A rough sketch of modern Paris

by J. G. Lemaistre

In consequence of these active preparations, and of “Long Champ” having been, for some weeks back, infinitely more the subject of conversation than either the peace, or the reestablishment of religion, I expected, at least, a very brilliant sight. I must say, I was disappointed. The only thing which pleased me very much, was the bustle which it produced in the town, and the gayety with which it animated the faces of the Parisians. For three days, every vehicle in the shape of a carriage, and every animal which claimed the name of horse, has been dragged into use, and become part of the procession. About two o’clock, a military guard was posted at the beginning of the Champs Elisées, to preserve order, (for nothing here is done without soldiers); and from that hour, till some time after sunset, the crowd gradually increased. At three, the line of carriages reached from “la place de la Concorde” to the “Bois de Boulogne;” and, of course, there were frequent stoppages, even at the beginning of the promenade. The road not employed in this manner, was filled with equestrians of all ranks, and the walk on both sides was equally thronged with passengers on foot. There were some few elegant english equipages, well appointed, and others spoiled, by the shabby appearance of the servants, or the extreme badness of the horses. The french coachmakers, in one or two instances, successfully imitated the fashions of London; but, generally speaking, the attempt only served to prove the vast distance which exists, between the two countries, in the art of constructing carriages.

Mixed with “les voitures à l’anglaise, ou véritablement anglaises[71]” were seen old fashioned berlins, family coaches, and superannuated cabriolets of all descriptions. Phaetons, gigs, curricles, and whiskies, completed the procession. Among the horsemen were seen a few returned emigrants, who had so well copied the dress of our young men of ton, that they might have been mistaken for the beaux of Bond street; but the greater number (malgré their leather breeches and boots, their blue frocks and high crowned hats) betrayed the forgery, by the preposterous addition of ear-rings, coloured capes, or pointed toes. The ladies appeared in every variety of clothing. Some, who ventured to be their own charioteers, assumed the neat and appropriate dress of an “amazone,” or habit. Others, decorating, and concealing as little as possible, the charms of their person, shone in all the brilliance of their evening apparel. Worked gowns, laced caps, and showy turbans, were sometimes exhibited from the windows of hackney coaches; and a dirty buggy had, not unfrequently, the honour of conveying three or four damsels, whose costume would not have been unsuited to the first heroine of the stage. It is impossible to describe, or convey, the faintest idea of the grotesque figures which appeared on this occasion; and, notwithstanding the trouble and expense to which so many individuals had exposed themselves, by the purchase of new carriages, new liveries, new horses, new dresses, and last, not least, new leather breeches, the whole appeared to me but a shabby exhibition, dull amusement.

Moving, in slow procession, to the other side of the Bois de Boulogne, during five or six hours, constituted the whole pleasure of this vaunted fête. There were certainly some elegant carriages, and some handsome horses; but the number was too inconsiderable to make amends for the crowd of those of a contrary description. Nothing could be more tiresome than sitting in one of these vehicles, as they were compelled, every instant, to stop, on account of the lengthened line, which increased every moment. Persons on horseback were equally ill off, as it required the utmost care to avoid being driven against the wheels of the carriages; and as for the pedestrians, they were almost buried in a volley of dust.

Such is the celebrated promenade of Long Champ, which, though an annual festival, appears to me a wretched and pitiful imitation of Hyde park on an ordinary sunday. Yet the french are delighted with their amusement; and in returning this evening, I heard on every side, “Quel beau spectacle! quelles jolies voitures! quels magnifiques chevaux! quelle belle parure! Vraiment c’est charmant[72]!”

It is not a little flattering to the vanity of an englishman, to see how rapidly the french are adopting our fashions; and, notwithstanding the awkward manner in which they are sometimes copied, yet such is the general bias, that I entertain no doubt that, in the space of ten years, (if the peace should last so long), it will become almost impossible to distinguish, by his dress, a native of France from one of England.

The ladies of Paris, and those of London, differ, indeed, very widely in their toilet. Perhaps they might reciprocally improve by observing each other; and while the former would do right to respect and imitate the modesty, with which the latter are usually clad, our fair countrywomen might also, without any injury to their beauty, or any violation of that delicacy, which is their brightest ornament, adopt some of that taste, elegance, and fancy, which are often seen in the dress of a well bred frenchwoman.

Adieu, my dear sir. I am heartily tired of my subject, and fear you will have been so some time. I therefore take my leave for the present.

I am, &c.