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Paris As It Was and As It Is

F >> Francis W. Blagdon >> Paris As It Was and As It Is




No place in Paris, however, exhibits such a contrast to its former
attractions as this once-fashionable rendezvous. The change of its
name from _Palais Royal_ to _Maison Égalité_ conveys not to the
imagination a dissimilitude more glaring than is observable between
the present frequenters of this favourite promenade, and those who
were in the habit of flocking hither before the revolution.

At that period, the scene was enlivened by the most brilliant and
most captivating company in the capital, both in point of exterior
and manners. At this day, the medal is exactly reversed. In lieu of
well-dressed or well-behaved persons of both sexes, this garden,
including its purlieus, presents, morning and evening, nothing but
hordes of stock-jobbers, money-brokers, gamblers, and adventurers of
every description. The females who frequent it, correspond nearly to
the character of the men; they are, for the greater part, of the most
debauched and abandoned class: for a Laïs of _bon ton_ seldom
ventures to shew herself among this medley of miscreants.

In the crowd, may be occasionally remarked a few strangers attracted
by curiosity, and other individuals of respectable appearance called
hither on business, as well as some inoffensive newsmongers,
resorting to the coffee-houses to read the papers. But, in general,
the great majority, of the company, now seen here, is of a cast so
extremely low, that no decent woman, whether married or single,
thinks of appearing in a place where she would run a risk of being
put out of countenance in passing alone, even in the daytime. In the
evening, the company is of a still worse complexion; and the
concourse becomes so great under the piazzas, particularly when the
inclemency of the weather drives people out of the garden, that it is
sometimes difficult to cross through the motley assemblage. At the
conclusion of the performances in the neighbouring theatres, there is
a vast accession of the inferior order of nymphs of the Cyprian
corps; and then, amorous conversation and dalliance reach the summit
of licentious freedom.

The greater part of the political commotions which have, at different
times, convulsed Paris, took their rise in the _ci-devant Palais
Royal_, or it has, in some shape, been their theatre. In this palace
too originated the dreadful reverse of fortune which the queen
experienced; and, indeed, when the cart in which her majesty was
carried to the scaffold, passed before the gates of this edifice, she
was unable to repress a sign of indignation.

All writers who have spoken of the inveterate hatred, which existed
between the queen and M. d'Orléans, have ascribed it to despised
love, whose pangs, as Shakspeare tells, us, are not patiently
endured. Some insist that the duke, enamoured of the charms of the
queen, hazarded a declaration, which her majesty not only received
with disdain, but threatened to inform the king of in case of a
renewal of his addresses. Others affirm that the queen, at one time,
shewed that the duke was not indifferent to her, and that, on a hint
being given to him to that effect, he replied: "Every one may be
ambitious to please the queen, except myself. Our interests are too
opposite for Love ever to unite them." On this foundation is built
the origin of the animosity which, in the end, brought both these
great personages to the scaffold.

Whatever may have been the motive which gave rise to it, certain it
is that they never omitted any opportunity of persecuting each other.
The queen had no difficulty in pourtraying the duke as a man addicted
to the most profligate excesses, and in alienating from him the mind
of the king: he, on his side, found it as easy, by means of
surreptitious publications, to represent her as a woman given to
illicit enjoyments; so that, long before the revolution, the
character both of the queen and the duke were well known to the
public; and their example tended not a little to increase the general
dissoluteness of morals. The debaucheries of the one served as a
model to all the young rakes of fashion; while the levity of the
other, was imitated by what were termed the _amiable_ women of the
capital.

After his exile in 1788, the hatred of M. d'Orléans towards the queen
roused that ambition which he inherited from his ancestors. In
watching her private conduct, in order to expose her criminal
weaknesses, he discovered a certain political project, which gave
birth to the idea of his forming a plan of a widely-different nature.
Hitherto he had given himself little trouble about State affairs;
but, in conjunction with his confidential friends, he now began to
calculate the means of profiting by the distress of his country.

The first shocks of the revolution had so electrified the greater
part of the Parisians, that, in regard to the Duke of Orleans, they
imperceptibly passed from profound contempt to blind infatuation. His
palace became the rendezvous of all the malcontents of the court, and
his garden the place of assembly of all the demagogues. His exile
appeared a public calamity, and his recall was celebrated as a
triumph. Had he possessed a vigour of intellect, and a daring equal
to the situation of leader of a party, there is little doubt that he
might have succeeded in his plan, and been declared regent. His
immense income, amounting to upwards of three hundred thousand pounds
sterling, was employed to gain partisans, and secure the attachment
of the people.

After the taking of the Bastille, it is admitted that his party was
sufficiently powerful to effect a revolution in his favour; but his
pusillanimity prevailed over his ambition. The active vigilance of
the queen thwarting his projects, he resolved to get rid of her; and
in that intention was the irruption of the populace directed to
Versailles. This fact seems proved: for, on some one complaining
before him in 1792, that the revolution proceeded too slowly. "It
would have been terminated long ago," replied he, "had the queen been
sacrificed on the 5th of October 1789."

Two months before the fall of the throne, M. d'Orléans still reckoned
to be able to attain his wishes; but he soon found himself
egregiously mistaken. The factions, after mutually accusing each
other of having him for their chief, ended by deserting him; and,
after the death of the king, he became a stranger to repose, and, for
the second time, an object of contempt. The necessity of keeping up
the exaltation of the people, had exhausted his fortune, great as it
was; and want of money daily detached different agents from his
party. His plate, his pictures, his furniture, his books, his
trinkets, his gems, all went to purchase the favour, and at length
the protection, of the Maratists. Not having it in his power to
satisfy their cupidity, he opened loans on all sides, and granted
illusory mortgages. Having nothing more left to dispose of, he was
reduced, as a last resource, to sell his body-linen. In this very
bargain was he engaged, when he was apprehended and sent to
Marseilles.

Although acquitted by the criminal tribunal, before which he was
tried in the south of France, he was still detained there in prison.
At first, he had shed tears, and given himself up to despair, but now
hope once more revived his spirits, and he availed himself of the
indulgence granted him, by giving way to his old habits of
debauchery. On being brought to Paris after six months' confinement,
he flattered himself that he should experience the same lenity in the
capital. The jailer of the _Conciergerie,_ not knowing whether M.
d'Orléans would leave that prison to ascend the throne or the
scaffold, treated him with particular respect; and he himself was
impressed with the idea that he would soon resume an ascendency in
public affairs. But, on his second trial, he was unanimously declared
guilty of conspiring against the unity and indivisibility of the
Republic, and condemned to die, though no proof whatever of his guilt
was produced to the jury. One interrogatory put to him is deserving
of notice. It was this: "Did you not one day say to a deputy: _What
will you ask of me when I am king?_ And did not the deputy reply: _I
will ask you for a pistol to blow out your brains?_"

Every one who was present at the condemnation of M. d'Orléans, and
saw him led to the guillotine affirms that if he never shewed courage
before, he did at least on that day. On hearing the sentence, he
called out: "Let it be executed directly." From the revolutionary
tribunal he was conducted straight to the scaffold, where,
notwithstanding the reproaches and imprecations which accompanied him
all the way, he met his fate with unshaken firmness.



LETTER XIX.

_Paris, November 18, 1801._

But if the _ci-devant Palais Royal_ has been the mine of political
explosions, so it still continues to be the epitome of all the trades
in Paris. Under the arcades, on the ground-floor, here are, as
formerly, shops of jewellers, haberdashers, artificial florists,
milliners, perfumers, print-sellers, engravers, tailors, shoemakers,
hatters, furriers, glovers, confectioners, provision-merchants,
woollen-drapers, mercers, cutlers, toymen, money-changers, and
booksellers, together with several coffee-houses, and
lottery-offices, all in miscellaneous succession.

Among this enumeration, the jewellers' shops are the most attractive
in point of splendour. The name of the proprietor is displayed in
large letters of artificial diamonds, in a conspicuous compartment
facing the door. This is a sort of signature, whose brilliancy
eclipses all other names, and really dazzles the eyes of the
spectators. But at the same time it draws the attention both of the
learned and the illiterate: I will venture to affirm that the name of
one of these jewellers is more frequently spelt and pronounced than
that of any great man recorded in history, either ancient or modern.

With respect to the price of the commodities exposed for sale in the
_Palais du Tribunat_, it is much the same as in _Bond Street_, you
pay one third at least for the idea of fashion annexed to the name of
the place where you make the purchase, though the quality of the
article may be nowise superior to what you might procure elsewhere.
As in Bond Street too, the rents in this building are high, on which
account the shopkeepers are, in some measure, obliged to charge
higher than those in other parts of the town. Not but I must do them
the justice to acknowledge that they make no scruple to avail
themselves of every prejudice formerly entertained in favour of this
grand emporium, in regard to taste, novelty, &c. by a still further
increase of their prices. No small advantage to the shopkeepers
established here is the chance custom, arising from such a variety of
trades being collected together so conveniently, all within the same
inclosure. A person resorting hither to procure one thing, is sure to
be reminded of some other want, which, had not the article presented
itself to his eye, would probably have escaped his recollection; and,
indeed, such is the thirst of gain, that several tradesmen keep a
small shop under these piazzas, independently of a large warehouse in
another quarter of Paris.

Pamphlets and other ephemeral productions usually make their first
appearance in the _Palais du Tribunat_; and strangers may rely on
being plagued by a set of fellows who here hawk about prohibited
publications, of the most immoral tendency, embellished with
correspondent engravings; such as _Justine, ou les malheurs de la
vertu, Les quarante manières, &c._ They seldom, I am told, carry the
publication about them, for fear of being unexpectedly apprehended,
but keep it at some secret repository hard by, whence they fetch it
in an instant. It is curious to see with what adroitness these
vagrants elude the vigilance of the police, I had scarcely set my
foot in this building before a Jew-looking fellow, coming close to
me, whispered in my ear: "_Monsieur veut-il la vie polissonne de
Madame--------?_" Madame who do you think? You will stare when I tell
you to fill up the blank with the name of her who is now become the
first female personage in France? I turned round with astonishment;
but the ambulating book-vender had vanished, in consequence, as I
conclude, of being observed by some _mouchard._ Thus, what little
virtue may remain in the mind of youth is contaminated by precept, as
well as example; and the rising generation is in a fair way of being
even more corrupted than that which has preceded it.

"_Ætas parentum, pejor avis, tulit
Nos nequiores, mox daturos
Progeniem vitiosiorem._"

Besides the shops, are some auction-rooms, where you may find any
article of wearing apparel or household furniture, from a lady's wig
_à la Caraculla_ to a bed _à la Grecque:_ here are as many puffers as
in a mock auction in London; and should you be tempted to bid, by the
apparent cheapness of the object put up for sale, it is fifty to one
that you soon repent of your bargain. Not so with the _magazins de
confiance à prix fixé_, where are displayed a variety of articles,
marked at a fixed price, from which there is no abatement.

These establishments are extremely convenient, not only to ingenious
mechanics, who have invented or improved a particular production of
art, of which they wish to dispose, but also to purchasers. You walk
in, and if any article strikes your fancy, you examine it at your
ease; you consider the materials, the workmanship, and lastly the
price, without being hurried by a loquacious shopkeeper into a
purchase which you may shortly regret. A commission of from five to
one half per cent, in graduated proportions, according to the value
of the article, is charged to the seller, for warehouse-room and all
other expenses.

Such is the arrangement of the ground-floor; the apartments on the
first floor are at present occupied by _restaurateurs_, exhibitions
of various kinds, billiard-tables, and _académies de jeu_, or public
gaming-tables, where all the passions are let loose, and all the
torments of hell assembled.

The second story is let out in lodgings, furnished or unfurnished, to
persons of different descriptions, particularly to the priestesses of
Venus. The rooms above, termed _mansardes_, in the French
architectural dialect, are mostly inhabited by old batchelors, who
prefer economy to show; or by artists, who subsist by the employment
of their talents. These chambers are spacious, and though the
ceilings are low, they receive a more uninterrupted circulation of
fresh air, than the less exalted regions.

Over the _mansardes_, in the very roof, are nests of little rooms, or
cock-lofts, resembling, I am told, the cells of a beehive. Journeymen
shopkeepers, domestics, and distressed females are said to be the
principal occupiers of these aërial abodes.

I had nearly forgot to mention a species of apartment little known in
England: I mean the _entresol_, which is what we should denominate a
low story, (though here not so considered), immediately above the
ground-floor, and directly under the first-floor. In this building,
some of the _entresols_ are inhabited by the shopkeepers below; some,
by women of no equivocal calling, who throw out their lures to the
idle youths sauntering under the arcades; and others again are now
become _maisons de pret_, where pawnbrokers exercise their usurious
dealings.

In the _Palais du Tribunat_, as you may remark, not an inch of space
is lost; every hole and corner being turned to account: here and
there, the cellars even: are converted into scenes of gaiety and
diversion, where the master of the house entertains his customers
with a succession of vocal and instrumental music, while they are
taking such refreshments as he furnishes.

This speculation, which has, by all accounts, proved extremely
profitable, was introduced in the early part of the revolution. Since
that period, other speculations, engendered by the luxury of the
times, have been set on foot within the precincts of this palace. Of
two of these, now in full vigour and exercise, I must say a few
words, as they are of a nature somewhat curious.

The one is a _cabinet de décrotteur_, where the art of blacking shoes
is carried to a pitch of perfection hitherto unknown in this country.

Not many years ago, it was common, in Paris, to see counsellors,
abbés, and military officers, as well as _petits-maîtres_ of every
denomination, full dressed, that is, with their hat under their arm,
their sword by their side, and their hair in a bag, standing in the
open street, with one leg cocked up on a stool, while a rough
Savoyard or Auvergnat hastily cleaned their shoes with a coarse
mixture of lamp-black and rancid oil. At the present day, the
_décrotteurs_ or shoe-blacks still exercise their profession on the
_Pont Neuf_ and in other quarters; but, as a refinement of the art,
there is also opened, at each of the principal entrances of the
_Palais du Tribunat_, a _cabinet de décrotteur_, or small apartment,
where you are invited to take a chair, and presented with the daily
papers.

The artist, with due care and expedition, first removes the dirt from
your shoes or boots with a sponge occasionally moistened in water,
and by means of several pencils, of different sizes, not unlike those
of a limner, he then covers them with a jetty varnish, rivaling even
japan in lustre. This operation he performs with a gravity and
consequence that can scarcely fail to excite laughter. Yet, according
to the trite proverb, it is not the customer who ought to indulge in
mirth, but the _artist_. Although his price is much dearer than that
demanded by the other professors of this art, his cabinet is seldom
empty from morning to night; and, by a simple calculation, his pencil
is found to produce more than that of some good painters of the
modern French school.

At the first view of the matter, it should appear that the other
speculation might have been hit on by any man with a nose to his
face; but, on more mature consideration, one is induced to think that
its author was a person of some learning, and well read in ancient
history. He, no doubt, took the hint from VESPASIAN. As that emperor
blushed not to make the urine of the citizens of Rome a source of
revenue, so the learned projector in question rightly judged that, in
a place of such resort as the _Palais du Tribunat_, he might, without
shame or reproach, levy a small tax on the Parisians, by providing
for their convenience in a way somewhat analogous. His penetration is
not unhandsomely rewarded; for he derives an income of 12,000 francs,
or £500 sterling, from his _cabinets d'aisance_.

Since political causes first occasioned the shuting up of the old
_Théâtre Français_ in the _Faubourg St. Germain_, now reduced to a
shell by fire, Melpomene and Thalia have taken up their abode in the
south-west angle of the _Palais du Tribunat_, and in its north-west
corner is another theatre, on a smaller scale, where Momus holds his
court; so that be you seriously, sentimentally, or humorously
disposed, you may, without quitting the shelter of the piazzas,
satisfy your inclination. Tragedy, Comedy, and Farce all lie before
you within the purlieus of this extraordinary edifice.

To sum up all the conveniences of the _Palais du Tribunat_, suffice
it to say, that almost every want, natural or artificial, almost
every appetite, gross or refined, might be gratified without passing
its limits; for, while the extravagant voluptuary is indulging in all
the splendour of Asiatic luxury, the parsimonious sensualist need not
depart unsatisfied.

Placed in the middle of Paris, the _Palais du Tribunat_ has been
aptly compared to a sink of vice, whose contagious effects would
threaten society with the greatest evils, were not the scandalous
scenes of the capital here concentrated into one focus. It has also
been mentioned, by the same writer, Mercier, as particularly worthy
of remark, that, since this building is become a grand theatre, where
cupidity, gluttony, and licentiousness shew themselves under every
form and excess, several other quarters of Paris are, in a manner,
purified by the accumulation of vices which flourish in its centre.

Whether or not this assertion be strictly correct, I will not pretend
to determine: but, certain it is that the _Palais du Tribunat_ is a
vortex of dissipation where many a youth is ingulfed. The natural
manner in which this may happen I shall endeavour briefly to explain,
by way of conclusion to this letter.

A young Frenchman, a perfect stranger in Paris, arrives there from
the country, and, wishing to equip himself in the fashion, hastens to
the _Palais du Tribunat_, where he finds wearing apparel of every
description on the _ground-floor_: prompted by a keen appetite, he
dines at a _restaurateur's_ on the _first-floor_: after dinner, urged
by mere curiosity, perhaps, if not decoyed by some sharper on the
look-out for novices, he visits a public gaming-table on the same
story. Fortune not smiling on him, he retires; but, at that very
moment, he meets, on the landing-place, a captivating damsel, who,
like Virgil's Galatea, flies to be pursued; and the inexperienced
youth, after ascending another flight of stairs, is, on the
_second-floor_, ushered into a brothel. Cloyed or disgusted there,
he is again induced to try the humour of the fickle goddess, and
repairs once more to the gaming-table, till, having lost all his
money, he is under the necessity of descending to the _entresol_
to pawn his watch, before he can even procure a lodging in a
_garret_ above.

What other city in Europe can boast of such an assemblage of
accommodation? Here, under the same roof, a man is, in the space of a
few minutes, as perfectly equipped from top to toe, as if he had all
the first tradesmen in London at his command; and shortly after,
without setting his foot into the street, he is as completely
stripped, as if he had fallen into the hands of a gang of robbers.

To cleanse this Augæan stable, would, no doubt, be a Herculean
labour. For that purpose, Merlin (of Douay), when Minister of the
police, proposed to the Directory to convert the whole of the
buildings of the _ci-devant Palais Royal_ into barracks. This was
certainly striking at the root of the evil; but, probably, so bold a
project was rejected, lest its execution, in those critical times,
should excite the profligate Parisians to insurrection.



LETTER XX.

_Paris, November 20, 1801._

One of the private entertainments here in great vogue, and which is
understood to mark a certain pre-eminence in the _savoir-vivre_ of
the present day, is a nocturnal repast distinguished by the
insignificant denomination of a

THÉ.

A stranger might, in all probability, be led to suppose that he was
invited to a tea-drinking party, when he receives a note couched in
the following terms:

_"Madame R------ prie Monsieur B--------- de lui faire l'honneur de
venir au thé quelle doit donner le 5 de ce mois."_

Considering in that light a similar invitation which I received, I
was just on the point of sending an apology, when I was informed that
a _thé_ was nothing more or less than a sort of rout, followed by
substantial refreshments, and generally commencing after the
evening's performance was ended at the principal theatres.

On coming out of the opera-house then the other night, I repaired to
the lady's residence in question, and arriving there about twelve
o'clock, found that I had stumbled on the proper hour. As usual,
there were cards, but for those only disposed to play; for, as this
lady happened not to be under the necessity of recurring to the
_bouillotte_ as a financial resource, she gave herself little or no
concern about the card-tables. Being herself a very agreeable,
sprightly woman, she had invited a number of persons of both sexes of
her own character, so that the conversation was kept up with infinite
vivacity till past one o'clock, when tea and coffee were introduced.
These were immediately followed by jellies, sandwiches, pâtés, and a
variety of savoury viands, in the style of a cold supper, together
with different sorts of wines and liqueurs. In the opinion of some of
the Parisian sybarites, however, no _thé_ can be complete without the
addition of an article, which is here conceived to be a perfect
imitation of fashionable English cheer. This is hot punch.

It was impossible for me to refuse the cheerful and engaging _dame du
logis_ to taste her _ponche_, and, in compliment to me as an
Englishman, she presented me with a glass containing at least a
treble allowance. Not being overfond of punch, I would willingly have
relinquished the honour of drinking her health in so large a portion,
apprehending that this beverage might, in quality, resemble that of
the same name which I had tasted here a few evenings ago in one of
the principal coffeehouses. The latter, in fact, was a composition of
new rum, which reminded me of the trash of that kind distilled in New
England, acidulated with rotten lemons, sweetened with capillaire,
and increased by a _quantum sufficit_ of warm water. My hostess's
punch, on the contrary, was made of the best ingredients, agreeably
to the true standard; in a word, it was proper lady's punch, that is,
hot, sweet, sour, and strong. It was distributed in tea-pots, of
beautiful porcelaine, which, independently of keeping it longer warm,
were extremely convenient for pouring it out without spilling. Thus
concluded the entertainment.

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