue Visconti--Historical Buildings--The National School of Roads and
Bridges--The Introduction of Printing into Paris--The First Printing
Establishments--The Censorship.....174
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE HÔTEL DES INVALIDES.
A Glance at its History--Louis XIV. and Mme. de Maintenon--The
Pensioners--Their Characteristics and Mode of Life.....185
CHAPTER XXVIII.
SOME MORE PARIS HOSPITALS.
The French Hospital System--The Laënnec Hospital--The Houses of
Assistance--The Quinze-Vingts--Deaf and Dumb Institutions--The Abbé de
l’Épée--La Charité.....193
CHAPTER XXIX.
LUNATIC ASYLUMS AND MIXED INSTITUTIONS.
The Treatment of Lunacy in the Past--La Salpêtrière--Bicêtre--The Story
of Latude--The Four Sergeants of La Rochelle--Pinel’s
Reforms--Charenton.....207
CHAPTER XXX.
THE RIVER BIÈVRE AND THE MANUFACTORY OF THE GOBELINS.
The Brothers Gobelin--Lebrun--The Gobelins under Louis XIV.--At the Time
of the Revolution--The Manufactory of Sèvres.....225
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE PALAIS BOURBON.
The Palais Bourbon--Its History--The National Convention--Philippe
Égalité.....231
CHAPTER XXXII.
SOME HISTORICAL RESIDENCES.
The Palace of the Legion of Honour--The Ministry of War--The Rue de
Grenelle--Talleyrand.....236
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE RUE TARANNE AND DIDEROT.
Diderot’s Early Life in Paris--His Love Affairs--Imprisonment in the
Château de Vincennes--Diderot and Catherine II. of Russia--His
Death.....242
CHAPTER XXXIV.
MONSEIGNEUR AFFRE AND THE INSURRECTION OF JUNE.
The Courtyard of the Dragon--The National Workshops--The Insurrection of
June--Monseigneur Affre Shot at the Barricade of the Faubourg St.
Antoine.....247
CHAPTER XXXV.
SOME OCCUPANTS OF MONTPARNASSE.
The Boulevard Montparnasse--The Cemetery--Father Loriquet--Hégésippe
Moreau--Sainte-Beuve.....250
CHAPTER XXXVI.
SPORTS AND DIVERSIONS.
Le “Sport”--Longchamps--Versailles Races--Fontainebleau--The
Seine--Swimming Baths--The Art of Book-collecting.....254
CHAPTER XXXVII.
FENCING SCHOOLS.
Fencing in France--A National Art--Some Extracts from the Writings of M.
Legouvé, One of its Chief Exponents--The Old Style of Fencing and the
New.....257
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
PETTY TRADES.
Petty Trades--Their Origins--The Day-Banker--The Guardian Angel--The
Old-Clothesman--The Claque--Its First Beginning and Development.....259
CHAPTER XXXIX.
OBSOLETE PARIS SHOPS.
The Old Wooden Stalls of Forty Years Ago--The “Lucky Fork”--The Cobbler’
Shops--The Old Cafés.....265
CHAPTER XL.
THE PARIS PRESS.
French Governments and the Press--The Press under Napoleon--Some Account
of the Leading Paris Papers--The _Figaro_.....268
CHAPTER XLI.
FROM THE QUAI VOLTAIRE TO THE PANTHÉON.
The Quai Voltaire--Its Changes of Name--Voltaire--His Life in Paris
and Elsewhere--His Remains laid in the
Panthéon--Mirabeau--Rousseau--Vincennes.....273
CHAPTER XLII.
THE PALAIS MAZARIN AND THE RUE MAZARINE.
The Institute or Palais Mazarin--The Rue Mazarine--L’Illustre
Théâtre--Molière--The Theatre Français--The Odéon--Heine--The Faubourg
Saint-Germain--Historical Associations.....288
CHAPTER XLIII.
THE PARIS RIVER AND PARIS COMMERCE.
The Society of the Water-Merchants of Paris--The Navigation of the
Seine--The Paris Slaughter-Houses--Records of Famine in France--The Lot
of the French Peasant in the Last Century--The Paris Food Supply.....307
CHAPTER XLIV.
THE BARRIERS--PARISIAN CRIME.
The Approaches to Paris--The French Railway System--The St. Germain
Railway--The Erection of the Barriers--Some of the most famous
Barriers--Parisian Crime--Its Special Characteristics.....317
CHAPTER XLV.
PARISIAN MENDICANCY--THE PARIS POOR.
Parisian Mendicancy in the Sixteenth Century--The General
Hospital--Louis XV. and the Beggars--The Revolution--Mendicancy as a
Regular Profession--The Organ-grinders and the Trade in Italian
Children--The French Treatment of the Poor--Asylums, Almshouses, and
Retreats--The _Droit des Pauvres_--The Cost of the Poor.....324
CHAPTER XLVI.
VERSAILLES.
Derivation of the Name--Saint-Simon’s Description--Louis XIV.--The Grand
Fête of July, 1668--Peter the Great and the Regent--Louis XV.--Marie
Antoinette and the “Affair of the Necklace”--The Events of October,
1789.....338
CHAPTER XLVII.
VERSAILLES AND THE SIEGE OF PARIS.
The Advance on Paris--Preparations for the Siege--General Trochu--The
Francs-Tireurs--The Siege.....348
CHAPTER XLVIII.
VERSAILLES AND THE COMMUNE.
The Communists or Communards--The “Internationale”--Bismarck and the
National Guard--The Municipal Elections--The Insurrection--Thiers--Paris
during the Commune--Concluding Remarks.....355
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
On the Champs Élysées _Frontispiece_
Outside a Railway Station in Paris 1
Waiting for a Fare 3
Omnibus Coachman 4
Private Coachman 4
Hackney Coachman 5
Hearse Coachman 5
An Invitation to a “Petit Verre” 6
Street Scene 8
In the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne at Night 9
In the Flower Market 13
After the Theatre 16
At the Salon 17
A Fair 21
A Café Chantant 24
Parisian Types--In the Barracks 25
Parisian Types--In Search of Cigar-ends 29
A Paris Omnibus 31
Street Scene 32
Eastern End of Île de la Cité _facing_ 33
Austerlitz Bridge 35
On the Saint-Martin Canal 36
The Solferino Bridge, from the Quai d’Orsay 37
The National Bridge 40
The Right Arm of the Seine from Boulevard
Henri IV 41
The College of France 44
The Lycée Voltaire 45
The Lycée Charlemagne 47
The Lycée Condorcet 48
The Court of the Sorbonne 49
Façade of the New Sorbonne 51
The Church of the Sorbonne 52
The Dome of the Panthéon, Spire of St. Étienne du
Mont, and Tour de Clovis 57
The Panthéon, from the Luxemburg Gardens 60
Place du Panthéon 61
Well in the Courtyard, Cluny Museum _facing_ 65
Interior of the Panthéon 65
Library of Sainte-Geneviève 68
St. Stephen-of-the-Mount 69
Interior of Church of St. Stephen-of-the-Mount 70
The Chapel of the Ancient College of the Lombards 72
Place Maubert, with the Statue of Étienne Dolet 73
Patrons of the Chateau Rouge 75
Rue de Bièvre 75
Ruins of the Palais des Thermes 76
Entrance to the Cluny Museum, Rue du Sammerard 77
Staircase, Cluny Museum 80
Dormer Windows at the Cluny Museum 81
Group of Shafted Weapons in the Artillery Museum 84
Decorated Spanish Cannon in the Artillery Museum 85
Decorated Muskets in the Artillery Museum 85
The Deaf and Dumb Institution 89
Elm Tree in the Court of Honour at the Deaf and
Dumb Institution 92
Statue of the Abbé de l’Épée at the Deaf and Dumb
Institution 93
The Val de Grâce from the Rue de la Santé 96
View from the Pont de la Concorde _facing_ 97
Entrance to the Observatory 100
The Gardens of the Observatory, Boulevard Arago 101
Place de l’Observatoire 104
School of Drawing, Rue l’École de Médecine 105
Statue of Marshal Ney 105
School of Medicine 107
New Wing of the School of Medicine 107
Hôtel du Cheval Blanc 108
Rue de l’Odéon 109
Rue de l’Ancienne Comédie 109
Odéon Theatre 111
The Luxemburg Palace: the Garden Façade 112
The Luxemburg Palace from the Terrace 112
The Senate Chamber 113
Entrance Court, Luxemburg Palace 115
Grand Avenue, Luxemburg Gardens 115
Sculpture Gallery, Luxemburg Palace 116
Salle des Fêtes, Luxemburg Palace 117
The Central Fountain, Luxemburg Gardens 119
Façade of the Ancient Chapel of the Daughters of
Calvary, Luxemburg 120
Listening to the Band in the Luxemburg Gardens 121
The Marie de Médicis Grotto and Fountain 124
Back of the Marie de Médicis Fountain 125
Fremiel-Carpeaux Fountain, Luxemburg Gardens 126
The Luxemburg Museum 128
The Hôtel de Sens _facing_ 129
The Mineralogical Museum 129
Prison of La Santé 132
Inside the Walls of La Santé 132
The Common Quarter, La Santé--“The Parlour” 133
Interior of La Santé 135
Gaolers’ Mess-room, La Santé 136
Entrance to La Grande Roquette 137
Warders’ Room and adjoining Courtyard, La
Grande Roquette 140
Chapel, La Grande Roquette 141
The Chapel-school, La Petite Roquette 143
The Political Quarter, Sainte-Pélagie 144
The Courtyard, Saint-Lazare 145
Buffon 148
The Carnivora Section, Jardin des Plantes 149
Entrance to Hothouses, Jardin des Plantes 149
Marabout Storks in the Jardin des Plantes 151
The Polar Bear in the Jardin des Plantes 151
The Bear-pit, Jardin des Plantes 152
Dromedary in the Jardin des Plantes 153
Llama in the Jardin des Plantes 155
Rue des Chantres, looking towards Notre-Dame 156
Site of the House of Abailard and Héloise, Rue des
Chantres 157
Rue des Chantres, looking towards the Quai 158
Portion of the Façade, Musée Carnavalet 159
The Opera House _facing_ 161
Entrance to the Mont-de-Piété, Chaussée d’Antin 161
The Jewellery Stores, Rue des Blancs Manteaux 163
In the Rue de Capron Branch of the Mont-de-Piété 164
The Sale-room of the Mont-de-Piété, Rue des Blancs
Manteaux 165
Rue de Tournon, with the Façade of the Senate
House 168
The Saint-Germain Market 169
The Tower of Saint-Germain-des-Prés 171
Saint-Germain-des-Prés 172
The Side Entrance to Saint-Germain-des-Prés 173
The Rue de l’Abbaye 174
Saint-Sulpice and Apsis of Saint-Sulpice 176
Fountain, Place Saint-Sulpice 177
The Garden, School of Fine Arts 180
The Arc de Gaillon, School of Fine Arts 181
Courtyard, School of Fine Arts 181
A Façade on the Quai Malaquais 182
Street Scene 184
Hôtel des Invalides 185
Dome of the Hôtel des Invalides 186
Dormer Window on the Façade, Hôtel des Invalides 187
The Court of Honour, Hôtel des Invalides 187
Invalides 188
Tomb of Napoleon 189
Entrance to the Tomb of Napoleon 191
Street Scene 192
Latude recognises D’Aligre _facing_ 193
The Laennec Hospital, Rue de Sèvres 193
The Children’s Hospital, Rue de Sèvres 195
The Blind School: in the Work-room 196
Attendants’ Room in a Paris Hospital 197
La Charité 198
Hospital on the Boulevard du Pont Royal 199
Entrance to the St. Louis Hospital 200
Courtyard of the St. Louis Hospital 200
A Ward in the St. Louis Hospital 201
The Repairing Room, St. Louis Hospital 201
The Tenon Hospital 203
Nurse Pupils at the Maternity Hospital 204
The Maternity Hospital 205
Font at the Maternity Hospital 205
Hôspital de la Pitié 206
Façade of the Main Buildings, Salpêtrière 208
The Mazarin Ward, Salpêtrière 209
Place de Conseil, Salpêtrière 212
The Park, Salpêtrière 213
The Village, Salpêtrière 216
The Lunatics’ Quarter, Salpêtrière 217
The Chapel, Salpêtrière 220
The Bicêtre, 1710 (_After Gueroult_) 221
Dinner-Time at Bicêtre 224
Entrance to Bicêtre 224
The Bièvre _facing_ 225
Avenue des Gobelins 226
The Bièvre in the Gardens of the Gobelins 227
The Old Buildings of the Gobelins 228
In the Gardens of the Gobelins 228
Interior of the Gobelins 229
A Street in the Neighbourhood of the Gobelins 230
Façade of the Chamber of Deputies on Place du
Palais Bourbon 232
Chamber of Deputies from the Quai d’Orsay 233
Ruins of the Palace of the Council of State, Quai
d’Orsay 237
Palace of the Legion of Honour 238
The Ministry of War 240
Fountain in the Rue de Grenelle 241
Grimm and Diderot 244
Statue of Diderot, Boulevard St.-Germain, facing
the Rue St.-Benoit 245
Entrance to the Courtyard of the Dragon 248
Courtyard of the Dragon 249
The Montparnasse Station 253
Second-hand Bookstalls 256
The Bureau de Bienfaisance Asylum at Vincennes:
(1) The Façade. (2) The Bowling Green _facing_ 257
Old-Clothes Dealer 260
Le Débarcadère des Bateaux-Omnibus: Vendors of
Refreshments 261
Snow Scene 267
Bookstalls on the Quai Voltaire 268
Édmond About 272
The late Albert Wolff, of the _Figaro_ 273
Statue of Voltaire, 277
The Pont du Carrousel and the Louvre, from the
Quai Malaquais 280
The Seine, between the City and the Quai des
Augustines 281
Jean Jacques Rousseau 284
Madame D’Épinay 285
A Night Refuge in the Vaugirard Quarter _facing_ 289
Cardinal Mazarin 289
Entrance to the Hôtel de Chateaubriand, in the
Faubourg St. Germain 293
The Bridge, Place, and Boulevard St. Michel 296
The St. Michel Fountain 297
The Castle of Chambord 301
Porte aux Pommes: Fruit-boats on the Seine 304
Porte aux Pommes 305
The Villette _Abbatoirs_ 309
A Seine Steamboat 312
The Seine at Grenelle 313
The Chapelle Saint Denis Barrier 317
The _Octroi_ Barriers of Petit-Château and Grand-Bercy 320
Versailles: the Façade and the Great Fountain _facing_ 321
Tram at the Barrier 321
Street Scene 324
Asylum for Women, Rue Fessart: The Refectory 329
A “Bureau de Bienfaisance” 332
A Night Refuge 333
Pensioners of “L’Assistance Publique” 335, 336
Versailles (_from an old print_) 341
The Colonnade of Versailles 344
The Gallery of Battles, Versailles 345
General Trochu 349
Map of the Fortifications at the Siege of Paris 352
The Prussians Entering Paris _facing_ 353
Prince Bismarck 355
M. Thiers 357
Marshal MacMahon 360
[Illustration: OUTSIDE A RAILWAY STATION IN PARIS.]
PARIS, OLD AND NEW.
CHAPTER I.
STREET CHARACTERS.
The Cocher--The Bus-driver--The Private Coachman--The Hackney
Coachman--The Public Writer--The Flower-girl--The Oyster-woman.
A Parisian who is not rich enough to keep a distinguished chef of his
own will occasionally order a dainty dinner to be forwarded to him from
some hotel or restaurant; and in these cases the repast, as soon as it
is ready, is sometimes put into a hackney cab and driven to the house of
the consignee by the cocher, who is not unaccustomed to find this “fare”
more remunerative than the fare he habitually conveys.
A glance at the cocher, as another of the Parisian types of character,
may here be not inopportune. As a matter of fact, however, the cocher is
not one type but several. The name applies to the driver of the omnibus,
of the fiacre, and of the private carriage. As to the omnibus driver, he
is more amiable, more easy-going, less sarcastic than his counterpart in
London. Nobody would ever hear an omnibus driver in Paris say, as one
has been heard to say in London, when a lady passenger requested to be
put down at 339½ ---- Street, “Certainly, madam, and would you like me
to drive upstairs?” Nor is the Paris cabman so extortionate as his
London brother; for the fare-regulations, by which there is one fixed
charge for the conveyance of a passenger any distance within a certain
radius, precludes the inevitable dispute which awaits the lady or
gentleman who in our metropolis dares to take a four-wheeler or a
hansom.
Already in the sixteenth century hackney carriages were driven in the
streets of Paris; and any differences arising between the cocher and his
passenger were at this period referred to the lieutenant of the police.
The private coachmen, attached to the service of the nobility, found
their position a somewhat perilous one in an age when quarrels were so
frequent on the question of social precedence. If two aristocratic
carriages met in some narrow street, barring each other’s way, the
footmen would get down and fight for a passage. Serious wounds were
sometimes inflicted, and even the master would now and then step out of
his vehicle and, with drawn sword, join in the affray. The coachman,
meanwhile, prouder in livery than his master in braided coat, remained
motionless on his box in spite of the blows which were being dealt
around. It is related that when on one occasion a party of highwaymen
attacked the carriage of Benserade, poet, wit, and dramatic author, his
coachman sat calmly at his post, and amused himself with whistling
whilst his master was being stripped of everything. From time to time he
turned towards the robbers and said, “Gentlemen, shall you soon have
finished, and can I continue my journey?”
The private coachman varied in those days, as he has always done,
according to the position of the master or mistress whom he served; and
Mercier, writing at a later period, indicates a sufficient variety of
cochers of this class. “You can clearly distinguish the coachman of a
courtesan,” he says, “from that of a president; the coachman of a duke
from that of a financier; but, at the exit from the theatre, would you
like to know where such and such a vehicle is going? Listen to the order
which the master gives to the lackey, or rather which the latter
transmits to the coachman. In the Marais they say ‘Au logis’; in the
Isle of St Louis ‘À la maison’; in the Faubourg Saint-Germain ‘À
l’hôtel’; and in the Faubourg Saint-Honoré ‘Allez!’ With the grandeur of
this last word no one can fail to be impressed. At the theatre door
stands a thundering personage with a voice like Stentor, who cries: ‘The
carriage of Monsieur le Marquis!’ ‘The carriage of Madame la Comtesse!’
‘The carriage of M. le Président!’ His terrible voice resounds to the
very interior of the taverns where the lackeys are drinking, and of the
billiard rooms where the coachmen are quarrelling and disputing. This
voice quite drowns the confused sounds of men and horses. Lackeys and
coachmen at this re-echoing signal abandon their pint-pots and their
cues, and rush out to resume the reins and open the doors.”
The profession of the hackney coachman has always been and still is
subjected to a special legislation. In Paris anyone exercising it must
be at least eighteen years of age; carry upon him the official documents
in virtue of which he wields his whip; present to his fare the card
which indicates the number and tariff of the vehicle, and which the
passenger must retain in view of possible disputes; show politeness to
the public; receive his fare in advance when he is driving to theatres,
halls, or fêtes where there is likely to be a crush of vehicles; never
carry more than his legal number of passengers, and not smoke on duty.
When travelling he must take the right side of the road, avoid
intercepting funeral processions and bodies of troops, go at walking
pace through the markets and in certain other specified places; and,
from nightfall, light up his vehicle with a couple of lamps. The lamps
used for the cabs of the Imperial Company are blue, yellow, red, or
green. These different colours are intended to induce passengers leaving
the theatre at night to take, by preference, those vehicles which belong
to the quarter in which they live; blue indicating the regions of
Popincourt and Belleville; yellow those of Poissonière-Montmartre; red
those of the Champs Élysées, Passy, and Batignolles; and green those of
the Invalides and the Observatory. Besides the penalties pronounced by
the penal code for causing death or personal injury through careless
driving, minor infractions of the regulations are punished, by the
prefect of police, with suspension of licence or, in certain cases,
final withdrawal. The proprietors and masters are responsible for any
offences committed by the coachmen, and for any loss or injury to
luggage or other goods confided to their vehicles for transport.
The law which prescribes to Paris cabmen one uniform fare for journeys
of no matter what length within a certain radius would at first appear
to be very much to the advantage of the public, who are thus protected
from extortion. It has a great drawback, all the same. In London a
cabman is always delighted to see a gentleman step into his vehicle,
even though the welcome he evinces be rather that of the spider to the
fly. He unhesitatingly drives him to his destination, and the gentleman,
even though he is fleeced at the end of the journey, at least gets where
he wished to go. But the Paris cabman is fastidious. If the destination
mentioned by the intending passenger does not exactly suit him, he is
prone to shake his head, ply his whip, and drive away with an empty
vehicle.
The alacrity and enthusiasm of the London cabman are due to the fact
that when he has his passenger safely inside the hansom or “growler” his
soul is animated by the hope of obtaining a fare indefinitely in excess
of the legal tariff. The uniformity of fares in Paris deprives the
cabman of any enthusiastic interest in his work, as it likewise strips
him of some of the curious and amusing characteristics which he might
otherwise exhibit.
In our own metropolis a famous millionaire, having ridden one day in a
cab for the distance of a mile and a half, tendered the driver a
shilling in payment of his fare. The driver stared at the coin in the
palm of his hand and then proceeded to remonstrate. “Both your sons,
sir,” he said, “whenever they ride in my hansom, pay me at least
half-a-crown.” “I dare say they do,” replied the millionaire, “for they
have an old fool of a father to back them up.” In Paris, where this
millionaire had a brother as rich as himself, such an incident would
have been impossible.
[Illustration: WAITING FOR A FARE.]
* * * * *
Another figure of the Paris streets is, or rather until some twenty-five
years ago was, the Public Writer; not the contributor to an important
daily paper, but an unhappy scribe whose task it was to put into
epistolary form such matter as was entrusted to him for the purpose by
illiterate cabmen, workmen, and servant girls. The little booths with
desks in front where he exercised his strange profession have
disappeared as Paris has been demolished and rebuilt. The spread of
education among the lower classes was really his death-blow.
The public writer was usually an old man, sometimes one of erudition,
who had been reduced by severe reverses or persistent misery to a very
low position. He wrote a beautiful hand, and could on occasion compose a
poem. He could execute a piece of penmanship in so many different
handwritings (seventeen or eighteen), and his flourishes and
ornamentations were so magnificent, that he would never have prostituted
his pen to the service of shopgirls and domestics had not starvation
stared him in the face. Moreover, the cultivation of an acquaintanceship
with the Muses solaced him, and caused him to forget the day of his
greatness when, holding the diploma of a “master-writer,” he inscribed
the Ten Commandments or executed a dedication to the king on a bit of
vellum smaller than a crown piece. He could dash off verses at a
moment’s notice, and had always in reserve a varied assortment of
festive songs, wedding-lines, epitaphs, and simple and double acrostics,
to serve whatever occasion might arise.
[Illustration: OMNIBUS COACHMAN.]
Above the Public Writer’s door, which he threw open every morning to his
clients, this legend was inscribed:--“The Tomb of Secrets.” The
passer-by thus learned that there--in the words of a French
chronicler--“behind those four coarsely-whitened windows of the entrance
door, was an ear and a hand which held the key of human infirmities;
that there, smiling and serviceable, Discretion resided in flesh and
blood. Curious to see everything, you approached; a few specimens of
petitions to the Chief of the State, drawn up on official paper and
sealed with wafers, gave you a foretaste of the master’s dexterity.
Moreover you could read, in a position well exposed to view, some piece
of poetic inscription, deficient in neither rhyme nor even reason, and
cleverly calculated to allure you forthwith. The running hand, the round
hand, the English hand, and the Gothic hand alternated freely in the
ingenious composition, not to mention the flourishings with which the
lines ended, the page encased in ornamented spirals, the capitals
complicated with arabesques, and so forth. One day we read one of the
writings peculiar to this profession, and copied it with a haste which
we do not regret to-day when the booth where we saw it has been removed.
This booth, a mere plank box, three feet square, whence issued during
forty years an incalculable number of letters, petitions, and other
documents, was situated in the quarter of Saint-Victor, at the foot of
the Rue des Fossés, Saint-Bernard. Its occupant was a man named Étienne
Larroque, an old bailiff whom misfortune had reduced to this poor trade.
Nearly eighty years of age, this Nestor of public writers was known to
everybody.”
[Illustration: PRIVATE COACHMAN.]
To the pedestrian his signboard proclaimed the particulars of his
profession in a piece of poetry which might at all events have been
much worse, and of which the metre was marred only by one fault--a
certain line with a foot too much. Dressed in a frock coat maltreated by
years, the writer, continues the before-mentioned chronicler, sat in his
office, with his spectacles on his nose, and all his pens cut before
him. He placed himself eagerly at the service of anyone who crossed the
threshold. Sometimes the strangest revelations were confided to him.
Installed in his cane arm-chair, furnished with a cushion which he had
sat upon till it was crushed to a pancake, he lent a grave ear to the
pretty little rosy mouths that came to tell him everything, as though he
were a confessor or a physician, and took up his pen to write for them
their letters of love or complaint. More than one unhappy girl came to
him to sigh and weep and to accuse the monster who had sworn to wed her;
more than one fireman came to confess to him the flame which was burning
in his breast; more than one soldier to request him to pen a challenge.
[Illustration: HACKNEY COACHMAN.]
As the depository of secrets innumerable, the Public Writer was a most
important personage; or would have been had he been able to take full
literary advantage of the confidences entrusted to him. Richardson’s
knowledge of the female heart is said to have been due to the good faith
with which he inspired a number of young ladies, who thereupon gave him,
unconsciously, material for such characters as Pamela and Clarissa
Harlowe. They consulted him now and then about their love letters. But
the Public Writer had love letters, letters of reproach, letters of
explanation, letters of farewell, to write every day, and by the dozen.
It is not recorded, however, that any Public Writer was sufficiently
inspired, or sufficiently interested in his habitual work to turn the
dramatic materials which must often have come beneath him into novels or
plays.
[Illustration: HEARSE COACHMAN.]
[Illustration: AN INVITATION TO A “PETIT VERRE.”]
The personage known as the Public Writer was at least a more useful
institution than the book entitled “The Complete Letter-Writer,” the
function of which is to supply correspondence in regard to every
possible incident in life. The Public Writer was, if up to his work,
capable of suiting his language to peculiar cases, whereas the Complete
Letter-Writer was an oracle whose utterances came forth hard and fast,
in such a way that the ignorant devotees could not change them. Thus
the illiterate persons who could not read at all had a clear advantage
over those whose education enabled them to read the Complete
Letter-Writer, but not to apply it. In an excellent farce by M. Varin,
one of the best comic dramatists of the French stage, an amusing
_equivoque_--or _quiproquo_ as the French say--is caused by an ignorant
young man in some house of business addressing a love letter to the
dark-haired daughter of his employer, which expresses admiration for
locks of gold such as belong in profusion, not to the girl, but to her
buxom mother. When the husband’s jealousy is excited and a variety of
comic incidents have resulted therefrom, it appears that the unlettered
and moreover foolish young clerk has copied his epistle out of a
letter-book, and, thinking apparently that one love letter would do as
well as another, has addressed to a girl with dark hair a declaration
intended by the author of the Complete Letter-Writer for a woman who is
beautifully blonde. No such mistake as this could have occurred had the
amorous young clerk told his case to a Public Writer, and ordered an
appropriate letter for the occasion.
Another interesting type of street character in Paris is the
_bouquetière_ or flower-girl. She is more enterprising and engaging than
her counterpart in London. She will approach a gentleman who happens to
be walking past and stick a flower in his button-hole, leaving it to his
own sense of chivalry whether he pays her anything or not. Nor does the
device infrequently produce a piece of silver. There is generally one
flower-girl in Paris who poses as a celebrity--either on account of her
beauty or of other qualities of a more indefinable character.
Fashionable Parisians resort to her stall and pay fantastic prices for
whatever bloom she pins to their breast. The flower-girl of the Jockey
Club, who used to attend the races and ply her trade in the enclosure of
the grand stand, expected a louis as her ordinary fee.
The oyster-woman, too, is a highly important personage. Paris consumes
three hundred million oysters a year, and the dispensing of these
bivalves keeps the lady in question sufficiently active whilst the
season lasts. At breakfast-time or dinner-time, with a white napkin
thrust in her girdle, a knife in her hand, and a smile on her lips, she
is to be seen stationed at the entrance to restaurants in anticipation
of the waiter rushing out and shouting: “One dozen,” “Two dozen,” or
“Ten dozen--open!” A police ordinance of September 25th, 1771, forbade
oyster-women to exercise their trade between the last day of April and
the 10th of September, under penalty of a fine of 200 francs and the
confiscation of their stock. This ordinance was destined to fall into
disuse; but inasmuch as the prohibited months are those in which oysters
are at their worst, the _écaillères_ of Paris do in fact to-day suspend
their trade during May, June, July, and August--months which they devote
to the sale of sugared barley-water and other cooling beverages.
In Paris a sempstress is supposed to be “_gentille_,” a _lingère_, or
getter-up of linen, “_aimable_,” a flower-girl “pretty.” The
oyster-woman, although not characterised by any one particular quality,
is credited with a combination of qualities in a more or less modified
degree. Without being in her first youth, she is young; without being in
the bloom of beauty, she does not lack personal charm; and frequently
she invests even the opening of oysters with a grace which may well
excite admiration. _La belle écaillère_ is indeed the name traditionally
applied to her. With the origin of this name a tragic story is
associated.
There was once a charmingly pretty oyster-girl named Louise Leroux,
known as _La belle écaillère_. She had a lover named Montreuil, a
fireman, who, in a moment of frantic jealousy, plunged his sword into
her breast. This horrible crime at once rendered “the beautiful
oyster-girl” famous, not only in Paris, but throughout Europe; and in
due time the legend of her life and love took dramatic form, and found
its way to the stage. The interest excited in her unhappy end was all
the greater inasmuch as her murderer had eluded justice by flying to
England, where, in London, he set up as a fencing master. The Gaieté
Theatre achieved, in 1837, one of its greatest successes by putting on
the boards, under the title of _La Belle Écaillère_, the tragic history
of Louise Leroux.
Since then the name has been familiarly applied without discrimination
to the female oyster-sellers of Paris, many of whom have well deserved
it. But while bearing the name, they have abandoned the traditional
fireman, as rather too dangerous a commodity. In lieu of firemen they
have captivated notaries, financiers, and others in superior stations of
life; whilst one is known to have turned the head of a state minister,
who, even if he did not marry her, confessed the passion with which she
inspired him by devouring thirty-two dozen of her oysters every morning
before breakfast. The flame within him had first been excited by the
siren’s ready wit. As he was entering a restaurant one day, a friend who
accompanied him remarked: “To-day, my dear sir, more than ever, France
dances on a volcano.” “What nonsense!” cried the _écaillère_; “she
dances on a heap of oysters!” Next day the exclamation was reported in a
Paris journal, which easily turned it to political account.
There was another oyster-girl who solved a question of lexicographic
definition which had hopelessly baffled the Academicians. A new edition
of the _Dictionnaire de l’Académie_ was being prepared, and it became
necessary to establish the distinction of meaning between the two
expressions _de suite_ and _tout de suite_. The forty Academicians were
all at variance about it, and were about to tear their hair, when one of
them, Népomucène Lemercier, exclaimed: “Let us go and dine at
Ramponneau’s. That’s better than disputing. We can discuss the matter
during dessert.” “Agreed,” replied another member--Nodier. The
Academicians forthwith set out, and when they had arrived at their
destination one of them, Parseval-Grandmaison, who ordered the dinner,
said to the _écaillère_: “Open forty dozen oysters for us _de suite_,
and serve them _tout de suite_.” “But, sir,” replied the oyster-woman,
“if I open them _de suite_, I cannot serve them _tout de suite_.” The
Academicians looked at each other in astonishment. The problem had been
solved. They had now discovered that of the two expressions _tout de
suite_ indicated the greater celerity.
[Illustration: Street Scene]
[Illustration: IN THE AVENUE DU BOIS DE BOULOGNE, AT NIGHT.]