[LETTER I]
Havre—Description of the Town—The Mapseller—Mannersof the People—Law of Inheritance—State of Agriculture—Townand Country Poverty—Foreign Trade—TheCustom House, a School for Perjury—System ofPassports—The French Diligence—Rouen—The Cathedral—Joanof Arc[p. 1-24]
[LETTER II]
Paris—Street Cries—St. Roch—The Boulevards—ParisianLodgings—Manner of Living—The Grand Opera—Taglioni—ThePublic Gardens—The Guinguettes—Dancing,the characteristic amusement of the French—SundayDances—Dancing defended, from classical authority[p. 25-53]
[LETTER III]
The Boulevards—Boulevard Madelaine—Boulevard desCapucines—Boulevard Italien—Monsieur Carème—SplendidCafés—The Baths—Boulevard Montmartre—TheShoe-black—The Chiffonnier—The Gratteur—TheCommissionnaire—Boulevard du Temple—Scene atthe Ambigù Comique—Sir Sydney Smith—Monsieur deParis—The Café Turc—The Fountains—Recollectionsof the Bastille—The Halle aux Blés—The Bicêtre—Boulevarddu Mont Parnasse[p. 54-92]
[LETTER IV]
The Palais Royal—French courtesy—Rue Vivienne—Pleasuresof walking in the streets—Cafés in the Palais Royal—MilleColonnes—Véry’s—French dinners—Past Historyof the Palais Royal—Galerie d’Orleans—Gambling—Theunhappy Colton—Hells of the Palais Royal—PrincePuckler Muskau—Lord Brougham—The Kingand Queen[p. 93-125]
[LETTER V]
The Tuileries—The Gardens—The Statues—The Cabinetsde Lecture—The King’s Band—Regulations of the Gardens—Yankeemodesty—The English Parks—Properestimate of riches—Policy of cultivating a taste for innocentpleasures—Advantages of gardens—Should be madeornamental—Cause of the French Revolution—Mr.Burke’s notion of the English Parks—Climate ofFrance[p. 126-143]
[LETTER VI]
The Three Glorious Days—The plump little Widow—Marriageof fifteen young Girls—Shrines of the Martyrs—LouisPhilippe—Dukes of Orleans and Némours—TheNational Guards—Fieschi—The Infernal Machine—MarshalMortier and twelve persons killed—Dismissalof the Troops—The Queen and her Daughters—Disturbedstate of France—The Chamber ofDeputies—Elements of support to the present Dynasty—Privatecharacter of the King—The Daily Journals—TheChamber of Peers—Bonaparte[p. 144-165]
[LETTER VII]
The Garden of Plants—The Omnibus—The Museum ofNatural History—American Birds—The Naturalist—Studyof Entomology—The Botanic Garden—Cabinetof Comparative Anatomy—The Menagerie—The Giraffe—Notionsof America—The Cedar of Lebanon—Effectsof French Cookery—French Gastronomy—Goose LiverPie—Mode of Procuring the Repletion of the Liver[p. 166-186]
[LETTER VIII]
Burial of the victims—St. Cloud—The Chateau—TheCicerone—The Chevalier d’Industrie—Grave of Mrs.Jordan—The Bois de Boulogne—Amusements on FêteDays—Place Louis XV.—The King at the Tuileries—TheAmerican Address—His Majesty’s Reply—ThePrincess Amelia—The Queen and her Daughters—TheDukes of Orleans and Némours—Madame Adelaide—Splendourof Ancient Courts—Manner of governing theFrench—William the Fourth—Exhibition of the Studentsat the University[p. 187-209]
[LETTER IX]
Tour of Paris—The Seine—The Garden of Plants—TheAnimals—Island of St. Louis—The Halle aux Vins—ThePolice—Palais de Justice—The Morgue—Numberof suicides—M. Perrin—The Hotel de Ville—Place deGrêve—The Pont Neuf—Quai des Augustins—TheInstitute—Isabelle de Bavière—The Bains Vigiers—ThePont des Arts—The Washerwomen’s Fête—Swimming-schoolsfor both sexes—The Chamber of Deputies—Placede la Revolution—Obelisk of Luxor—Hospitalof the Invalids—Ecole Militaire—The Champ de Mars—Talleyrand[p. 210-250]
[LETTER X]
Faubourg St. Germain—Quartier Latin—The Book-stalls—Phrenologists—Dupuytren’sRoom—Medical Students—Lodgings—Billat the Sorbonne—FrenchCookery—A Gentleman’s Boarding-house—The LocomotiveCook—Fruit—The Pension—The Landlady—Pleasuresof being duped—Smile of a French Landlady—TheBoarding-house—Amiable Ladies—The LuxembourgGardens—The Grisettes—Their naïveté and simplicity—Americanssent to Paris—Parisian Morals—Advantagesin visiting Old Countries—American Societyin Paris[p. 251-284]
[LETTER XI]
The Observatory—The Astronomers—Val de Grace—Anneof Austria—Hospice des Enfans Trouvés—Rows ofCradles—Sisters of Charity—Vincent de Paul—Maisonsd’Accouchement—Place St. Jaques—The Catacombs—Skullof Ninon de l’Enclos—The Poet Gilbert—Julian’sBath—Hotel de Cluny—Ancient Furniture—Francisthe First’s Bed—Charlotte Corday—Danton—Marat—Robespierre—Ruedes Postes—Convents offormer Times—Faubourg St. Marceau[p. 285-302]

THE AMERICAN IN PARIS.

LETTER I.

Havre—Description of the Town—The Mapseller—Manners of the People—Law of Inheritance—State of Agriculture—Town and Country Poverty—Foreign Trade—The Custom House, a School for Perjury—System of Passports—The French Diligence—Rouen—The Cathedral—Joan of Arc.

June 30th, 1835.

I have half a mind to describe this town to you. It has twenty thousand inhabitants, is at the mouth of the Seine, and twenty-four hours from Paris. The houses are high, and mostly of black slate, and patched often till nothing is seen but the patches, and mushrooms, and other vegetables, grow through the cracks. Villages in America have an air of youth and freshness harmonising with their dimensions. Small things should never look old. This town presents you with the ungracious image of a wrinkled and gray-headed baby. The streets, except one, have no side walks; they are paved with rough stone, and are without gutters and common sewers; the march of intellect not having arrived at these luxuries. The exception is the “Rue de Paris;” it has “trottoirs,” a theatre, a public square, a market-house, a library with six thousand volumes, and a church very richly furnished, the organ presented by Cardinal Richelieu. I have been to the church this morning, to pay the Virgin Mary the pound of candles I owed, for my preservation at sea. The prettiest improvement I have seen (and it is no miracle for a town of so much commercial importance) is a dock, cut in from the bay along the channel of an old creek, which contains three or four hundred ships, a goodly number of which wear the American flag; it runs through the midst of the town, and brings the vessels into a pleasant sociability with the houses. When the tide is high, these vessels ride in their own element; when low, you see a whole fleet wallowing in the mud; and passengers, to get to sea, have to wait the complaisance of both wind and tide often a whole week.

But step out through the Rue de Paris, a little to the north, and you will see a compensation for all this ugliness. It is a hill, running boldly up to the water’s edge, whose south side, several hundred feet high, is smothered with houses, which seem to be scrambling up the acclivity to get a look at the town; and the entire summit is covered with beautiful villas, and gardens rich with trees and shrubbery, and hedges, which at this season are a most luxurious ornament. Many American families, having grown rich here by commerce, are perched magnificently upon this hill. The view from the top is charming! The old town, in its motley livery of houses, ships, and fortifications, spreads itself out at your feet; on the west, there is an open view of the channel, and all the pretty images of a commercial port, such as vessels in the near and distant prospect, coming into harbour and going out upon their voyages; and on the south, and beyond the bay into which the Seine flows, is a fine romantic country of field and woodland, which runs gradually up, undulating like the sea, till it meets the blue sky. It is charming, too, in the night; for as soon as Mercury has hung out his lamps above, these Havrians light up theirs in the town, and set up a little opposition to the heavens; and there you are between two firmaments, which of a fine evening is a fantastic and gorgeous spectacle. This is the Havre. It is the first thing I ever described, and I am out of breath.

And now the customs and manners. I have had dealings with hackney-coachmen, porters, pedlars, and pickpockets, and have found them eminently qualified in their several departments. In strolling last evening through the streets, going only to frank a letter at the post office, I remarked a person crying maps by a wall side. He walked up and down with arms folded, and had a grave and respectable face:—“A trente sous seulement! C’est incroyable! A trente sous!” I wished to look after a place in Normandy called Helleville; the very place where Guiscard and, that other choicest of all ladies’ heroes, Tancred were born. Only think of Tancred being born in the department of Coutance, and being nothing but a Frenchman; and only think, too, of the possibility of taking a piece of gold out of a man’s waistcoat pocket at mid-day, the owner being wide awake, and in full enjoyment of his senses. I had no sooner made my wants known to this polite auctioneer than, with a civilité toute Française, he placed the map before my eyes—that is, between the eyes and the waistcoat pocket, and himself just behind the left shoulder, and assisted me in the search—“Hell—Hell—Hell—Helleville!—le voilà, monsieur!” He then resumed his walk and looked out for new customers; and I, with a return of his bow and smile, and a grateful sense of his politeness, took leave, and pursued my way contentedly, “not missing what was stolen,” to the post-office. Here I took out my letter, had it stamped, and put my hand complacently in my pocket, and then went home very much disgusted with the French nation. To be robbed at the Havre brings no excuse for one’s wit or understanding: in Paris, it is what one expects from the civilization of the capital.

The porters, coachmen, draymen, boatmen, and such like, about the Havre, are wrangling and noisy to excess. They burst out into a fury every few minutes, but it always terminates innocently. It reminds one of our militia musketry; there is a preliminary, and then a general explosion, and then a few scattering cartridges, and all ends in smoke. They seldom resort to duelling, and boxing is considered vulgar; and as for oaths, they make no sort of figure in French. In the article of swearing, we are ahead, I believe, of all other nations. In their common intercourse, however, these people are much more respectful than we are to their betters and to one another. Mr. Boots, for no other reason than bringing your shoes in well polished, insists on your “pardon for having deranged you;” and the beggar takes leave of his fellow-beggar with his “respects to madam.” But these respects, I have heard, do not bear the test of any twopenny interest. There is no civility that stands against sixpence.