Different routes from London to Paris.--Aspect of the city as first
presented to the English traveller, according to the road by which
he may enter.--Its extent, population, etc.
The first measure to be adopted after any one has decided upon visiting
Paris, is to provide himself with a passport, which he will procure at
the French Ambassador's office in Poland street, for which there is no
charge, but it is requisite to state by which port you mean to proceed;
but in order to leave some latitude for caprice, you may mention two
places, as Calais or Boulogne, or Dieppe or Havre, etc. There are now
many different means of travelling to Paris; that which was once the
most frequently adopted was by coach to Dover, then embarking for
Calais, as those are the two ports which present the shortest distance
between the two countries, being only about twenty-one miles apart; many
however prefer embarking at Dover at once for Boulogne, thus avoiding
about twenty-five miles by land from Calais to Boulogne, which certainly
does not afford a single object of interest, and the distance by sea is
only increased eight miles. Another route is by railway to Brighton,
then crossing to Dieppe, and which is certainly the straightest line of
any of the routes from London to Paris; but on account of there being
more sea, the distance is not generally performed in so short a period
as the other routes, from the uncertainty of the Ocean. It is not
therefore so much frequented by travellers as those on which they can
reckon with more accuracy; the same may be said of the route by
Southampton, which is performed by railway to that town, and afterwards
by steam-packet to Havre, which includes above a hundred miles by sea,
consequently but little resorted to as compared with the former routes.
There was another means of reaching Paris, and that was from London to
St. Vallery by sea; which being near Abbeville and only 33 leagues from
Paris, there was the least of land travelling, consequently it was the
cheapest if all went smoothly, and this line was often adopted by strict
economists, who however have frequently found themselves much
disappointed, as sometimes it happened they could not make the port, and
have either been obliged to put back and lie off Ramsgate, or lay to,
for some hours, and perhaps after having landed, have been detained at
St. Vallery, from not having been able to find places in the diligences
for Paris. This means, however, of proceeding to Paris no longer exists,
as the steamers have been sold, but it is thought that they will be
replaced by others. The route which is by far the most frequented is
that of embarking from London direct for Boulogne, and is on the long
run the most economical, and maybe comfortably performed, living
included, for three pounds, at the present prices, which are 1_l._ in
the best Cabin from London to Boulogne, then about 1_l._ 4_s._, in the
inside from Boulogne to Paris; and the other expenses will amount to
about fifteen or sixteen shillings; with respect to the charges on the
other routes, they are so often varying that it might only deceive the
reader by stating them as they at present exist, when in a few weeks
they may be higher or lower as circumstances may arise. Some persons
choose, the route by Southampton and Havre as being the most
picturesque, as from the latter town to Rouen such exquisite scenery is
presented by the banks of the Seine, as you pass in the steamer between
them, that the passenger is at a loss on which side to bestow his
attention, whilst rapidly hurried through so delightful and fertile a
country; in fact, he is tempted for once to regret the velocity of steam
conveyance, in not permitting him to tarry awhile to contemplate the
beautiful scenes by which he is environed. Rouen, where the traveller
should at least remain some days, is an object of great attraction. As
my work is especially devoted to Paris, I cannot afford much space to
the description of towns on the road; but as the city of Rouen is the
largest, the most interesting, and the most connected with history and
English associations of any upon the routes to Paris, I cannot pass it
over without some comment. Its boulevards first strike the English, as
being not only most picturesque and beautiful, but as presenting a scene
to them wholly novel, the noble vistas formed by towering trees,
mingling their branches, shading beneath their foliage many a cheerful
group, the merchant's stone villas, seen amongst their bowers, the high
shelving grassy banks, and the lively bustle that is ever going forward,
has so animated an effect that the beholder cannot but catch the
infection and feel his spirits elevated by the enlivening spectacle. But
what a contrast on entering the city; the streets narrow, dark, and with
no foot pavement, have a mean and gloomy appearance, but many of them
being built mostly of wood, carved into fantastic forms, offer a rich
harvest to the artist, and those of our own country have amply profited
by the innumerable picturesque objects which Rouen presents. The
cathedral, built by William the Conqueror, is one of the most
interesting monuments of France; the Church of St.-Ouen is at least as
beautiful, and there are several others which well repay the visiter for
the time he may expend in visiting them. The statue of the Maid of
Orleans stands in the _Marché aux Veaux_, on the spot where she was
burnt as a sorceress under the sanction of the Duke of Bedford in 1431.
Above all, the traveller must not fail to visit Mount Catherine, which
rises just above the city, and commands a view equally beautiful and
extensive. The delightful environs of Rouen are displayed before him,
comprising almost every scenic beauty that a country can afford; even
the factories, which in most places rather deform the view than
otherwise, are here so constructed as to contribute to its ornament,
more resembling villas than buildings solely for utility. Hills, wood,
water, bridges, chateaux, cottages, corn fields and meadows are so
picturesquely intermingled, that every object which can give charm to a
landscape is here united. There are several hills round Rouen which
present prospects nearly equal to that which is witnessed from Mount
Catherine, and in fact it is difficult to imagine any situation which
affords so many pleasant walks and such enchanting scenery. Indeed, all
the way to Paris by this route (that is by what is called the lower
road) which for a considerable distance runs within sight of the Seine,
the country is most highly interesting, passing through Louvier,
Gaillon, Vernon, Mantes and St. Germains.
Calais, as being the nearest point to the English coast, and at which we
so often obtain our first peep at France, merits some notice, and
although it offers but few attractions, and is surrounded by a flat
cheerless country, yet there are connected with it some associations
which are replete with interest; as who that has ever read Sterne's
Sentimental Journey can forget the simple but impressive description he
gives of the poor friar and other objects which he there met, and which
he has engraven on the minds of his readers, in his own peculiar style,
in characters never to be erased; for my part, as I first approached
Calais I thought but of Sterne and his plain, unvarnished tale, of the
trifles he encountered, around which he contrived to weave an interest
which is felt even by the inhabitants of Calais to this day; although
they knew his works but through the spoiling medium of translation,
still they never fail to exhibit to the Englishman the alcove in which
he is said to have written his adventures in Calais. As I entered the
town, instantly the works of Hogarth appeared before me, for who is
there that does not remember his excellent representation of the Gates
of Calais, with the meagre sentinel and still more skinny cook bending
under the weight of a dish crowned with an enormous sirloin of beef, no
doubt intended to regale some newly-arrived John Bull, whilst a fat monk
scans it with a longing eye. Next the bust of Eustache de St. Pierre
awakes the attention, and the surrender of Calais and his devoted
patriotism rises in one's memory. Another souvenir also must not be
forgotten, namely, the print of the foot of Louis the Eighteenth, which
is cut in the stone, and a piece of brass let in where he first stepped
on shore, and undoubtedly represents a very pretty little foot; but when
a Frenchman who was no amateur of the Bourbon dynasty was asked to
admire its symmetry, he observed it was very well, but that it would
look much better if it was turned t'other way, that is to say, going out
of the kingdom instead of coming into it. If the traveller have time, it
is worth while to mount a tower, at the top of which is a sort of
lantern capable of containing about a dozen persons, and commanding a
most extensive view over the sea, and on the opposite side the country
is visible for a considerable distance, bearing a most uninviting
appearance. There are a great number of hôtels at Calais, and I have
been at many of them, but have found that kept by M. Derhorter, called
the Hôtel Bourbon, the most comfortable and economical, and the civility
of the master cannot anywhere be surpassed. Dessin's, for the nobility
and those who have equipages, is still the favourite and has been for
time immemorial.
Nothing worthy of note presents itself between Calais and Boulogne,
except the little village of Wimille, which made some impression upon my
mind, as being so much prettier and so much more village-like than any
other through which we had passed, and near here perished the
unfortunate æronauts Pilatre and Romain, falling from their balloon when
at a prodigious height from the ground and in sight of many spectators.
They were buried in the churchyard, in which a monument has been erected
commemorative of the event. About two miles from this hamlet Boulogne
appears in sight, cheering the spectator by its gay and animated aspect,
the numerous groups of genteel-looking persons constantly promenading
the streets, pier and port, give it a most lively appearance, which is
enhanced by the extreme cleanliness which is observed in all the
principal streets, and the cheerful air afforded by the white stone
houses with their green balconies and shutters. But the numerously
well-dressed portion of the population, which so greatly contribute
towards enlivening the scene, consists almost wholly of English, as the
few French families which still reside in Boulogne, above the rank of
the tradespeople, keep themselves very close and retired as in all other
provincial towns in France; and in Boulogne they are very suspicious of
the English, having had such numbers of bad characters who at first
preserved a very respectable appearance but ultimately proved to be
swindlers. The higher French families, therefore, decline any
association with the English, unless with persons who have come
highly-recommended, or have resided many years in the town with an
unimpeachable character. It so happened that circumstances brought me in
contact with two or three of these exclusive personages, and their
remarks about the English afforded me much amusement, and may be taken
as types of the general observations of the provincial French upon our
country-people.
The worthy matrons of families have often said to me, "How is it, Sir,
that the wives and mothers of your country can manage their domestic
concerns, when they are seen almost continually walking about the
streets at hours when we find it indispensable to attend to our
household affairs."
I replied, that after having given their orders they relied in a great
degree upon their servants executing them with punctuality.
"Indeed!" was the exclamation; "how fortunate they must be to have such
immaculate servants that they can so entirely depend upon them: we
should be very happy if we could have such as did not require looking
after, but unfortunately French servants partake too much of human
nature for mistresses to be able to leave them wholly to themselves."
I observed that perhaps English servants generally being more humble,
obedient, and subservient to their superiors, greater reliance might be
placed upon them, and undoubtedly more certainty as to their obeying the
instructions they received.
"Then it is surprising," said the ladies, "that your country people do
not always bring servants with them, and very unlucky that in so many
instances when they have done so, that their domestics should so often
be brought before the Tribunals of Correction for different
irregularities."
I replied, that many good and regular servants did not like to quit
their native land, and of those who were brought over, certainly in many
instances their employers had been disappointed; that in a foreign
country all was new to them, and they forgot their former regular
habits, and certainly in too many instances had misbehaved themselves.
"Consequently," returned my interlocutors, "requiring a more vigilant
eye to superintend them. But there is another subject which affords us
much surprise, and that is the manner in which English parents permit
their daughters to go alone about the streets, or to walk with a
gentleman who is neither their father nor brother."
I assigned as a reason for our allowing them so much liberty, that we
had such perfect confidence in them that we felt assured we could trust
to their own firmness and discretion to prevent any improper
consequences arising from the freedom they were permitted to enjoy.
"Unfortunately, that confidence is but too frequently abused," rejoined
one of the ladies, "if we are to judge from several lamentable
occurrences which have latterly taken place in this town amongst the
English young ladies."
I felt the rebuke, as I knew to what circumstances they alluded, and
observed that the English society inhabiting Boulogne were by no means
what could, be termed the _élite_ of the nation, although there were
many families of the highest respectability.
The ladies, perceiving by my manner that I was somewhat nettled,
endeavoured to soften what they had said, by observing that certainly it
would not be just to estimate the English people by the samples which
came to reside at Boulogne, as they had generally understood that they
were persons of indifferent reputation, who fled from their own country
because they could no longer live there in credit, but that amongst the
number there undoubtedly were some very quiet people.
A stranger would not appreciate the degree of praise which is contained
in the word quiet when used by the French, who appear to consider it as
comprising all the cardinal virtues; when seeking a house or apartments,
if you say any thing favourable or unfavourable of them, they never fail
to remind you that they are so quiet. The same eulogy they will
pronounce on their daughters with peculiar pride and energy, when they
wish to extol them to the skies, and in good truth their _demoiselles_
are quiet enough in all conscience, for it requires often a
considerable degree of ingenuity to extract from them more than
monosyllables. We have been accustomed to consider the French as a
restless, capricious, volatile people, and so I suppose they might have
been formerly, but now they are undoubtedly the reverse, being a quiet
routine plodding sort of people, particularly as regards the
provincials; and even amongst the Parisians there are thousands that
reside in one quarter of the city, which they seldom quit, never
approaching what they consider the gay portion of Paris, but live
amongst each other, visiting only within their own circle, consisting
almost entirely of their relations and family connexions. This feeling
is certainly exemplified still farther at Boulogne, as I knew an old
couple who lived in the upper town, which joins the lower town except by
the separation of the wall of the fortifications, and had not been in
the latter for five years, because they considered it was too bustling
and too much a place of pleasure for such quiet, homely, and orderly
folk as they professed to be and certainly were, in every sense of the
word. At Bordeaux I knew three old ladies who were born in that city,
and never had been in any other town during their whole lives, nor ever
desired to pass the walls of their native place. Many persons who have
been accustomed to spend their days in the provinces have a sort of
horror of Paris; I remember an old gentleman at Rouen, who with his
antiquated spouse lived a sort of Darby and Joan kind of life, their
only daughter being married and living elsewhere; and on my once asking
him if he had ever been to Paris, he replied that he was once so
situated as to be compelled to go upon urgent business that rendered his
presence indispensable, but that he saw very little of the place,
because he had always heard that it was a city replete with vice and
dissipation, and that during the few days his affairs compelled him to
stay he kept close to his apartment, only quitting it to proceed to the
house wherein he had to transact business, and then he went in a
_fiacre_, as, if he had walked perhaps he might have been jostled, run
over, robbed, or something unpleasant might have occurred. "Ah! that's
very true, you did quite right, and acted very prudently, my dear,"
observed his wife, "and nobody knows the anxiety I felt till you came
back again." Although the rising generation of the French is not quite
so dormant in their ideas as that which is passing, yet there is not
even with them the same spirit of travel and enterprise which exist in
the English. That France has had, a reputation for restlessness, love of
change, and tumult, can only be explained by stating that until the
present time for the last two centuries, with the exception of Louis the
Eighteenth, she has been most unfortunate in her rulers, who have been
supporting a state of extravagant splendour which could alone be
sustained by being wrung from the middle and the lower classes; hence
the revolution in 1789, which might be considered as the ripened fruit
which the preceding reigns had been nurturing. Of the affair of the
three days in 1830, few I believe will deny the intensity of the
provocation, but then it will be said how do you account for their
having been so turbulent and discontented during the present reign? To
which I should answer in the same manner as an officer, who, defending
the character of his regiment, observed that it was composed of a
thousand men, of which nine hundred and fifty were peaceable and quiet
subjects, but the other fifty being very noisy they were constantly
heard of, and his corps had obtained the appellation of the noisy
regiment, as no one bestowed a thought upon the 'nine hundred and fifty
men who were orderly' because no one ever heard of them: thus it may be
said of France, the population may be estimated at about thirty-five
millions, of which perhaps one million may be discontented, and amongst
them are many persons connected with the press, who not only contrive by
that means to extend their war-whoop to every corner of France, but as
newspapers are conveyed to all the civilised parts of the world, and the
only medium by which a country is judged by those who have not an
opportunity of visiting it and making their own observations by a
residence amongst the people, it naturally is inferred in England and in
other nations that the French are a most dissatisfied and refractory
people. But a case in point may be cited, which proves that the
dissatisfaction is not general, nor has ever been during the present
reign. From the time that Louis-Philippe accepted the throne in 1830,
until June the 6th, 1832, a number of young men in the different
colleges at Paris occupied themselves constantly with the affairs of the
state, each forming a sort of political utopia, and however different
were their various theories, they all united in one object, and that was
to overthrow the existing government, and secretly took measures for
arming themselves, and mustering what strength they could collect in
point of numbers, which was but very insignificant compared to the
importance of the blow they intended to strike; but they counted on the
rising of the people, and the event proved they counted without their
host. June the 6th, 1832, being the day appointed for the funeral of
General Lamarque, they chose it for the development of their project,
and although the misguided youths fought with skill, constancy and
courage, even with a fanatic devotion to their cause, yet the populace
took no part with them, and the National Guard were the first to fire
upon them; and after two days hard fighting in the barricades they had
raised, scarcely any remained who were not either killed or wounded.
Since that, no attempt of the slightest importance has been made to
overthrow the government, and in fact I have ever found that ninety-nine
Parisians out of a hundred exclaim "_Tranquillité à tout prix_," that is
quiet at all prices, and all classes are interested in cherishing this
wish, the nobles and gentry that they may tranquilly enjoy what they
possess, the tradesman that he may obtain a sale for his goods, and the
workman that he may procure work. It is only a set of political
enthusiasts, to be found amongst the students, whose wild republican
schemes have dazzled others and induced the different outbreaks which
have occurred since the event of the three days, and having been treated
with lenity in the first instance, unprecedented in the annals of every
other government, they were emboldened to repeat their daring attempts.
But let any one traverse the provinces of France, get acquainted with
the people, make inquiries around him and penetrate into their habits
and customs, and he will find that the predominant feeling is love of
the spot on which they are born; the farmer will keep on the farm his
ancestors tilled before him for ages, and if offered a better farm, if
it be far removed from his home and that of his fathers he will reject
it; with the same tenacity the labourer clings to his cottage and the
little bit of land he has always delved. But it is with the landed
proprietor that one finds the most powerful example of the durability of
their adhesion to the cradle of their birth. There are many persons
possessed of estates of no great extent, from eight to fifteen hundred a
year, which have regularly descended to them from their ancestors, to
whom they have been granted, at as remote a period as the time of
Charlemagne, and have descended to the present possessors from
generation to generation, whilst there does not appear to have been in
all that period any great elevation or depression in their
circumstances. The habit of living up to their incomes as in England is
very rare in France; if they have daughters, from the day they are born
the parents begin to save for their dowry; even the peasant will follow
that practice if he can only put by a sou a day. I have known many
landed proprietors of from fifteen hundred to two thousand a year that
did not support any thing like the style that a person with a similar
fortune would in England; if a Frenchman has more than two or three
children, he seldom spends half his income if it be possible to live
upon a quarter, his object is that he may leave all his children in an
equal pecuniary position without dividing his land; as although the law
of primogeniture does not exist, yet parents like that one son should
keep up the estate intact, and the one fixed upon for that purpose is
generally the eldest, the others receive their portions in money from
the father's savings, and are usually brought up to one of the liberal
professions, and in many instances are sufficiently fortunate as to
realize by promotion or their talents, emoluments equal with what
portion they inherit to place them in as favourable a position as the
brother on whom devolves the estate. In other instances the son who
holds the land is taxed to pay from it a certain amount to his brothers
and sisters, in order to render their situation in life somewhat upon a
par; but it so happens that very large families are not so frequent in
France as in England. A system of frugality is prevalent amongst all
classes of the French, and a habit of contenting themselves with but
little as regards their daily expenses; nor have they that ambition to
step out of their class so general throughout England. A farmer in
France works much the same as his men, dresses in a plain decent manner,
and considers himself very little superior to his men, whilst his wife
goes to market with her butter and eggs upon one of the farm horses; and
without any education herself she thinks she does wonders in having her
daughters taught to read, write and cypher, but invariably economises to
give them a marriage portion. This applies to most of the farmers
throughout France, and will be found descriptive of those inhabiting the
country from Calais to Paris; but in Normandy they are frequently what
is in French estimation considered very rich, and their habits and
expenses are in proportion; and about Melun and some few parts of France
where the farms are very large, the occupiers would even in England be
termed wealthy. The extreme of poverty or what may be designated misery
is but little known; the traveller is deceived by the number of beggars
which infest the high roads, and is induced to imagine that the lowest
orders must be in a most wretched state, but the fact is otherwise, and
begging is no other than a trade on the most frequented roads. Turn into
the by-lanes, penetrate the interior of the country and in the villages
distant from the highways and but few beggars are to be found, nor could
I ever hear of an instance of any one in the country parts of France
perishing from want; yet there are no forced poor rates, the landed
proprietors however regularly give so much a month voluntarily to those
who are past labour and have no relations to provide for them, and
houseless and pennyless wanderers are received and sheltered for a night
by the higher farmers and people of property, the mendicant having soup
and bread given him at night and the same when he starts in the morning.
Of these there are great numbers within the last few years, being
refugees from Spain, Italy and even Poland, driven to seek shelter where
they can find it by the political convulsions of their countries. In
this manner, the French have recently been severely taxed, but they
appear never to have the heart to deny shelter and food, although they
carry economy to such a height as would be styled by many of my affluent
countrymen absolute parsimony; which is perceptible in all their
transactions, and is in a great degree the cause of the miserable state
of their agriculture, which is also in some measure owing to the utter
ignorance of the farmers, who in all that tends towards improvement
display the stupidity of asses with the obstinacy of mules. There can be
no doubt that, generally speaking, the soil of France is capable of
producing half as much more than it at present yields; they still
persevere in the same system as existed in England in the year 1770,
when Arthur Young wrote his Agricultural Tour, describing the various
practices in the different counties throughout the kingdom. Two white
crops and a summer fallow is the usual course in France, sometimes
varied by a crop of clover, and very often they fallow for two years
together; they have no idea of leguminous crops as winter provision for
their cattle, and of the advantage to be derived from stall feeding they
are quite ignorant, except in a few provinces, as a part of Normandy and
Brittany. The same with regard to the drill system; they mostly plough
very shallow, and do not keep their land very clean, with a few
exceptions; the consequence is their crops are generally very light.
Thanks to the natural richness of their meadows in Normandy, they do
certainly produce some beasts of an immense weight for the exhibition
annually held on Shrove Tuesday. There are generally about a dozen
brought to Paris, and the finest is the one selected to be led about the
streets; the one chosen last year weighed 3,800 French pounds, and as
there are two ounces more than in the English pound the immense size of
the animal may be imagined. In the winter, they fatten their beasts with
hay, clover and corn, but oilcake is not known except in a few
instances, when beasts are fattened for prizes or exhibitions. Their
agricultural implements are in keeping with the rest of their system; I
have seen them ploughing even in the lightest land, with the great old
heavy turnwrest ploughs and four bulky horses, which might have been
effected just as well with a light Rotherham plough and one horse.
Recently, however, I have seen some slight ameliorations, and those
parts of France which are nearest England one might expect would improve
the soonest. The farming servants are generally a hard-working, quiet,
sober people, contented with very little, their living costing them a
mere trifle; in harvest-time an Englishman will pour beer down his
throat that will cost as much as would keep a whole French family; there
is a natural economy in their habits that tends to making their wages
more than equal to their demand. An Englishman must have the best
wheaten bread, and when he gets a pound of meat he is ready to eat it
all himself; the Frenchman is contented with a cheap brown bread, quite
as wholesome as the finest, and to his portion of meat he adds some
vegetables with which soup is made, and it gives comfort to the whole
family; and it is quite a mistake to imagine that beer and animal food
produce greater physical strength, as I have in several instances proved
that the French porter will carry much more than the English. I remember
when lodging in Salisbury Street, in the Strand, having packed up my
things for my departure for Paris, when a porter came to carry them to
the Golden Cross, he said it was impossible that any man could take them
at once, and the people of the house joined in saying that it was far
beyond one man's load, consisting of a moderate sized trunk, a large
portmanteau, and a well-stuffed carpet bag; when I declared that the
first porter I should meet with at Paris would take them all the same
distance without raising an objection, a sort of smile of incredulity
passed from one to the other, expressive of how absurd they thought such
an assertion. On arriving at Paris, however, the very first porter I
spoke to in the Diligence-yard took them all, without a question as to
their weight. In several cases, when persons have been quitting London
for Paris with me, I have proved to them how much heavier a burthen the
French porters will carry than the English. I believe the cause arises
in a great degree from the latter not being addicted to drinking ardent
spirits, which is ruinous to the strength and constitutions of such
numbers of the lower classes in London. But the Greek and Turkish
porters will carry twice as much as the French, and their beverage is
nothing but water and their food principally rice. In almost every
description of labour the Englishman has the advantage when what may be
styled knack or method be required; the consequence is, that they make
the most of what physical strength they possess; hence he will plough,
mow, or reap more in a day than a Frenchman. Not only is the machinery
which the Englishman employs much better, but he is what may be termed
more handy in making use of it; in every thing which relates to
husbandry or mechanism the Frenchman is generally awkward; a more
powerful instance cannot be cited than that of their always employing
two men to shoe a horse, one man being occupied to hold up the horse's
leg, whilst the farrier performs his part of the work; is it not
astonishing that after an uninterrupted communication with England for
twenty-seven years, that they should never have observed, that an
English farrier, by taking the animal's leg between his own, is able to
effect his purpose just as well as if two men were employed; but the
French must have remarked that custom in England; only, the besotted
prejudice that exists in that class against every species of innovation
causes them to persevere in their old habits. The agricultural
population in France are more wealthy and generally better clothed than
ours, particularly as regards the women; they pride themselves much upon
their stocks of linen and their bedding; instead of the men expending
their money in drink, what little they can save beyond their daily wants
they lay out in contributing to their solid comforts, and as spinning
and knitting are the constant occupation of the women in their leisure
hours, when their children marry they are enabled to furnish them with a
portion of the fruits of their industry; even the peasant girl has a
trousseau, as it is called, that is, some stock of linen at her
marriage, and a trifle of money wherewith to begin the world. Thus take
France throughout; it will be found, that, in consequence of temperance
and a persevering industry, the peasantry are generally passively happy;
there is a great difference in respect to their wages and comforts,
according to the province to which they belong; but although the
intention of this work is especially to treat upon Paris and its
population, yet as my readers must pass through a considerable portion
of France before they can arrive at Paris, I judged it right to give
them some information of the manners and habits of the population, with
which they must meet in the course of their journey; but without farther
delay will now at once conduct them to the Grand Capital, and as I
consider the first impressions are the most permanent, I will introduce
them by that entrance which presents so grand an appearance, as to
surpass that of any other country in Europe. In coming from England,
they may enter Paris at this point by the Rouen road.
The first object that strikes the traveller, as he approaches Paris, is
the Triumphal Arch, erected with the view of commemorating the victories
of Napoleon, but as those victories were ultimately crowned by defeat,
it is more consistent to consider the Triumphal Arch as a triumph of art
than of arms; as certainly the magnificence and sublimity of the design
is only to be equalled by the exquisite beauty of the execution. Having
passed this noble monument and splendid specimen of architectural
talent, the Champs Elysées extend in all their beauty to the view of the
beholder, presenting a fine broad road with rows of lofty trees on
either side, whilst handsome buildings and superb fountains are
occasionally visible from behind the foliage; and one of the latter,
which rises exactly in the centre, has a most happy effect; from this
circle several roads diverge in different directions, displaying various
objects of interest, but none of so high an order as that of the
Hospital of Invalids, for aged and wounded soldiers, the whole expanse
of which is seen in the distance at the end of a long wide avenue of
trees. From the Triumphal Arch on either side extends a row of
ornamental lamps for nearly a mile, which when lighted have the most
brilliant effect; and when it is considered how very small the
distances are between each lamp, I believe the assertion to be correct,
that there is not another such display of gas anywhere to be found.
Arrived at the Place Louis Quinze, or Place de la Concorde, as it is now
called, such a coup d'oeil is presented as remains unrivalled in
Europe, or indeed, in any part of the world. On one side, at the end of
a handsome and regular street, called the Rue Royale, rises in majestic
height the Madeleine, with its noble columns crowned by its sculptured
entablature in mezzo relievo, and adorned by its numerous statues, yet
preserving a chaste simplicity throughout the whole. On the opposite
side facing it, in a direct line at the end of a bridge, is the Chamber
of Deputies, resembling a Roman temple; its style is severe and its
_tout ensemble_ has an air of heavy grandeur, which is consistent with
an edifice in which are to be discussed the affairs of so great a
nation. In the centre of the Place is an Egyptian column, which was with
much difficulty brought from Egypt, and raised with considerable
ingenuity where it now stands, without any accident; gorgeous fountains
of bronze and gold are constantly playing, whilst colossal statues,
being allegorical representations of the principal towns of France, are
placed at regular distances, and appear as it were in solemn
contemplation of the splendid scene by which they are surrounded. Two
noble buildings, the Garde Meuble and the Hôtel de la Marine, which may
be styled palaces, adorn each side of the Rue Royale, and form one side
of the magnificent square, whilst another is occupied by the Elysian
Fields, and that immediately opposite to the Tuileries gardens; but so
beautiful, so wonderful is the whole combined, that accustomed as I have
been to frequent it for upwards of twenty years, I cannot now traverse
it without remaining some time to admire the extraordinary combination
of so many beautiful objects centering in one vast area. Here no mean or
unseemly building meets the eye, but all is made tributary to one grand
effect; even the lamps with their supporters are of bronze and gold,
whilst in the distance the gilded dome of the Invalides peers above all,
and gives a brilliant termination to the sublimity of the scene.
[Illustration: Champin del. Lith. Rigo Frères et Cie Triumphal Arch.
Published by F. Sinnett. 15, Grande rue Verle.]
Thus much for the only entrance of Paris which has aught to boast, but
having, in fact, so many charms that it must be considered by the
visiter as compensating for the deficiencies of every other. In entering
from Boulogne or Calais, nothing can be conceived more discouraging than
the first appearance of Paris as you are borne through the Faubourg St.
Denis; the street, it is true, is wide and the houses large, but they
have a dirty gloomy forlorn aspect, which gives them an uninhabited
appearance, or as if the inmates did not belong to them; as no care
appears to have been taken to give them some degree of neatness and
comfort; in fact, to bestow upon them an air of home; the stranger
continues rattling over the stones between these great lumbering-looking
dwellings, until his eye is attracted by the Porte St. Denis, which is
a triumphal arch built by Louis the Fourteenth, and certainly presents a
most imposing mass of sculpture, which, although blackened by time, is
an object well worthy the attention of the observing traveller; and here
he crosses the Boulevards, by which he gets a little peep at the
inspiring gaiety of Paris, but is soon hurried into noisy streets until
his brain feels in a whirl; and on his arrival at the Diligence-yard,
when he hopes to obtain a little repose, he is annoyed by being asked
for the keys of his trunks, for the Custom House officers, to make
believe to look into them to ascertain that you have not smuggled any
liquors or other material within the walls of Paris. Those who are
fortunate enough to travel in their own carriages, are exempted from
such tiresome ceremony. Some of the other entries to Paris are somewhat
better, but none of them sufficiently so, to be worthy notice; perhaps
the best amongst the bad is by the Faubourg St. Antoine, the Barrières du
Trône, at the commencement and summit of the street, presenting a most
noble appearance; indeed, as far as the barriers are concerned, there
are many which are well worthy of notice, being mostly handsome stone
buildings with columns that give them an imposing effect, particularly
when we recollect the little turnpike gates at the principal entrances
of London, with the exception of the recent erections at Knightsbridge,
which sink into nothingness when compared to the Triumphal Arch at the
entrance already described; and, except foreigners, particularly the
English, enter by that quarter, the first aspect of Paris mostly
excites disappointment; the generality of the streets wanting that
straight line of regularity so prevalent throughout London, the French
capital has an incongruous patchy sort of effect, and its beauties and
objects of interest have to be sought, but to the eye of an artist it is
much more gratifying than that dull sameness which reigns throughout
London, which Canova very justly designated as consisting of walls with
square holes in them; for what otherwise can be said of our houses in
general, but that they are literally upright walls, with square holes
for doors and windows. Regent Street and a few others, which have been
recently erected, form an exception to the rule. But in almost every
street in Paris a draftsman finds subject for his pencil; their richly
carved gateways, their elaborately wrought iron balconies, their
ornamented windows, and even their protruding signs, all help to break
the formal straight line and afford ample food for sketching; and in
many of their old and least fashionable streets, an ancient church with
its gothic doorway, adorned by rich and crumbling sculpture, invites the
artist to pause and exercise his imitative art. Paris at first strikes a
stranger as still more bustling and noisy than London, as the streets
being narrower and hack vehicles more used in proportion, the
circulation gets sooner choked up, and the rattling over the stones of
the carriages is still more deafening, being within so confined a space;
hence also the confusion is greater; then there is always a sort of
bewilderment when one first arrives in a large city, that makes it
appear much more astounding than is found to be the case as soon as the
visiter becomes accustomed to its apparent labyrinth.
According to comparative calculations, and taking the medium, Paris is
about twenty-two miles round, and the population, foreigners included,
one million; many estimate it at eleven hundred thousand, which I have
no doubt it may be, if several villages be included which absolutely
join Paris; such as Passy, Belleville, etc. The extreme height of the
houses would induce a belief, that a more, dense mass of people
inhabited the same space of ground than could be the case in London; but
to counterbalance that circumstance, it must be taken into consideration
that there are such an immense number of large gardens and court-yards
in Paris, which occupy a great extent of ground. I have often been
surprised to find, that in nasty dirty narrow streets, the back windows
of the houses looked over extensive gardens, with lofty trees; these are
oftener to be found in the old parts of Paris than in the modern
quarters. A much greater proportion of the population consists of
foreigners, than is the case in London, consequently it is more moving
and changeable. It is the great post town for almost all Europeans who
visit England, and hundreds of thousands come to Paris, who never think
of going to London, deterred by an exaggerated idea of the expense;
hence it will be found that very few persons from the Continent visit
London who have not already been to Paris, although, now that steam
conveyance affords such facilities of accommodation between London and
many of the large cities in Europe, the case is somewhat altered. But
Paris has been long regarded as the Museum of the Continent, and few men
possessing good fortunes from civilised countries, if gifted with
enquiring minds, consider their education complete if they have not
sojourned some time at Paris, which has for time immemorial had the
reputation of being the seat of the polite arts. Nearly a third of the
houses in Paris are designated hôtels, many of which do not provide
meals but merely furnished lodgings, and most of their inmates are
foreigners, others, persons from the provinces, consequently at least
one quarter of the population of Paris is constantly changing. But
perhaps no city is anywhere to be found where a stranger can sooner
accommodate himself in every respect, as the customs are such that a
person may live as he likes, go where he likes, and do as he likes,
provided he do no harm. In London, if a lady and gentleman from the
country arrive for the purpose of passing a day, and have no
acquaintances, there are no houses as in Paris where one can take a
wife, sister, or daughter to breakfast or dine, without being subject to
remark, unless indeed you can draw up to the door of a hôtel with an
equipage; then certainly every attention and accommodation is to be
found, but only such as will suit a very limited number of purses;
whereas, at Paris a family may find in most of the restaurateurs small
apartments where they can dine by themselves if they object to the
public room, but even in the latter they might take their meal very
undisturbed and without exciting the slightest observation, at various
prices that will either suit the economist or the wealthy individual.
This is amongst many of the conveniences of Paris; as also that of the
libraries being open to the public, any one having the privilege to call
for the book he wishes, where he may read as quietly as in his own
house. This is extremely useful to studious and literary men, as there
are so many works of reference too expensive to be within the compass of
a small private library, which may be found in the liberal
establishments in which Paris abounds. Museums, exhibitions, academies,
gardens, public buildings, etc., are, with a very few exceptions,
accessible to the foreigner merely on the exhibition of his passport.