Scenes in the Gay Capital.
Dover to Calais—Paris—The Gay Capital by Night—Boulevards—Life in the Streets—Champs Élysées—Place de la Concorde—Arc d’Etoile—Place Vendome—Louvre—Opera House—Palais Royal—Church of the Invalides—Versailles—Notre Dame—Jardin Mabille—The Madeleine—The Pantheon—The Banks of the Seine—French Funeral Ceremonies—La Morgue—Pere Lachaise.
E travel from London to Dover by train, thence by steamer to Calais. The chalky cliffs of Dover with their high precipitous sides are a pleasant and restful farewell picture of the shores of old England. A short run of an hour or more lands us amid scenes so different from those of the past few weeks that we feel that the magician’s wand has again been exercised and the “Presto, change,” has transported us to a region of maliciously disposed genii, who will not understand us, or allow us to comprehend their mysterious utterances; and the transformation scene is complete as we enter Paris, the home of the light, the gay, the fantastic.
Let the lover of the bright, the gay, the jovial, visit the broad boulevards of Paris by night, especially the Avenue des Champs Élysées, which seems to be the favorite promenade of the populace. Upon both sides are groves of trees, brilliantly illuminated by myriads of colored lights, and here amid these bowers is to be found every variety of entertainment for the people. Games of chance are played in the gay booths, Punch and Judy shows attract crowds of children, wonderful feats of horsemanship are performed, singers in aërial costumes draw many to the Cafés Chantants, and the lights of innumerable cabs and carriages flit to and fro in every direction like will-o’-the-wisps. Here is fine military music, as well as exhibitions of skillful playing on almost every known instrument.
The wide boulevards are long, straight and marvels of beauty, with their lovely gardens, handsome houses, and fine shops.
There are strong contrasts in the lives of those one sees upon these streets under the gaslight. I think Dante’s three realms are pretty clearly represented along the avenues of Paris, beneath the starry dome of heaven, and within these gayly decorated booths and cafés. Here may be seen the high and the low, the rich and the poor, the grave and the gay, the innocent and the hardened in guilt, the adventurer and his unsuspecting victim. And this heterogeneous throng, this careless pleasure-loving crowd, may be seen drifting from one point to another till the cock crows the warning of approaching dawn. The streets of Paris by night afford abundant material for the artist, the photographer, the poet, author and clergyman; as well as the adventurer. Here indeed, if anywhere, one may
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