A rough sketch of modern Paris

by J. G. Lemaistre

I am, &c.

LETTER XXI.

Bois de Boulogne.—Account of that promenade.—Order of the police against english footmen wearing laced cocked hats.—Cannon fired in honour of the definitive treaty.—Illuminations in the evening.—Little effect produced at Paris by the peace.

Paris, march the 26th, 1802 (5 germinal).

MY DEAR SIR,

We have had for some days delightful weather; and the parisians have taken advantage of it in the best manner, by passing several hours in the “bois de Boulogne,” which answers in some respects to our Hyde-park. From three till six o’clock, the champs Elisées, through which the road runs, leading to this favourite spot, and all the adjoining streets have been crowded every day during this week, with carriages of all descriptions. Berlins, chariots, curricles, gigs, cabriolets, sociables, &c. These united to innumerable horsemen and pedestrians, make the whole city assume a lively appearance.

The bois de Boulogne is about a mile and a half from the place de la Concorde; and the avenue and turnpike leading to it, form one of the most striking entrances of Paris. The wood itself was formerly very fine; but in one of the frantic moments of revolutionary violence, great part of the trees, were, by order of the then government, cut down for fuel. It is however still a very pleasant retreat; and though the wood is not so well garnished as it once was, yet it is singularly retired and romantic, for a spot so near a capital. A gate leads to it, where, from the crowds pressing forwards, it is often necessary to wait before it is possible to pass. A string of carriages fills the centre of the road, on the sides of which, gentlemen and ladies on horseback are obliged to range themselves, as there is no separate space for equestrians. Under the trees, to the right, it is the fashion to walk, or to sit on chairs, which are placed there for the purpose; while ice, oranges, flowers, fruit, and lemonade, are offered by persons, who make it their business to attend, and who are not a little importunate. Here the belles of Paris appear in all their éclat, not dressed in rustic straw hats, and snow white morning gowns, such as our fair countrywomen wear in Kensington gardens; and which, while they are the emblem of their minds, pure and simple, are the most becoming ornaments they could assume. The ladies of Paris disdain such humble attractions; and in showy silks, embroidered muslins, pearl necklaces, lace caps, and transparent petticoats, challenge the attention of passengers. “Les pommes d’albâtre,” as Voltaire describes them, are as little disguised as at the balls, which I have mentioned; and ill-nature has a fair opportunity of determining by day light, whether they owe their fairness to nature or to art. Clad in this manner, many of them appear in open carriages, while others lounge on the chairs, or loiter along the walk, followed by their booted beaux, who to english leather breeches and boots, and cropped hair, sometimes add a pair of ear-rings, or a smart military cocked hat, when the sun shines in all its meridian heat.

The mixture of english and french fashions is, indeed, very curious at Paris; and whenever a frenchman wishes to be completely à l’anglaise, he generally contrives to make himself ridiculous. The equestrians sit on the necks of their horses, and turn out their toes, by way of imitating our manner of riding; and the grooms who attend them, whom they call “des jockés,” are dressed like our postilions; that is to say, in short waistcoats, richly laced with gold and silver, with a cap, ornamented in the same manner, and without any coat. The horses, generally speaking, are very bad, very ill trimmed, and worse managed. There are some handsome english carriages already arrived, and the french coachmakers copy our fashions as much as possible; but they are, as yet, far behind. The common run of vehicles is very indifferent. The handsomest equipage from London, loses much of its elegance here, from the slovenly manner in which it is sure to be kept by a french coachman; from the tail of the latter, which it is very difficult to persuade him to cut off; and from the shabby horses, usually furnished by the jobmen. Apropos, a very ridiculous circumstance occurred a few days ago. All foreigners are permitted (notwithstanding the republican prohibition to natives) to have arms on their carriages, and to give their usual liveries: of course, several of the english, allowed their servants to wear gold laced cocked hats. Would you believe it possible, that the government was apprehensive of these hats being taken for the badges, given to distinguish the constituted authorities; and that, on this ground, they have been forbidden by an express order of the police, issued with proper solemnity? Such is the simple truth. French generals, those renowned and distinguished warriors, are apprehensive of english footmen being taken for them. What a strange littleness in great minds.

“Tantæne animis cœlestibus iræ?” I cannot help exclaiming with lord Chesterfield, “alas, poor human nature!”