A rough sketch of modern Paris

by J. G. Lemaistre

The people of all nations cling, with such fond partiality, to their old customs, that it is next to impossible to eradicate even the most trifling of these by the power of law. I remarked a strong proof of this to day. It was an immemorial custom in France to celebrate new years day, by making presents of confectionary, trinkets, and such other articles, to near relations and particular friends.

Notwithstanding the republican almanack, and the use of it in all public acts, newspapers, &c. which makes the year begin with vendémiaire, answering to our 23d of september, the first of January is still considered as solely entitled to these honours. The Palais royal, as it is universally called (notwithstanding its first revolutionary and already superannuated name of “Jardin d’Egalité,” and its present constitutional one of “Palais du Tribunat,”) was thronged this morning with persons of all classes, who soon dispersed themselves among the various shops, in order to purchase these little annual presents, or “étrennes,” as they are called in the language of the country. The jewellers vied with each other in displaying, in their windows, all the taste, fashion, and magnificence, of their choicest merchandise; and diamond rings, pearl lockets, and amber necklaces, offered to gallantry elegant but expensive means of testifying its ardour. The milliners brought forth their finest lace, their most tawdry colours, and their most extravagant patterns; and the confectioners, with streamers at their door, ornamented cakes within, perfumed bonbons, and amorous mottoes, soon found the means of filling their respective shops.

What an extraordinary place is the Palais royal! There is nothing like it in any town in Europe. I remember hearing an english epicure once observe, “that as soon as the peace took place, he would give himself the happiness of passing six weeks in the Palais royal, without once going out of its gates.” Certainly, if a man be contented with sensual pleasures, there is not one which he may not gratify within the walls of this building. Restaurateurs, or taverns, where dinners are served from ten sols to two louis a head. Coffee houses, where, for three-pence, the lounger may pass the whole of his day in playing chess, talking politics, or reading the papers. Gambling houses, where the man of pleasure, at the risk of all that is dearest to him in life, purchases the anxious feelings which fear and hope excite, and where the chevalier d’industrie finds the disgraceful means of a dishonourable existence. Tailors, haberdashers, silversmiths, and watchmakers, offer every variety of clothing, of ornament, and of machinery. Booksellers’ shops are seen in every corner, where the homme de lettres finds his favourite authors, the romantic young lady her novels, and the politician his pamphlets. Opticians, where the frequenter of spectacles purchases his opera glass, and the philosopher his telescope. Crowds of unfortunate, and sometimes lovely females, challenge, with every variety of dress, the attention of passengers, and, while they offer a too easy banquet to libertines and dotards, fill every reflecting mind with pity and with sorrow. Such are the objects which the Palais royal presents. I ought to add, that while the cellars are filled with inferiour restaurateurs, or eating houses, where bands of music are constantly playing, frequently dressed in theatrical costumes; the upper rooms are occupied with gambling parties, cabinets of intrigue, and coffeehouses[40]. The latter have every variety of decoration; some are painted to represent the Alps, and others are covered with glass, reflecting in every direction a different room. The gambling tables are numerous; and I am assured, that on the stairs, descending from one of these, there is a pawnbroker’s shop, where it sometimes happens, that a ruined gamester, after losing the contents of his purse, deposits, for the sake of making a last and desperate effort, his watch, his buckles, and sometimes his coat. With the trifle advanced him he returns, and, if successful, redeems, on going away, the objects he has pledged. If he fail, a pistol, or the river, ends his miserable days. Such is the consequence of play, and such are the scenes which this profligate place presents.

The buildings, which formerly filled the centre, are now pulled down, and that part is really a garden, which many persons frequent for exercise. There are ice houses at each end, and chairs scattered about, on which the parisians sit in rows, and take lemonade and other refreshments. The space under the arcades, not occupied by the shops, is, as formerly, filled every hour of the day, and the greatest part of the night, with figures of all descriptions, with persons of every class, and, I might add, of every nation in the world.

“Le théâtre de Montansier” is still in the Palais royal, besides many smaller play houses. Puppet shows, dwarfs, giants, quack doctors, vociferating newsmen, and quiet venders of libels, who in a whisper offer you indecent and forbidden publications, complete the catalogue of many-coloured curiosities which this place presents.

Adieu. I dare not add the reflections which so singular a spot would naturally create. Were I to do so, scarcely a volume would contain them.

Adieu.

LETTER XII.

L’institution des travaux des aveugles, or establishment for the support and employment of the blind.—Their different occupations.—The plate glass manufactory.—Description of another meeting at the hospital of the deaf and dumb.—Massieu taught galvanism and stenography.