Over the Ocean; or, Sights and Scenes in Foreign Lands

by Curtis Guild

In four fifths of these great retail stores, the discovery that the purchaser is an American or an Englishman, and a stranger, is a signal for increasing the regular price of every article he desires to purchase; if he betrays his ignorance of the usual rate, palming off an inferior quality of goods, and obtaining an advantage in every possible way, besides the legitimate profit. It never seems to enter the heads of these smirking, supple-backed swindlers, that a reputation for honesty and fair dealing is worth anything at all to their establishments. Possibly they argue that, as Paris is headquarters for shopping, buyers will come, willy-nilly; or it may be that deception is so much a part of the Frenchman's nature, that it is a moral impossibility for him to get along without a certain amount of it.

The prix fixé, put up to indicate that the establishment has a fixed price, from which there is no abatement, after the style of the "one price" stores in America, very often has but little significance. A friend with whom I was shopping upon one occasion told the shop-keeper, whom he had offered fifteen or twenty per cent. less than his charge, and who pointed, with an expressive shrug, to the placard, that he was perfectly aware the price was fixed, as it generally was "fixed" all over Paris for every new customer. Monsieur was so charmé with his repartee, that he obtained the article at the price he offered.

One frequently sees costly articles, or some that have been very slightly worn, displayed in a shop window, ticketed at a low price, and marked L'Occasion, to signify that it is not a part of the regular stock, but has been left there for sale—is an "opportunity;" or intimating, perhaps, that it is sold by some needy party, who is anxious to raise the ready cash. Some of these opportunities are bargains, but the buyer must be on his guard that the "occasion" is not one that has been specially prepared to entrap the purchaser into taking a damaged article of high cost at a price beyond its real value.

Although the French shop-keeper may use every artifice to make the buyer pay an exorbitant rate for his goods, the law is very stringent in certain branches of trade, and prevents one species of barefaced cheating that is continually practised in New York, and has been for years, with no indications that it will ever be abolished.

In Paris—at least on the Boulevards and great retail marts—there are no mock auction shops, gift enterprise swindlers, bogus ticket agencies, or similar traps for the unwary, which disgrace New York. Government makes quick work of any abuse of this kind, and the police abolish it and the proprietor so completely, that few dare try the experiment. Neither dare dealers in galvanized watches or imitation jewelry sell it for gold. They are compelled to display the word "imitation" conspicuously upon their shop front and window; and really imitation jewelry is such an important article of trade, that as much skill is exhausted upon it as in the real article, and dealers vie with each other in producing splendid imitations, some of which are so good that a purchaser may, while the article is worn in its "newest gloss," make a display for ten francs that in the real article would cost as many hundreds. Neither are dealers allowed to sell berries by the "box," or peaches by the "crate;" nor are there any of the opportunities of America in making the "box" or the "crate" smaller, without deduction of price. Many kinds of fruit are sold by weight, and there appears to be a rigid inspection, that poor and damaged articles shall not be palmed off upon purchasers. When the government steps in to the regulation of trade, it does it so business-like, so thoroughly, promptly, and effectually, and places such an impassable bar to imposture, that an American, even of the most spread-eagle description, cannot help acknowledging that there are some advantages in imperial rule, after all. He certainly feels a decided degree of confidence that the law will be enforced upon a ruffian or a pickpocket, that should be detected in any attempt to interfere with him, which he never can feel in the city of New York, and that the French police are always on hand, know and perform their duty without solicitation; are efficient officers of the law, and not political roughs, rewarded with places, to be paid for with votes.

There are many French articles that have a large sale in America, and which the traveller promises himself he will lay in a supply of, on visiting Paris, which he is quite surprised to find, on inquiry, are hardly ever called for by Parisians. Thus certain brands of kid gloves, and varieties of perfumery, that are very popular in America, can scarcely be found at the shops on the Boulevards. The best gloves, and those most celebrated in Paris, which are really marvels of excellence in workmanship, are of a brand that cannot be found in the American shops, their high price affording too little margin for profit; but scarce an American who visits Paris but supplies himself from the now well-known magasin in Rue Richelieu. A friend, who thought to purchase at headquarters, sought in vain in Paris for the thick, yellow, and handsomely-stitched gloves he had seen in Regent Street, London, known as French dog-skin. Nothing of the kind could be found. They were made exclusively for the English market.

But it really seems as if almost everything ever heard or thought of could be bought in the French capital, and made in any style, prepared in any form, and furnished with marvellous speed. There is one characteristic of the European shopmen, which I have before referred to, which is in agreeable contrast with many American dealers; and that is, their willingness to make or alter an article to the purchaser's taste; to sell you what you want, and not dispute, and try to force an article upon you which they argue you ought to have, instead of the one you call for. If a lady liked the sleeves of one cloak, and the body of another, she is informed that the change of sleeves shall instantly be made from one to the other. Does a gentleman order a pair of boots with twisted toes, the boot-maker only says, "Certainement, monsieur," and takes his measure. The glover will give you any hue, in or out of the fashion, stitched with any colored silk, and gratify any erratic taste, without question, at twenty-four hours' notice. The ribbon-seller will show you an innumerable variety of gradations of the same hue, will match anything, and shows a skill in endeavoring to suit you exactly. In fact, we presume that the foreign shopman accepts the situation, and is striving to be more a shopman than ever, instead of—as is too often the case in our own country—acting as though he merely held the position pro tempore, and was conferring an honor upon the purchaser by serving him.

Purchases may be made down to infinitesimal quantities, especially of articles of daily consumption; and where so many are making a grand display upon a small capital, as in Paris, it is necessary that every convenience should be afforded; and it is. Living in apartments, one may obtain everything from the magasins within a stone's throw. He may order turkey and truffles, and a grand dinner, with entrées, which will be furnished him at his lodgings, at any hour, from the neighboring restaurant, with dishes, table furniture, and servant; or he may order the leg of a fowl, one pickle, and two sous' worth of salt and pepper. He can call in a porter, with a back-load of wood for a fire, or buy three or four sous' worth of fagots. But your true Frenchman, of limited means, utilizes everything. He argues, and very correctly, that all he pays for belongs to him. So at the café you will see him carefully wrap the two or three lumps of sugar that remain, of those furnished him for his coffee, in a paper, and carry them away. They save the expense of the article for the morning cup at his lodgings. So if a cake or two, or biscuit, remain, he appropriates them as his right; and I have even seen one who went so far as to pocket two or three little wax matches that were brought to him with a cigar. Much has been said of how cheaply one can live in Paris. This would apply, with equal truthfulness, to many of our own cities, if people would live in the same way, and practise the same economy. This, however, is repugnant to the American, and, in some respects, mistaken idea of liberality.

The absolute, unnecessary waste in an American gentleman's kitchen would support two French families comfortably. In some it already supports three or four Irish ones.

There are three ways of going shopping in Paris. The first is to start out by yourself, and seek out stores which may have the goods that you desire to purchase; the second, to avail yourself of the services of a valet de place, or courier; and the third, to employ the services of one of your banker's clerks, who is an expert, or those of a commission merchant.