Old and New Paris: Its History, Its People, and Its Places, v. 1

by H. Sutherland Edwards

The Boulevard Montmartre, in front of the Variétés, is the most animated part of the whole line of boulevards. The late Henri Dupin, the famous boulevardier, who died a centenarian, used to pretend that he had shot rabbits between the Rue Montmartre and the adjoining Rue Richelieu. This was doubtless an exaggeration. But a representation of this part of Paris, painted in the days of the First Empire, shows that at the point in question there were ditches intersecting a road lined with trees. The Boulevard Montmartre combines some of the features of the upper and of the lower boulevard, the shops which here abound offering for sale objects of use and of ornament, of interest and of luxury: clothes, bonnets, books, chocolate, bonbons, and music.

At the corner of the Boulevard Montmartre and the Rue Vivienne stood the famous public gambling-house of Frascati, where, until the reign of Louis Philippe, as at a similar establishment in the Palais Royal, games of hazard were publicly played. These gambling-houses bore an important, and often, no doubt, disastrous part in the social life of the French capital, and innumerable anecdotes have been told of the sums lost and won within their walls.

Both comedy and tragedy bore a part in the scenes produced by the fascinating cards. Materials for a farce might be found in one scene, in which Mlle. Contat, the famous actress, figured. She was far too beautiful to want, even from her girlhood, a host of admirers. Her first love affair was sufficiently unfortunate. The successful suitor was a certain M. de Lubsac, an officer in the king’s household. He was a man of inferior birth, with an empty purse; but he was as handsome as Apollo, and a wit into the bargain. He laid such persistent siege to the actress that she at length yielded in sheer weakness to his importunity. De Lubsac was distinguished by two vices: he loved wine and cards. His passion for play was so reckless that one night he staked his beautiful mistress, or at least put to hazard the whole of her diamonds and trinkets. He lost; and the next day, just as Mlle. Contat was about to {105} attend a fête, she looked for her jewellery in vain. The caskets were all empty; a clean sweep had been made of everything. She set up a cry of “Thieves!” and called in the police. De Lubsac thought it discreet to silence her by a free confession of his “fault.” He admitted that he had pledged the whole of the missing property. She was furious, and De Lubsac expressed the deepest contrition. “Ah!” he cried, wringing his hands, “if I only had a few louis at this moment I could repair everything!” “How?” cried Mlle. Contat, with a sudden gleam of hope. “Why, to-night,” replied Lubsac, “I feel that my luck is in. I should win everything back. But I have not a solitary sou.” The repentance of the criminal was so comic that it touched the actress’s heart. Presently she smiled, then she laughed outright. In the end she lent the gambler a couple of louis, the last she had in the world, and he hurried off to the gaming-table. In less than an hour he returned triumphant. He had won. He brought back the whole of the jewellery, which he had taken out of pawn, and he had a few louis in his pocket besides. It was impossible to be too severe with such a man. The actress, however, could not put up with him many months. He at length proved such a desperate rake that she dismissed him in disgust.

Every reader of Balzac’s invaluable novels will remember one or more scenes in which some public gambling establishment is introduced. At the Frascati people lost their money according to rule, and under the superintendence of the police. Nor did the spendthrifts who haunted it cease to play even when ruin began to stare them in the face, for an occasional piece of luck would always revive the delusion that one day the goddess Fortune would return them the sums they had squandered in wooing her. Attached to the Frascati gambling-house were illuminated {106} gardens, imitated from those of the Italian Ridotto, and largely resorted to, under the Directory and the Consulate, by fashionable citizens. The original proprietor of the Frascati establishment, Garchi by name, died insolvent. The place was seized, and in 1799 passed into the hands of one Perrin, whom Fouché, the celebrated minister of police, appointed Farmer-General of Games. Public gambling-houses were kept up in Paris until the year 1836, when, under Louis Philippe, the “Citizen King,” they were brought to an end.

With the Frascati Gardens disappeared the charming villa built by Brongniart, with its Italian roof, its portico, and its statues. It was replaced by a house which was to enjoy a celebrity of its own. On the ground-floor it was occupied by Jannisset, the fashionable jeweller; on the first floor by Buisson the tailor, who had the honour of dressing Balzac, the greatest novelist that France, if not the world, has produced. Balzac had inspired the man with the same sort of admiration that a certain wine-merchant felt for the unfortunate Haydon. “Ought a man who can paint like that to be in want of a glass of sherry?” said Haydon to the art loving vintner who had come to ask for a settlement of his bill. “Indeed, no,” replied the wine-merchant, who not only went away without asking even for a trifle on account, but hastened to forward several dozen of sherry for Haydon’s encouragement and stimulation.

Buisson was treated by Balzac on the most friendly footing. Not only did the great novelist allow the fashionable tailor to dress him for nothing, but he also paid him long visits, and used a special set of apartments assigned to him in a lofty region of Buisson’s house, where in the midst of the workshops he was beyond the reach of troublesome creditors. Far from being ungrateful to his benefactor, Balzac has rendered him immortal by naming him again and again in his works. Buisson will, thanks to Honoré de Balzac, be always known as the fashionable tailor of Louis Philippe’s reign.

The name of Frascati at one time belonged to the present Boulevard Montmartre. It is still retained by the pastrycook who sells ices and tarts in his shop at the corner of the boulevard. It should be mentioned that this pastrycook’s shop was preceded by the Café Frascati, which owed its success entirely to the beauty of the lady who presided at the counter. When the dame du comptoir disappeared the café became deserted, and had to close its doors.