The name of my valet de place is Oscar.
“Oscar, what nation does that puny looking, red-skinned man belong to?” “A Maltese,” said he, as if he never would stop sounding the ese, but he added the “I believe.” I afterwards found out that he was some of the Canary Island’s stock; but the best of the stock. A beautiful French girl held him by the hind part of his coat with her left hand, whilst she held with her right his hand, lest he might go off in his glee, “half shot.” She was also afraid that some interested lady might take better care of him than herself. He was fashionably dressed, and in Paris, as a nabob, His actions represented some rich man’s foolish son.
I swear by my father’s head, I see a live Turk! Turban! sack hanging between his legs, more empty than Falstaff’s! one of the genuine breed that followed Saladin to the plains of Palestine and stood before Richard’s battle-axe with his scimitar! one of the head choppers of Christians! Perhaps the next will be the amiable countenance of “Blue Beard.” The old Turk and his beard is trying to dance, but his bag won’t let him. He is let down, and goes off the track. He is now mixing some oakum with tobacco. Now he is looking on, like a poor boy at a frolic—yes! he would if he could. I am sure his first duty to-morrow will be to hunt a mosque and give up dancing. He is leaving and trying to get his money back.
I walked round on the opposite side, and saw several other incomprehensibles. “What tall, fine looking, yellow skinned man is that, Oscar, with that tall lady standing looking on?” “That, sir,” said he, “is a very rich quadroon from Louisiana, I believe New Orleans. He lives at No. 4, Boulevard Possoniere, when he is in town, but he has his country residence nine miles in the country. He has a very handsome French lady for a wife, and it is said he left New Orleans on account of their prejudice to color. He is a very popular man here, and is said to be worth $150,000.” Just then I saw Mr. Holbrook, of the New Orleans Picayune, and Mr. Fellowes of the firm of Fellowes & Co., step up to this man and shake him warmly by the hand, and said, “Mr. Cordevoille, don’t you know me? I patronized your tailor’s shop five or six years.” Cordevoille had been the largest tailorizer in the South, and accumulated a large fortune, and sold out to his partner, Mr. Lacroix, who still is carrying on the firm under the name and style of Cordevoille & Lacroix. Mr. Cordevoille was looking the very picture of a gentleman; he seemed to be a great object of respect to those that spoke to the lady he was conversing with in the French tongue. He reminded me more of Prince Albert in his manners than any other person around. Had his face not been pock marked, he would have conveyed a conception of an inferior Appollo; his tout ensemble had as many brilliant cuts of a true gentleman’s conduct, as the single diamond he wore. After some enquiry about New Orleans, he invited some American gentlemen to his country seat; it was to be on the following day, and they being high toned gentlemen of sense, they accepted, not so much for pleasure and information, as for giving Mr. Cordevoille to understand that they understood the duty of gentlemen; no doubt they felt that if they refused, Mr. Cordevoille might feel the weight of such a refusal. They agreed also to stay all night, which invitation had been extended by Mr. Cordevoille. Lest it be a censure on these gentlemen, I refrain from going any further with a subject so delicate.
I now walked under the roof of a very extensive hall; in it was all kinds of refreshments. All one side of the hall was a door, so that when the crowd in the garden was likely to be overtaken by a shower, dancing went on in there. Immense crowds were seated about at tables smoking, and discussing politics, but not one gentleman had his foot on the table, except an American quietly seated in one corner in a profound soliloquy. He was chewing tobacco. I did’nt stop to see where he spit, for fear he might claim nationality. I learned that several of the quietly seated, were members of the National Assembly. It was now getting late, and gentlemen that had pretty mates were going through the gates in compact succession. Why gentlemen with pretty mates could not stay to the last was a mystery to me. But to solve that mystery I followed the crowd, and discovered that the nearer they got home, the more affectionate they got.
The most of these couples would stop at the first cafe and call for their tass du coffee and vere d’eau de vie (cup of coffee and glass of brandy). They would set the brandy on fire and burn the spirits out, and then pour it into the coffee. As soon as they began to feel the effects of this pleasant nourishment, they would move again for home.
At 11 o’clock at night carriages were running in all directions from Balls, Theatres, Operas, Museums, Concerts, Soirees, Dancing Schools, and more amusements than could be named in one article.
I went to the hotel, seeking my own amusement. I could not conjecture a more comfortable place than the house I roomed at, after seeing all this night’s bustle. Even if I could not find my own room, I was in the house of acquaintances.
I went to the room of an acquaintance, and talked and lingered in agreeable conversation and amusement until near day. I approached my own chamber, and found that whilst I was out helping to make a city of dissipators, Elvereta had been to my room and arranged my wardrobe comme foi. This ends my “first night in Paris.”