UNIVERSITY LIBRARY treasure "Room / Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from Duke University Libraries http://archive.org/details/lifeinpariscomprOOcare l>i:iwn X- E/i,im\td hy MTfJrfn/f rniik^hank. J'ubnshrd <\-t'^ Jo. !^-^-.\ i>v Jvhn Fab-burn.Braad\va\- LiuLmfv Bill . 94 .> ^>0 CAREY, DAVID. Life in Paris; Comprising the Ram- bles, Sprees, and Amours, of Dick Wildfire, of Corinthian Celebrity, and his Bang-up Companions, Squire Jenkins and Captain 'Shufifleton ; with the whimsical adventures of the Halibut family, including sketches of a variety of other eccentric characters in the French Metropolis. Fiest Edi- tion. Embellished with 21 coloured plates, representing Scenes from Real Life, designed and engraved ly Mr. George Cruikshank. Enriched also with 22 engravings on wood, ^rawn by the same artist and executed by Mr. White. 8vo, original pictorial hoards, entirely uncut. London : Printed for John Fairburn, 1822. ' Rare. $350.00 An immaculate copy of this rare book, with brilliant impressions of the plates. And hie Bang-up Companions, SQUIRE JENKINS AND CAPTAIN O'SHUFFLETON; WITH THE miim^itdd ^Kbtnturejs of tf)t ?gali5ttt dFamilg ; Including fetches of a Variety of other Eccentric Characters in the FRENCH METROPOLIS. BY DAVID CAREY. Embellished with Twenty One COLOURED PLATES, representing SCENES from REAL LIFE, designed and engraved by Mr. GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. Enriched also with Twenty-Two Engravings on Wood, drawn by the same Artist, and executed by Mr. WHITE. LONDOlSr : PRINTED FOR JOHN FAIRBURN, BROADWAY, LUDGATE-HILL; Sold by Sherwood, Neely, and Jones; Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown; and Baldwin, Craddock, and Joy ; Paternoster-Row ; Simpkin and Marshall, Statio> ners'Courtj Whittakers, Ave-Maria-Lane ; Humphrey, St. James's Street j and Wilson, Royal Exchange. 1822. Hunting some particular Foreign Beasts of Sport. 8vo, half levant morocco. London, N. D. Scarce. $12,00 100 DANCE OF DEATH. The British Dance of Death, ex- emplified hy a Series of 19 Coloured Engravings, from Dra(W- ings hy Van Assen; with explanatory and Moral Essays. 8vo, original pictorial hoards, entirely uncut. London: printed by and for Hodgson and Co. Excessively rare. $100.00 101 EGAN, PIERCE. Boxiana; or, Sketches of Ancient and Modern Pugilism, from the days of the renowned Broughton and Slack. . . . Illustrated with numerous Portraits of celebrated Pugilists. Complete set. 5 vols. 8vo, half red levant morocco, uncut. London, 1824-29. Rare. $160.00 mu in ^mi^ ; COMPRISING THE RAMBLES, SPREES, AND AMOURS, OF DICK WILDFIRE, OF CORINTHIAN CELEBRITY, And hiB Bang-up Companions, SQUIRE JENKINS AND CAPTAIN O'SHUFFLETON; WITH THE mUm^iml ^Kb^tttttugf of tje ?8ali]&ut dFamilg ; Including Sketches of a Variety of other Eccentric Characters in the FRENCH METROPOLIS. BY DAVID CAREY. Embellished with Twenty One COLOURED PLATES, representing SCENES from REAL LIFE, designed and engraved by Mr. GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. Enriched also with Twenty-Two Engravings on Wood, drawn by the same Artist, and executed by Mr. WHITE. LONDON : PRINTED FOR JOHN FAIRBURN, BROADWAY, LUDGATE-HILL; Sold by Sherwood, Neely, and Jones; Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown; and Baldwin, Craddock, and Joy; Paternoster-Row; Simpkin and Marshall, Statio- ners' Court j Whittakers, Ave-Maria-Lane ; Humphrey, St. James's Street j and Wilson, Royal Exchange. 1822. am^i &di ,mob.Bri \m . lie. ■ m mB ■. ~#lii \ ■ ■OB SiEn:. ■'Krt ft ■, . . " ., >■ Off tois ■■ hm> '■ i-> idB^MBh SidI moil ^i/ ' ' ■ m PREFACE. Life, wherever it exists in the shape of human character, is prolific of events, and full of the materials of amusement. In all places, in all sta- tions of life, and in all states and nations, the mind, fond of tracing the motives of human ac- tion, peculiarities of character, and the manners and customs of society, will find ample scope for philosophical remark, and the descriptive writer innumerable subjects for delineation. It used to be the fashion among authors to consider no event worthy of notice that did not occur in high life ; now, thanks to a very impartial revolution of sen- timent, the motions of ordinary beings, nay, even the manners and irregularities of the canmlle, may be made to afford amusement; yet, though an inexhaustible mine of entertainment may thus be found, where, hitherto, no jewels or pearls were sought, caution, as well as ability, are necessary in snatching from the darkness of Ignorance, and the haunts of Criminality, the prize of moral truth that ought to adorn a public writer. This is a task Yl PREFACE. not easy of accomplishment. It is difficult to touch the shores of Circe without participating in the meta- morphoses. No excuse, however, ought to be al- lowed to justify the sanction of the literary mind, when it is given to imprudence, wantonness, or criminality. d toii^r MlliW ■&^jiii uiv^ _ , ,: . Id i9>b ,, , ** In every work regard the writer's end." Luckily; SO' pdwef ful is now the corrective of pub- lic taste, that no literary production can find fevour, or exist long, which has not in it the per- manency of talent, and the merit of upright inten- tion. '^j^^SrMii^'j i>^ isiiBiii lJ3t*t^ &>3>ii(-«s.k|a»i>J'i^ |»tti.afe: i The design of LifE ik 1?lRi&^rt6 kfford lis^M information, as well as amusement. "Life in Lon- don" has justly received the approbation of the public ; to seek to match such a work, by confining description to London, notwithstanding no field is so ample for collecting the materials of humour, would have appeared slavish and Quixotic in any person but the author of that work. Paris alone can rival London in scenes of amusement, eccentricity of character, and all the varieties of life. Paris is the emporium of pleasure; society is less bur- dened with morality ; and choice spirits have am- ple scope for exhibiting life at its champagne height. The Author of this Work, being well acquainted with the French Capital, has ventured to follow the example of some authors of great merit and celebrity, who have mixed with their novels aud fictions descriptions of local objects and interesting places. Fictions can only be useful as they are the means of aiding virtue, or conveying some va- luable informatics to the mind of the reader. With this view, the author has endeavoured to retL->- der his work of some utility to those who have never seen the French Capital, as well as to the inexperienced traveller, who seeks to know some- thing of the manners and customs of a people before he takes up his abode amongst them. Many descriptions of Paris have been published, and some attempts have been made to delineate the customs and manners of its inhabitants; but the variety of characters which are to be met with in all places, the interior of the haunts where Life is sought to be enjoyed with the gTeatest avidity, the resorts of the gambler and sJiarpeVt the favourite Elysium of the gourmand and the hon-vivant^ the abodes of Pleasure, and the saloons of Fashion, have, hitherto, been but very imperfectly repre- sented, if the descriptive faculty has been at all employed on such subjects. In fact, it is in the power of none but the ivdtiatedj and such as have witnessed character and Life, in all its varieties, throughout the multifarious scenes and assem- blages of Paris, to furnish a faithful and satisfac- tory view of the interior features and most amusing characteristics of such places and objects. To give an interesting and correct delineation of the manner till PREFACE. and the scenes in which pleasure is enjoyed, and time and money are spent, in the French Metro- polis, whither so many votaries of the Smiling Goddess resort from all countries ; and, above all, the adventures and amusing situations into which strangers of spirit or inexperience may get in such a Capital, (not a description of inanimate things^) was the task which the Author of this Work set to himself, when he planned the incidents of this nar- rative. It is now completed, and the reader is invited to the perusal with the confident preposses- sion that he will find both novelty and entertain- ment in it, and that this picture of the gay and enlivening features and the eccentricities of the French Metropolis and its inhabitants will be al- lowed to take its place beside the celebrated Work " Life in London." The Plates which illustrate this Work have been designed and executed by the masterly hand of Mr. George Cruikshank. To accuracy of local delineation is added a happy exhibition of whatever is ludicrous and grotesque in character. Some acknowledgements are due from the author for the assistance he has received from literary friends, among whom, in particular, is the writer of the Caveau Song, in page 193, (the production of a gentleman of Lyon's Inn). ILLUSTRATIONS. The Frontispiece represents, in a tableau of interesting objects, the varieties of Life to be found in Paris. VIVE LA BAGATELLE! is the motto of the French Nation, and it will be admitted that they act up to it, by every one who has mixed in their festivities. Their light ascending spirits are appropriately figured by a Baloon, which is seen on the top of the Picture, immediately under the motto, and between those aerial beings, THE DANCE AND THE SONG. The Song is represented by one of the Muses, and is placed on the right. The Dance, to which the French are very partial, is personated by a male figurant, who is exhibiting his gracefulness of attitude on the left. They are both supported by inverted foils, round which are twined tendrils of the vine, indicative of the fertility of the country. Nearly allied to the Song and the Dance is MUSIC ; the love of which is another characteristic of the French Nation. There is no accounting for the whims of musicians when " rapt, inspired," by the spirit of their country, whether it be generous wine or intoxicating whishy. Old Nick chose a lofty station when he took it into his head to become piper to the figurantes in Tam O'Shanter ; in like manner the musical gentleman figured in the Picture, elevated by what means we know not, is placed astride one of the lamps which are suspended by a rope across the street, a precarious enough situation, where, as the pas- sengers reel along, ** to gie them music is his charge." HONOUR. All, all are honourable men in France ;— touch my honour, touch my life, — this is at least the doctrine of the touchi/ gentlemen ; a word, a look, b X ILLUSTRATIONS. a frown, and out fly rapiers " in length a full cloth yard, and more," hence the multitude of duels that take place in France ; and hence, also, the first feature of Life in Paris, which the stranger witnesses, is Death. The two combatants under the lamp are symbolical of this spirit and of the mode in which quarrels are generally settled in France. -y-^- ■ • GLORY 'dvmsdi. .,.,, is a word dear to all nations ; the Frenchman "siflgs of La Gloire all day long, and thinks no one possesses it but the Grand Nation. On either side are Jiags with the inscription, La Gloire, appropriately supported by two Eagles, and emblematicalof ithea.ttac|iEQieaitjef JiheFr^cUypeppl^to that dangerous word g^orw. '^''!*^^''= fs*-"' ^( ^«fn ,o.tc ,.:;r!T ^-^/asofq POLITENESS. Between the Eagles appear two precious specimens ofpolitesse, in which It is allowed the r reach people excel. ^ n -1 LOVE. ''^^ :,Mrt>n5rv:-rV..>i- «.fr 1 " .cf^T i'.i viuc r''^-'^^*:" sa'tif This compartment exhibits Cupid blindfolded, with his bow in one band and an arrow in the other. He is placed immediately behind the presiding goddess, or bar-maid, of one of the Cafes, who is seen, seated in her chair of state, surrounded by flowers, and fruits, and all the delicacies with which such envied stations abound. j THE GAME. The vice of gambling pervades all classes in France. On the base, iu the middle, two of the canaille are earnestly engaged at cards. These gamblers are also men of polish. They are shoe-blacks, who appear to have more leisure than sous. Their apparatus is beside them. THE POLICE, rr fiid^<^ gives him, at once, a proof of his aversion and dexterity of limb, '' by putting his foot in the Squirt's breadbasket. Jenkins, reeling to *' a proper distance, stands with his hands in his breeches pockets, amazed ''* to see the ^guronte's wonderful agility. Dick is in dalliance with a '"''■ kind Flora, who has already prepared the wreath of love for some "■'' faithful Colin. The W/ets, which are generally founded on rural events, ■' have always a mixture of the heathen deities. At the left side of the Plate stands a Hercules beside a young painted Omphale, vrhile one of titthe Cupids, who are sporting oh the floor, is playing with his dub. t)iCK aod Sqmre Jenkins enjoying the Sport at the Combat of Animals /les Combats des Animaux) or Duck-Lane of Paris . . 286 The French are not without their Animal Sports. This is an exhl.i'^ ^"> bition of a scene of tender mercies to a part of the brute creation, '■'^ which often takes place in Paris. Dick is conspicuous near the middle i> of the area, surveying the sport, while Jenkins, with some other ^ lovers of the noble art of bear-baiting, is engaged in urging on a mastiff to attack a bear that is about to issue from his den. On the right, is ' seen a bull-dog environed by fire-works, and raised to a considerable height by a rope, which is drawn, by a person on the right, with the aid of a pulley. The dog secures his safety by holding tightly^ between his teeth, a piece of sponge attached to the rope, and thus i remains on high, regardless of the flames that surround him. ^ Dick Wildfire and Jenkins in a Theatrical Pandemonium, or, the Caf€ de la Paix, in all its glory i 305 A full account of this resort of the middling and nondescript classes ;i is given in the work. Dick and Jenkins are in the middle of the pit. Dick is treating a lady Iroin the Palais Royai. Squire Jenkins is i-nai-nod-Hoddrng, and, '* here and tbcrei and ever eoA anon," thq. ILLUSTRATIONS. XK Page waiters are circulating with the blazing punch aiid burnt brandy with which the Parisian cockneys treat their sweethearts. On the stage, a figurante is performing on the tightrope, and, at the same time, a ciowu is showing off his antics. " Life among the Dead," or Dick Wildfire, Squire Jenkih«, ^^'^ and the Halibut Family in the Catacombs ...,,.« U ■ 323 1 Dick Wildfire, Sjutre Jenkins, with Sir Humphrey Halibut, ^ his wife, and daughter, are exhibited in the Plate viewing, by the help „j of a guide, these extraordinary excavations. Some ingenuity was re- np quisite to impart " Life " to such a spot. The artist has accomplished ; this in a very whimsical manner. Dick Wildfire, resolved to have some sport with Jenkins, and the rest of bis friends, devises an ex- pedient to frighten them, the consequences of which are narrated in the description. •B-^vt^r?. t- Life among the Connoisseurs ; br Dick Wildfire and his friends in the Grand Grallery of the Louvre < . 831 The extent and architectural splendour of this Palace of the Art» ''• excites the wonder and admiration of every one who visits it. A full ; description of the subjects of the Plate is given in the above and sub- ' sequent pages. Dick Wildfire, Lydia, and the rest of his friends, 3 are strolling about, in the middle of the room, viewing the paintings, •' surrounded, on one side, by groups of fashionables of the old and new schools, and, on the other, by several specimens of the canaille, porters, hackney coachmen, and petit gurgons.^ Dick Wildfire and Jenkins enjoying a freUein iik& G^i4\^^cr^ ... I or Infernal Cellar .- .t^'.'5'i9,S?v*^'§J^i'/4 *SF^««c;^ -^^5 This is a most excellent delineation of another of those subterranean ^j ;, haunts in the Palais Royal, styled Caveaux, where persons that have no great regard for character or personal safety resort. It is known by the appropriate name of the Cafe d'Enfer, or Infernal Cellar. Some Frenchmen have, in compliment to the English, nick-named it the Caf6 d'Angkterre. This denomination is not applicable, for there is certainly nothing in the wide extent of the British Metropolis — even in the hack shim^in the Holy Land — to parallel it. Dick Wildfire and Squire ' Jenkins, bent on a spree, have found their way into this nether region, ^ where the votaries of Bacchus and Venus perform their orgies. They have ^ both provided themselves with doxies for the frolic. The Squire's lady appears the very pink of subterranean beauty, and Dick is giving a proof of his deilcate gallantry in assisting his fair one to ascend a ladder to an upper apartment. In the cock-loft appear some parties up to trap, in regard to an amorous couple in the shade, whose ardours are conceived by one of the spectators above to stand in need of the cooling stream. An Old Soldier and a Young Female, musicians, c dre interesting characters. Behind them the work of provisioning for the customers is proceeding at a table, and an enraged Cook, or garfon, has floored a ragged and hangry.looking victim with the skimmer. A Lady sits in the bar in this place, as well as in more respectable Cafis, " spectatress of the scene," with all her characteristic paraphernalia about her. ».• Xvi ILLUSTRATIONS. Page Life on Tip-Toe, or Dick Wildpire quadrilling it in the Salon de Mars, in the Champs Elys'ees 384 Dice Wildfire and his friend, Jenkins, having repaired to a guinguette, or rural coffee-house, in the Elysian Fields, Dick has entered into the spirit of the place, and is quadrilling it a la Frangaise, with the beauties of the Salon. Squire Jenkins appears not in such good humour. He is seated at the right hand margin of the Plate, super vinum, interrogating a garfon, or waiter, respecting his charges, which the worthy Squire does not seem correctly to comprehend. The waiter explains by the significant use of both his hands, indicating that two more pieces are required. Entree to the Italian Opera 450 Dick Wildfire and Ltdia appear on the stair, about to enter, having passed the 6ar of arms. Squire Jenkins and Lady Halibut are not so far advanced, being still in the struggle with the gens-d'arme. On the left, among the crowd, appear some odd characters. A. French- man is kicking a gargon for some officious forwardness, and a petit maitre, at the extremity of the covering, is shrinking from the rain that is pouring down upon him. Morning of the Fete of St. Louis, or Dick Wildfire and Jenkins enjoying " Life " in the Elysian-Fields 452 The celebration of the Fite of St. Louis is always an interesting and important event to the French. The subjects of this Plate are some of the occurrences in the Elysian Fields, where the populace are treated with gifts of wine, bread, and other delectables, and where the light-hearted Parisians enter into all sorts of diversions and festivities. An ample description of these ceremonies and amusements, by which this great national Fete is distinguished, will be found in the work. . ■.. ^iTr Evening of the Fite oi S#. Louis, or Dick, Jenkins, and ttieEfA- LiBUTS, witnessing the Canaille in all their glory 457 This Plate is a lively representation of the festivities that take place in the Elysian-Fields in the afternoon and evening of the day on which the Fete of St. Louis is celebrated. A description of the sports and diver- sions which thus take place will be found in the volume. To the right of the Plate are seen erections, on which are stage exhibitors— a rope- dancer and a fire-eater. A little before these is one of the greased poles, on which are hung the prizes, and a man is in the act of climbing^ ' 3iil up. In the centre of the back-ground is represented a sort of round-, ■ about, over which a balloon is perceptible at a considerable height. ^*Life" in a Billiard-Room, or Dick and Jenkins am /aijttQ.^^.,. Parisian Sharpers .... '^ 'f!* ••'r^Vf'. '^T''' This is a peep into an inferior gaming-house. The Greeks are on ihe watch for pigeons, but Dick and Jenkins are awake to their tricks. :vx CONTENTS. CHAP. I. Page Departure of the Travellers — their Characters — Arrival at Calais — Dick Wildfire's Letter to Bill Rattle — Comforts of Travelling in the Diligence— Comparative Morality ..•• 1 CHAP. II. The Arrival in Paris — Choice of an H6tel — Character of Meurice's, the Menagerie Anglais — Rencontre with an Irish Acquaintance — Preparations for an Appearance- How to dress an Englishman ^-la-mode — The French Tailor— The Frisseurs '•• 11 CHAP. III. The Garden of the Tuileries — ^The Place de Carousel- Characters and Appearance of some of the Promenaders — A beautiful Wonder— Curious Instance of French politesse — A Lady of Fashion taken to the Guard-House ■ — Drawing a Ticker in good ^Company— The Syrens — " Fly not yet" — DiCK WiLDFiEE meets with a new Acquaintance — Specimen of EnglishTravellers of Quality*^ in France • » • • • 29 C page XVlii CONTENTS. CHAP. IV. The Table d'H6te — Bonnes Bouches for the Gourmands- Beaux and Beauty, Bones and Bons Mots— The Devil in a Stew — Helping one's Friends to Old Nick — How to supply the Demands of the Victualling-Office — Dreadful Apparition of a Frog — The Feast turned into a Fray — The Art of dishing exemplified — A Frenchman served out, and a Tailor dished down — How to exchange a bad HaUt for a good one — " Fair Eveline's Gown" and a " Blue Stocking" — Reconciling Fare — The Dessert — And a comfortable Finish — to the Chapter » 49- ' ,.......--/.,■..• CHAP. Y^-'^^^'^ '• «? ■^R'i:i'C. o«i Dick s v isit to the Billiard-Room — A Hero in Distress— ' An honourable way of raising the Wind — A Cross of the Legion of Honour versus a Cross- Buttock, or a French- * man's Opinion of Boxing — Peep into the Comic Opera — Inducements to visit Paris, or, " a travelling we will go." — Sam's appearance in a novel character . . . .Vi^VW. ' 6& CHAP. VI. A Pledge redeemed — Dick's Adventure with the fair ina- morata — The Palais Royal in its Glory — A Ramble among the Beauties of the Galleries — The Adventure continued — A Lady of Pleasure's Saloon — How they manage their Love AflFairs in France — The Sequel of the Adventure — Sir Humphrey in a curious Predicament, ^r, the pretty Female Barber dressed in her Turn — Re-ap- pearance of Captain O'Shuffleton and Squire Jen- kins ou the Scene — An Appointment to Dinner — An Entertainment at Very's — More delicate Dishes for the'^ - Gourmands— Wine works Wonders — ^The Issue of the Regale — Street Amusements, ^-la-Londres — Keeping St. Patrick's Day in Paris — An ugly Finish to a very pretty Bit of Sport — A Prison not quite such a pleasant Thing, after all 8S r'.^ CONTENTS. xix CHAP. VII. Page Narfative of the Consequences of the Spree continued — The Dep6t of the Prefecture of Police — Behaviour of the Squire and his Companions there— Party separated and sent to different Prisons — La Force — Life in a Prison — The Conciergerie — The Abbaye — Sam Sharp's Activity — Our Hero meets with an honourable Acquaintance in Qworf— Re-appearance of Mim Lafond in anew Situa- tion—The Captives liberated— -Visit to the Cafe de Mille Colonnes — A Peep into a Gaming- House 124 CHAP. VIII. The Scene in a Gambling-House continued — Dick is introduced to a noble Character — A Game at Rouge et Noir — How to bring your Adversaries to a Point, and perform a Coup de Main — Throwing Dice productive of THROES of another Kind — The Danger of playing with loaded Instruments — A Game atSword-Play — The Victim of Gambling, a Story from " Real Life " • • • 145 CHAP. IX. A solitary Visit to the Pont Neuf — Fishing for Flounders in the Dark—DiCK drags an Odd Fish from the Seine — Story of the Victim of Gambling completed — Generosity of our Hero — An Adventure of Sir Humphrey and Lfady Halibut — Their Danger from a Polar Monster — Take Refuge in the Shop of a Decrotteur, where they re- ceive the true Parisian Polish » 169 ^'^■^^ " CHAP. X. Low " Life in Paris," or a dive into a Caveau— A Pa-'' risianj^a*^ Song, or " the Larks of a French Bousing Ken" — A Battle Royal— More Peeps into the Gay World by Night— Sketch of Frescati — A Female Gambling- House— Sports extraordinary — A Boar-Hunt — A very XX CONTENTS. Page grave and wonderful Exploit by Squire Jenkins — Un- lucky Accidents *' by Flood and Field," or would-be 'Sportsmen in a Pickle— Tfp*f op "Life in Paris;" a Countess, Belles, Beaux, and a^JB^LL-RooM 191 VIA „"-/.:^.i,>.i'J .^Ui^'?-- ■'-■■■..:r. -. .-CHAP. 'XI. . . • -r'.Lri' -^-.V.: The'^SALIi-lfeooM Seene continued— Short SketcH of the ^ Countess's Life — iSjMere Jenkins, moving on the spur of the Occasion, makes an Exquisite dance to a new Tune, or a Dandy performing a Pirouette without Music^ — More Beauties that, " would be wooed and, not unsought, be ^on" — Consequently, more Plots and Foundations for Amours— A fashionable petit soupei — -And a Close to the Evening's Entertainments ............._........... 220 ^?iWK»'n^*^lfe bttn ,8E.- "CHAPi- 'Xii."''''^^ iy^aekfoW ?;; - - . - . Mornmg Objects m Pans — Pictures from the " Life viewed en passant — Deliberations, among many Things, " What is to be done first " — Whether to try a Dash into the Preserves of Cuckoldom, or to go in search of a scarce Commodity, to be found only among the Maids, or in ' the Regions of the Moon— Captain O'Shuffleton's Account of the Causes of his Absence, and a short Despatch from Lieutenant Block — A Decision in favour of Duty — A Visit to the Grand Opera, and something about the Figurantes and the Theatres atlast*.. ^v 231 . ^^ , CHAP. XIII. ^ .,^ , . An amorous but a desperate Adventure — Dick, at length, ventures into the Precincts of Cuckoldom— Sam Sharp meets with an agreeable Companion in the dark, but dis- covers the Disadvantage of not seeing one's way clearly — A singularly ticklish Predicament, and a Hair-breadth / Escape from many Dangers — Husbands and Rivals are always unwelcome Intruders ; and Wives who have CONTENTS. Xxi Page more Lovers than their dear Spouses^ are not the safest Acquaintance for young Gallants — Ben Block's History v<]»»*'i»«>"#-*««'»*r..*«-js^i''»'^--'i^-s»'«i*»^-»*i»i ••>*»;?•• 259 CHAP. ILlt. Sam Sharp's Appearance in a Court of Justice— Ccp^aia O'Shuffleton's Invisibility — Sam's liberation from t Limbo — Squire Jenkins bent on a true English Sport ;?— the Party join him, and proceed on a Visit to the Com- bat ..JimAwm^Vif^r Pr Duck-Lane pf P^^;i8 .• • • • • \? •,• • 281 Re-appearance of the Ladies and Sir Humphrey — Mor& Invitations abroad — A ThS, or Evening Party — Interior of a French Mansion — State of Society in Paris — The ancient Noblesse, the Government Class, and les Pervenus, or nouveau Riches — French Blue Stocking Gossip— Re- marks on Shakspeare — More Rambles of Dick Wild- fire in the Palais Royal — ^The Cafe de la Paix, or Th64tre Montansier— The Cafe de Sauvage — History of the WUd Man — Sam Sharp's dexterity — Love-Letter of iSomreJENKII^s •••••» •#. •••,•%•••••.. .»j..., 296 « tiififi*^ei(^Wir^lHi4 braVisit to the Ca^doii^^— ^^l Jenkins in a Fright, or a dead Dandy an over-match for a live Sportsman ^ A Glance at P^re la Chaise— 'The Louvre — French Taste, and how to become a Connoisseur in the Fine Arts — More Frolics in the Subterranean Regions^ or ia Visit to the Infernal Cellaf, alias the Cafe dTEhfeir '^4^r.-i^i-VVi'i'ir^;^ .v>2;-^<^;>.'i':'.¥Vi%'^Ti';^ ; 314 ■vnTis^s\t> \^»'*s ■aSstQ -v/ CHAP. XVII. /*-j#>{HI, ;.»,# iirH'C© The Party s'cl 6ut for the Jardin des Plantes^T^ke a Glance in their Way at the Marfche desFIeurs, or Flower- Matket— Palace of th^ Lttxenibburg, or Chanabef" of Xxii CONTENTS. Page Peers — Site of Bastile^ — Arrival at the Jardin des 'PlanteSj^,j.;^^.^^.^, , ...^. .^. ._.^. .j.^ .^^ Yr.fslifi?.* ' • ' 336 ' ■ CHAP. XVIII. The Company Visit the Menagerie — Animal " Life in Paris" — Beauty in eternal Bloom, or the Hottentot Ve- nus still exhibiting her attractive Ponderosity — " So stands the Statue that enchants the World!'' — Parisian ,, Science exemplified in the superior Knowledge of certain Savans, and the French Mode of picking Bones — The Anatomies — Hetum by the Woods of Boulogne, the Cha,mp de Mars, and the Elysian Fields — The haute Classe in Motion, or animated Specimens of Ton in the Viciwfy,pf,the^^Fjre^^ • ». • .- .....,,. .§60 t^i f'mn'-yi y'^"-:^ -v^frf'— -'ir^r^'^'^s =.-^:jy.v.'^ ■ r-^ '^nui-eSi CHAP. XIX. tv A Proposal to visit the Goblins (i. e. Gobelins)-^Lady Halibut's Reluctance to see any Thing so frightful — Squire Jenkins shows himself no Carpet Knight, and swears the Goblins must be an infernal Place — Dick, having other Fish to Fry, sets out in Pursuit of more in- viting Objects — Jenkins and the Ladies venture on their ,:.? proposed Expedition — The Handkerchief-Dealer — How to buy Things cheap — French Pugilism— Jenkins's Gal- lantry — An Eagerness /or /flir Play sometimes opens the ,33^ Way for /om/ Practices— Unexpected Disappearajace of^^ Lydia — The Squire's Consternation at this Event — His^Q EflForts to recover his lost Charge— Some Notice of Dick's^^ Pursuits — The H6tel des Invalides, &j£?. ^tsfyt^ri'f-^MaiisitiiMQfi .,,,■,? *,,. ^■.,., ,♦.-,',!..,•,, . -Tli f.f .-1.1.-;.. . ■•.■■: S .v>bntH*; Jenkins the Bringer of bad Tidings^ — Domestic Afilictio%Tl I Interrogative Duet ; its pleasing Effects on the Listener — Lady Halibut in Hysterics — ^The Knight and Squire in search of Lydia— Dick's Adventure in the Cafe — CONTENTS. xxiii Page Unexpected Restitution, and a\Riddle to solve — The lost Sheep found — Lydia's Narrative- — A suspected Character placed in its true Light s 'Jy'.'lCl %lf *• • 420 A Visit totTie ttafiat! Opera — How to make a Prencnmari an Italian — Not fashionable to be pleased with Music any where but at the French Grand Opera— The Party hastily return to their H6tel — Another Day brings another Set of Amusements — Commencement of the F^te of St. Louis — Some Specimens of the Honours paid to the Saint, by his Brethren of the Church — Visit to Notre Dame — Ce- lebration of High Mass— Another Application to Mr. Meurice's Larder, and a Word about Cherry-bounce-^* " Re-appearance of Squire Jenkins — The Party repair to the Elysian Fields — The Festivities and Diversions there — Sam Sharp becomes the Wonder of the Field — The Illuminations and Fireworks — The Close of the Fete, and of this Chapter ' •-♦.•■i-i •'•'* •■* -^,1-1 .-i-4viJ'; .■»'*** r-*-»^* .-*'i-'-«V447 ■u yfcifr .io lri,f?iy*JCHAP. XXII. v ifjrfJo :ga^v.fii;? Jenkins in a Quondary — Specimens of French and En^--' ■ lish Love-Letters — Which is td be preferred. Marriage or a Halter ? — Invitation to Court — Trap for Flats— Dressing for Court—Lady Halibut launched forth in all her Glory—View of the Palace of the Tuileries— Misfortune ' of not being en r^g-Ze— How soon a Tailor's Art makes a ^ Man fit for Court— Some Idea of the Ceremony of Prd^^'^ sentation— Serious Accident at Court— Introduction of '^''* Couple of odd Fishes, and a Mermaid losing her Tail — Sudden Termination to the Presentation— Return of Sir Humphrey and his Lady to their H6tel ?»-wi*, j'ii ^LVt^%f^ CHAP. XXIII. Unexpected Disappearance of Dick and Lydia — Jenkins, Xxiv CONTENTS. Page also, no where to be found — Sir Humphrey and Lady Halibut again in Trouble— A Visit to the Temple of Hymen — Nothing so convenient as the Gretna-Green in Paris —Return of the Fugitives, a married Pair — Re- appearance of Jenkins and Captain O'Shuffleton — Marriage Festivity — Departure of the Party from Paris —Conclusion of the Narrative 481 LIFE IN PARIS. CHAPTER I. Departure of the Travellers — their Characters — Arrival at Calais — Dick Wildfire's Letter to Bill Rattle — Comforts of Travelling in the Diligence — Comparative Morality. READER ! have you ever been in Paris ? If you are of the happy number who have enjoyed that delightful trip, and mixed in the gay scenes of life, fun, frolic, and amusement, that are to be found in that Capital, you will not be dis- pleased to revisit the abodes of gaiety once more, and to live your happy moments over again in the descriptions of our pages. If you have not beheld the glory of the grand nation^ — if you have not had the supreme felicity of spending an estate in a few months in the dear distracting round of the Palais Royal, — if you are unable to silence all your country acquaintances by long details of your Parisian adventures, the happiness of mingling with Counts, Countesses, and Courtezans, and of being fleeced in the politest manner, — take courage, we invite you to become a member of our B 2 LIFE IN PARIS. smiling party; we are just entering on the excursion; ** smack goes the whip, round go the wheels ;" ** Mirth, with thee we mean to live," and where shall we enjoy thee with such unfettered jocundity as amidst the recreations and ludicrous groups of Paris ? But first, reader, let us introduce you to our company. For this purpose we shall imitate the style of English driving, hurry over every thing that pertains to our own country, and show you them as they alight on the margin of the Channel, to embark from the proud and towering coast of Dover for the swampy point of Calais. You observe that party of travellers on the quay, beset by Jews, excise- men, and beggars. How the elderly gentleman winces at the importunities of Moses, who has a strong Israelitish itch to finger his bank-notes for French money ! ** You vill find de exchange moch against you on de oder side of de vater." That elderly gentleman is Sir Humphrey Halibut, once a leading ornament of the Honourable Company of Fishmongers, and an industrious resident on that spot, where they sell the best mackerel and ** speak the plainest English," now a Knight of the Shire, and Baronet by the special intervention and discernment of Fortune, who delights to show that she is not so blind to merit as some disappointed persons would represent her. The lady in the mongrel dress, half French, half English, who clings to his arm, is his wife. In her you may probably see a specimen of the oddest of all amalgamations, Bath and Billingsgate compounded; but she is very desirous of for- getting her relationship with the eastern district of the town, — she has now got other j^sA to fry ; her connexions now all reside in the West, at Bath, where she has lately been for three months, and at Brighton, which never yet had the honour of her presence. LIFE IN PARIS. 3 But -who is that charming girl, that " pretty plaything," who leaves the youth that is escorting her, to place herself under the more tender wing of my Lady Halibut? That is her daughter, Lydia Seraphina Molly, who has just left her boarding-school, and begun to peep and flirt through her fan at the eccentricities of the young fellows who lay claim to the attentions of the ladies. When she has seen a little of the tip-top of " Life in Paris," and got all the fashions of that variable city either heaped on her back or treasured in her mind, to be introduced as most delectable subjects on all occasions, it is the opinion of her fond mother and governess that there is not a young lady that will be able to match her from Grosvenor-Place to Mile-End; And her Cavalier Servente? — is her Cousin, a youth of much spirit and promise, and the heir to Sir Humphrey's title and estates. This young sprig of fashion and nobility, as you see he is, has also just completed his education ; that is, he has been expelled his college for lampooning the pro- fessors, kicked away his tutor for recommending graver studies than he relishes, learnt the noble art of placing necks in jeopardy by driving four in hand, and been hailed as a rising star on the turf and in all the regions of the Blacklegs. With such fearless intrepidity has he distin- guished himself in the career now pursued by young gentle- men of fortune, that he has received the surname of Dick Wildfire. The Fancy are likewise especially indebted to DiCK for his patronage of their ennobling science. He is a Corin- thian of the first order. He has been the leading amateur at the Fives and Tennis Courts, has always had the highest stakes on the ground, is acquainted with all the good 4 LIFE IN PARIS. qualities of the most notorious professors of the pugilistic art, has sat as president at the Nonpareil and Daffy clubs, sung- his catch in those harmonious assemblies of convivial spirits, where you would imagine you heard all the beasts in the Ark singing chorus, and is in no danger of passing for a novice in the Palais Royal, from the costly instruction he has had the good fortune to receive in the seminaries (i.e. gambling houses) in St. James's Street. Such is the company, reajier, to which we have the honour of introducing you at the outset of this memorable expedi- tion. We can promise you that if these characters are not to your taste, you shall have ample opportunity to indulge your fancy in the choice of others as we proceed. The party are embarked, the packet is under weigh, and now a scene of ludicrous distress ensues to the voyagers in search of pleasure, which would make any one smile but those who are in the agonies of a channel sickness. Yet here, even here, mirth and French fiddlers abound, and joking, laughing, singing, skipping, and dancing, are in- dulged in, until the amphibious inhabitants of Calais are seen wading out to receive the travellers on their shoulders. We shall pass over the reluctance of Sir Humphrey to embrace a daughter of Neptune, yclept a poissarde, although his love was once content to doat on the charms of the nymphs of Billingsgate ; nor shall we dwell on the trepida- tions of his rib, and the maiden fears of the gentle Lydia Seraphina Molly to mount the shoulders of a ragged Frenchman, in order that they may reach that happy shore, where innumerable cheats and beg-srars await the arrival of the stranger. We shall say that the Rubicon is passed and terra firma gained ; that the troublesome business of LIFE IN PARIS. 5 arranging the passports and submitting to have their pictures taken by the clerks of the Bureau des Etrangers is over ;* that they have visited the money changers in the dirty market-place of Calais, and got a supply of current coin for the journey ;f and that, by the assistance of DiCK and his * Notwithstanding the return of peace, the strictness of the regulations for the admission of strangers into France seems to be in no degree relaxed. Indeed, when such precautions are found profitable as well as politic, a voluntary relinquishment of such a source of revenue can scarcely be expected. The fii"st thing the voyageurs have to do when they set foot on the pier of Calais is to surrender the keys of their trunks, &c. that their contents may be examined and properly tumbled about by the hands of the police. Then comes the troublesome business of ex- amining and arranging the passports. For this purpose the travellers must appear at the office for registering strangers, where they deliver their English passport and undergo a minute personal examination, like culprits at the bar, the description of their " visage, eyes, mouth, noscj chin," &c. being all noted in their passport, which, with such other information as the police can obtain, is forwarded to the Prefecture at Paris. The strangers, after paying a fee of several francs, have then aa ad interim passport allowed them, and are suffered to proceed on their journey. On arriving in Paris, the first duty of the traveller is to regain his Enghsh passport, with liberty to remain in or leave the Capital. A day or two may be expended in effecting this, for the weary voyageur will have to go (or pay another well for doing it) first to the Ministry of Police, where he may be permitted to cool his heels for hours among crowds erjually confounded and impatient, then to the British Ambassa- dor's, in another quarter of the city, afterwards to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, where he will be relieved often francs, (if he is fool enough to part with them,) then back again to the Prefecture of Police for signatures^ and, as ^finale, trudge home, or jolt it in a cabriolet, with both body and mind jaded with anxiety and fatigue. This is commonly the commence- ment of " Life in Paris !'' t The next thing that puzzles strangers in France is to obtain a correct knowledge of the moneys in circulation. This is very important ; for without due attention to the coins and their values, the stranger will be Q LIFE IN PARIS. Valet, a knowing one like his master, the parly are safely lodged in that tremendous machine, the Diligence, and liable to many impositions. As this work is intended to convey useful in- struction as well as amusement, and, as we hope that the account of Life in Paris will form the companion of every visiter to that Capital, we shall insert the following statement of the French coins, for the benefit of the inexperienced traveller. The French gold coinage consists of Louis of 20 francs, worth 16s. 8d. and of double Louis of 40 francs. The gold coins of that value struck in Bonaparte's time are called Napoleons ; those coined since the restora- tion of Louis XVIII. are termed Louis. The French commonly call both Louis and Napoleons pieces de vingt francs. There are also some old Louis of 24 and 48 francs, or rather livres, which lose on being changed. The present silver coinage consists of pieces of 5 francs, commonly called piece de cent sous, because it is worth 100 sous, or halfpence, and in English money 4s. 2d.; of pieces of 40 sous, or two francs, worth Is. 8d. ; of one franc, or 20 sous, lOd. ; of 10 sous, or a half-franc, worth 5d. ; and of 5 sous, or a quarter of a franc. The franc is assumed by the French as the basis or unit of all their computations. All values are reckoned upwards by tens, hundreds, and thousands of francs; and downwards by tenth and hundredth parts of francs. The tenth part of a franc is a decime, the hundredth part a centime. The copper money consists of sous, double sous, pieces of mixed metal ; also of two sous, two liards, or a farthing, of one Hard, pieces of six liards, or a sous and a half, and of a centime, or one-fifth of a sous. A sous contains four liards, or two farthings. There are no notes circulated in France, but those of the national bank, and these only of two sorts, viz. 500 and 1000 francs. These are changeable into silver at the Bank during the hours of business for three sous, which is for the money-bag ; or, at a small premium, into silver or gold at the money changers. Bank of England notes and foreign coin may always be exchanged at Paris for that of France, at an Exchange regulated by Government, the rate of which is published daily in the newspapers. We would advise our countrymen and countrywomen to be cautious in parting with too many of their notes at once; with a careful husbanding of this kind, they will sometimes, and certainly in the end, find the rate of exchange con- siderably in their favour. LIFE IN PARIS. 7 rolling along a hard road that makes every joint in the body to ache, from no motive in the world but the desire of pleasure ! As every one writes or tries to write on this journey, we shall here introduce a sketch from Dick of the progress of the travellers. " To Bill Rattle, Esq. ** At length, my noisy fellow, I have got the old ones in tow J and out of their old entrenchments. The deuce is in it if the goldfinches won't sing now. Whilst you are com- pelled to drop your anchor in the Levant,^ or obliged Xopad the gray poneyf within a narrower limit, I am off to the glorious round of Paris, to begin a new life there. The Diligence is starting : — « We wait for no one,«— off we bowl, The pondrous mass begins to roll. The post-boys crack their whips, and swear, And urge the steed, and lash the air; But vain is Monsieur's noise, his steed Is not of an Olympian breed ; The wheels turn round, the pavement groans, And so do all the travellers' bones. '* Now pens and pencils begin to be in great request. The note-books are out, and all are on the alert to show their powers in making observations. Even Sir Humphrey, I * Non est inventus, or missing. t A person who has a day's rule from the Bench, or Fleet, is generally accompanied by a companion belonging to the establishment, who is in the slang phrase denominated a poney. $ LIFE IN PARIS. perceive, is resolved to favour his friends, and probably the public, with some sketches of his tour. Would you like a specimen? He has already put it down that all the women are carrotty and peevish, and that the females generally ride a-la-fourchette, (astride,) although he has only seen the hostess of the inn where he lodged, and a peasant girl going to market on a donkey ! Lady Halibut says that all the pigs are like greyhounds, and that the cows seem to have been milked and starved until no flesh is left on them. Lydia is resolved to look at nothing until she can open her eyes on the fashions of Paris ; and a young travelling painter, who sits beside me, as often as we escape from the dirty alleys of the towns and villages, the view of old clothes in the Rues de Fripperie, and happily get our lumbering vehicle out of a marsh or on the edge of a common, is perpetually in ecstacies at the beauties of the prospect. "From me you will not expect much rational remark ; but, though there is, perhaps, too large a portion of the sal vola- tile in my composition, I will try now and then to give you a few sketches, en passant, of what solicits our attention on this side of the water. "Tis strange that such difference should subsist in modes and manners of life, in the tempe- rament of the people, and in the very aspect and nature of the countries themselves, as are perceptible, at first sight, in states so nearly allied as Great Britain and France. Lady Halibut imagines she should still be travelling in the rapid carriages with the highly-caparisoned horses of Eng- land, along level and easy ways, between trim set hedges, and ever and anon passing some snug refectory, where a drop of the most cordial comfort may be had, if circumstances require. Instead of this, mine honoured dame is look- ing most ruefully on the reverse of every thing she has yet LIFE IN PARIS. ^ seen. The construction and snail-like pace of tlie Diligence are by no means to her taste ; yet it is far superior to the vehicle styled the Swallow, (L'Hirondelle,) which Jlies at the amazing rate of between three and four miles an hour ! O, Bill ! my aunt is not quite wrong after all. You would laugh to see what a set-out we make. — Figure to yourself the body of an old crazy coach, or waggon, like Noah's ark, with front and back seats, placed on four wheels, with the frame of a chaise, styled a cabriolet, holding two persons, who peep through ragged curtains, like owlets perched ofi high, attached to the front of the heavy machine, and a place like the roost for fowls, denominated the imperial, on the top of the vehicle, where, amidst luggage and lumber of all kinds, beneath a dirty tarpawling. Monsieur le Conducteur, the guide and guard, reposes in state. Figure to yourself this odd specimen of mechanical skill, and you will have before your view the French Diligence, still the best con- Yenience for travelling on the road; for to use your own carriage would occasion enormous expense and trouble, on account of the duties and deposits, of which you have no conception. Leathern traces must be a luxury or a vanity ; ropes are found here to answer as well. Shall I describe to yoti the dress of the postilions and their horses ? That is almost impossible : they appear like as many Robinson Cra- soes, they are so covered with furs and skins, and their wooden boots are so convenient for leaping out of and into ! Our leg-covering artists afford us no such ease in Bond- Street. Then, the garniture of the steeds — still * motley's the only wear' — all the rags in the village seem to have been collected to decorate the manes and harness of the horses, who thus move under a load of frippery and all the colours of the rainbow, dragging their united waggon and stage- coach along a road every inch of which is paved. ** A French postiKon is off and on his horse's back twenty c 10 LIFE IN PARIS. times in the course of a stage, without ever stopping the vehicle. He is not surprised or dismayed at being called upon to repair accidents ; he is provided with all sorts of implements for this purpose: if his hempen harness give ■way he splices it with packthread or mends it with his gar- ters, if he have any ! If a passenger call, he dismounts and pops his head into the window as he runs by its side, leaving the animals to draw the coach at their own guidance, a liberty (for horses love liberty, and enjoy it too in France) they are accustomed to, and therefore are discreet enough not to abuse. " It is true, every thing convinces us we are not travelling in England, but every thing is not in my eye the more dis- agreeable on that account ; on the contrary, as we advance into the interior the whole country assumes the most gay and inviting appearance. It is now the vintage- time, the hap- piest of all the seasons ; the peasants are all as gay as a rich harvest, fine weather, and music and dancing can make them. ** Thus roll we on to the Capital, where you know I am going to see a little of foreign manners ; — morals I expect to find none, except among that class of persons to whom the word still appertains. To talk of the morals of genteel society would, you are aware, now be laughed at as a mis- application of terms ; — morals apply only to men of low de- gree. Manners imply high breeding, fashionable derelic- tions, and a perfect emancipation from vulgar ties ; — morality relates entirely to low life. What is adultery among the vul- gar is elegant and accomplished gallantry among the nobility. Therefore, no more moralizing, say I. " My next shall be from Paris. " Yours, " Dick Wildfire." LIFE IN PARIS. i^ CHAP. II. The Arrival in Paris — Choice of an Hotel — Character of Meurice's, the Menagerie Anglais — Rencontre with an Irish Acquaintance — Preparations for an Appearance — How to dress an Englishman d-la-Mode — The French Tailor — The Frisseurs. We shonld detain the reader too long from the beauties of the Metropolis were we to detail all the particulars of the journey, which Dick thus leaves incomplete; for who ever travelled this road without meeting something very eventful and worthy of being communicated to posterity? We, who hate all long and dull stories, however full of astonishing escapes from broken-down coaches, cheating landlords, fried frogs, and the terrific whiskers of inquisitive gens d'armes, must let posterity guess at some of the incidents which of course befel our travellers. Suffice it we relate that, after much wonderment on the part of Sir Humphrey and his lady at all they saw and eat on their way, at the many ceremonies used, and marks of respect shown to their dignity in ushering them through towns, and after meeting many crosses in their progress, without feeling devotion in- creased thereby, they entered the capital of France by the avenue and port of St. Denis* (famous for the exploits of * It seems all great personages enter Paris by this triumphal arch. It was erected to the glory of Louis XIV. whose conquests it records by 112 LIFE IN PARIS. a saint who walked five miles with his head under his arm). Lady Halibut was delighted to think that, now they had passed all these ugly gates and porches, her caps and bon- nets would at length be suffered to rest, and the enraptured Lydia was still more pleased with the idea of getting a new and fashionable stock of these most interesting articles. On arriving in Paris, an important question presents itself to strangers, namely, whether it is better to reside at an hotel* or a boarding-house. Those who study economy generally prefer the latter, and make choice of such esta- blishments as suit their convenience. Such as wish to make a figure by superior appearances, or who desire to enjoy life with more freedom, take up their abode at an many a figurative and monstrous symbol. All the public entries of the Kings of France are invariably made by the port St. Denis. It was by this gate that Louis XVIII, entered Paris on the 3d of May, 1814 ; and it was at this gate that the first woman hung in France was executed ! Had all the ancient gates of Paris remained, they would now be in the interior of the City, as Temple Bar is in London, considering Westminster confounded with London, as it generally is in common conversation. * In Paris the principal houses of the nobility and gentry are always called hotels. " My hotel" is as common as " my house," "my cham- bers," or " my lodging." The plan of the principal private houses or hotels in Paris is very different from those in London. The house is seldom seen from the street, being almost always situated entre cour et jardin, between a court-yard and a pleasure-ground, and secluded from the street by lofty walls and doors, like gateways, over which is painted parle t f artier, " speak to the porter," for there is generally no one else with whom you can have communication. This custom of giving the name of inn or hotel to the houses of the nobility prevailed at one time in London as well as in Paris. Gray's Inn, Furnival's Inn, Clifford's Inn, now occupied by the students of law, were originally the residences of Lords Gray, Furnival, and Clifford. LIFE IN PARIS. i^ hotel, of which there are many thousands, opening their jaws like devouring monsters, in Paris. Our party passed the usual time in considering this subject. jSir Humphrey, who thought they might see life without being fools enough to pay dearly for it, and that their opportunities of survey might be increased by a lofty station, was for taking apart- ments on the troisieme etage of an oyster-seller's house, where he had seen appartements meubles blazoned on the wall, and a bundle of straw, the ensign of the profession, over the door. His lady had no objection to the economy of this measure, but her new-born nobility recoiled at the thoughts of renewing acquaintance with oyster- sellers and fishmongers. Moreover, she had serious objections to do- mesticating with any thing that was French, notwithstand- ing she had come to Paris for the purpose of being ini- tiated into their mysteries. She had no talent for jabber- ing foreign lingos, and desired to live where she could hear and speak her mother-tongue. Lydia shuddered at the idea of being doomed to reside in any place that had not the stamp and recommendation of fashion. DiCK made a show of allowing his friends to decide for themselves, knowing that the appeal would be made to him at last. On being called upon for his opinion as to the best place for their residence, our Spark of Wildfire instantly launched out into an eulogium on that well-known and extensive esta- blishment which the Parisian wits denominate, in their spleen, the Menagerie Anglais. This recommendation being strength- ened by the testimony of Sam Sharp, the valet, who had been an inmate of the Menagerie, and my Lady Hali- but being assured that she would not be obliged to learn or to listen to more French than she desired at this Hotel, consented to accompany her nephew to Meurice's. This important point being decided, they called a f acre, and 14 LIFE IN PARIS. bidding adieu to that abode of patience, the Diligence, ordered the postilion to drive to the Rue de Rivoli, Dick chaunting all the way the following song so descriptive of the qualities of this favourite place of entertainment with John Bull. Then hey for a bout at Meurice's, Where Johnny Bull lives d Paris, And tipples, whatever the price is, Till nought but his wine he can see. How pleasant ! you'd think you're in London, Though placed on the banks of the Seine ; Where the fair you may meet and look fond on, Or stick to your port or champaigne. See the guests, high or low, at Meurice's, With breakfast you open the day, Tea, coffee, eggs, ham, or who pleases May swallow hot muffins in May. If cosey, in company sip it, With Meurice, and my Lord Hob-and-Nob, Or if you prefer, you may tip it Alone, like yon sulky nabob. For this is John Bull at Meurice's, As seen ther^ again and again. When England her millions releases. To dance on the banks of the Seine. To the belks, young and sprightly at Paris, I fain would a stanza devote ; But the bell most admired by far is, For Meurice's grand table d'Mte. All start at the sound, and warm work is The squeeze for an English display Of beef, pudding, potatoes, and turkeys. In short all is English but pay. For this is John Bull, &c. LIFE IN PARIS. 15 Now amusement is here, and the best is 'Tis a word that takes all and it draws ; There's Talma, sublime in Orestes, And Duverner's Ombres Chinoises. Now some laugh at the crowds as they pass, Some for melo-drame mummeries roam ; While some sip at Paris their glass, Others stick to their bottle at home. For this is John Bull, &c. Sir Humphrey, finding that Meurice's was the best and almost the only place in Paris where he could depend on having his port in genuine perfection, consented to become an inmate of the Menagerie ; and it was not long before the palpitating heart of Lydia bounded against her sides with joy to perceive the number of brilliant equipages in the court- yard of this splendid hotel, as their humble fiacre drove up to the entrance of the inviting mansion. Here you may have your separate apartments and live as you choose, but it is generally found most agreeable to dine at the table d'Jitte and to mix with the company. An unsocial piece of advice is often given to travellers in France, namely, to avoid their own countrymen ; but how can those who are ignorant of the French language, and of most other particulars connected with the country, abide by this adtaonition? In what a wilderness would the majority of the ramblers over France find themselves immersed were they to endeavour to act on this advice ! It would be as impossible for these persons to explore their way through the places they visit and back again to their own shores, without some friendly communication with better informed heads from their own country, as to escape from the windings of the Cretan labyrinth. In ignorant bodies the principle of gravitation in this 16 LIFE IN PARIS. respect is peculiarly strong ; and hence, though Dick with his squire, Sam, were suflBciently furnished with the necessary qualities to act as guides and cavaliers on most occasions, the sympathetic corpulencies of Sir Humphrey and his rib gravitated towards the resort of John Bull on the Seine with preponderating affection. At this inn, which is also styled the Citi/ of London Tavern, our party met a welcome reception. Mi lor Jean Bull is indeed a welcome visiter wherever he goes in France, if he is at all disposed to support the character he has obtained for being made of the precious metal.* About a dozen subservient waiters and petit gar^ons were instantly on the alert to usher the new ©omers into a splendid saloon, where a lady, who might have passed for John Bull's wife, was in readiness, with many conges, to receive the female travellers under her protection. Seeing my Lady Halibut somewhat fatigued with contem- plating the beauties of the grand, nasty, dirty, superb city through which she had passed, and hearing her Ladyship express, at the same time, her satisfaction at reaching a place where she could be understood and have what she wanted, mine hostess assured her that she need not now be under any uneasiness about French matters, for, though she was now at what they called an hotel in Paris, she might pass a twelvemonth here in as complete a state of ignorance of the French capital as if her residence was in the English Metropolis. The quality of our guests being duly announced, and the ladies having thus insured the most obsequious attention of the maitresse d'hotel and all her train of obedient domes- tiques, we shall leave our female travellers to profit by the care and instruction of such kind and experienced advisers> The junction ofmille and or wotjW seem to imply some such signification. LIFE IN PARIS. 17 to attend DiCK and his uncle into a part of the hotel dedicated to the purpose of affording a ready relief from hunger, and where a free and easy attack is made upon yigots, cotehttes, fricassees, fowls, stews, or such other fare as promises to appease the appetite. Here the travellers experienced no disappointment. Sir Humphrey had not indeed his roast beef or beef-steak in such perfection as at the taverns in the neighbourhood of Cornhili, but when he had made a gigot of mutton look queer, picked the delicate bones of a few pigeons, tried the taste of the cotehttes en papilote, cleared away a couple of nicely-seasoned fricassees, and made himself acquainted with the contents of a ragout, he smacked his lips, looked around him to see that he was not overheard, and acknowledged that they had some very good things in France for curing a craving stomach. With a bottle of port, (Dick chose champaigne,) to moisten these ingredients. Sir Humphrey and his nephew made a tolerable lunch, after which the Baronet's satisfaction was still more strongly evinced, not by being roused into a foolish activity, or by eyes sparkling with spirit and intelligence, but by gently sinking into a contented slumber, whilst his nephew began to make himself acquainted with their quarters, and to prepare for appearing abroad. Sam, having taken care to follow the example of his masters, in the way of strengthening his hams for the paves of Paris, was now sent on a tour of observation round the premises, to ascertain if any acquaintances were of the company or in view ; and a scout better qualified for dipping into the affairs and characters of his neighbours, and for reading fortunes by the looks and appearances of individuals, could not readily be pitched upon than Sam, for he was well acquainted with the frequenters of the card D 18 LIFE IN PARIS. and billiard-rooms, knew at first sight whether a person was of the fraternity, whether he was likely to bear a peel, or whether the tide was ebbing or flowing in his pockets. It was not long before Sam returned to report that the only known phiz he had found lounging about was Captain O'Shuffleton, who had made a sudden retirement from Bath whilst the Halibut family were there, but who now seemed to be in high feather, and once more in favour with Madam Fortune. Dick knew the Captain to be a Chevalier of Industry in the veriest sense of the word, having paid tribute to his talents at the gaming-table. An experienced acquaintance mighty however, at present prove useful ; Dick, therefore, resolved to recognise the Captain, but to be upon his guard against allowing himself to be pigeoned by his dexterity. The worthy O'Shuffleton was directing his steps towards the billiard-room when the figure of Dick Wildfire met him full in the entrance. The Captain stared as if he were witnessing a sample of the resurrection : then, placing himself in a theatrical posture, he exclaimed — " Beest thou Dick Wildfike or his wandering ghost, Come like some goblin fiend to expiate His sins abroad, or to find scope for new ones ; Whethw thou fliest from duns, and cards, or dice, Hast robbed the Bank, or married Madam Fortune, Rid' St in thy buggy or thy coach-and-four, With a nice plaything at thy side, to sport Amidst the beaux and belles of the Elyese, Bring'st gold in bags, hard cash, or flimsy paper. Thou comest in so un-Frenchified a shape That I will speech thee ! " Dick grasped th« hand of the Captain, and asked him LIFE IN PARIS. 19 if he had come to Paris to turn stage-player. " Not quite so bad, my honey ;" replied the Captain, " although this is a glorious stage for one acquainted with the game of • Life' to act upon. Arrah, my dear, you will find that this is the only place for a gentleman to spend hjs time and money in. I give you welcome, with all my heart and soul, to Paris ; and if I do not make you ds well acquainted as myself, if you will permit me to be your cicerone, with every resort of fashion and fortune in this region of gaiety and dissipation, say that Larry O'Shuffleton knows nothing of such matters." Dick thanked the Captain for his friendly offer, and invited him to assist in finishing what he called his meridian. The Hibernian, who was au fait on all occasions, and who was also known by the title of the Chevalier O'Shuffle- ton, a distinction he said his ancestors had enjoyed, cheer- fully joined our hero in the dessert to his dejeune, and as readily began to show his regard for his friend by putting him in mind of the necessity of instantly getting rid of every thing that was English in his appearance. " Why," said he, " you cannot stir an inch in these habiliments, however fashionable they may appear in Bond-Street, without being stared at as an English bull, a raw new comer, who either wants the taste or the means of conforming to the prevailing fashion.". DiCK observed that he was aware of the propriety of equipping himself a-la-mode, but that he had reserved giving the finish to his appearance until upon the spot. " You must send for a tailor and an artiste decrotteur from the Palais Royal immediately. I will recommend to you a marchand tailleur of my acquaintance who will tip you off the true Parisian cut, and fit you for the promenade or the saloons of fashion in half an hour : it is true, Monsieur Haut de Chausses flourishes a pair of ^0 LIFE IN PARIS. keen dividers, but he does not belong to the Camp of the Tartars.* In accordance with this salutary admonition, Sam Sharp was called, and directed to proceed to the magazine of Monsieur Haut de Chausses, to impart the welcome intelli- gence that the presence of that gentleman, with his most choice assortment of fashionable suits, was particularly desired at the Hotel de Londres, Hue de Rivoli. Sam soon found the boutique of the knight of the scissors, bearing in front this inscription " Inventor, par excellence, of the Corset de Noblesse, taileur to the gentilhommes of the Court, cuts in the English, American, and French fashions ; speaks English, Dutch, and German, and has no objection to work for the ladies!" " Bravo ! Monsieur Haut de Chausses" ex- claimed Sam, mentally, as he entered, and conveyed to the accomplished and accommodating dealer in apparel the message with which he was entrusted. No summons could be more grateful to the ears of Snip, not even an invitation to partake in a tit-bit at Beauvillier's, or Very^s, for there no such dish of English fare is to be found as that which promised to provide him with many meals at the Hotel de Londres. He was at the door of Meurice's, inquiring for " de Messieurs English, who came from arriving to Paris, and desired de habit a-la-mode de Paris" with half his magazine on his back, before Sam bad found his way out of the Palais Royal; for this reason, beside the superior nimbleness of Monsieur Haut de Chausse's legs, and the magical attraction of the object he had in view. * From the rapacity of the shop-keepers in the wooden galleries, this part of the Falais Royal has been nick-named the " Camp of the Tartars," LIFE IN PARIS. 2i the trusty Valet had recognised an old acquaintance among the promenaders, a quondam femme de chambre, now turned femme de puhlique, with whom he had adjourned to a Caveaux, or cellar, to treat her and himself with a toss of brandy. The artiste de mode being introduced to his customers, went through his evolutions of obeisance with all the grace and servility of a courtier. Recognising the Captain, he exclaimed in ecstasies, " Ah, mon bon ami, le Chevalier de Shuffleton, pardonnez moi. Monsieur le Capitaine O'Shuffleton, votre serviteur." Then addressing Dick, as if he had committed some oversight, he continued, ** Sare, your pardon I beg, bot le Chevalier, je mean le Capitaine, he mon good customaire: ah. Monsieur le Chevalier tell you de verite, je serve all de English nabob, and all de gentilhommes of de court Frangais. Je invent de corset de noblesse, d at is de whalebone for keeping de rib tight and de back straight as de pole, or de column of de Place Vendome." Here Monsieur Snip began to develope indi- vidually the various suits of clothes he had brought, and to expatiate on their various superior qualities. " Here,' added he, with much triumph in his look, " you shall find to choose in every article of de cloth and fashion. Dis habit vas styled ' de habit de la dynastie imperiale.'" " That cut is rather out of fashion, I presume," said Dick. " It is now called de habit des abeilles," replied the tailor, grinning a ghastly smile : *' it was autrefois counted magnifique ; but now it is passe, hors de mode. Monsieur ; we only serve oneself of it for deshabille, when we one keep out of sight. Entre nous, most of de Messieurs of de court do have one ; it was very serviceable to many when de Emperor return. But voici. Monsieur, voici mon trioraphe ; de habit aux lys, or de habit Bourbon, voyez comme cela est fait ! Turn 22 I'IFE IN PARIS. you, Sare, dat I of it make on your back de try : absola- ment, Monsieur, it do make of you one man more, one new man ; it develope admirablement de charms of your taille, it do fit as tight as de one skin above the oder skin. Dat habit is all de rage, all de world do use of it ; voyez done, it do terminate like one triangle, and den de full bosom before. Eh, Monsieur, wid dat habit, vous voici justement comme un ange. And for your gilet, your veste, your waistcoat, Sare, here be exact your fait. You can choose out of every de sorts and couleur ; couleur marron, couleur arc-en-ciel, couleur jasmin, couleur coquelicot, dat is much cherish of the gardes-du-corps. De arc-en-ciel couleur is much to de fantasie of de dames, since de fate of de pauvre aeronaute, of whom de neck did break in de cart. Ah, Sare, how touchant was dat, it make shudder when I of it do tink, I do feel de sympathy. Monsieur, you may have de button of which you seem good ; de Spanish gold button do much wear since de war in Spain. Then for de breeches, Sare, quel bel assortiment ! I may say, no tailor in de universe can me surpasser to the manufacture of de culottes, de petits 6tuis de bijoux, dat is von case of de jewels." Dick's politeness was not sufficient to prevent him from siniling at the extreme adroitness of the Frenchman, and the proficiency he had made in the English language. The expertness of those active hands who ply in Monmouth or Holywell-Street, in fitting a robe of already confirmed habits to the most refractory back was here completely out- stripped ; nay, let us confess that the Genius who presides over the directors of the fashions from Bond-Street to Hyde-Park Corner trembled for the reputation of the British scissors, when this pink of the Palais Royal drew forth his Costumometre, or geometrical measurer, and began to take LIFE IN PARIS. 23 the proportions of our hero's person with the most trnde- viating precision. The fate of Bond-Street seemed to hang on a thread, those immortal wielders of the shears, the Destinies, were ready to give the fatal snap, the glory of the West appeared to be at an end. — " Meet me in any shape but that," seemed to be the exclamation; " we (speak- ing in the name of the fraternity) have taken measure of many pretenders to fashion, and not a few Frenchmen amongst the number ; we have heard of canes and straps being applied to the shoulders, and some instruments to the breech of impertinent coxcombs, but who but a petii-maitre ever calculated on making use of a schoolmaster's rule to fit a coat for a man's body ?" Monsieur Haut de Chausses, how- ever, saw nothing of the Genius, and could neither well hear nor understand the jealous denunciations of his brother- hood on this side of the water. He, therefore, continued to flourish his Costumometre, and to try the exactness of his shapes with that of his customer, until he had enabled Richard Wildfire, Esq. to make a figure as well as himself. Dick being at length equipped in a proper costume, and the Captain and Monsieur Haut de Chausses having pro- nounced him au fait, quite the thing, a Macaroni par ex- cellence, fit to be seen in any part of Paris, from the lounges of the Boulevards, or the Temple, to the Salons des Noblesse -; the happy author of this metamorphosis was despatched with his pockets weightier and his load considerably lighter than when he arrived. As he withdrew, with the smile of triumph and satisfaction on his countenance, the inventor of corsets and stays exclaimed, " Voici, Monsieur, voici, behold de superioritie of de costumometre, of de massacre of de cut ^-la-Frangais, over de sauvage habit ^-la- Anglais. Mon Dieu ! Monsieur, de change be magnifique. You be one 24 L,IFE IN PARIS. man more, Monsieur, quite de Apollo of de dames, tanks to mon costumometre." Nature, in forming the person of DiCK Wildfire, had not employed the hand of an apprentice. He was one of her most creditable pieces of workmanship. In the com- mon phrase, he was well made ; in the language of the ladies, he was a handsome man ; yet it must be owned that even Dick's figure was much improved by the symmetrical dress, in which Monsieur Haul de Chausses had arrayed him. In this instance there certainly was not quite so much owing to the tailor as there might be in some other cases ; but it is wonderful how much some persons are indebted to the clothes furnisher for the respectability of their looks. Even a hump-back is greatly smoothed by being covered by a good coat, bandy legs become tolerable when well covered, and dwarfs and dandies aspire to be gentlemen when every thing is superfine about them. Our youth wanted but small assistance from the friseur ; yet, as the Captain said his whiskers had been rendered much more fashionable and attractive by the touch and superin- tendence of an artist of hairs, DiCK consented to allow LITE IN PARIS. 25 bis tete to undergo the torture for a short period. Having retired to his private apartment for this purpose, and exchanged his new habiliments for the undress of the occasion, he was not suffered to wait long in suspense. If you say you want a hair-dresser in Paris, a dozen are at your elbow in an instant, eager to try the keenness of their weapons on your head or chin. It looks like barbarity to be obliged to turn away eleven out of the dozen of such obedient servants, but more cruelty might be occa- sioned by allowing the whole host to operate on one poor head at once.* The magical word being spoken, that a hair-dresser was wanted, notwithstanding the prolonged absence of Sam Sharp, who was still engaged in " sluic- ing his mote," as he termed treating his fair one, a train of tonseurs yrere instantly in attendance; some with wigs and ioupets, others with curling irons in their hands, and all with loads of powders, pomatums, and brushes. One re- commended his patent wigs with metallic springs ; another spoke of his great variety of powders for dyeing hair ; a third boasted that he had shaved the Duke of Angouleme ; * Females very often perform the office of barbers in Paris. These barbieres are often very dangerous, not from their unskilfulness in the art of shaving or cropping, but from the weapons with which Cupid has armed them. They are generally very smart and well dressed. So satisfactorily do they often perform their business that one is tempted to exclaim : — " I have found the best dressers of hair, I have found where the barbers don't bleed ; But let me that subject forbear, Lest you say 'tis a barbarous deed. " While gently she lathered my beard The praise of this barbiere I sung ; And I loved her the more when I heard, This Phillis was chaste as she's young." 26 ^IFE IN PARIS. and a fourth asserted that he had had the honour ^ curling the hairs of the favourite mistress of one of the greatest personages in the world. Contrary to all taste in this matter, Dick decided in favour of the operator who had the least perfume about him, and desired the gentlemen with the wigs and powders to take their commodities to the lawyers, whose heads were of little value without such arti- ficial coverings, and might be in want of the dyeing powders to give a colouring to a case. Notwithstanding the labours and attention of ihefriseur are not so imperiously required as when queues, long hair, powder, or wigs were in fashion, still the hair-dresser continues to be an important character, in the state. All hair-dressers are now styled artists : in their shops are generally exhibited a number of wax busts, Greek and Roman, Alcibiades, Titus, Caracalla, copied from God knows what, after which models they pretend to dress their customers. A fellow shall thus descant to you about the shape of Alcibiades' skull, Cara- calla*s whiskers, Titus's curls, the antique appearance of the peruke d-la-Cato, the colour of Augustus's beard, and the look of Caesar, who has learnt nothing but the names of these personages, or only seen some of them personated on the stage. To dress one's hair is now to arrange it. One of these artists, to arrange a head, first takes a prospective view of it, placing himself in a picturesque attitude of survey ; examines the object from every side ; bids the owner of the devoted caput look up to the sky, then down to the ground, and then straight forward ; makes him walk, dance, blow his nose, &c. " Monsieur" says hej at last, " c'est assez, it is enough; I know what you want." He then begins to flourish his scissors or his curling-irons. Our hero knew that to pass for an elegant he must patiently submit to the forms of fashionable though barbaric law in this particular. As soon LIFE IN PARIS. 27 as Monsieur Tonseur caught a glance of the conformation of Dick's brain-case, he decided much more correctly as to his wants than Spurzheim himself could have done. " Ah, mon Dieu, Monsieur,^ he exclaimed, (rubbing up his own top, in the manner of the cats, until his hair stood on end, or resembled a bramble-bush,) " horreur! horreur ! un barbarian one horrible massacre on your hair committe I Ah ! Monsieur, you not have perceive de fashion of de mode de Titus, de Caracale, unite in one ttte superb. Tournez vous, Monsieur, sHl vous plait, en gauche. Bien, Monsieur. Tournez vous un tant soit peu au droit. Bien, Monsieur, very well. Your head lift au del — merci. Monsieur, c'est assez, restez vous — yourself treble not, I what you want perceive — un happy ugliness of de hair — de kind corl of de Titus, avec de severite of de Caracale, avec de sapient tuft d-VAlcibiade. Bien, Monsieur, bien — dat is what you have shall, de very antique fashion, and de couleur propre. Your eyes black a faire plaisir — your hair dark, a faire horreur. Very well — cela est bon. Mon- sieur ; il est fine ! Your tete be now arrange, quite de ton, d-l'elegante — un happy confusion of de mode propre for de salles de compagnie, de boudoirs, de grand diners, de bal, de cafe, de theatre, where you see de great Talma ; eh. Monsieur !" Monsieur FEstraps having finished the decoration of our traveller's head, and taken himself off with much ceremo- ny, Dick felicitated himself on getting out of this scrape, and feeling himself now in a presentable form, proposed to the Captain a turn in the Gardens. " I protest," said the Chevalier, " I meant to have proposed the very same thing as soon as I saw you at all presentable, but you have anticipated me. Come along — let us see who are visible ; 28 LIFE IN PAKIS. the Thuilkries are at hand, and if any body are moving" we shall find them there. The cousin of Lydia, and the darling of Lady Halibut^ did not forget them in this intended visit to a fashionable v^^alk ; but on sending up his compliments to invite the ladies to be of the party, (an invitation with which he very fashion- ably did not wish them to comply,) he found Jjiat they were otherwise engaged ; they were employed in preparations similar to his own, being over head and ears in bonnets, caps, and dresses of all descriptions; half the milliners, dress-makers, straw-bonnet, flower, and feather makers, of the Rue Vivienne, and the Riie St. Honore, having been called in with the \ery flower and pink of their magazines to assist in decorating the persons and enriching the wardrobes of Lady Halibut and her daughter. As for Sir Humphrey, he was still enjoying his siesta, untroubled by any cares about fashions or appearances. He was one of those who, possessing the substance of respecta- bility, attach but little importance to the shadow. He thought, with those who have been selected by fortune as purse-holders, but by no means as distributors of the pre- cious materials, that " Money makes the man, the want of it the fellow," and that every thing else, which was not of this solid and ennobling description, was no better than " leather and prunella." Leaving him to his repose, our sparks crossed the Rue de Rivoli, and passed into the garden in front of the Palace of the Thuilleries. LIFE IN PARIS. 29 CHAP. Til. The Garden of the Thuilleries — The Place de Carousel — Characters and Appearance of some of the Promenaders-^ A beautiful Wondei — Curious Instance of French politesse — A Lady of Fashion taken to the Guard-House— Drawing a Ticker in good Company — The Syrens — " Fly not yef^ -*-DiCK Wildfire meets with a new Acquaintance — Spe- cimen of English Travellers of Quality in France. '* Here," said the Captain, as they entered on the pro- menade, " we shall see a little of out-door Life as fashion goes in Paris ;" but seeing his friend's attention was at- tracted, in the first instance, by the architectural splendour and beauty of the buildings which constitute the Palace and its adjuncts, the Chevalier observed, ** but you may perhaps wish to take a view of this noble edifice, in the construction and decoration of which the greater part of the wealth of the French people has been expended. Struck with the grandeur of this extensive building, our visiter expressed an inclination to take a survey of it as far as was permitted to strangers. In palaces the French have decidedly the advantage of the English. No two places can be more dissimilar than the Royal residences of St. James's and the Thuilleries. The French in their compa- risons would not indeed say, as some elegantly express them- 30 LIFE IN PARIS. selves on this side of the water, "It is Carlton-House to a Charley's Shelter, Waterloo-Bridge to a deal plank, the Bo- nassus to an earwig, Fenchurch-Street to a fig, or Lombard- Street to a China orange ;" but they would say, with a grin of contempt in their countenances, " It is a pile of huts and stables to the most magnificent of palaces, — it is the shed of a decrotteur to the Palais Royal, or a Cabinet d'Aisance to the Louvre." The number of military men stationed about and parading in the vicinity of the Chateau gave it a very warlike appear- ance. Several of the marshals and gentlemen of the body- guard, whose post is at the Palace, were strutting about in the glazed saloons, or lounging in the balcony, while grenadiers, cuirassiers, and pioneers, *' locked up in steel," with sabres, hatchets, saws, false beards, whiskers, and mustaches, were pressing on to the Place de Carousel, their great parade, and appeared fierceness personified. The passage under the dome of the Chateau into the Palace, and from the gardens to the Place de Carousel, resembles in some degree that through the Horse Guards, leading from Charing Cross into St. James's Park. As Dick and his companion passed through this entrance, they took a hasty peep at the galleries that lead to the royal apartments. As permission must be previously obtained by regular applica- tion to view the interior of the Palace, our traveller had to keep a very tight rein on his curiosity, for he could perceive some of the grim visages of the soldiers on duty eyeing him and his red-whiskered compagnon with an air that boded them no good. The Chevalier, however, promised to obtain Dick and his friends the privilege of inspecting the state apart- ments, and whatever was worthy or customary to be shown to strangers in this superb edifice, as he said he had the honour of a personal acquaintance with Monsieur le premier LIFE IN PARIS. 31 Gentilhomme de la Chambre du Roi, de service aux Tuilleries, and three or four francs, with the advantage of this high acquaintance, would procure them the liberty of poking their noses into every room in the Palace ; nay, he was not cer- tain but that by the favour of the aforesaid premier Gentil- homme he might not be able to obtain, for the glory of the Wildfires, and even Sir Humphrey Halibut himself, the enviable honour of being presented to his Majesty, and of course the opportunity of making a figure at Court. " In the mean time," continued this useful guide, ** you observe this Vestibule, and that grand Staircase ; already you tread on ground that has been the scene of memorable events. It Was here that the faithful Swiss made their last stand for their unfortunate monarch, Louis XVI. on the eventful 10th of August, 1792, when, driven by the fury of the populace into the hall of the National Assembly, he was a witness to the debate which ended in his deposition, and in the declaration that France was thenceforth a Republic one and indivisible; and it was here that his guards were massacred in his defence, and their bodies heaped on one another till the passages were blocked up with the dead." The traces of the events which have stained so much of the soil of France with blood are, however, now only to be found in history. After admiring the lions of this portico, they passed into the court of the Palace, and thence into the Square of the " Carousel." This is the place where the amusements were given in the reign of Louis XVI. and there is certainly ample space for carousing in it ; but it is no longer appropriated to emblems of mirth and jollity : it is now dedicated to Mars, and the glittering but unsocial parade of war. Twenty thousand troops, horse and foot, may be reviewed in this square. Places like persons have their days of splendour, and their periods of reverses. 32 LIFE IN PARIS. Columns of marble, triumphal arches, and monuments to the glory of the grand army, statues bearing garlands, and figures allegorical of victory, twined with the name of Na- poleon, here once rose in all the pride of successful vanity, and rendered this arena a place indeed worth seeing ; but an age of improvement has succeeded that of rapine and of war. The triumphal arch, so appropriately formed of re No privilege they forego. For the twirling of legs and knees ; See the Jigurantes in the Caveau. Too loo ral loo, loo ral loo, &c. Seigneurs may drink their wine, While eau de vie is here ; They may have their spreads more fine. But can't match this nether cheer. *^ Male ballad-singer. *' Female of the same class. *' Discord, confusion. '9 This very natural exclamation is so self-explanatory, that we decline translating it. " The beauties which his art in vain essay'd. The painter threw discreetly into shade." ** " Licensed voluptuousness ;" the well known definition of the waltz given by a foreign nobleman. 196 LIFE IN PAIlISo In the helles societes, Elegantes their forms may show, But the realjolie degagee^^ Must be sought in the Caveau. Too loo ral loo, loo ral loo, &c. But the liquor begins to act^ , Causing many a sad faux pas ; And bottles and glasses crack'd, Begin the grandyracas. The rabble are noisy grown, And the gens-cC armes are not slow ; While tables and chairs are thrown In tumult around the Caveau. Too loo ral loo, loo ral loo, &c. And see, with their coups de poing,^^ The English lads clear their way ; While the French poUssons^3 all join Their forces in battle array ; Till the brisk police, from the top, Pounce down on the crowd below, And cruelly put a stop To the larks of the French Caveau. Too loo ral loo, loo ral loo, &c. The meanest place of entertainment in Paris is seldom without musicians of some sort or other. Seated like Old Nick, in Tam CShanter, not in the dilapidated window of an old church, exulting over its ruins, although the French- men, for a good bribe, would not have much scrupled to have played the part of old Sooty, or to add a second *» Literally a pretty female in deshabille ; here to be understood of a draggle-tailed Cyprian. ** Compliments from close fists, or bunches of fives. *s Blackguards. LIFE IN PARIS.- igf jiddle to him at any time ; but they were placed, like Timo- theus, on elevated benches at the end of the Salon de. Societe. Here, whilst the promiscuous company imbibe such liquor as they can afford, or foot it " on the light fan- tastic toe" having no shoes, it may be to render the verse more inapplicable ; " to gi'e them music " is the charge of the gentlemen who procure their living by drawing " harmonious sounds from sonorous boards,"* or " beat the calf-skin fiddle," like those who make a noise in the world by the help of a pair of drum-sticks, a long tongue, a sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. Besides the chanteurs and chansonniers, who volunteered their portion of melodious noise in this assembly, we have to add the gentlemen who perform such wonders on the catgut and the " sonorous boards." The rapid narrative of the lyrical production we have just given anticipates, in some degree, our sketch of the Caveau; it supplies much of the points we had to treat upon. The company that frequent such places are truly unique in their appearance ; they are generally very much in the fashion of those happy days when clothes were not thought of, and " To love was liberty, and nature law." * The subject of music, like that of the banking-business, which has been productive of so much discord, affords occasion for many notes. We can only spare room for one here. In a case which came before a court of law, the counsel of one of the parties thus began, " My Lud, my client is one of those industrious individuals who earns his livelihood by extracting harmonious sounds from sonorous boards." " I suppose you mean a fiddler, Mr. ," said the judge. " Precisely, ray Lud," was the reply of the Jlashi/ orator. 193 LIFE IN PARIS. With a wise attention to the comforts of even its lowest subjects and the hoaseless mendicants, who would other- wise be without a shelter, the Government licenses these haunts of the poor and the profligate, and has even instituted similar houses for the purpose; but the police and gens- d^armes are charged to keep a watchful eye over such esta- blishments. Thither resort, when the day's multifarious avocations are over, to indulge in a divine oblivion of their misery, or to triumph in the success of their arts, itinerant ministers of pleasure and venders of every thing that is vendable, of all classes and both sexes, from the boulevards, the bridges, the streets, the theatres, the alleys, and the squares. Dis- charged servants, drunken coachmen, dog and cat dressers, friers of fritters, (women not of a much more comely ap- pearance than Hecate s female friends,) ladies of the Halle, or beauties from that purest of all markets the Marche des Innocens* dames of the pave, hawkers of dying speeches, who are as deathless as their orations, veterans with wooden legs, who are covered with nothing but glory, butchers who still retain their bonnets rouges, and a medley of characters only to be comprehended through the organs of seeing and hearing, make up the assembly that generally compose the inmates of a Caveau. If a stranger should be courageous enough to mix amongst them he is sure to be kept on the * The fish-market of the Innocents is generally called La Halle (the market) by way of pre-eminence. " Language des Holies," Billingsgate rhetoric. A church, dedicated to the Innocents, was once erected on the site of the present market; hence the name of virgin-like purity that so ill accords with the present tenants of the place, who " seem not inhabi- tants of the earth and yet are on it;" aye, and drive as profitable a trade too as any nun in our calendar. LIFE IN PARIS. 199 qui vive by the odd nature, the grotesque appearance, and the motions of the restless group. The gaiety, alias the admirable confusion we have before said, was begun when our visiters entered. They were, consequently, less observed than they might otherwise have been. They did not, however, take their places unremarked, and it was not difficult to discover they were Englishmen. Dick had always a strong inclination for a spree, and to partake in the humours of any place he was in. His was a practical humour that loved to display itself in actions rather than words. A femme of the Palais Royal, who at first appeared bespoken by a whiskered beau from the bear-gardens, soon gave very plain indications that she would prefer our hero to her French lover. Regardless of a rival's ire, Dick immediately took the fair one under his protection, and led her, first to the har, to get a glass of French cordials, i. e, brandy, then to the dance; but to move in any manner resembling order, or without the most imminent danger to your person, was impracticable. Almost every one that could stir had a waltz of their own to perform ; and they were employed in exhibiting more than their agility, DiCK, therefore, soon resigned his sportive partner, and resumed his seat as a spectator. The next person that took up the forsaken Lais was a red-bonnetted butcher, who gloried in the wounds he had given to the young woman's heart, and she did not at all regard it as manslaughter to make desperate havoc on the only vulne- rable part of a butcher. Although the whiskered leader of bears and monkeys, who had previously enjoyed the smiles of the accommodating figurante of the Caveau, had relinquished her " nothing loath " to the Englishman, thinking he gave him what would ^00 LIFE IN PARIS. •amuse him for some time, yet his choler was raised by the unceremonious and, as he conceived, contemptuous manner in which our hero deprived him of his Jille de joie. He instantly began to exclaim against the English as having no better breeding than his bears and moakeys. ** Jean Bull!" grinded he through his teeth, " Jean Brute ! Jean Bete I Tout le monde deteste les Anglois — ce sont une nation de sauvages." This very polite speech of the keeper of wild beasts was levelled at our hero, and it did not fail in reach- ing his ear. The effect, however, was by no means what the bear-leader wished it to produce. He had a notion that, being amongst his own countrymen, who were all pretty much of his own stamp, and a ferocious . looking fellow himself, he might insult strangers with impunity. Neither Dick nor Sam had much stomach to sit and tamely hear such opprobrious reflections cast upon themselves and their country. " The dog-leading rascal," cried Sam, seeing his master rising at the same time; " only let me have the taming of him ; I'll let him see how an Englishman can rattle his ivory-box, and shake the dust of the bear-garden out of his sweZ? toggery." " No, no, Sam," replied his master, " that business belongs to me; you look out for squalls, and prevent unfair play, if you can ; I'll teach this impudent French bruin a bit of one of the politest of our sciences. So here's at darkening his day-lights for the advantage of his mummer' (mouth). The vituperative reviler of England's fearless sons knew not that he was pouring forth his futile envy in the hearing of persons well acquainted with the fistic art. He, however, soon saw that it would have been better for him had he studied the '' no- ble science of defence," before he had gone so far in abusing the natives of a country unaccustomed to submit to insult, and well instructed and able to resent it. Seeing- what was about to happen, he got up in such haste that he upset a LIFE IN PARIS. 201 poor wooden-legged veteran who had been sitting beside him, and raised serious alarms in the breasts of the females who, trembling for their own safety, beheld, in the motions of the opponents, the forerunners of a fight. Monsieur, the leader of dogs, bears, and monkeys, only advanced to show that he would have performed wonderful feats of arms if he had been able, and to receive from our angry hero's hunches of Jives some favours that instantly put his eyes in mourning for the rest of his body. Dick went to work like one who knew the impolicy of making a long job of a Frenchman. He, therefore, gave the owner of les cJiiens de combat such a blow on the windpipe as instantly placed him hors de combat, and made him fervently wish himself again in his bear-garden. The row was now begun, and the battle soon became general. Observing some of the Frenchman's companions endeavouring to assist their un- successful associate, Sam peeled in a twinkling, and showed fight in such a manner as to strike terror into the bread- baskets of all who were hardy enough to oppose him. In the mean time his master, being beset with all sorts of weapons, dealt destruction round at every blow ; some he floored by the mere wind of his fist, others he sent tottering to the wall, and not a few " howling to the shades below" the tables and chairs which, alas, were not long permitted to affbrd them protection, for the tables were (over) turned, and the chairs were resorted to as weapons of annoyance or defence. Few of the readers of this narrative have probably beheld a Caveau in an uproar; but it may have been the fortune of some of them, haply, (no great advantage either,) to have witnessed a row in the hack slums of St. Giles's, when more ruin than blue ruin was to be seen in the very heart of the Holy Land. 9 Dd 202 I^IFE IN PARIS, If they have seen all this and more. They can conceive the wild uproar That reigned within the dim Caveau, When Frenchmen fell at every blow Of Wildfire Dick and Sam his valet; And, ah ! I almost grieve to tell it, When the bright chandelier, whose glare is The pride of each gay haunt in Paris, Struck by a chair, say Rumour's lips, SuflFered a terrible eclipse ; And topers, for their dear lost bottle. Their very friends essayed to throttle; Here one, who fell beneath the blows, Was feeling if he'd lost his nose ; There one, who did not like quadrilling. Was choking an o'erturned postilion ; And yonder — had you seen the sight. You would have burst your sides outright. By laughing at the odd display — A fiddler, who had ceased his /ay. Now lay himself upon the floor. Nor to his strains cried one encore; Another, placed in dreadful trial. Strove to protect his dear bass-viol As one would do a faithful wife From consequence of direful strife ; It was his bliss, his life, his all. The soul of many a dance and ball ; Than lose it, he'd have perish'd rather. Or like iEneas with his father, Or minstrel, say Sir Walter Scott's, Travelled as far as Johnny Groats, Or e'en, placed in the ocean's middle. Like young Arion thrummed his fiddle To dolphins, porpoises, and seals, That might delight to show their heels. In hopes tliat some kind, honest fish Would serve him with a savory dish. And guide him safe to that Caveau Where Neptune rules the world below. LIFE IN PARIS. 203 But, to drop the poetical strain of the heroic muse, the person who was most critically and dangerously situated in this collision of hostile bodies was the fair /em/we de puhlique, who, successively abandoned by all her ungrateful lovers, even by the butcher, on whose heart she had made such havoc, at length sought shelter from the tumult within the well-protected precincts of the bar. To this sanctuary she fled with hasty and unmeasured strides over the carcase of many a prostrate victim ; but, just as she was about to enter theregion of peace and safety, a flaming minister of vengeance, in the shape of the landlady, with a hostile bottle uplifted in her hand, barred a\\ further approach to that heaven of tran- quillity where spirits repose in an untroubled state, until the screw of resurrection sets them again at liberty to spread themselves abroad and agitate the earth. Instances of ingratitude in landladies and landlords are so common as not to require remark ; but this was a striking one, and, to the fair customer, '* the most unhindest cut of all." The cowardly butcher now attacked Sam in the rear, but Sam had a Parthian quality in his heels, as well as strength and skill in his arms, which kept his opponents at bay, and enabled him to perform the part of a trusty Achates. While Dick was about to give a quietus to a troublesome customer^ who had rallied, and was again endeavouring to come up to the scratch, with nails that would have qualified him to have taken part in the Combats des Anim,aux ; and just as our hero was about to receive a blow from an unmerciful cudgel on his defensive arm, aimed by a by-standing Frenchman who sought to terminate his successful career, the gens-d'armes, with fixed bayonets, marched into the Caveau and instantly set about taking the disturbers into custody. Dick had so much the appearance of a gentleman, not- withstanding the contaminating nature of the fracas in 204 LIFE IN PARIS. . which he had been engaged, that the gens-d'armes manifest- ed no disposition to include him in their conscription. They, however, surveyed him with looks, or, rather, frowns of inquisitive curiosity that sufficiently denoted they con- ceived he might have found fitter places of amusement. Sam Sharp's adroitness and experience in these matters had enabled him to effect his security by stealing off" as soon as he perceived the entrance of the armed police. Having witnessed, in this subterranean haunt, where Bacchus, Venus, and Mars, alternately hold sway, enough of low " Life in Paris " to satisfy our Wildfire spark for the present, he speedily left the place to the possession of the gens-d^armes and the police, highly pleased to find that, in spite of the risks to which he had been exposed, his pockets had not greatly suffered by all the attacks they had, doubtless, sustained. Persuaded that he had made a very narrow escape from his old quarters in the prison of ia Force^ that the ladies of these grottoes are no better than decoy-ducks, or Cyprians of the lowest description, and the gentlemen, generally, notwithstanding their swell toggery, as Sam very elegantly and appropriately remarked, nothing but cheats, thieves, imposters, and blackguards of all descriptions. On emerging into the street, our hero found himself in the Rue de Richelieu; but Sam Sharp, the valet, had dis^ appeared. It was opposite the hotel Frescati that Dick stopped an instant to look about if Sam was in waiting. Here a blaze of uncommon splendour flashed upon his eyes — in fact, it was evidently a house of the highest flash and fashion. DiCK had heard of this very elegant establishment, the only gambling-house in Paris to which females are admit- ted^and the scene of much fashionable resort and dissipation LIFE IN PARIS. 205 ■—terms that are almost synonymous. He had not yet, however, been within its walls. Now he was in a cue to try the experiinent, he resolved to have a peep at that part of the gay world. It was, moreover, about the time when the May- moon of gaiety is at its zenith. A difficulty, however, occurred, ** You must be here presented quite instate, sir ; Heaven bless your soul — a m-arquis is head waiter !" To get over the ceremony of introduction, no acquaint- ance being at hand to perform the friendly part of voucher for his respectability, put our hero into a quandary for a moment. From this he was relieved by a person who was issu- ing from the genial abode of Mirth, Music, and the Graces, dressed in the highest style of the ton, and who addressed our inquisitive observer by inquiring whether he desired to enter the assembly. Dick immediately replied in the affir- mative, on which the man of rank and fashion gave him to understand that, for a slight compensation in money, he would return and perform the task of his friend and cicisheo, al- though our hero was totally unknown to him, and although it was rather unusual for gentlemen to do such a thing for money, but he had unfortunately just lost all his ready cash at the Rouge et Noir table, and did not doubt that Monsieur Anglois, from his appearance and manner, was a gen- tleman, and might be permitted to mix with le societe privilege. Dick, seeing the passport to the higher circles so easy, instantly clapped a louis into the hand of the man of rank and fashion, and was conducted by him into the Salon appropriated for dancing, where he underwent the ceremony of a presentation as Mr. Wildfire, the friend of Count , and soon found himself in the midst of a very promiscuous company, as the nature of his introduction gave 206 I^I^E IN PARIS. him reason to expect. Dancing was just about to com- mence, and, as he sauntered about, looking at the live curio- sities of the place, he gave vent to the humour of his mind in humming the following ditty: — " Though Cupid may boast of his blessings so sweet, And husbands may vaunt the connubial treat. One favour of Heaven I only beg — While I live on this earth may I shake a loose leg. Deny down, &c. Though tradesmen may roll in their gUttering gold ; For it young fools marry maids who are old ; I envy them not while with Nan or with Peg, When fancy inspires me I shake a loose leg. Derry down, &c. The miser who squints from behind bags of pelf, A curse to the world, and a plague to himself; Bless'd Fortune but give me his chink, let him beg, That, free'd from his chains, he may shake a loose leg. Derry down, &c. The bishop so fat and so jolly you see, Good cheer and good wine give him courage and glee ; That, with Bet and with Poll, with Nan and with Peg, Besides his own wife, he can shake a loose leg. Derry down, &c. The curate who preaches from orthodox text, No wonder he's lean, with poverty vext. And oft of his indigent flock he must beg — He wants strength of body to shake a loose leg. Derry down, &c. The poor man, allied to beauty's soft charms, Has brats to weigh down his hard labouring arms. With no cash in his casket, nor stuff in his keg, He has not the power to shake a loose leg. Derry down, &c. LIFE IN PARIS. 207 My cask is my fiddle, my fiddler is fun, I dance on through life while other folks run ; And naught of the gods I ever shall beg, But the pleasure of shaking at ease a loose leg. Derry down, &c. The Marqiiis Lavarey has twelve hundred Louis, or Napoleons, for superintending the »SaZoH. There is no quar- ter of Paris where ball-rooms and gaming-houses are not to be found; but at this splendid establishment, which, in some respects, might be compared to our Opera-House, being confined, as much as is perhaps possible, to the higher ranks, fashionable dissipation puts on its gayest and most autho- rized appearance. Here, as an author, who has well descri- bed the scene, observes, " All liveried and laced, Spruce powdered pleasant fellows wait your call In wide Saloons, with glass and guilding graced. Lamps, sofas, statued niches, indeed all That can indulge the most voluptuous taste. Where, now and then, they give a splendid ball. At which you meet, and mighty well it answers. Nymphs of the buskin, vestals. Opera-dancers." Dancing began; and, certainly, waltzing, quadrilling, flirting, and ogling, were never carried to higher perfection. It has been said that *' the French are free with their Antipodes:^' this is true, and this freedom is never more de- lightfully felt and exercised than when the advances to friendship come from bright eyes and enchanting beauty, that— " Kind, and yet resolved to kill, Flies through the waltz, and floats through the quadrille." It was fortunate, perhaps, for our youth, who was made 208 LIFE IN PARIS. of *' flesh and blood the most combustible," that he had been introduced to this festive scene in the mercenary man- ner he was : of virtue and modesty, although they were doubtless to be found even in this apparently licentious as- sembly, he thought he could perceive but little. Every female that sported her figure in the dance he could not help regarding as no better than one of the " soft seducers of Calypso's isle." Yet is it truly and finely remarked, that " This dome, on night's of festival, Can boast a blaze of beauty, bland and bright. As ever queened it in a courtly hall. Heart-stealing eyes, and necks of swan-like white. Round shapes that swell thi-ough silken folds, and fall Like Flaxman's Grecian outlines on the sight ; Smooth cheeks beneath a cloud of raven curls, And lips like moistened coral casing pearls." We cannot say so much of the French beaux ; they were, indeed, the very essence of politesse and perfumes ; and the tailor, the blanchisseuse, and the artistes de mode, alias the dressers of hair, had done much to improve their appear- ance ; but, in general, they seemed more dandies and exqui- sites than the manly figures that at once command respect and esteem. None appeared more contemptible in the eyes of our observer than the hoary slaves of beauty, who sat, like skeletons, trying to smile beside young wanton damsels, boasting of exploits in the field of love that they had long ceased to be able to perform, and mumbling vows of love with toothless mouths, while the objects of their admiration and attention were winking over their shoulders to their more youthful cavaliers, and smiling in their sleeves,^ where that veil was not regarded as a superfluity, at the old dotards who had the vanity to suppose they could yet inspire the , softer passions. LIFE IN PARIS. 209 A thing, of mere feathers and rouge, who imagined she could pass for a Titania, made an attack on the heart of our adventurer, but, though fond of game, he was not to be caught by feathers alone. One, more calculated to raise a tumult in the youthful veins, caught his eye, and responded to its looks and desires in the person of a buxom Marchioness, who was most sedulously attended by a tottering jealous old husband, who appeared to delight in the admiration which his wife obtained, whilst he was every instant suffering the pangs of anxiety lest any one should attempt to gain a moment's attention from the idol of his care. "Women's wits are more prompt and fertile in expedients to effect an intrigue than those of men. Dick saw that the besieged fair one had caught the kindred flame, and already found out the means of accomplishing an intercourse. She complained to her lord that the sight of the dancers, swimming through their endless mazes, gave her a vertigo, and intimated a desire to go into the Salon dejeu, or gaming saloon. This wish was instantly complied with. The obse- quious husband led the languishing beauty into the apart- ment where " dames of character" sit, with black legs and sharpers, rattling the dice-box, or playing at Rouge et Noir, distorting their lovely features with all the passions of gamb- ling, and staking their husbands' estates on the colour of a card, or the turn of a die. Dick followed them into the saloon, and was fortunate enough to obtain a place close by the object of his desires, and even to enter into the game with her. Here he had a better opportunity of observing the charms of his new mistress, who appeared to have as strong ^. penchant for intrigue as himself. She was, indeed, possessed of great personal beauty, and had wit and all the most dangerous qualities of an admired woman of the ton. Clever she certainly proved herself to be ; for, such was her 9 Be 210 I^IFE IN PARIS. dexterity, that she contrived, unobserved by her watchful husband, to convey into the hand of our hero, along- with a card, a slip of paper, on which was noted her place of resi- dence, and the hour at which her lord went to the House of Peers, and she to take an airing in the neighbourhood of the woods of Boulogne. This was sufficiently explanatory of the disposition of the lady's mind, and our hero resolved that no want of attention on his part should be the cause of baulking her in her good intentions towards him. This little bit of game played with success, the volatile fair one threw down her cards, declaring she was perfectly satisfied with the trick she had played, and was in a fair way of getting rid of her vertigo. Glancing a look of parting love on our hero, which he well knew how to return with ardour and intelli- gence, the Marchioness l^d off her tottering Cornutus ; and Dick, satisfied at present with Frescati, and its pleasant and convenient haunts for assignations, and the encourage- ment of fashionable vice, left its gay assemblies, and retired to his repose with his imagination filled with the voluptuous beauties of the love-courting Marchioness. We now turn our attention to the company we left at the Hotel des Londres preparing for important events. Sir Humphrey and Squire Jenkins, who were, next day, to make their appearance in the field of equestrian sport to ** hunt the boar," and show Monsieur Badant the mettle of English horses, together with the ladies of our interesting narrative, who were looking with anxiety to their entrance into the fashionable world, at the Countess de Dance-at- Court's approaching ball. All the preparations being completed, and a boar suitable for the purposes of the chase discovered, the parties interested in the adventure sallied forth to the ground ; which was on the plains of Mont Martre. The ap- pearance of the equestrians exhibited no small degree of LIFE IN PABIS. 211 diversity. First and foremost, in a fair exterior, may be enumerated Squire Jenkins, the very Castor of the train, resplendent on a bright bay gelding, about fifteen hands and a half high, thorough bred, and of exquisite symmetry, so much so, indeed, as to extort reluctant expressions of admi- ration even from the vanity and self-love of the assembled Frenchmen, who, having heard the nature of the depending match, had congregated in great numbers to witness the wished for success of their countrymen. " On est Men cre- dule a regard des choses qu'on desire beaucoup ,-" but, in spite of this proverb, there is some reason to doubt whether, on the present occasion, any, but the most violently prejudiced could entertain any very sanguine anticipations in favour of the Burgundian. The Squire had been disgusted with what he termed the swagger of the Frenchman, and not a little in- dignant at the idea that any thing bred in that land of frogs and soup maigre should pretend to rival the out-and-out qualities and acknowledged excellences of his favourite Star- ling, who was declared, by the best judges of horse flesh, to be a complete beauty, a perfect picture, the real thing at all points, first rate speed, sound as a roach, thorough bred, more blood than flesh, chest like a camel, head like a deer, eye like a hawk, and legs like a greyhound. Though such beauty might, in the language of the poet, be said to " need not the foreign aid of ornament," yet, so anxious was the English Hippodamas to take the shine out of the Mounseers, that the day and night preceding the period fixed upon for the decision of the pending bet, he had exempted his groom from his menial attendance upon the illustrious animal com- mitted to his care, and had himself acted in the usual capacity of his servant, by grooming the nonpareil Starling, being determined, on the present occasion, not to trust so impor- tant a business to the hands of any substitute whatever. Not that the worthy Squire had the slightest doubt of the 212 I^IFE IN PARIS. perfect competence of his bit of Hood to do the trick, and pass his adversary in style, but he was willing, he said, to show the scoundrels what a horse was ; and, it must be ad- mitted, that his exhibition, on the present occasion, was highly creditable to his talents of currying, rubbing down, &c. Starling appearing, indeed, in addition to his naturally elegant figure, as sleek as a mouse, and as lively as a kitten. tor Starting, prepared by that prime judge of cattle, Astonish'd the natives, and seem'd quite the go In right twig o'er the plains of Mont Martre to rattle. To the chase of the boar, with a stout Tally ho ! The tackle of the Squire's horse was, likewise, as spruce as possible, having undergone minute inspection and adjust- ment from his master before starting. He was bitted, curbed, and cruppered to perfection ; and the saddle, bridle, and all appendages to the concern, quite correct, and as nice as if fresh from the furnishers. Add to all this, the masterly true English jockey seat of Jenkins, who never seemed so completely in his element, or made so near an approximation to the appearance of a gentleman, as when upon horseback, his knee knowingly turned in to the saddle, stirrups short, and foot home ; with the upper half of his person neatly aud easily inclined forward to Starling's head, as if gazing proudly on the steed, to which he seemed as inseparably united as a second Centaur, and we shall scarcely wonder at the exulting warmth of poor Sir Hum- phrey, who exclaimed, when he saw his friend come forth in all " the pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious " horse-racing, that this was indeed a rare day for the honour of old England ! Our veracity, as faithful historians, compels us to say LIFE IN PARIS. 213 that the outward man and equipage of the worthy knight, upon this momentous occasion, were calculated to elicit ejaculations of a very different description^ from that one which he had uttered at the sight of his friend. It may reasonably be doubted whether such a representative of English equestrianship had been seen since the days of the renowned Sir Hudihras. Sir Humphrey had not so far forgotten a regard for his personal safety in his enthusiasm for the honour of his country, as to neglect giving very particular directions to the person to whom he was recommended to apply for a nag, not to send him one that had too much spirit, as he had not been in the habit of riding a great deal lately. The instructions were strictly complied with ; and the illus- trious head of the Halibut family was supplied with a sorrel mare, wall-eyed, tender in the feet, and whose coat, in spite of all the efforts of the currycomb, exhibited every symptom of the animal having recently returned from a pretty long rustication among the delightful meadows in the vicinity of the Seine. In her paces she was what is em- phatically termed a daisy-cutter, and her head, the very emblem of humility, had a most pertinacious affection for the earth, that neither curb nor martingale could overcome ; being most poetically equipped with " a leaden eye that loved the ground." The paraphernalia of this interesting animal corresponded with its natural appearance to a hair ; it was all of French equipment, and a more than ordinary illustration of the striking superiority we possess over our neighbours in this respect. Every article was equally clumsy, and formed a most ludicrous contrast to the ele- gance and finish which distinguished the accoutrements of the Squire. Sir Humphrey, on its being first brought to the door, attempted to ascend by the aid of the stirrup, 214 LIFE IN PARIS. but, after a few fruitless attempts to effect his purpose, he became convinced that his unwieldy corpulence of figure rendered its accomplishment altogether impracticable. He, therefore, had recourse to a step-ladder from the interior of the hotel, and, with this auxiliary, and the assistance of two or three of the domestics, was ultimately lifted on to his Bucephalus. He had not proceeded far before he discovered that his steed was possessed of another accomplishment, not specified " in the bond," viz. a note " most musical, most melancholy," that very expressively indicated what, in the vulgar tongue, is termed " bellows to mend." He had yet however, to learn that this redoubted animal had, likewise, certain propensities, by no means devoutly to be wished, which, like the snake that is scotched, but not killed, were rather slumbering than subdued. But this part of its ex- cellences will display themselves in the course of our narrative. On the arrival of the English gentlemen at the scene of action, they found the Burgundian, true to his word, already there. Though the horse on which he was mounted might not fully justify the extravagant encomiums which his owner had lavished upon him, it was certainly a fine animal, and so superior to any thing that Jenkins had an- ticipated, that he swore in a growling tone between his teeth, that there must have been some English cross in the breed, at least no further back than its grandam. Its colour was a dark chestnut, and its size pretty nearly the same with the Squire's. The Frenchman's mode of riding, as far as mere show was concerned, was perhaps more graceful than his antagonist's, being like most of his coun- trymen, pretty much en militaire, long in the stirrup, close to the saddle without rising, and the body perfectly upright. LIFE IN PARIS, 215 The riders being ready to start, and the boar being let loose, Sir Humphrey, as umpire, gave the signal, and away the competitors darted like an arrow from the bow. A wild boar, although not the lightest of animals, is not the least fleet of the objects of the chace. He does not possess the bounding swiftness of the stag, but he is a much more formidable foe to encounter should he venture to turn upon his pursuers. Starling soon left the Burgundian far behind, and kept the object of the chase in view until he took shelter within the enclosure of the cemetery of Mont Martre. In the meantime, the French jockey exerted every nerve to keep the Squire company, but, unluckily for him, in endeavouring to clear a small stream that intervened in the course, the Burgundian's horse stumbled, and the rider was thrown into the current. The worthy umpire did not less put the vigour of his steed to trial, in order that he might be in at the death, but his Rosinante had no such in- clination. He walked as deliberately as if he had been principal mourner at a funeral. We have omitted to state that the intrepid Knight had, with commendable prudence, armed himself with a hunting-spear, but he was in no dan- ger of overtaking the tremendous foe. At length he arrived at the borders of the rivulet, where lay the overthrown Bur- gundian, apparently now become solicitous of obtaining the prize that is to be found by diving in the mud. The animal that could not run could, however, start when any object, which he did not exactly comprehend, rivetted his attention. The Knighfs Bucephalus reared at the sight of the unfortunate and mud covered Burgundian. This motion was by no means what the Baronet expected or desired ; the lance dropped from his hand, he instantly felt the powerful effect of the "proximate causes of natural pheno- mena," and gravitated to the earth, like all preponderating bodies in similar situations. In short, he was laid side by 216 LIFE IN PARIS. side by the helpless Burgundian, waiting the resurrection of friendly assistance, while Squire Jenkins pursued his victorious career even to the last shelter of the hunted boar, and the last repose of human nature. Determined to be in at the death, Jenkins had no notion of being checked in his course by any surmountable obstacle. Star- ling cleared the enclosure of the cemetery at a leap, and put the pious mourners to the route as much as if some dreadful apparition had burst amongst them from the con- fines of the world unknown. Here Jenkins found the object of his chase so completely outrun, and already so beset by hostile and pious weapons, that he became an easy conquest ; and the Squire, having provided himself with a trophy of victory, returned to enjoy his triumph over the humiliated Frenchman. He found poor Badant and the honest umpire in sad but friendly communion on the misfor- tunes that had befallen them, and having administered the necessary relief to the sufferers, the party returned to the H6tel des Londres, where they celebrated the achievements of the English champion of equestrianship in flowing streams of generous wine. Whilst the sporting gentlemen were engaged in their ex- ploits, the ladies had equipped themselves for the ball, and awaited, with feminine impatience, the hour of departure for the Countesses residence. DiCK had, of course, been in- cluded in the invitation, and was now ready to accompany the ladies to the scene of display. The moment for setting out arrived, but Lydia's partner. Squire Jenkins, had not yet appeared to demand the envied honour of escorting her to the gay scene. Lady Halibut felt both her pride and parental care deeply interested in the fulfilment of the Squire's promises to her daughter ; but Lydia only ex- perienced uneasiness at the prospect of Jenkins proving^ IJFE IN PARIS. 217 bimself a true lover and keeping his word, for the proprie- tor of ,TaHyho-Han was, of all men, the least desirable to the heart of such a female, as a companion with whom to make a first appearance in the beau monde. Her mother hoped that no accident had happened to such a worthy and rich gentleman; whilst the lovely Lydia, in spite of all her tenderness of heart, would, at this moment, have scarcely heaved a sigh, although she had been told that the Squire had broken his neck among the tombs on the side of Mont Martre^ and thereby make a still more unsuitable appearance in a quadrille at a living Countess s balL Just, however, as these contrary hopes and fears were fluctuating in the minds of the parties interested, \\ie Squire presented himself before his anxious friends, more like one who had risen from among the inhabitants of the peaceful mansions he and the boar had disturbed at the foot of Mont Martre than a carpet knight " Who capers nimbly in a lady's chamber. To the lascivious pleadings of a lute." The Squire had not thought proper to change one article of his dress since his mounting Starling in the morning ; the garb in which he now proposed to exhibit himself at the ball was, consequently, the very same, even to the boots and spurs, in which he had contested the point of speed with the boar and the Frenchman, and made such havoc among both the quick and dead. Dick smiled to see him enter in this trim. Lydia was already alarmed almost to sinking at the thought of the approaching shame she must encounter in appearing amongst the helle societe with a partner of so rude and gro- tesque a character ; and Lady Halibut, after a pause of no little wonderment, at length ventured to inquire whether 10 w : 218 T.IFE IN PARIS. Mr. Jenkins did not intend to change his dress, and whe- ther it was the fashion, in Paris, for gentlemen of property, \i^e Squire Jenkins, who cared for nobody, to go to a ball at Court with boots and spurs on ? i Mr. Jenkins, however, did not intend to change any part of his apparel, and replied to the inquiry on this sub- ject that he did not think it necessary to put himself to any trouble for the purpose of pleasing a parcel of macaroni Frenchmen. " I am an Englishman," said he, " and, with your permission, ladies, will appear as such ; and those that don't like my dress, may go and keep company with the monkeys that have a fool's coat on their back, and not a shilling in their pockets. What do you say to that, Dick? Am I obliged to turn puppy and give up my national cha- racter to be fit to sit or dance with a company of apes or demireps?" Dick said he might follow his own humour: an Englishman, with a fortune like that of Squire Jenkins, was a privileged person wherever he went ; and, for his own part, although he liked to please the ladies, he was very desirous of seeing the independent and easy character of his country supported on all occasions. This was said with a peculiarity of manner, which partook of the jocose and the severe, and evinced that our spark of the ton knew how to laugh and reprove at the same time. Lydia thought it very unkind in her cousin thus to seem to give a sanction to the boorishness of Jenkins, and cast one of her most un- kind glances at Dick for his want of regard to her feelings and situation. *' Very well said, Mr. Jenkins," exclaimed Lady Halibut, *' people that have money and don't need to put on an appearance to cheat their neighbours may do as they please. A man of property is always known by the ease LIFE IN PARIS. 219 and gracefulness of his carriage wherever he goes. There, Lydia," added she, on hearing Dick's opinion, ** you hear what your cousin says, and he is a judge of these mat- ters. Mr. Jenkins must be in the right. Come, let us away to the Countesses" Here, however, as this chapter has extended to an un- usual length, and there is an Alpine prospect of " Life' and description before us, we will pause a little to gather vigour for the remaining task, and to give the readers' bel- lows a seasonable rest from their labours, knowing how diffi- cult it is to raise the wind when one's powers are exhausted. For this purpose we will here suspend our narrative for a moment, in order to be enabled to renew our pleasing toil* like a giant refreshed with wine, in a new chapter. «i20 I^II"^ IN PARIS, CHAP. XI. The Ball-Room Scene continued — Short Sketch of the Court' tess's Life — Squire Jenkins, moving on the spur of the Occasion, makes an Exquisite eZawce fo a weio Tune, or a Dandy performing a Pirouette without Music — More Beauties that " woidd he vjooed, and not unsought, he won'* — Cotisequently , more Plots and Foundations for Amours — A fashionable petit souper — And a Close to the Evening's Entertainments. Coaches were in readiness, and the party drove off to the ball : the Squire in the same habiliments as he had hunted the boar in ; Lydia being in the worst possible humour in which a beauty can be with her chaperon when going to a brilliant assembly; and iadZy Halibut being elevated to the highest ecstacy of fashionable ideas and language at the prospect of the glory that awaited her. They reached the residence of the Countess, in St. Ger- main's. This lady, of fashionable notoriety at the French court, was a specimen of the success of that quality of in- trigue which the French possess in a most eminent degree. She had, in her youth, filled the humble situation of compa- nion or dependent to a woman of fortune and quality, who was the most miserable wretch on earth unless she was in the very centre of fashionable life, even when she had ftttained her sixtieth year, and who gave her friend and com- L1F£ IN PAKIS. 2*21 panioii a pittance of about twenty pounds a year for bearing- all her ill humours when her house was not filled with per- sons of rank, or her neighbours and acquaintances were ** not at home." Agathe, however, was fair, had talents and discernment, and was in an excellent school for learning how to turn her charms and her abilities to account. Like her mistress, she imperceptibly became one of the danglers after quality, who, for the pride of dining at their table, being sometimes set down by their coachmen, or providing for a permanent station among the circles into which they are thus fortuitously introduced, have the good-nature to supply the place of a fille de chambre when that useful crea- ture is out of the way, or out of the good graces of her lady, who will get up at dinner to reach his lordship a glass of wine, when the valet is absent, will read the lady to sleep when she has the vapours ; who is considered as a most pleasing magnet of attraction at a house when the lady of the mansion has ceased to possess any charms herself, and who will occasionally do the good-natured oJ95ce for a young fel- low who has been baulked in the pursuit of some more coy and reluctant fair; who cannot find that another lady's having a husband is a reason sufficient for her shutting her eyes to the merits of any man, and who is exact in finding out the moment when the wife is out of the way merely to leave a message from her mistress. She was, likewise, early initia- ted into the mysteries of play, and, at length, managed her cards so well that she was first taken into keeping and th«^n married by the Count de Dance-at- Court, an old dissipated remnant of nobility, who covered all the frailties of her character with a title, and was so additionally kind as to leave this world, and his wife a handsome jointure, soon after their marriage. The Countess de Dance-at- Court now shone forth in all the splendour of rank and fashion. She was one of the most brilliant stars of the court ; her balls, 222 l^Ii^E IN PARIS. routes, at homes, and conversationes, were the best attended of any assemblies of the kind in the French Metropolis ; and it was not without reason that Lady Halibut was proud of being one of those who receive the flattering "nothing" of a card from such a personage to a party where five or six hundred faces meet and survey one another with the most careless fashionable indifference. That peculiarity, however, which is necessary to attract notice amidst such a crowd, was to be found in a very per- ceptible degree in some of the members of our party. On Lady Halibut's approach, the Countess smiled very gra- ciously. Dick acted as her chaperon, consequently, there was no very great breach of etiquette committed; Lady Halibut's tongue being the only offender ; for, had her life been at stake, she could not refrain from replying to the Countesses recognition, " I Iiopes your Countessship is well, many thanks to your Countessship for the honour you do me and my friends. Bless me! vhat a crowd, of great volks are here. I wish I had come a little earlier, but it is all owing to Squire Jenkins here, please your Countessship, a man of great property, I assure you." Dick hurried off her Ladyship to a seat before this elegant address was con- cluded, amidst such inquiries as these, " Who is the foolish frousy old woman ? Where has she been bred ? Where does she come from ? She looks like one of the female savages just imported from the other side of the Sleeve,* or from New Zealand, or Kamtschatka!" But if any portion of surprise or curiosity was excited by the appearance of the lady of Sir Humphrey, a much * The French have a gieat reluctance to call the Channel the English or the British Channel. They generally term it the Sleeve. LIFE IN PARIS. 223 greater degree of astonishment was created when Squire Jenkins, in his hunting-dress, with his blushing partner, Lydia, came forward for presentation. All eyes were instantly turned on the owner of Tallyho-Hall and the trembling Lydia ; the Squire, however, stood like a roek amidst their whisperings and grimaces. " Is he the chief of the savages?" inquired one. " He appears just to have come off a scalping-chace. How could such a monster gain admittance here? The Countess de Dance-at- Court has certainly some strange acquaintances !" Attention being thus attracted to the Squire, and some parts of his habiliments being discovered that had escaped the observation of the maitres des ceremonies, the major dome made his appearance, and, with fifty scrapes, bows, and excuses, for the liberty he was about to take, intimated to Mi Lor de Shenkin that he had forgotten to put off his boots and spurs. Jenkins surveyed the impertinent moni- tor with a look of the utmost contempt, and, had his horse- whip been in his hand, the poor polite Frenchman would have received a very unpleasant reward for his friendly hint. The Squire, nevertheless, deferred so far to what he per- ceived was the general impression in respect to his garb, as to retire and disencumber himself of his spurs. The indignant conqueror of the boar, however, took care not to make this concession without taking an equivalent. A French Exquisite, whom the Squire had remarked making many grimaces at his appearance, had reason to rue his indul- gence in the grinning propensity ; for Jenkins, while leaving the apartment, by a dexterous turn of his heels, as if he had meant to impress the sides of a lagging chaunter, so paid his complimentary addresses to the shin of the dandy as to make him instantly commence the ball by a dancing movement, a la pirouette, into the middle of the room. 224 L^^^ IN PARIS. Much mirth and disorder were occasioned by this unex- pected whirligig motion of the agonized beau, who per- formed the evolution with both his hands clasping the unfoi^- tunate limb. Some imagined that the hop was a voluntary^ but it was any thing but that. When the pain of this application to the non-descript biped had given place to considerations on the cause, the insulted macaroni took counsel of his friends whether steps of a retaliatory nature should be adopted against the offend- ing Squire. Luckily for the sake of that harmonious con- cord which ought to prevail on all such occasions, and it may have been, fortunately for the shoulders of the grimacing man of starch and ruffles. Prudence ruled the hour, and the poor French Exquisite was obliged to put up, in silence, with the accic?ewf that had befallen him. t*g«ja9ii|: Our Spark of Wildfire enjoyed this scene with a relish every way becoming his waggish propensity. He was aware that some sport must be produced by the adherence of Jenkins to his whim; he, therefore, did not oppose it, and now gave the conqueror of the boar full credit for the dexterous manner in which he had punished the impertinent puppy. The Squire was not long in returning to the scene of action, where, notwithstanding his uncouth appearance, he performed the part of an attentive cavalier servante to the fascinating Lydia. When the dancing commenced, he led her through the intricate mazes of the " frolic measures," with all the grace of the character he so well supported. It is true, many of the company, in spite of all their politessBy and the accident that had befallen the grinning dandy, could not refrain from exhibiting iu their countenances the I.rt-R I.N PARIS. 225 emotions of astonishment and proneness to laughter with which they were filled at the sight of the Squires unex- pected agility. An elephant walking on hot bricks is no fit simile to illustrate the movements of the conqueror of the boar, when in the light quadrille or voluptuous waltz. His style of dancing, he was determined, should be purely national. He cracked his thumbs as others do castanets, and threw about his legs as if he had been dancing the Highland Fling. " Now advancing, now retreating, Now in circling troops they meet ;" To brisk notes in cadence beating, See how Jenkins moves his feet. But what shall we say of the contrast afforded by his lovely and accomplished partner? She seemed the very leader of the Graces. " Slow melting airs their Queen's approach declare ; Where'er she moves, the Graces homage pay ; With aims sublime that float upon the air, In gliding state she wins her easy way. O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young desire and purple light of love." It was, indeed, a triumphant occasion for Lydia. She could hear buzzing on all sides, " admirable, merveilleus^, charmantf ah! la delicieuse jigurante! Who is the adorable h^Ue whom the English savage has captured by his uncourtly power?" To say that Lady Halibut's heart was proudly heating to see and hear the homage paid to her daughter WQuld be a waste of words ; she was as vain and conseqi^ien- tjal as if she had just received the title and honours , . He eagerly remarked the vacancy which the Squire had opened for him, and, stepping up, " gallant and gay," to the deserted fair one, solicited the honour of her company in the dance. Whether our hero's figure was equally agree- able in the sparkling eyes of the charming brunette, we will not say; but certain it is, as any event in the records of Cupid, that she readily accepted his invitation, though a stranger, and that, when Dick pressed her hand with ena- moured fervour, in the course of the dance, she delicately returned the pressure, as maidens do when they cannot help appearing sensible of their lovers' pains. The effect which such flattering acknowledgements produced on the pulse of our enamoured youth, it is no business of ours at present to detail; but we must say that if the lady's quondam cava- lier felt himself galled in the shin by the Squirey merciless spur, he suffered a deeper mortification and wound to his LIFE IN PARIS. 227 pride by this infringement on his tenderest care, this triumph otonrhero, this faithless flexibility of woman's attachments. In short, so hurt, so humiliated Avas the poor Exquis by the weight of his afflictions, that he embraced an opportunity of slinking, unobserved, out of the ball-room, leaving his oppo- nents to the enjoyments of their successes. There is no amusement so difficult to describe as a ball : to particularize all the parties engaged or present, their jfiCostumes, manners, chit-chat, triumphs, or vexations; to hCarry the reader to the end of every dance, then set him down to listen to the soft whisperings of the enamoured partners; and, da capo, to all the rest of the interesting matters connected with the eternal evolutions, would pass the bounds we have prescribed to our details on this subject. No one can look ill or displeased upon such an occasion — all is beauty, all is pleasure; smiles, fashion, and poUtesse, give the air of enchantment to all you see. Promiscuous as such assemblies generally are in England, even in the higher circles, a &flZ in Paris, though in the precincts of the Thuilleries or St. Germain, is of a much more heteroge- neous nature. Natives of all countries are met and jumbled together as at Leipsic-fair ; and as many dialects are mut- tered around as gave that happy variety of tongues to the conversations at Babel, which has since been diffused over the world. Lady Halibut said she was sure all the ifijAmbassadors in the universe veere met together at this ball, from Abul Hassan, of Constantinople, with the three hun- dred wives and nine hundred concubines, to Hoo Cham, the Mandarine, with the three-yard tail, from China. There were Counts and Countesses, Marquises and Mar- chionesses, Dukes and Duchesses, who knew no more of one another than if they had fallen from the moon. Gene- rals without a xegiment^ and Admirals without the command 228 LIFK IN PAllIS. of a oock-boat. Here might have been found more fortune- hunters than ever met together in the Assembly-Rooms at Bath^ whose magazines of lavt'dry apparel had been most diligently ransacked for the display, and not a few sharpers who had borrowed their titles as well as their garments, carefully marking out their prey, and drawing off ih^r victims to the gaming-tables. M cno-/** On such an occasion, where the mansion admits, various rooms are thrown open for the reception and entertainment of the guests. Those who have no relish for dancing may take their places at the card-table ; or rattle the ivory with all the fervour of an experienced dicer. But to Lady Halibut's fancy, and we might, perhaps, add that of Squire JenKins, there was a still more agree- able particular in the entertainmenl of the evening. It is usual at such galas to sup as well as dftnce or play cards. Lady Halibijt, who was afralid of losing her money at play, and had no relish for thie eonvWrsationes which thfe more sedate, enlightened, or (hypo) critical, part of the so- ciety had formed at several tables, wished, a thousand times, notwithstanding thfe triumphs of Lydia and DiOK, that the dancings was over, and that she saw something solid before her whereon to employ her masticators. Robust and mettlesome as was the owner of Tallyho-Hall, he likewise got tired of fling'iiig aborut his calf-skin covered limbs, as if dancing the hays in his own meadows: he led bis lovely partner to her seat, close by partlet, alias her mother's side, nor longer " Sought renown By holding out to tire his neighbours down." IDiCK pi'olong^ed, as much ats lay ih his power, the de- LIFE IN PARIS. 229 lightftit and thrilling- intercourses of the dance with his beautiful partner, and strove to improve, by all tbe efforts of an experienced gallant, the new acquaintance he bad thus formed. Even the intriguing Marchioness, with all h^ voluptuous charms, who had so lately warmed bis fancy by her half-stifled invitation, was, for a short time, banished from his memory by the more maiden * attractions of the present charmer, in whose eye, nevertheless, he could read the intelligible signs of congenial passion. The moment of surrendering her back to her friends, however, arrived, and Dick went through this unwelcome ceremony ; but took care, etfe he left her, in tipping her a little of the velvet, to acquire such information as might prove the means of obtaining a future interview with his angel. Our hero next visited the card-tables, where he saw many a beautiful piece of Nature's workmanship playing with ruin, and going'i:a:jiiD ei usa -- .(V-> C'ii-^ " As gay as can be to the devil." About four in the morning, those who remained to sup sat down to a refreshment of the most delicious kind. In a city where they dine in the evening, where the rage is to seek society and pleasure, either in public or private, where gaming has broken loose in all companies, and almost every place of amusement is open till midnight, where people, in real fashionable phrenzy, " Die of nothing but a rage to live ;" Such meals as deserve the name of suppers are, of course, but little cared for. Yet, true it is, that, wherever the French present the means of refreshment, they spread a feast of delicacies. Our party remained, at hady Halibut's 2% J^rr't^ In paris. desire, until the long looked-for moment arrived, when she could be a witness and partaker of the Countess's petit soupe. Although the company formed still a considerable party, this elegant treat was managed in excellent style. The Countess presided with as much grace as if she had been all her life a member of a Court. She even conde- scended to recommend, to her gratified and astonished guests, the Lady of Scaleshy-Hall some of her most delicious re- freshments, all of which the happy Lady Halibut " swal- lowed with open mouth," pronouncing she never in her life tasted any thing so werry fine, and fit for the better sort to live on. She was greatly in love with the pancakes and velvet creams ; but nothing agreed so well with her palate as a liqueur which came recommended to her from the Countess, and was presented, in repeated tastings, by the hand of the favourite Jenkins, which liqueur had been denominated a cordial for invalids (hon pour le cceurj, but was, in fact, neither more nor less than pure Nantz — genuine de vie, commonly termed brandy. eau Notwithstanding the smile excited on some countenances Jay this mistake of her Ladyship, all went on with pleasure and satisfaction, until Squire Jenkins gave another in- stance of his national manners, by falling fast asleep beside his lovely partner, and snoring most independently of all the great company present. This conduct, on the part of the conquerer of the boar, was instantly pronounced a hare indeed; and as the eyes of even Lady Halibut appeared to be most unpolitely closing at times on all the scene of splendour before her, Dick led the party off, with as much grace as he could, and thus the ball, with its entertainments, was at length concluded, and these re- markable personages, whose lives we are sketching amidst all the other pictures of " Life" that our pages unfold, retired to their repose. LIFE IN PARIS. •231 ,,i ed^ ^1.. ... -CHAP. XII,^^„, ^^^. Morning Objects 4n Paris — Pictures from vhat is sometimes very troublesome to keep, — money. He actually called upon me next day, and, without allowing me time to scrawl even a note to you, carried me down to his chateau, in the neighbourhood of Montmorency. A thousand times did I wish you with us ; you would not have wanted for game of all sorts, of the prettiest and easiest kind ; for, between you and I, the old Shamhleshins keeps a harem. But no more secrets of this kind till I have the pleasure of opening my budget to you. " By-the-bye, I find that the scoundrel MousTACHALlNA, to whom I was so unfortunate as to introduce you, turned out an arrant impostor. Never was any man so much de- ceived, as I had the misfortune to be, in regard to the true character of that swindler. But you know that, in a place like this, we are all liable to be imposed upon. It was the Marquis de Shamhleshins himself who introduced MouSTA- CHALINA to me ; so, you know, I could not but rely with confidence on the integrity of any one whom such a nobleman honoured with his intimacy. I rejoice that you served the rascal as he deserved. I understand he has since absconded, " I intend having the honour and pleasure of looking in upon you and the ladies in a day or two, but important en- gagements at present monopolize all my attention. " Do me the favour to present my respects and apologies to the lovely Lydia and her mother, not forgetting the worthy Sir Humphrey, and believe me to be, my dear Wildfire, '* Your's, always in sincerity, '* Larry O'Shuffleton." LIFE IN PARIS. 239 It will readily be imagined with what feelings Dick pe- rased this curious epistle of the Captain's. He had sus- pected, at first, that Shuffleton was a party to the im- position and villany of the soi-disant Sicilian nobleman, and this letter by no means removed the unpleasant impres- sions. He threw it aside with contempt. At that moment, Sam Sharp again entered with another epistle in his hand. *' Why, Sam," said his master, *' I never took you for a man of letters until to day." " Please your honour," replied the Valet, " I don't belong to the learned fraternity. I served an author once, for three weeks, but, as I starved all the time, I gave up that employ. It is true my master starved also ; but that being no satisfaction to my stomach, I left him." Dick, smiling at Sam's honesty, took the letter from his Valefs hand^ and, having broken the seal, read as follows: — " One o'clock, P.M. *' Bearing towards the Prefecture of Police. " Old Messmate, ** I send you this despatch, though running at the rate of ten knots an hour, from one quarter of Paris to another, to inform you that there is no neglect of duty, on my part, in not having joined your company ere now ; but the truth is, as I hinted to you before, I am eagerly engaged in the chase of a pirate, who I haved discovered in these parts. This flying buccaneer is no other than a shark of a lawyer, who, in acting as the agent of my prize-money, obtained the proceeds of the whole of my captures in the Tottumfog, and absconded with the booty. I have had scent of him for three days ; but an attorney, like the devil, has many holes to creep into. I hope, however, to come up with him in a short time. If I can come athwart his hawse, it will go hard with me if I don't shiver his timbers, or scuttle his hull. 240 UVE IN PARIS. " Hope you are singing the duet, " All's well," after had- ing down the lubberly sharper's jib, in the Palais Royal. Shall try to bear down upon you soon, if wind and weather permit. Meantime excuse my vessel's driving, " O, the little Tottumfog for ever." " Your's, " Ben Block." This letter of honest Ben's afforded some amusement to Dick, and made amends for the equivocal account of Che- valier O'Shuffleton. These letters, however, contained nothing to influence our youth in fixing his resolution whether he should endea- vour to penetrate the preserves (it would appear but ill preserved) of ancient and illustrious cuckoldom, or go in search of that commodity which is only to be found in chaster regions ; mayhap, as Ariosto says, in the Reposi- tories of the Moon, where all things lost on earth are deposited. A message from Lydia was the wonder- working spell that put all wavering thoughts to flight. It informed her Cousin that the young, the gay, and beautiful, Mademoiselle St. Roche had done them the honour to wait upon herself and mother, to offer them a seat in her box at the Grand Opera that evening, and it would be desirable to the ladies that Dick should ac- company them. Mademoiselle St. Roche was one of the persons of fashion and distinction to whom the Halibuts had carried introductions, and she had been polite enough, on receiving their card, to " look in upon the natives, just to see what sort of animals they were." LIFE IN PARIS. 241 Mademoiselle St. Roche was, indeed, a gay lady, and as pretty and fine as milliners, paints, and her waiting-maid could make her. She might be called young and handsome, for the bloom of Ninon was on her cheek, and Nature had given her a very graceful figure. She could; moreover, boast, among the number of her advantages, a yearly income of twenty thousand livres. Yet Mademoiselle might, with more propriety, have heen denominated Madame St. Roche, for she was not altogether a vernal, although she took especial care to pass for a ** pretty giddy young thing. " '* A thousand pardons for disturbing you at this early hour," said she, as she entered. It was then past mid-day, which some people in this country call afternoon. "But," added she, *' I could not refrain doing myself the honour of visiting you, after hearing that you were last night at the Countess de Dance-at- Court's ball." Addressing Lady Halibut, she continued, " I did not, however, expect to find your Ladyship out of your boudoir." *' That's exactly what I says to Sir Humphrey, when he is teasing me to rise as early as a fish- woman at Billingsgate, " replied Lady Halibut ; ** but I won't do no such unfashionable things no more, for I thinks you are in the right, Mdamsellei rich volks have a right to lig a-bed as long as they please. Sir Humphrey shall know that I will not cross the bowdoor of my bed-room another morning till its a proper fashionable time to get up, though all should go to ruination, like other great volks' affairs. " " That is very wisely resolved," said Mademoiselle St. Roche, " and like a lady of the ton. I myself should not have been abroad at this unfashionable hour, notwithstanding my desire to see you, had I not been so chagrined last night at the Countess de Rhaimbaud's concert and ball that I eould 11 li 242,' LIFE IN PARIS. not sleep all the morning for thinking of it. My dear friend, Madame Flashaway, was there, and we would have remained' till our countenances exhibited what the gallants call a fashion- able languor, but her husband hurried her away at three in the morning ; was not that horrid ? Husbands are tyrants, I am sure, and, therefore, I do not mean to marry Colonel Valmont, notwithstanding his vows and attentions. — What> does my fair English friend here say to this subject? (ad-- dressing Lydia) ; I suppose you have a dozen colonels and as many captains, dancing attendance in your houdoir and antechambers." " My levees are not quite so well attended as all that by the beaux," answered Lydia ; " I am yet but a novice in fashionable life. " " I see, I see," said the lively Frenchwoman, " you must be put under my training : ah ! Mademoiselle, you cannot conceive the gay easy life we women of fashion lead in Paris : we are never without our gallants an hour in the day. " *' What ! do young unmarried ladies admit gentlemen to their dressing- rooms in France ? " " How little you know of ' Life in Paris ! ' you must let me give you a specimen of our man- ners here, by telling you how a lady of fashion passes her time in this gay capital. " " I should really like to learn how you ladies of the ton in Paris pass your time," replied' Lydia ; " and so should I," added her mother, ''though you cannot be so much distressed as some that I know to get over it if you lie in bed till afternoon. There's Sir Humphrey, my husband, who never knows what to do with himself [unless he is eating or drinking. But Shr^ IIUMPHREY is not a lady of quality." " Well, my dear friends, to the specimen. I will tell you my yesterday's occupations. Returned at five in the morning from the Marchioness de LovealVs. The Marchio' «m 'is a charming woman, quite idolized by the gentlemen, LIFE IN PARIS. 243 but tied to an old, useless, jealous, husband, whom arried her for her beauty, and whom she condescended to take merely on account of his title and fortune. Her party would have been delightful, had there been a hundred visiters less, and if the Marchioness herself had not monopolized all the attention. Besides, there were very few of my Colonels there; Valmonty I suspect, had another engagement, and I took care to tell him of it next day. Monsieur Dulac escorted me home, I did not think it necessary to tell Valmont of that." ** But he may find it out," said Lydia. ** 'Tis no matter if he does," answered Mademoi- selle St. Roche. " I love to see people jealous. If Val- mont is displeased at another's gallantry, he should have been at his post to perform the duty of my cavalier. I could not, however, sleep for thinking of him, and the ad- miration the Marchioness enjoyed. Fell into a doze at last, and did not wake till eleven o'clock, when Fanchetfe entered and told me that the Colonel was looking at the Cupids and Venuses in my boudoir. I punished his neglect by letting him continue his studies alone for an hour. Fanchette dressed me, at last, in a new robe that cost five hundred francs. My head-dress did not, however, please me, though Millot had exerted all her art to make it charming as well as splendid, so I thought it might do the Colonel good to let him study the inanimate beauties of my boudoir for another hour; but,, on second thoughts, I determined to assume a nonchalance air and see him; so, in an hour and a half, the Colonel and I came to a right understanding. We had no sooner done this, than the aid-de-camp, who was to take charge of some letters I wished to get forwarded, came in and pushed out the Colonel. The aid-de-camp proved a gallant and an agree- able man. I chatted with him for half an hour, and when he went away I took a memorandum to keep me in spirits 244 ^^^^ IN PARIS. when necessary, , namely, that there are agreeable men in the world besides Colonel Valmont." " You manage your love affairs very easily in France," said Lydia, smiling. ** It is well to have eyes as well as hearts," replied the lady of the ton. " Frenchwomen do not allow the merit» of one man to eclipse, those of another, nor, as one of your poets say, confine to one lover ' what was meant for mankind.^ " " What a happy set of persons the Frenchwomen are," added Lady Halibut ; *' they may have as many lovers or husbands as they please. I wish I had been born in France or in the Grand Turk's dominions. He is the only person I can compare to them. The English ladies do not yet come up to the French in these matters. For my part, (heigh-ho!) I am sure I have led a life of celibacy." Mademoiselle St. Roche laughed, and went on. "I was thinking what J should do when Noustier, my valet, entered with a letter. I imagined it was a hillet doux. It proved to be a long epistle, which gave me a head-ache to read, from my uncle in the country, inviting me to spend the summer in Provence. To answer it was a dread- ful task. I began a reply to prove that it was much more convenient and eligible to me to remain in Paris, but I had a great deal of trouble in establishing my position, so deferred completing my letter until I had furnished myself with better arguments. To dissipate my chagrin, I thought of dressing to go out. I spent the time, I don't knov how long, in endeavouring to arrange my head-dress a la Mebe, in the Chinese, Creole, Provinfale, and Savoyard, LIFE IN PARIS. 245 fashions, without being able to please myself with either. I was angry with Jeannie ; she had tears in her eyes ; I gave her my box at the Opera Comique for Sunday next, " Whilst in this humour, Noustier entered with a bandbox which, he said, came from Duverney's. It con- tained an Italian straw-hat of the handsomest shape. * It is a love,^ cried I, (cest un amour,) and judged it was from, the Colonel. It doubtless cost him a quarter's pay- no matter for that; he thought such a love-gift was neces- sary to reinstate him in my good opinion. It was an admirable fit, and the Colonel, who entered soon after, owned that I looked divinely in it. ' If you think it is fit to be seen,' said I, ' it perhaps might relieve my head-ache to take an airing in the Woods of Boulogne.' The Colonel was enraptured. I ordered the horses to my carriage, and we drove to the Wood. The promenading was delightful. All Paris was there. We had rare sport in quizzing some of our acquaintances. We returned to Paris about four o'clock. Looked in for a moment at the Riding-School de Sourdis, where Madame Dutalais was taking her lesson. She is a little fat woman, of fifty years of age, whq wishes to. pass for being highly accomplished." " Bless me !" exclaimed Lady Halibut, " at her time of life to learn to ride on horse-back ! If that is the fashion I believe I must learn to j-ide myself. Squire Jenkins, I dare say, will give me a lesson — he is an excellent hand at managing a horse." " My dear mother," added Lydia, " I should like to see you and Sir Humphrey in a race." " The fashion certainly run$ in that way at present," continued the lively Mademoiselle St. Roche; " for we likewise saw Madame de Flirtwell, whom we had noticed 246 I'irE IN PARIS. in the Wood, enter with her Squire. He is a tall, thin, dapper fribble, and she is a real Amazon. She is even more than that, if we may judge by her figure, by her voice, and, above all, by her bosom. At the door of the riding-school the Countess de Normand recognized me. The Colonel, I could perceive, had no relish for her company, so whispered * Adieu/ and took his leave, on the plea of having an un- avoidable appointment at the Thuilleries. The Countess would not part with me. She took me into her calash, and we went shopping together in the Rue Vivienne. The whole world of folly was there. We stopped at Mademoiselle JBissons to select some lace embroidery, and shot-silk ker- chiefs. I was mighty pleased with some kerchiefs a 7a Bayadere ; the Countess allowed they were pretty, but said they will soon become common. In eight days they will be no longer wearable. So, after viewing every thing, we bought nothing, and hurried to Le Rois, where it is fashion- able to show one's self, and see if there is any thing new. I thought my hat would look better with a feather, so ordered a very handsome plume ; got, at Tessier's, some es- sences and pastiles of aloes, and arrived at home at five -o'clock, when I flew to my toilet, having recollected I was to dine at the Baroness de CormeiVs, and appear at the Countest de Raimbaud's concert and ball in the evening. I was in an ill-humour when I recollected that Valmont had not told me that he was to be there ; but Jeannie dressed me in a robe that became me so exceedingly, and my new love sat so gaily upon me, that I found I could smile after all, and away I drove to the Countess's. I have told you that her party was quite a crowd. Had it not been for Vulac I should have been lost. A vain thing, the Countess de Troquanccturs, was sporting her figure there. She had more of the attention of the gentlemen than she deserved, or I am no judge of women's merits. For the LIFE IN PARIS. 247 music we cared nothing. Gossip and scandal was the order of the night. You have heard the cause of my retiring at so early an hour as three. That is the picture of one of my days. If you add a little more gaiety and extravagance to if, you may conceive a notion of the * Life ' led by the generality of fashionable women, married and unmarried, in Paris." " Up6n my word, a very pleasant mode of passing time^'* said Lady Halibut when Mademoiselle St. Roche had concluded her detail ; ** though you appear to be doing nothing, your hands seem to be as full of business as if you were making pies or puddings, darning stockings, or selling sprats, — I beg your pardon, giving a levee at Court to all the ambassadors' wives that come from Turkey, and Chinnee, and Wenns, and other strange parts." " Ah, Madame Halibut," replied the lady of fashion; "you have lebon repartee so apropos, that you will be one or- nament of the fashionable world. I have detained you too long. What say you to a visit to the Theatre or the Opera. I have a box at the Franfois, where Talma performs, as well as at the Grand Opera. Would you not like to see Talma? He is in a new character to-night. We shall have time enough to see the best part of the performance at the Theatre Francois before the ballet commences at the Opera de Musique. All the world will be at the Franfois to-night, and to see the new ballet at the Opera." ** O, how delightful !" cried Lydia, '* to see two such fine sights in one night. Will you not go with Mademoiselle St. Roche, Mamma? I am sure Dick will not refuse to escort usi" 248 LIFE IN PARIS. At that instant, Dick entered the apartment, and was introduced, by his cousin, to the gay and fascinating Made- moiselle St. Roche. Two such lively and congenial spirits as our hero and the fashionable French beauty were soon on good terms. The latter seemed to be much taken with Dick's demeanour and personal appearance. In this new female acquaintance he, in his turn, found an object to whom he saw his gal- lantry would be agreeable, and who, if he read the meaning of her eyes aright, might make some amends for the disappointments she was unconsciously causing in the interruption of his other pursuits. It was soon agreed that the whole of the party present should adopt the plan of Mademoiselle St. Roche, namely, to go to the Theatre Francois first, and from thence to the Opera. When the hour of performance arrived, they drove to the Premier Theatre Francois, in the Rue de Richelieu. The play was Cinna, and Talma was to appear in Auguste. The first thing that our English travellers remarked was the appearance of the house. It was spacious and superb, but from the paucity of illumination, was dull and opaque. Lady Halibut, who loved to see and be seen, said the persons in the boxes seemed like owlets look- ing from their nests in a wood. Before we enter on any notice of the performance, we will here say a few words on the theatrical amusements of the French. They constitute no small part of the enjoy- ments of *' Life in Paris." The stage in every country must be the speciilum vita, LIFE IN PARTS. 249 the mirror of " Life," both in tragedy and comedy. It is very remarkable that the French, though they are the gayest, most volatile, and most frivolous, people in Europe, are yet exceedingly formal and exact in all external ap- pearances. In their theatres this is strikingly perceptible. The character of the legitimate drama, particularly their tragedies, is dull and monotonous. As comedy must be, more or less, a representation of living manners, it must, of course, be more natural. Their tragedies are all in rhyme, and in all Nature is too often distorted in order to preserve what they are pleased to call the unities. Boileau, the legislator of the French Parnassus, laughing at the Spanish theatre, and speaking of tragedy, says : — " Mais nous que la raison a ses regies engage, Nous voulons qvCavec art I'action se menage ; Qu'en un lieu, qu'en un jour, un seul fait accompli Tienne jusqu'a la fin le theatre rempli."* Corneille, however, began his theatrical career by trans- lating Spanish plays. But what is most remarkable in the history of French tragedy is, that they should call it the legitimate drama, and say it is imitated from the Greeks, who were the inventors and perfecters of it. A tragedy of Eschylus, Sophocles, or Euripedes, is no more like a tragedy of Corneille, Racine, or Voltaire, than the Iliad of Homer is like the Henriade. The Greek tragedy was evidently a meXo-drama, a species of theatrical exhibition, against which the partisans of the legitimate drama declaim so * " But we that reason by its rules engage, If art with action mingle on the stage. Spell of the unities of time and peace, Still crowds on crowds the theatre will grace." 11 K k 250 J-IFE IN PARIS. loudly. It was never divided into acts, nor was the stage ever empty a moment, and there was always a chorus of dancers and singers who came on occasiotially and formed a necessary part of the drama. It was more like a serious opera than a French tragedy. The unity of place was not always observed, and, if the scenery remained the same, it was because the stage was in the open air, and on so vast a scale as always to present a pleasing variety. Aristotle, who has treated expressly of the Greek tragedy, says nothing of the unities, as Corneille and the French critics require them. Why then isthe French tragedy the legitimaU drama ? Because French manners and French forms would have it so. Such a drama never existed in any other coun- try. There is no reason founded on nature or truth for such a strict observance of the unities ; and even if there was, as the drama is calculated to give pleasure and entertain- ment, the more that end is obtained the more perfect it is. The most rigid French critics themselves begin, now-a-days, a little to relax on this point, as they find the torrent of opinion in the most civilized parts of Europe, and even in their own country, bears too strong against them. The imitations of Shakspeare, by the late dramatic author, Ducis, met with great success on the French stage; and as the free style of English gardening, as well as the forms of the English constitution, seem to be gaining ground every day more and more in France, it is very likely that a more bold and original manner will be adopted by their future dramatic authors. It is observable, also, that the prin- cipal writers of tragedy in France have always confined themselves to the narrow circle of Greek and Roman story ; not one subject did they take from the history of modern times or that of their own country. Belloy, in his " Siege of Calais," and Voltaire, in some of his latter tragedies, broke through this established custom ; and other authors LIFE TN PARIS. 251 have followed it up with success. The ** Templiers," by Raynouard, is a fine tragedy ; and two new pieces, taken from French history, " Louis IX." and the " Sicilian Vespers, " were very successful on the stage. Still, how- ever, an Englishman will find it rather difficult to accustom himself to long declamatory speeches in rhyme, even in the best French tragedies, or delivered by the best actors : especially when there is no variety of scenery, little brilliancy of costume, and so little of that bustle and action to which he has been accustomed on the theatre of his own country. Some English travellers in France, astonished to see a French audience listening in profound silence to these legitimate dramas, give them great credit for it, and say, they are certainly a dramatic people. But this may, perhaps, be more easily accounted for from the pecu- liarities observable in the French genius and manners ; and if we look at the history of the stage in England and France, if we consider the size of the three great theatres in London, and how constantly they are filled ; if we take into account the number of minor theatres in this city, and reflect that there is scarcely a provincial town of any note without its theatre, we shall, probably, be convinced that the English have as keen a relish and as just a taste for dramatic productions as the Parisian enthusiasts of the Theatres Francois, or the French in general. Some persons also admire the French theatres, because there is no half-price at them; because they are not frequented by courtezans ; and because there is no confusion, noise, or difficulty in getting out of them. But all this is owing to the established manners of the people, to the despotic forms of the government, and to the class of persons who chiefly frequent the theatres in Paris. No public diversion in France of any kind, not even a wake, or a village dance, 252 I^IFE IN PARIS. can take place without the presence of gens^d'armes. Yet these police reg:ulations, though contrary to the genius of the British constitution, are sometimes extremely convenient. As carriages draw up, and receive their owners after the performances, they are obliged to drive off immediately, a short time only being allowed to take up, which entirely prevents confusion ; and nothing can be more striking or judicious than the order preserved in this respect; nor is the unwary spectator in any danger of losing the contents of his pocket from such depredators as infest the environs of our London theatres ; and these remarks extend even to the minor places of amusement. Before the opening of the house, the public who happen to be waiting for admission, and the number is sometimes several hundreds, are aiTanged three a-breast; and when the doors are open^ are successively admitted in rotation, without the least confusion or pres- sure. Moreover, the great theatres in Paris partly belong to government, and are all half supported by it ; they are not private property as in London ; the population is not nearly so great, nor entirely of the same stamp. Paris is not a commercial town, nor a sea-port ; the lower classes have not so much money to throw away in amusements, and are, therefore, on public rejoicings, indulged by the go- vernment by admission to the theatres gratis. As to the half price, it has arisen from the late hour of dinner so long established in London, and only lately adopted in Paris ; and instead of being a sign of the English not being a dramatic people, would rather seem to be a strong proof of the contrary. If their leisure or their purse will not allow them to attend the whole performance, they take as much of. it, at least, as they possibly can. The manner of lighting the theatres in France by a lustre, or circle of liimps, suspended in the cenlre, though, perhaps, more LIFE IN PARIS. 253 advantageous for stage effect, is certainly less lively and brilliant than the English mode of placing chandeliers and gas-lights between the boxes, and is far from showing off the company to so much advantage. In France, the ladies do not dress so much for the theatre, nor is it neces- sary that the toilet should be so much attended to there as in this country, for there the same opportunities of display do not occur. In the French theatre, females are not allowed to enter the pit, and ladies of the town have there no chance of mixing with better society.* But to the business of the stage. The play began : the two stars of the French drama at length made their appear- ance. Talma and Madame Duchesnois. The French were in raptures when this pair came solemnly forward : the lady was, indeed, a gem from the antique. ** Bless me ! what a little ugly woman," cried Ladi/ Halibut; " I wonder anybody could admire such a witch. " Mademoiselle St. Roche put her Ladyship right in regard to this excellent actress, whose age has but little impaired her extraordinary tragic powers. Talma and this lady, alternately, and some- * A good custom prevails in France of making all the theatres and places of amusement pay a tenth of their receipts to the poor. The theatres in Paris, moreover, are obliged to pay a twentieth towards the support of the Grand Opera. The part of the poor, from the theatres in Paris last year, amounted to 462,080 francs; that of the Opera to 134,203 francs. The interests of dramatic authors in France are better secured than in England, where literary property is often shamefully violated. They par- ticipate during life in the profits of their works in e'cery theatre in the kingdom, and this advantage descends to their heirs for ten years after their decease. The quantum of remuneration at the Theatre Royal is, for a piece of three or five acts, one-twelfth of two-thirds of the gross receipt, and' one twenty-fourth for a piece in one act. 254 LIFE IN PARIS. times together, declaimed about Cas-ar^ till the soiind of that name made even iac?y Halibut inquire who CWi.e.ns coajsci ins CkobtS tiria. I'tnm The sign-board of this useful fiiend to domestic animaJs was, as may be seen, not easily to be deciphered. He, 4oubtiess, meant modestly to say that here was to be found the best clipper of dogs and cats in the city. Another sported this inscription, " La Rose tond les chiens et sa femme^ vat en Ville.'* A third, ** Coupe les chiens, les chats, et les oreilles ides carlins, des Messieurs et des Dames qui luiferont I'honneur de hi aecorder leur confictnce"* * " The rose (or pink) of shearers of dk)gs, male and female, in the fcity." " Cutter of the cars and «ap of dogs and csts to ladies and geatlenafW* whq do hiin the honour oi' iatrusting theni to hiod," &«, LIFE IN PARIS. 285 The Squire started on seeing our hero surveying him in this situation. " Ah! my jolly fellow/' exclaimed he, '* well met, I was just thinking of taking you to a scene of rare sport, quite in the way of the lovers of fun and genuine English amusements ; I mean the Combat des Ard- mauXf or bear and bull baiting ; for the French are improv- ing rapidly in these delightful sports, so peculiar to our own country. You see my companion here, honest TeazHmS he is a specimen of the true ancient English bull-dog. I'll match him against any half dozen dogs in France ; nay, against any bfear or wolf in their den. 1 mean to give him an op- portunityof supporting the honour of the race of bull-dogs in England. Come, what do you say to instantly visiting the Duck-lane of Paris?" " Agreed," replied Dick, " I have nothing pressing in view elsewhere." They, accordingly, proceeded towards the Barrier du Combat, the Squire conversing during the way as much with his dog, Teaz'im as with his friend Wildfire, Dick regretted that he must be a mere spectator of the sport, as he had not brought a mastiflfwith him on which he could depend ; but entertained hopes of deriving some plea- sure from the Squire's love of this amusement. At length they reached the Barrier, and the scene of an exhibition consecrated to cruelty and the genius of vul- garity. It was an old ruinous-looking building, constructed within in the shape of a theatre, where the spectators and disciples of the sport preside in the form of butchers, dray- men, bear-leaders, low sharpers, dog-fanciers, &c. Occa- sionally, we are forced to add, gentlemen condescend to attend these sports, but not in such numbers as they do in this country. Nevertheless, as the Squire loved to say, '* the gentry are improviiag in this way iri Frapce," The exbiW- 286 LIFE IN PAUIS, tion consists o£ an enclosnre, arotind which there is a gatlery for the spectators, who are often of both sexes ; and under these galleries are dens of wild beasts^ together with a kennel full of dogs^ of various sorts, always ready, through the mediam of their masters, to accept a challenge from a canine brother. Wolves, bears^ and bulls, are, likewise, made to encounter trained dogs ; but the wolves and besurs have generally their teeth filed down, and bulls have their horns sawed off. The latter seldom kill their opponents, as amusement, not destruction, instigate the combats. The seats are composed of bare boards, and the admittance about fifteen sous. Our visiters entered this elegant scene of amusement jnst as the sports were about to begin. It being a festival-day, (for the exhibition is most frequented on Sundays and hoUdaySt like the rest of the theatres,) the galleries were weE stocked with spectators, among whom some of the fair seXf that delight to torture m^s hearts, were fearlessly visible. Jehkims being of the prwUeged order, and having a combatant to try, was readily admitted into the area of the sport ; Dick had to add a few francs more to the price of admission, for the privilege of accompanying his Mend into the area* Sam Sharp had to take his place among the catuoBe in the galleries. Ho unpleasant station t& Sam, compared with bis late abode and compamoiis in the prison of St. Pelagie^ The first trial of animdi courage was to be betwerai a bear and a ferocious mastifiT, of the wolfish breed, who was conc<^ved able to encoaitter the shaggy tenants ef the dea. The lovers of the noMe art of bear-baiting were all anxiety for the sighi. Two men were occupied, in the fcnre-gronnd of the mes^ m prq^oring to drag die ref itctani bear &ma his LIFE IN PARIS, 287 den. The mastiff appeared in good condition for a fight. His owner, confident of his prowess, stood ready to ** slip the dog of war " as soon as the bear should issae from his strong hold. Jenkins felt strongly disposed to claim the preference for Teaz'iwi, who, " Like Ruin, with his sweeping besom. Just frets till he commission gi'es him." bat the Squire was obliged to restrain his impatience for a little. Reader ! we are now approaching as remarkable an event as is to be found in the annals of bear-baiting. All combats elevate the spirit of noble minds. We feel, in attempting this description, we cannot confine ourselves to humble prose; verse is the proper language of heroic action. If a subject appear low in itself, poetry gives it a dignity that recommends it to the attention of all. Homer did not narrate the noble exploits of the Greeks and Trojans in dull prose, although some of his successors have tried to do so ; and the wars of the pigmies, and the frogs, and mice, have been rendered almost as interesting by the fanciful and magical pen of the muse. We conceive our subject no ways inferior in importance to either of these remarkable historic broils, and, therefore, shall endeavour to speak of these Combats des Animaux in a strain becoming the spirit evinced in them. See then, as in our plate displayed. The scene by fame immortal made, Unmatched by Spaniard's bull-fights yain, Or e'en the precincts of Duck-lane. In galleries ranged in comely rows. Behold the anxioui; belles and beaux. ^^88 LIFE IN rAIlI8. Straining thtir eyes, anil some their might. With hearts all eager for the fight. Below, within the area placed, Are ranged the amateurs of taste ; The ge'men, who, the Muse infers, Are skilled in bears, and bulls, and curs. By pulley, rope, and ruffian force, Unslacked by any kind remorse, Lo ! Bruin shows his nose and paws, And with a growl demands the cause Why thus he's dragged from peaceful den Into the sight of cruel men, And mastiffs who delight to tear The skin of unoffending bear ? In vain the question's put to those Who rule by ropes and ring i' the nose ; Forth he must come to meet the foe, Who, grinning, loves his teeth to show, And longs to work poor Bruin's woe. At length, as from his woodland haunt. The shaggy monster, fierce and gaunt. Stands full before the astonished sight Of all that pant to see the fight ; While, urged to cruel deeds of blood. The mastiff fell, as for his food. Like hungry wolf upon the rock Stands ready for the hostile shock; Slipped from his owner's hand, at length. The mastiflE" tries his ire and strength, By fierce attack upon the bear. Whose hide and heels he does not spare. Tearing with fell relentless tooth Each part he reaches, hard or smooth ; But Bruin soon revenge exacts For these most impudent attacks ; His mighty soul is filled with ire. His eyes shoot forth indignant fire, His very hair, upon his skin Erect, proclaims the wrath within : LIFE IN PARIS. 289 So do the dreadful outspread claws That fortify his woolly paws ; Like one who calmly can survey The victim destined for his prey. He marks his foe's marauding trick, And the sure moment when to nick The annoyer : certain not to err, He pounces on the angry cur. The dog's was soon a piteous case, Clasped close within the bear's embrace, For angry Bruin did not fail To use against him tooth and nail ; His tusks made deep incision in The hapless, struggling mastiff's skin. And, with his paws, he squeezed, so felly, The howling dog's poor ribs and belly. That his great soul, like hero's spirit. No longer able thus to hear it. Took flight to those pure realms of rest Where souls of dogs at length are blest ; No longer fearing stick or stone. Nor caring e'en for meat or bone. The mastiff's owner sorrowed much To see his dog, in Bruin's clutch. Yielding, as dogs and men must do. To power, alas ! they can't subdue ; And then with shame he droop'd his head. And cried, " mon Dieu ! my dog is dead ! " Far different sounds the friends of Bruin Uttered, to see the mastiff's ruin :— " Well done," they cried with all their powers, " Well done, old Bruin ! victory's yours." While, conscious of the exploit, the bear Look'd round, and bristled every hair, Stamping indignant on his prey. As much as if he meant to say, " Will any more rash curs engage. Like this poor %yretch, to tempt my rage ? 13 p p 290 LIFE IN PARIS. If thus to rouse my wrath they dare, Let them come forth and meet the bear. — They come, and let their owners movirn^ ' Like sacrifices, in their turn ; As once the famous giant said, ' I'll grind their bones to make my bread !' Then, like a conqueror, to my den, With joy, I'll back return again." Thus said the bear, or seemed to say. Exulting o'er his vanquished prey : Proud as the conqueror of Troy, O'er Hector's corse, poured forth his joy. But greater tasks on Bruin, waited, As yet, they said, but poorly baited. Now was the time for English tyke* To prove there was not there his like. Jenkins, the fit occasion seizing. Forth led his mastiiF, trained to teazing. And cried, " I'll bet a thousand guineas. Though hard and tough old Bruin's skin is. That Teaz'im brings him to the ground ; For better dog was never found At bull, or bear, or badger, baiting, ' Or any scene of sport or betting : Not e'en Duck-lane can match my Teaz'm, As any one may know who sees him. Come, courage, boy, and show your pluck, For at no odds you ever stuck ; The fame of Britain's dogs sustain '.— Huzza ! for England and Duck-lane !" Then at it Teax^im and the bear, Urged on to rage, soon furious were. Like gladiators, in the fight, Got up to give the folks delight ; * Mastiff. LIFE IN PARIS. 291 Or Neat, or Gas, Belcher, or "Randal, When they their well skilled morleys* handle, And prove they're game to the back-bone j So fierce our combatants carae on. The bear surveying with disdain This boasted glory of Duck-lane, Wondering how any ])uppy's breed Should dare 'gainst him so rash a deed ; And Teaz^im showing teeth as fell As Cerberus, at the gates of Hell, (Place most abhorred, where few, I venture, Without such check desire to enter.) Dire was the contest, — Teaz^im knew Each Fabian measure to subdue ; To weary, harass, and annoy. Was Teaz'iWs plan, and Teaz'im'sjoy ; Now quick advancing, now retreating, Biting still as oft as meeting, But like a true Guerilla warrior. Or active, snarling, biting, terrier. Avoiding artfully the trial Of strength, by prudent self-denial. Reader ! if e'er to Stamford town, A connoiseur, you rattled down. To witness, at bull-baiting time, One of those scenes, those sports sublime, Which to our ancestors gave joy. Pleasing the hearts of man and boy, For which e'en Windham heaved a sigh, Declaring that humanity For bulls and bears was all my If e'er, good reader, you have seen The bull turned out on glebe or green. Or, ranging furious through the streets. Threatening with death whome'er he meets, While yelping, snarling, at his rear. Five hundred hungry curs appear. Fists. eye — y 292 I^IFE IN PARIS. And hullards* with their cudgels add. Fell blows to make the sufferer mad. Though things like these we scarce believe, Yet, reader, may your mind conceive, Without in more details engaging, Some notion of the combat waging Between the bear, good saints ! appease him. And Jenkins' heart's delight, brave Teaz'i/B. No lack of sport this fight afforded, It with the fancy tribe accorded. Now Teaz^im at the heels of bear Was nibbling, now aloft in air He took a dance, thrown o'er the shoulders Of Bruin, making the beholders All hold their sides, and gape, and stare, To see the adroitness of the bear. Meantime, the happy Squire stood by, With exultation in his eye, Except when, by unlucky chance. Poor Teaz'im took his airy dance. And then, unmindful of the fun, Jenkins, with tenderness, would run And clasp his darling in his arms. And kindly try to balm his harms, As if for deadlier wounds to fit him. Then to the war again commit him. Thus raged the ire of hostile pair, Till, pained, exhausted, down the bear Fell prostrate, like a vanquished foe, O'ercome by dart or deadliest blow. And vainly strove to hide his paws From Teaz'im's teeth and cruel jaws. But, e'er the conqueror of Bruin, Who thus had proved himself a true one, Born of the breed of anci^t baiters. Who did not stick at trifling matters. * Persons who assist to bait the bull. LIFE IN PARIS. 293 Could be withdrawn from fallen foe, He got himself a casue of woe; For Bruin, catching at his leg, Made e'en the tyke for mercy beg. Jenkins beheld his dog's disaster. And, quick as thought, the attentive master Released poor TeazHm, spite of claws, Minus a leg, from Bruin's jaws ; Most piteous was the mastiff's whine, And well might he, poor dog, repine To lose his precious limb, for he. Who went on four, must go on three; And Jenkins, too, whose heart was made Not quite according to the trade, O'er Teaz'im's loss might sorrow well, The Squire at once a blubbering fell, Now bathed the wound with many a tear. Now praised his dog and curst the bear. Thus grieved he sad o'er Teaz'im's wounds : " I'd rather given a thousand pounds Than thus my brave, heroic, dog Should have been maimed like slaughtered hog ; Nay, for this bit of mastiff-blood, I'd given the best horse in my stud ; Starling, the joy of all who sees him. Should have been given to save my Teas' im. Teaz'im ! my darling and my boast, Now all thy well-earned glory's lost ; No more of thee shall I be vain In baiting-field or at Duck-lane. like tar, who for his country bleeds, To th' Hospital of Invalids Thou now must go, for what, I beg, Is th' use of dog with wooden leg ? Yet, for thy feats and glories past, Thou shalt not want, my dog, at last. Thou shalt be lodged, though a lame cm. As well as Chelsea pensioner, 294 I^IFE IN PARIS. Where thou may'st tell thy feats anew, ' And yelp as thou wert wont to do." Thus plahied the Squire o'er Teaz'im's woe, While down his cheeks the tears would flow. But deeper grief on Jenkins fell, The Fates were ringing Teaz'im's knell ; Scarce had the dog-physician tried His healing art when Teaz'im died, And, as a sad memento mori, He left the scene of all his glory, Like mighty hero, dying game, In the very hour and arms of fame. As Jenkins' grief can't he portrayed. We'll o*er his countenance draw a shade. And merely say he swore devoutly, (By which we mean he vowed most stoutly,) His dog, though fate to France had driven him, Should have a Christian burial given him. What at this funeral befell Th' historic muse some day may tell, At present she pursues the story Of what happ'd on this scene of glory. Minor events we pass to attend The blazing grandeur of the end ; For crowned must be, by custom's law. The graxxdjinale, with eclat. Now high o'er this environed ground. Bursting amidst the darkness round. The blazing flames of fire-works throw A flood of light o'er all below : Pleased gapes each butcher and badaud* While gargons shout as they were mad. But, lo ! a wonder midst the blaze Is seen, illumined by the rays. A Parisian cockney, or booby. LIFE IN PARIS. 295 Is it some monster rising higher ? Or Salamander eating fire ? No ! 'tis a poor devoted chien* Who thus is in the act of being By rope and puUy raised aloft,t (As in this area dogs are oft,) To show himself, like Madame Saqui, Amidst the flames so bright and flaky ; Or, rather, we should say, perhaps, (For Frenchmen are most curious chaps,) Raised high above this nether hive For the purpose of being fried alive. None mourns for the poor puppy's lot, Although he must be rather hot, And, possibly, like some i' the nation, Laments his elevated station. Thus made, within the sight of all, To hang a painful spectacle. So end the pleasure and the sport Of this delectable resort, Dick Wildfire said he liked it not, And Jenkins, sorrowing, left the spot That thus so much had failed to please him. By the lamented death of TeazHm. • Dog. f The mode of performing this humane act is actually as is here stated. The dog is not tied to the rope or the combustibles ; he secures his safety by holding, tightly, between his teeth, a piece of sponge attached to the rope, which is drawn exactly in the manner represented in the Plate. 2gi6 LIFE IN PARIS. CHAP. XV. Re-appearance of the Ladies and Sh' Humphrey — More Invitations abroad — A Th6, or Evening Party — Interior of a French Mansion — State of Society at Paris — The ancient Noblesse, the Government Class, and les Parvenus, or nouveau Riches — French Blue-Stocking Gossip — Re- marks on Shakspeare — More Rambles of Dick Wild- fire in the Palais Royale — The Cafe de la Paix, or Theatre Montansier — The Cafe de Sauvage — History of the Wild Jf«w— Sam Sharp's Dexterity-— L^ve- Letter of Squire Jenkins — Apparition and sudden Dis- appearance of the Ghost of Captain O'Shuffleton. When Dick returned to bis friends at the H6tel, he found the Ladies prepared for complying with an invitation they had received from Madame Marency, a lady of fortune, who had obtained considerable reputation for her assemblies and Conversationes. Lady Halibut knew not what a Conversatione meant, but was very well aware of the popular meaning of the word assembly. In fact, she did not deem it necessary to inquire in any degree respecting the nature of the entertainment to which she was going, perfectly satisfied with the assurance that Madame Marency was a woman of fortune, whose house was frequented by a great many fashionable parties. Lydia cared for nothing LIFE IN PARIS. 297 but an opportunity of being seen, and of mixing in gay " Life," and this appeared a very fit occasion for meeting with good society. When Dick had dined, he was solicited to make one of the number to Madame Marency's. Our youth's thoughts were on far different objects, — on the too kind and fasci- nating Marchioness, on his disappointment, and the promise of happiness another night: but he could not refuse to comply with any wish expressed by his charming cousin. To have thought of Sir Humphrey joining them on such an occasion would have been superfluous, as the good Knight was formed for no such element as the company Madame Marency lived in, and had, moreover, such a favourable opinion of his Port that he would not have abandoned it to drink tea or coffee with the most celebrated cognoscenti, or blue stocking sisterhood, in France. Our party, therefore, left the Baronet, as usual, to the enjoy- ment of the bottle, and taking a fiacre, drove to the Rue de Vaugirard, where Madame Marency resided, in the neighbourhood of the Palace of the Luxembourg. In passing along one of the bridges across the Seine, Lady Halibut burst into an expression of astonishment at perceiving the strange craft stationed by the side of the river, and the manner in which clothes are washed by men as well as women in these oddly constructed vessels. Almost all the washing in Paris is performed on the borders of the river, and the manner in which this is done is certainly very curious. Lady Halibut laughed to see the men turned washerwomen, beating the clothes with sticks, and not unfrequently applying the rasp to fabrics that could not long bear so effective a mode of cleaning. The washer- 13 , Qq LIFE IN PARIS. women are styled hlanchisseuses. The following- cut repre- sents a couple of these amphibious creatures at work. At length th ejf^acre stopt at the door oi Madame Marency ; and here, too, we entreat the reader to stop until we have informed him that this lady was the widow of a gentleman who belonged to the old Court, but, having remained in France during the whole of the revolution, had preserved his property, the chief part of which was in the possession of his wife. Madame Marency, herself, was one of \he parvenus, or '^ upstarts ;" but, notwithstanding the lowness of her origin, such is the influence of wealth, her house was honoured with the presence of many of the ancient noblesse, as well as of the most distinguished of her own class. Our visiters were ushered into an ante-chamber, where they had to remain some minutes, until their names were announced to the lady of the mansion. Lady Halibut surveyed the apartment with a look of disappointment. The room was dark and dirty ; the walls, indeed, bore some faint semblance of having once been painted white, and here and there shattered remnants of tarnished gold LIFE liN PARIS. 299 might still be discovered. " This is certainly not Madame Marencys," said Lady Halibut. At that moment the servant returned, and showed them into the grand salon, or drawing-room. Here the doubts and disappointment of our fashionable fair were instantly removed. The splendour of this apartment exceeded every thing her Ladyship had ventured to imagine. The furniture was of the richest kind, the walls were covered with mahogany, relieved with gold borders, and now and then with glass, and in various parts of the salon were figures in gold, of exquisite work- manship, with couches covered with red velvet, ornamented on each side with artificial flowers. Madame Marency was conversing with a ci-devant Duke, but rose from her seat as Lady Halibut advanced, and expressed a very flattering welcome to her Ladyship and her friends ; to which our English parvenue responded, by saying she hoped she beheld Madame Marency very hon, and that her friends were all hon likewise. Madame Marency had once been a beauty, and was evidently a woman of ta- lents, which may account for her rise in life. There were about thirty persons assembled, of different ranks, ages, and sexes. Here were met in friendly communion the three sets, into which the society of France is now divided: — Tancienne noblesse, the goverment class, and les parvenus, or nouveaux riches, individuals who have acquired fortunes by their own exertions. In regard to the first, it must be owned that the ancient nobility have considerably abated in the pride and hauteur for which they were formerly remark- able, at least, so far as regards their carriage towards what they thought the inferior classes of society,* who were * The nobility of England are small in number, and, though a wealthy body, possessing great powers in the state, many of them think it no de- 300 I'l-f'E IN PARIS. termed, by the lordly ones, mauvaise compagnie.* Some of the company were engaged in games of amusement, some in discourses, and others in reading light publications. In one corner was placed a whist-table, at which, two ci-devant Countesses, a member of Tancienne academie Franpoise, and a quondam financier, were playing for sous. Round the fire were two rows of fauteuils, or arm-chairs, in which the ladies, not engaged at cards, were seated in awful state. Madame Marency was the president of this coterie. Lady Halibut and her. daughter were invited by the polite hostess to become members of this select . society. Our English females had heard of a Blue-Stocking-Club, but Lady Halibut had hitherto been unable, from experience, to form . any notion of the nature of such a society. She imagined, good woman ! that the ladies of such a club had derived their name from pursuing the industrious employ- ment of making or darning their own and their husband's stockings. Provoking mistake! she now discovered that they had received the appellation from caring nothing tX all about stockings, and from the unintelligible nature of their discourse. ** This may be what they call a conversatione" thought terioration to their rank to be concerned in branches of useful industry. The French noblesse, consisting of sixty or seventy, thousand families, would have thought themselves disgraced by engaging in any branch of trade J enjoying many privileges personally advantageous, but discharging no public functions, as nobles, at all connected with the government. * Mauvaise compagnie, bad company ; unfit for good company. The terms " bonne compagnie'^ and " mauvaise compagnie" are for ever in the mouths of petit maitres and coquettes. N.B. It is difficult to define what seems to be meant to be indefinable. LIFE IN PARIS. 301 iarfy HA-LIBUT ; " but it appears a very curious sort of conversation, to me." The subject which these learned fe- males were discussing was, " Whether the Abbe Sicard's plan for instructing the deaf-and-dumb should not be extend- ed to the Ouran-Outangs, who have hitherto evinced so little decorum and politesse as to roam the woods like Adam- ites, without either chemise or small-clothes r The lady of the ci-devant Duke declared that it was a disgrace to the nobility of France to allow the noblesse part of the monkey species to remain in such brutal and vulgar ignorance: whilst the wife of the quondam financier expressed it as her opinion that nothing great or glorious could be effected for the civilization of the species until a new revolution took place in the goverment, and her husband was restored to the management of the finances. " How admirable is such a project, " exclaimed Madame Marency. " How honourable to the ingenuity and the hearts of those who entertain it and are disposed to promote it. To restore to all the enjoyments of civilized life, and to the dignity of rational beings, hapless creatures, doomed, by the caprice of Nature, to inexpressible feeling and irre- mediable ignorance. But, although such an attempt would be the highest and proudest effort of human contrivance, yet, I fear, the project is impracticable. What do you think, iady Halibut?" ** Why, I thinks as you do, Madame," replied the Baro- net's rib ; ** although I knows nothing at all about the people you speak of : I shall, however, endeavour to persuade Sir Humphrey, who is an M.P. and has other great dignities, to show his /arm're^ by bringing forward the matter of the Houran Houtongs in the House of Commons." 302 LIFE IN PARIS. Another group lounged about in the middle of the room. It consisted of about half a dozen young men, dressed in the very tip-top of the mode, with immense neckcloths^ ear- rings, and, apparently, swathed in as many under-waist- coats as the grave-digger in Hamlet throws off. They seemed to be on extremely good terras with themselves. As they lounged about, they never failed to catch a glimpse of their persons in the looking-glasses, and to take the same liberty with the rest of the company, by surveying, or rather quiz- zing, them through their opera-glasses. This, in an Eng- lish drawing-room, would have been placed on a level with the manners of the Ouran Outang, who has yet to be taught the accomplishments of the quizzical part of the species. Yet, though none profess to be more attached to ceremony than the French, no people on earth take more liberties with the laws of politeness than they do. They were talking altogether, and, from the loudness of their voices, and the violence of their gestures, they seemed to be discussing some great national question. Expecting to gain much useful intelligence, our spark of Wildfire drew near, and listened with all the attention of extreme curiosity. He soon discovered, to his no small astonish- naent, that the subject which excited their zeal was not the fate of the nation, or the urgent necessity of some such benevolent measure as the ladies near the fire were recom- mending, but that it was, Whether England had ever pro- duced any author worthy of being compared with the writers of France. The pedantic remarks, and expressions of national vanity, which this question elicited, formed a. curious specimen of the French character. Some of the ladies joined in the debate; but it seemed already decided in the minds of the disputants that France ex- LIFE IN PARIS. 303 celled England in its literature, as well as in every thing else. Piqued at this contemptuous treatment of the ornaments of his country, DiCK inquired of one of these self-sufficient judges what he thought of Shakspeare. " Shaks- PEARE !" reiterated the pedantic Exquisite, " Voire Shaks- peare est bizarre. Shakspeare is no more to be compared with the divine Racine or the eloquent Voltaire than a barren heath resembles Versailles. It is true, a few beautiful plants may be accidentally discovered in the poet of the Witches' Moor, but, in the authors of France, all is beauty and correctness." " It is possible, however," replied Dick, " to catch a grace beyond the reach of art, and for correctness to be very dull and monotomous. There is a wide difference between declamation and holding the mirror of life up to nature. Shakspeare is irregular, and so are all the actors on the stage of life. The proper comparison between Shakspeare and the authors you have placed so far above him would be the beauties of an Alpine scene to the tame uniformity of a French landscape. Instance the first passages from Racine, or any other French poet, and I will match them with specimens from the pages of Englishmen that shall put your most favourite authors to shame." Our hero then began to recite some of the most striking passages of Shakspeare, but, though all condemned the " Heaven inspired poet," Dick soon perceived that few had ever read, and none understood, the sublime work they had presumed to criticise. We need not give any further instance of the taste and justice with which the French pronounce on the merits and talents of our authors and public characters. The arrival of the the interrupted the orators, and 304 LIFE IN PARIS. changed the conversation to subjects more agreeable to general taste. The beverage we have mentioned was placed near the fire, on a large table, surrounded with cakes, creams, custards, a large tureen of soup, and a howl of punch! This done, the company crowded round the table and helped themselves to the refreshments it contained. Lady Halibut was much pleased with this part of the entertain- ment. She now understood what a the meant. Others might talk. as much as they pleased about things that neither they nor any body else understood. She kept her mouth otherwise employed as long as there was a custard, a cake, or a bowl of cream, undemolished. Smacking her lips, she exclaimed, in the joy of her heart, " This puts me in mind of being at Scaleshy-Park. I wish Sir Humphrey was here; he would show the Mounseers how to empty that bowl of punch like an M.P. (Member of the Punchdrinking Society), or any Baronet or Justice of the Quorum. When the ceremony was over, those who did not return to the card-tables entered into such learned discourses as we have endeavoured to give some idea of. Madame Marency, seeing Lady Halibut and Lydia not quite au fait to the conversation, very politely prevailed upon them to take a hand at cards with a couple of her friends. Observing his aunt and cousin provided with employment for some time, Dick contrived to leave the salon unperceived, and bent' his way to the Palais Royale, in search of more congenial amusement. He was not long in finding this within the circle of all infatuating pleasures. Crowds were pressing into the The- dtre de Montansier, now styled the Theatre de la Paix. i LIFE IN PARIS. 307 did not refuse to treat her with the refreshments of the place. Whilst DiCK was thus engaged, a tall man, in military uniform, strutted up to the place where our pair were sitting, and, looking sternly in the face of the obliging fair, seemed to speak daggers of reproach, although he was not permitted to use any. The girl began to tremble exceedingly. Dick then fixed his eyes on the person who was the cause of her agitation. The formidable man of war did the same, in regard to our favoured gallant. In an instant his countenance, from being flushed with the colour of indignation, became as pale as death. Dick as quickly recognised in this appalling figure, or bully, not- withstanding the total disappearance of his tremendous whiskers, no less a personage than the redoubted Count MouSTACHALiNA, ci-devant Sicilian nobleman and sharper, who had plundered DiCK, with false dice, in the gaming- house, and who had been shot in the Palais Royal, but, like his friend Captain O'Shuffleton, had obtained a " resurrexit non est hie," and taken himself off" upon his own legs. Dick started from his seat to chastise the insolent bully, but the long limbs of Jhe sharper were of essential use on this occasion, by enabling him to reach the outside of the door before our hero could come in contact with him. Dick, nevertheless, endeavoured to keep sight of him, and, pursuing him through the crowd, he thought he per- ceived the tall form of the swindler take refuge in the Cafe du Sauvage, close by the passage that leads to the Rue Vivienne. Impatient to inflict vengeance on this impudent imposter in any place. Wildfire followed him into this spacious Caveau, where, however, the ci-devant Count, notwithstanding the distinguishing advantage he enjoyed in stature, contrived to elude his pursuer, in spite of all the effbrts of the latter to get sight of him again. Finding 308 LIFE IN PARIS. the bird had escaped, Dick turned to look at the enlertaiii- ments of this subterranean coffee-house. This very curious establishment, ornamented with an incredible number of looking-glasses, is, in the evening, when the dinners are over, converted into a musical coffee- house. It is called the Cafe du Sauvage, because the prin- cipal performer is a wild man, or savage, who rushes from a cave, or recess, at the extremity of the apartment, and furiously beats a set of drums of various sizes and sounds, grinning and raving like a madman, to the infinite delight of the eyes and ears of the double refined spectators. The delineation of this figure by the artist is a bold picture, not only of a man in a savage state, but of one " rapt, inspir- ed," by a musical phrenzy, passing from one to the other of these hollow^ instruments like a person playing upon musical glasses. iiiiiiliiuiuii I niniiiiMimiiiiiiiiiiiiunimii l Dick asked one of the persons near him, whether the drummer was a man hired to personate a savage, or a being actually ignorant of civilization. The spectator replied that he could assure our visiter the young man (for he ap- i IIF£ IN PARIS. 3()c) peared but a youth) who beat the drums was lately rescued from the savage state, having been discovered and taken in the forest of Bondy, and that his history was as remarkable as that of lejeune sauvage d'Aveyron, or, the young savage of Aveyron, who, at one time, was the talk and wonder of all France. " He was found in the wood 1 have mentioned," continued this communicative neighbour, " at the age of twelve or thirteen by a party of huntsmen, who had, some time before, seen the same youth at a distance. He was looking for acorns and roots, which constituted his principal food, when they perceived him; and, at the moment of being seized, he attempted to get away by climbing a tree. He was taken into a cottage, but, at the end of a week, he made his escape from the woman to whose care he was entrusted, and fled to the mountains. Here he wandered about, exposed to the severest cold of winter, with no covering but a tattered rug which he had picked up some- where, hiding himself at night in the most solitary places, and, in the day, approaching the neighbouring villages, from which, if discovered, he fled with the speed of a wild animal. " After leading for some time this vagabond life, he came, of his own accord, into an inhabited house. Here he was seized and taken care of for some days, then removed from place to place until he was brought to the capital. For a long time he was wild and incapable of control. He was in constant motion, and for'ever in search of an opportunity of escaping. At length, by kindness shown to him and attempts to civilize his mind, he became more tame and tractable, and learnt to beat on the drum, the sound of which much delighted him. He appears, however, utterly incapable of any other instruction, being decidedly averse to all sorts of 310 LIFE IN PARIS. education. Like the gourmands of more civilized society, all his pleasures consist in gluttony, and, as you may per- ceive from his eyes and gestures, he is yet a savage in every respect; almost as perfect a contrast as Nature can afford to the exalted state of refinement to which human * Life ' has been sublimed * in Paris.'" As the spectator thus concluded his story, the savage drummer ceased his unmusical noise, and burst into a loud fit of laughter. Every one present seemed astonished at this idiotical merriment on the part of the wild man, and looked around to find out the cause of the untimely mirth. His eyes, in general, wandered wildly from one object to another, caring little, apparently, for any thing; but, on the present occasion, they were fixed on a particular object, de- noting the cause of the transition from apathy to the most immoderate fits of laughter. As these fits continued, the person who was the cause of the mirth, now an object of general curiosity, rose to make a speedy retreat ; and, in doing this, he discovered to the inquisitive eyes of our hero, not the person of the sought-for Moustachalina, but the identical features of the no less celebrated chevalier of in- dustry, Captain O'Shuffleton, with the addition of as for- midable a pair of whiskers as formerly adorned the dial-plate (i,e. countenance) of the pretended Sicilian nobleman. If Wildfire had been eager to have a reckoning with the plun- derer of his money in the Palais Royal, he was still more de- sirous of a rencontre with O'Shuffleton, who had abused his friendship, introduced him to a notorious swindler for the purpose of being fleeced, and, finally, had been the cause of a disappointment to him in his last love affair, which no man can either forget or forgive. He followed the retreating Captain as fast as the obstacles around him would permit ; LIFE IN PARIS. 311 but, just as he had gained the entrance to the Cafe, he had the mortification to behold both the objects of his pursuit, MouSTACHALiNA and O'Shuffleton, leap into 2l fiacre, and drive ofif full speed into the city. To take another coach, and endeavour to continue the pursuit would, there was every reason to believe, be unavailing. Dick had, therefore, to act the Roman, so far as to bid his angry feel- ings " down ! down ! " for the present, and trust to the fu- ture for an opportunity of a settlement of accounts with this par nohile fratrum. Stepping for refreshment into the Cafe des Chinoises, where the waiters who attend are all beautiful young women, attired very appropriately, a la Chinoise (in the costume of China), Dick took his place beside a person who was dressed in the country fashion of " Old England," and who was enjoying the benefits of a sound sleep, with his head resting on the table. This Was no less a personage, Dick speedily discovered, than his highly respectable friend. Squire Jenkins, who had that day interred, with due state and solemnity, the remains of his beloved dog Teaz'im, cruelly maimed and murdered by the bear. The Squire, after leaving the theatre, was endeavouring, after bottle the third, to doze away the remembrance of his loss, where, it might be sup- posed, the charms of wine and women would make any heart part with the memory of much greater calamities. Dick strove to waken him to life and to new pleasures, saying, in a very moral strain, ** that every dog has his day, and that curs and puppies were to be found every where." Vain, however, was every essay to this effect. The power of wine or sorrow had so far locked up the perceptible faculties of the good-natured owner of TallyJio-Hall, that he knew not his most intimate friend, nor would he have attended 3J2 LIFE IN PARIS. to the voice of the fairest of the charmers around him, had she charmed ever so sweetly. When Dick had taken his refreshment, and the neces- sity of returning to his friends at Madame Marencys pres- sed upon his mind, he was rather at a loss to know how to act with regard to Jenkins. To leave him in an in- sensible state among strangers, who might not know any thing of his residence, would have been very unfriendly. Luckily, in looking about for the Squire's servant, our hero discovered his own trusty Valets Sam Sharp, taking a very close inspection of the passing fair in the adjoining gallery or parade. Sam immediately received ord'ers to get a fiacre, and convey the owner of Tally ho- Hall to his h6tel. These instructions Sam was not slow in putting into execution. He took the Squire on his back, and tumbled him into the coach ; then drove off with the living corpse of the celebrated Squire to his domocile. On his return, he presented to his master a letter which, by the arch grin on his countenance, the Valet evidently conceived would afford some amusement to whoever should read it. It was not, however, without some fears of reproof, that he confessed he had borrowed it from the Squire, the letter having fallen from Jenkins's pocket, whilst jolting about in the coach. It was open, and, curiosity prompting, from the nature of the address, Dick ventured to take a glance of its contents. It was addressed to " Sally Scrub' well, at Tallyho-Hall," and ran as follows : — " Palais Royal, Paris, &;c. " Dear Sally, *' I am getting drunk very fast to bury grief, for I have Jhis day laid poor Teaz'im in his grave. I know you loved LIFE IN PARIS. 331 Teazim as well as myself. I give you liberty to cry as much as you like for him, but not to get drunk like me. I wanted to give him a Christian burial in P^re la Chaise, where I am sure there is room enough to bury all Paris ; but not a rascal among the priesthood would mumble a decent piece of pa- laver over the bones of poor Teaz'im, although I offered to pay them well for the job. But they are all a parcel of hiccup ! I am three parts gone, Sally. But don't you, because I am here among parlevouing Frenchmen and demireps of all kinds and genealogies, take any body else into the place that I should occupy, nor imagine that I am never again to return to TallyJio-Tiall. By G — , if I find out that you have been entertaining any scoundrel in my absence, I will horsewhip the puppy, and turn you out bag and bag- gage. That you may depend upon. " From your loving master and sincere lover, *• Watkin Ap Jenkins." Dick greatly enjoyed this tender and elegant specimen of a love epistle. When he had laughed heartily at the manner in which the Squire expressed his affection for the dear Sally Scrubwell, the mistress of his kitchen, and of his heart, our rambler hastily rejoined his friends at Madame Marency's, just in time to escort them home. What happened after this shall form the subject of another Chapter. 14 S S 3d4 LIFE IN PARIS. CHAP. XVI. " Life" helow Ground, or a Visit to the Catacombs — Squire Jenkins in a Fright, or a dead Dandy an over-match for a live Sportsman — A Glance at P^re la Chaise — The Louvre — French Taste, and how to become a Connoisseur in the Fine Arts. Reader r do not be startled with affright, or imagine that we mean to steal you away from the world of pleasure to shut you up in the Catacombs. We love the sunshine of the gay world as much as you can do ; — For who, to melancholy thoughts a prey, The world of fashion and of joy resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day. To be within the Catacombs confined ? None but Minorca's soldier, left to fate, Whom death in countless shapes could not appal ; Who saw, unmoved, fast close th' eternal gate, And graved his record on death's dismal wall.* * In one part of the Catacombs is shown a gallery where a soldier, who had followed Marshal Richelieu to Minorca, in the year 1756, and who had voluntarily immured himself in these caverns, employed the lonely hours 11! modelling, in the rock, a plan of the fortifications of that island. This monument, which is not one under the cognizance of the art, LIFE IN PARIS. 315 We repeat, reader, our injunction, not to be tremulously sensitvie, lest we should seek to draw you for a moment from the pleasures of " Life in Paris;" but at Paris even the cemeteries are places of pleasure and amusement ; for every effort of art and affection have been made to make them gay. No place, whatever, is a greater object of curiosity than the Catacombs. Lady Halibut, on descending to the breakfast-table next morning, indulged in a recital of all she had heard the preceding evening at Madame Marencys, regarding this extraordinary promenade below ground. It was enough to awaken her curiosity to tell her that almosi all strangers, who visited Paris, went there, and though it was rather a gloomy place, yet it was quite safe, and a sort oi finish to seeing the world. Moreover, the day was Sunday, when, it is the opinion of many, the most dismal places should be sought out for contemplation, and the most rueful looks put on. Lydia suggested a visit io Notre Dame, or some of the magnificent churches with which Paris abounds; while DiCK, very grave- ly, told his aunt, that she would find her way to the region of rotten bones time enough even for her own wishes, and that she had better pay her respects to jS'^. Magdalen, or testifies, nevertheless, in a most striking manner, the skill, the memory, and, above all, the patience of the man who, without the knowledge of architecture, without means, and without proper tools, could, unas- sisted, execute such a work. This industrious individual, after five years employment, without wages, on this piece of art, perished a few paces from the spot at which he stood, by the fall of a part of the rock, which he was endeavouring to prop up. 316 LIl'E IN PARIS. some other saint or priest in the forenoon, and g-o to some of the theatres of gaiety in the afternoon. The pious Lady Halibut was quite shocked at the latter proposition, although Sundays in Paris are generally passed in this manner. As to going to church, she had no objection to that, except that she could do it any day, and the sermons and music were all Roman Catholic. In short. Lady Halibut had set her heart on seeing what every body else must go to see. Besides, she understood it was quite a promenade to the gate of the Catacombs, and even beyond it into the subterranean world beneath. Lydia, seeing her mother was bent on showing her heroism, declared that she believed herself equal to the task of accompanying her parent on this expedition. Sir Humphrey said his wife took strange whims into her head, but he had no objection to escort her even to the grave. At this instant, iS'g'Mire Jenkins presented himself before the party. A welcomer visiter to Lady Halibut, on the present occasion, could not well have been found than the valiant Squire. She immediately imparted to him her wish, and invited him to be of the party. Jen- kins thought nothing could be more foolish or dull than to spend a day in such a manner. He recommend- ed a ride on horseback in preference, observing to Sir Humphrey* that he should be glad to engage him in a steeple-chase. " And what should become of us poor fe- males, while Sir Humphrey was breaking his neck in your steeple-chase?" asked Lady Halibut. " Remember, Squire Jenkins, the sad disasters that befell my honourable husband when he last went out with you to hunt the boar. No, no, Squire Jenkins, no more boar-hunts, or steeple- chases for Sir Humphrey. But can a gentleman of LIFE IN PARIS. 317 Squire Jenkins's property and Iiedication be so unpolite as to refuse a lady ?" " Why, madam, as you want to go to a place where every body looks as grave as an abbess at the christening of a nun's bastard, I think," replied the Squire, " I am as fit to accompany you as any body, for I, yesterday, buried Teaz'im, and, this morning, I have received intelligence that a frightful mortality has taken place both in my stud and kennel. I am, therefore, ready to face death or the devil in any way or place you please." Jenkins concluded this elegant speech with a profound bow, and her Ladyship joy- fullyadded, in an affected simper, " Ah, Mr. Jenkins, you prove yourself at last the polite and well-bred gentleman I always took you to be. You shall have the honour of being my cavalier to the Catacombs, and back again." This was an honour with which the owner of Tallyho-Hall would have gladly dispensed. He was about to have made an un- ceremonious bolt to the door, when DiCK caught hold of his arm, and whispered, " Don't reynard it so rudely from her Ladyships kindness. Stealing off is against the laws of fox-hunters. Couragio, Jenkins, we are not, I hope, to be buried in her Ladyship's purgatory." Thus arrested in his recreant course, Jenkins was obliged to submit to fate and the horrors it had prepared for them. Dick having provided a sufficient quantity of wax-tapers and phosphoric matches, they drove towards the Barrier d'Enfer,* remarking on the singularity of the connection * Gate of Hell. The long street which leads to the Catacombs is also called the Street of Hell. 3T& LIFE IN PARIS. between this name and the place they went to visit. The sides of the road to the entrance of the Catacombs had cer- tainly the appearance of a promenade, from the crowds that thronged them, but few of the gay parties seemed disposed to venture into the region of gloom. Sir Humphrey ob- served this to his wife, but she would have her way in this as in other matters. ** With the aid of Squire Jenkins here, and my nephew, I need not fear any evil spirits. Don't you remember when I detected the sham ghost that had fright- ened every body else, at Scalesby-Hall, and the pretended goblin turned out to be your own wicked servant, Roger Ryegrass, seeking to get to Molly, the kitchen-maid, at an unseasonable hour, under the disguise of a calf-skin, a long tail, and a pair of horns?" This was said with an air of great triumph, and the Knight muttered to the Squire, that, although his wife appeared to be going out of her mind, as she was going out of the world also, they must let her have her whim. It is not difficult to obtain access to this subterranean spectacle. — " Death's thousand gates stand open." Guides are stationed, by the superintendants of the works, at, the entrance, to conduct the visiters into the vault.* Previous to entering on the dread descent, the party is counted, the guides are furnished with torches, and each of the visiters bears a lighted wax-taper, or torch, in his * There are two staircases which descend to the Catacombs. The first is situated as above ; the second, near the old road to Orleans, on the left. The different subterranean galleries are closed by three doors, to the west, east, and south. LIFE IN PARIS. 319 or her hand. Thus provided, and the ceremony of taking the number of the party over, the visiters began to descend the straight staircase, and, at length, reached the ground below, at the depth of ninety feet from the surface of the earth above. Here the solemn ceremony of counting the party was repeated by the guides, whose appearances were not, certainly, of the most inviting kinds, for they had a most ruffian-like look when their stern countenances were illu- mined by the blaze of the torches ; in short, they ''' Seem'd not inhabitants of the earth, And yet were on it." As they advanced into the dreadful void, glimpses of the neighbouring objects were caught. Lydia involuntarily drew closer to her cousin, who was not without his fears for the effect of such a place on the imagination of twenty years of age. The trembling Lydia, however, endeavour- ing to force a smile, said, " don't be alarmed, it is from a sudden impression on my mind, and not from fear." Even Lady Halibut confessed that the place looked frightfully ugly, and wondered how such a horrid quarry should have become so famous a resort. She had heard the bluestocking orators descanting on the wonders of nature, and she wished to discourse as learnedly as they. She, therefore, borrowed fresh courage from pride. The first impression subsided, the guides hurried them onward through the vast profound. These caverns extend themselves under the greater part of Paris, and beyond the barriers to the south more than half a league. So that if whatever takes place in these excavations cannot be called ** Life in Paris," it is all that is interesting in the end of " Life below Paris." Ten generations are met and absorbed here, and the subterra- 320 LIFE IN PARIS. nean population of this silent sphere is estimated at three times the number of those who inhabit and agitate the surface of the soil. Although this nether region may be styled the palace of the King of Terrors, yet death, in the bosom of these Catacombs, has something in it less repulsive than elsewhere ; his ravages are past, the sepulchral wormi has devoured its prey, and the remains have no longer any thing to disgust or to fear. Piles of bones are moulded into arches, or raised into columns, and art has formed, from these wrecks of human nature, a species of Mosaic work, whose regular appearance adds to the solemn sensa- tions inspired by the place. This empire of ruin is not devoid of entertainment to the mind. The numerous inscriptions, religious, philoso- phical, and moral, that may be traced on the walls, often pleasingly attract the attention. Lydia pointed out to Dick the following verses of Malfildtre, which, we be- lieve, have not been published in his works. Insenses- nous parlons en maitres. Nous qui, dans I'ocean des etres, Nageons tristement confondus ! . Nous, dont I'existence legfere, Pareille a I'ombre passagfere, Commence, parait, et n'est plus.* Some of the objects are grandly picturesque pieces of * " Blind mortals ! here your masters~view, 'Mid seas of beings once like you. We swim whole gloomy silent years ; We, whose light beings sadly fade, Like fiittings of a passing shade. Which, formed, is seen, then disappears." LIFE IN PARIS. 32J rock, supported in equilibrium on their angular points, the strange position of these masses, suspended in air, whose fall seems threatened by every breath of wind, together with the antique altars, formed entirely of human remains, present such a view of the grand and the terrible in nature and art as to astonish the mind, and induce artists to make these objects their study. At the first stage, (where is a barrier, and a black door ornamented with two pillars of the Tuscan order, surmounted with an inscription,) the party were again numbered, and Jenkins was found missing, and deficient in duty and gallantry. The Squire, having left his precious charge to cling to her natural protector, and, forgetting the black line on the roof of the vault, which extends along the whole of the way from the entrance of the Catacombs, to serve as a clue to any be- wildered traveller who may have lost himself in the mazes of the labyrinth, the owner of Tallyho-HaJl had strayed into a remote part of the excavation, where he had nearly been made a perpetual inhabitant of the place by the fall of an immense pile of bones. At the moment this accident took place, Jenkins was thinking of transferring to this cemetery, the mortal remains of his beloved Teaz'im, whom Catholic repugnance had refused repose in consecrated ground. At length the Squire was heard shouting, at a distance, " Halloo! hark forward, tally ho ! stole away," &c. and, in a few minutes, he joiiied his friends at the place of muster. " I thought I was done for, dammee," said Jenkins, as he related the cause of his absence; " I must mind my scull among these cursed bones, for dead Catholics, I find, have as little mercy for a living Protestant, as a priest has for an honest bull-dog." Sir Humphrey uttered a " God a mercy on us. Squire!" and Lady Halibut linked her Cavalier closer to her than 14 T t 322 l-^^'I"' IN PARIS. ever. They thus continued to follow the guides into a long gallery conducting to several halls, or rooms, resembling chapels, the walls of which were lined with bones variously, and often tastefully, arranged. The altars were also entirely formed of human remains, but so finely were they executed that they seemed as if formed of polished ivory. After visiting several of these apartments, and wandering through the galleries that led to them, they arrived at a little chapel, at the end of which an expiatory altar is erected. Its form has something in it more imposing than the rest of the Catacombs. It is consecrated to the memory of those who perished on the 2d of September, 1792, and mass is annually said in its frightful precincts for the repose of the souls who were freed from the trammels of mortality on that date. Lady Halibut now began to think she had gone far enough into this very shocking and very curious place. Sir Humphrey was of the same opinion, and bethought him- self of curing his wife of this foolish whim. While Dick was narrating the history of the sanguinary event connected with the object of this chapel, the Knight, after whispering to Lydia not to be alarmed, stole behind one of the altars, and when Dick mentioned the massacre of the victims of September, and pointed to the inscription in letters of blood, a long groan seemed to issue from the altar of expiation. Fortunate it was for the Baronet's rib that she had still preserved hold of the Squire, for, at this sound, her courage expired. She uttered a cry of horror, and fell senseless into the protecting arms of Jenkins. This was more than the good and sportive Sir Humphrey intended ; he rushed from his hiding place to the assistance LIFE IN PARIS. 323 of his wife with deep concern and repentance in his counte- nance. Lydia made good use of the salts with which she had provided herself, and, after a short time, her Ladyship recovered from the effects of her fright, but none were now so earnest to leave the Catacombs, as the courageous Lady Halibut. In vain, now, the conductors offered to open the door to the Geological Cavern, which is to contain specimens of every mineral in the earth under which these quarries are dug ; and to show the apartment where the anatomical de- formities are collected, classed, and ranged in order. Nei- ther Lady Halibut nor the rest of the party cared much about exploring any more of the subterranean cabinets. Sir Humphrey was thinking how much he should relish his roast-beef and bottle of port, when he should escape from this sanctuary of dry bones ; Squire Jenkins was cursing the folly that deprived him of his favourite exercises, and compelled him to perform a pilgrimage in this infernal region, while Dick and Lydia no less longed to revisit the gay world they had abandoned. Dick was, nevertheless, resolved to have some sport with the Squire, before quitting the scene of terrors. Giving the hint to Lydia, who likewise forewarned her mother of the intention, he slipt aside, unobserved by the Squire, and fixed a skull on the end of his stick. To this he gave somethiug of the appearance of the human form, by tying a handkerchief round the neck, and dressing it otherwise a-la-dandy. Then regaining, by a quick step, the front of the party, and placing himself as much out of sight as possible, he popped the death's head into the face of the Squire. Jenkins *was unable to stand the view of this terrible object; he started backward at the sight, and, reeling L 324 LIFE IN P.\RIS. aghast with open month, accidentally pushed his blazing torch into the face of Sir Humphrey, who instantly con- ceived he was attacked by one of the fiends. He roared with agony from the burning, and, seizing the offender in return, brandished over him his own blazing torch like a fury in the dominions of punishment. In the mean while, the Squire's eyes were rivetted on the object of his fright, even the guide elevated his torch, and stared with inquisitive looks at the spectre, without daring to approach it. The ladies, though cautioned against alarm, shuddered with terror and astonishment. At length Dick put an end to all their apprehensions, by dropping the death's head, and rising into view with a smile on his countenance at the Squire's bravery. They then hastened to the stairs by which they had en- tered, and, ascending by a quicker step than they went down, the whole party speedily found themselves again amidst ** daylight and liberty," the effect of which, on the heart, none felt more acutely on this occasion than the disappointed Lady Halibut. Sir Humphrey and the Squire were for immediately re- turning home, by the shortest route. The remembrance of Mr. Meurice's fare grew stronger and stronger in the mind of the Baronet. A majority, however, over-ruled the ques- tion. Lydia proposed that, as the day was fine, they should previously, for the sake of health and variety, take a ride round the exterior Boulevards as far as the barrier d'Aulnay. Dick and Lady Halibut readily assented to this propo- sition. Jenkins and Sir Humphrey were sadly afraid of meeting with more Catacombs. As they approached the barrier d'Aulnay, and beheld the sun illuminating the green slope of the hill on the right. Sir Humphrey inquired LIFE IN PARTS. 325 whose orchard it was, and the proprietor of Tallyho-Hall acknowledged, that the owner of that spot did indeed pos- sess a very pretty piece of property, which might be turned to good account, if built upon, or let out to quiet and re- spectable tenants. Perceiving, however, some erections and enclosures upon it, he inquired of DicK Wildfire what they were. " That tract of ground," replied the latter, " has already many tenants, who are far from pos- sessing a disposition to annoy their neighbours, and you, yourself. Squire JENKINS, may one day occupy a part of the soil. That is the far-famed cemetery of P^re la Chaise^ and the erections you see are tombs and altars, and deco- rations of the last abode of beloved friends, raised by affection to their memory." At the sound of another cemetery, the faces of the Squire and the Baronet took a very lengthened dimension. Even Lady Halibut felt a repetition of the thrill she experienced in the Catacombs. " What! that beautiful spot, a church- yard !" she exclaimed ; " what a strange taste these French people have. Well, thank God, we are in the light of day, — there are no black gates to keep us here longer than we like." Dick and Lydia were the only persons that seemed in- clined to make themselves better acquainted with this ro- mantic spot. They alighted and took a few minutes' ram- ble on the picturesque ground. There are few places in the environs of Paris from which the view is so extensive and varied as from the hill of Pere la Chaise. To the west is the whole of Paris ; to the north, Belleville and Montmar' tre; to the south, Bicetre and Meudon; to the east, the iBne plain of St. Maude, Montreuil, Vicennes, and the fertile banks of the Marne. Destined formerly for a pleasure- fe 326 Lll'E IN PARIS. ground and orchard, this spot is still full of flowering shrubs and fruit-trees, which, mixed with the cypresses, poplars, and weeping willows, that hang over the tombs, give it an appearance quite novel and extraordinary. In France, all is subject to the laws of fashion. This ground, so open to the sun and the inspection of all, is now become the resting place of the fashionable and the great. " How beautifully," exclaimed Dick, " does it realize the picture of the romantic Beattie!" — *' Let Vanity adorn the marble tomb With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of renown, ^ In the deep dungeon of some gothic dome, Where night and desolation ever frown : Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down. Where a green grassy tnrf is all I crave, With here and there a violet bestrown, Fast by a brook, or fountain's bubbling wave. And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave." O, the power of time and the revolutions which it brings in its train ! Here, the great and the wealthy choose their sepulture, as they would their mansions of pleasure. Here " How many rest who kept the world awake With lustre and with noise." Lydia confessed that she felt delight, unmixed with any of the sensations she experienced in the Catacombs, in wit- nessing the elegant monuments which affection raised for the departed in this place. Her feelings approached almost to rapture when she found she was contemplating the tomb in which are deposited the ashes of Ahelard and Eloise ; and Dick was no less impressed with a poetical fancy when he LIFE IN PARIS. 327 came to the centre of the little grove, in which is the tomb of Delille, He instantly took out his pencil and wrote the following lines. PERE LA CHAISE. When, like the fleetingforms that fled In youth's fair morning from the view, We sink on Death's ungenial bed. And bid to life and love adieu ; If aught that once with influence kind Could chase the mists of sorrow's gloom. Can please the disembodied mind, And shed a pleasure o'er the tomb ; 'Tis when, with sympathising care, Aflfection rears the votive bower. And weeping Pity's daughters fair, Trim the lone monumental flower. As, in the precincts of La Cliaise, The hands of Beauty nurse the wreath That spreads the bloom of vernal days O'er the cold sanctuary of Death. If aught of consolation's sweet Can mingle with the cup of woe, When, far from each beloved retreat. Fate lays the hapless stranger low, 'Tis that his ashes may repose In peace where those we love are laid ; Where Death has never paled the rose. And tears of piety are shed. How sweet to him, when passion's past, Whose vows were paid at Beauty's shrine, To sleep where Ahelard at last, And his loved Eloise entwine ! 328 LIFE IN PARIS. How sweet to those, whose generous breast Was formed in Nature's school to feel, In the Elysium of the blest, To sleep with Virtue and Delille ! And such thy scene of lasting sleep, So tranquil and so hallowed now, La Chaise, where once in vengeance deep, Dark Persecution breathed his vow. Where Superstition banished far Sweet Love and Mercy from the ground, Benignant Pity's milder star A holier feeling spreads around. Here, oft o'er lost affection's bier, The mother and the lover bend, * To dress with many a flower and tear, The cherished child — the parted friend. Here, side by side, in flowery graves. The Russian and the Spaniard lie ; And Peace immortal olives waves O'er warring nations' enmity. Then weep not, stranger ! tho' thy doom Be sorrow's lot, and brief thy days — If joy can penetrate the tomb, Thou'Jt find it here — in Pere la Chaise. With no feeling of regret that they had devoted a few mo- ments to the view of this interesting scene, the contempla- tion of which is not inconsistent with the pleasures of *' Life," or its end, Dick and his cousin left Pere la Chaise and rejoined their friends, who wondered what could detain them so long in a cemetery. It was not to be expected that our party would return to their H6tel, without seeking to vary the impressions on their LIFE IN PARIS. 329 mindS; by visiting some gayer resorts than the cemeteries. As they drove into the city, DiCK and Lydia proposed to iody Halibut to take a turn into the Louvre,* the beauties * The palace of the Louvre, which now joins the Tuilleries, has been enlarged to an extent beyond any similar building in Europe. This in- teresting and beautiful fabric, which, under its first inhabitant, Charles IX. became the sanguinary theatre of treacheries and massacres on the infa- mous St. Bartholomew's day, and which was alternately a palace and a prison, is now the quiet and happy cradle of the arts and sciences, the school for talents, and the arena for genius. The court of the Louvre presents a square, about 1600 feet in circum- ference; three sides of the building are in perfect symmetry, and exhibit specimens of the finest architecture and the richest sculpture. But the best efforts of art, and the most precious treasures of genius and industry are within. The French Museum, which was thronged to confusion by the Chef d'CEuvres of Italy, Greece, and other spoliated countries, has felt the hand of retribution; but the establishment has been diligently re- cruited since the dispersion of the allies. The saloons appropriated to sculpture have been refilled and decorated with the most exquisite per- formances of the chisel, and the walls of the galleries have been re-co- vered with inimitable paintings, from the abundant collections at the Luxembourg, Versailles, from other royal residences, the numerous churches, private repositories, and the fertile productions of native talent. The specimens of sculpture, busts, and medallions crowd the ground floor, where separate halls are appropriated to the various pro- ductions. They are eight in number, and bear the names of Hall of the Emperors, of the Seasons, of the Gladiators, of the Centaurs, of Diana, of the Candelabras, &c. Here you may see each rude barbarian, Whom art has cut in purest Parian ; The Jupiters, Egyptian gods, Who kept such riotous abodes ; Fierce Tarquins in Diana's hall. And Centaurs on their pedestal ; . 'Mong whom, unmoved by bashful care, Stray oft the gay Parisian fair ; " u« 330 LIFE IN PARIS. of which they had not yet seen. Her Ladyship, learning- that the place was open on Sundays, and that a great many persons repaired to the halls of exhibition on that day, gladly assented to this proposition, being unwilling, at all times, to lose an opportunity of mixing with the gay world, and of showing oflF her quality and importance to the mul- titude. No objections being made by Sir Humphrey or the Squire, although they would have preferred some more solid refreshment than looking on a parcel of statues and pictures, the party drove to the splendid palace of the Arts, the Louvre. And then, for those who deem it duty To dwell with loving eyes on beauty. There are, as you may see, between us. Exposed, perhaps, enough of Venus. Full many of those matchless pieces. That show the wondering world what Greece is. Around, without a veil to shade them. Are beauties, fair as art can spread them ; Nymphs that, as much as modern belle. Despised the envious drapery's veil. And still, without one human passion. Appear as if they led the fashion. Famed demireps, that, in reliefs. Can cure no more the lovers' griefs ; Sad JViofee is here in tears Because her bloom no more appears; Andromache and Dejanira Seem as they could no longer here a Tailor, or love-inspiring swain. To fit them for " Life's " joys again. Here stands poor modest Pudicitia, As naked as the loose Sulpitia ; And there you see on the Scamander, Poor Ganymede, borne like a gander. LIFE IN PARIS. 331 On entering, the beauty of the sculptures could not but attract the attention of our visiters. Sir Humphrey and Lady Halibut were greatly delighted with the satyrs and rams, and lobsters, represented on the staircases and ceilings, and the wonder and blushes of the ladies were not a little excited, as they passed through the saloons appropriated to the statues, whose uncovered proportions and symmetry of parts did not altogether accord with the modesty of English females. Having taken a hasty review of the lower halls, they as- 43ended to the gallery which contains the pictures. The ^reat Saloon of Exposition is upwards of a quarter of a mile in length, and is certainly the most splendid and spa- cious in Europe. Astonishment and pleasure were visible in the eyes of the whole of our party, as they Marked the lengthened vista spread Its spacious range of light and shade, Along whose walls, high canopied And arched, like Fame's, with marble pride. The mighty masters of the easel Have shown their matchless powers to please well. To continue the poetical strain, with which we sometimes delight to vary our narrative, we add that The party now began their strictures Upon the endless rows of pictures. That claimed on every side a tribute Of praise to those who thus exhibit. And much it pleased our connoisseurs To see the crowds upon the floors, The motley groups of all conditions Who throng these tasteful e;ihibitions : 332 J^IFE IN PARIS. The porters, the marchands de bierre. And " needy knife-grinders," who here, Like cognoscenti take their stand, With each a catalogue in hand, And, on the merits of each painter, With all a critic's spirit enter, Discussing, as they rove around, The skill, the colouring, and the ground, Of Flemish, Dutch, and German pieces, Blaming the artists' artifices. And fixing e% en where should be placed The palm of genius and of taste. This, we repeat, in sober prose, is a fact ; at Paris all are critics of the works of art. The gratuitous access afforded to all classes tends to make all the populace connoisseurs. Persons may actually be seen with scarcely a shoe upon their feet mixing with the gay crowds that frequent these places, and passing judgement on the most laboured pro- ductions of art. Lady Halibut was more pleased to make remarks on the dresses of the numerous fashionable groups who lounged along the gallery than on any of the most attractive productions of the pencil. Lydia, how- ever, attended by Dick, occasionally examined very closely the merits of the productions, and the taste thus displayed. The modest Lydia blamed very much the want of deli- cacy in the works of the French artists ; and the truth of her observation was strikingly true; for the French taste for nudity is disgustingly perceptible every where ; all their walks and public places are stained with exhibitions of this kind. Whoe'er has marked how wicked Fancy Plays its fantastic tricks in France, he Will not deny that the French geniuses Are very fond of naked Venuses. LIFE IN PARIS. 333 Here the loose mother of desires Strives to awake forbidden fires, By exposition of her beauty Far far beyond the bounds of duty. Fair Odalisques, in naked charms. That woo you to their wanton arms. And Psyches here, without their dresses, Whom Love with fondest lip caresses, And nymphs that love their limbs to iave Within the clear translucent wave, And maidens on the greensward sleeping. And shepherd-boys from alleys peeping. Like Tom, who thought no harm to dwell On Ladi/ Godiva, the frail, When, on her ram, for bincum hancum, The fair one showed her crincum crancum. As for the Squire, he did not seem to feel any very enthu- siastic delight at the spectacle before him. " It is all very well," he said, " for those who know no better than to be pleasied with such a parcel of nonsense : pictures taken out of stories which every one knows to be lies ; and about hea- then gods and goddesses, too, fit only for idolators, and not for Christians, are they Lady Halibut ? There's that fellow they call Hercules, why, I remember, in one of their lying books, they say he got fifty children in one night ; — an't such a flat as to take that in, neither. And, Lord ! he's nothing to look at, after all, if he was put alongside of Sharpies s pic- ture of Tom Cribh. Sharpies and Aiken are the men for my money ; none of the mounseers can paint a horse to come up to Aiken ; I would not give his pictures of Filho da Puta and my horse. Starling, for all the pack of canvass here; to say nothing of his Moor-hen-shooting and his picture of Drawing the Badger. Did you ever see Aiken s Drawing the Badger, Miss Halibut I it is the finest thing in nature." Lydia replied that she feared she had not paid sufficient at- .334 LIFE IN PARIS. tention to the chef d'ceuvre mentioned by the Squire ; but, really, her taste did not lie among moor-hens and badgers. We will not attempt to give an adequate description of the multiplied objects of the Fine Arts that presented themselves to the eyes of the loungers. Tired in pacing, backwards and forwards, the immense extent of the Grand Gallery, and in looking " On beauteous dames, On pictured scenes, and gilded frames," the party at length resolved to leave the Louvre. In doing this, just as she reached the entrance. Lady Halibut, impelled by the crowd, pressed rather hard against the ladder which supported a young student and his easel, while copying a fine picture of Le Bruns, placed, as it deserved, in an elevated situation. At the gentle shock, imparted by the contact of her Ladyship's person, down came the student, easel, and pallet, and all upon the head of poor Lady Halibut, and an equally unfortunate Dowager of the ancient regime, forcing the victims of disaster half- way down the stairs. A dreadful calamity was supposed to have happened. The friends of the suflPerers flew to their assistance, but the gentlemen of the palace were before them in administering aid. The royal servants, who attend in their liveries, are very active and obliging in their voca- tion. Happily, neither of the dames of " high degree" had sustained any very material injury. Lady Halibut, on recovering from this revolution of her person, paid her first respects to the gentleman who was brushing her clothes, with a most attentive officiousness. She was sure, from his dress and manners, that he belonged to the Court; "Sir," said she, *' I am sure you must be either a Count or a LIFE IN PARIS. 335 Marquis. Whatever you are, accept my thanks for picking me up so cleverly. This incident fortunately passed, the Halibuts returned to their JELttel, while Squire Jenkins obtained permission to leave them, on the plea that he was going to see his horses washed in the Seine, which ablution is performed to the noblest of animals in the following extraordinary manner. In the evening, Dick and Jenkins again met, according to an appointment they had made in the Louvre^ for the purpose of enjoying a frolic in the notorious] Cafe d'Einfer. It was with difficulty they found this subterranean resort, the first view of which would have satisfied spirits less bent on seeing ** Life" than these heroes. Here our sparks soon provided themselves with doxies, and entered into all the humours of the place. The excellent delineation of our artist renders description, in this case, unnecessary. How long the gemmen kept it up, in this both loiu and lofty ken, the females of which were up to trap, is not in our record ; it is enough to say they were found snoosing in their own beds in the morning. 336 LIFE IN PARIS. CHAP. XVII. The Party set out for the Jardin des Plantes — Take a Glance in their Way at the Marche des Fleures, or Flower-Market— Palace of the Luxembourg, or Chamber ^^^ of Peers — Scite of the Bastile — Arrival at the Jardin des Plantes — Animal " Life in Paris" —Beauty in Eternal Bloom, or the Hottentot Venus still exhibiting her attrac- tive Ponderosity — " So stands the Statue that enchants the World ! " — Parisian Science exemplified in the superior Method of picking Bones — The Anatomies — Return by the Champ de Mars, and the Elysian Fields — A Vieiv of the haute classe in Motion, or animated Specimens of Ton in the Vicinity of the French Metropolis. The next morning-, when the rest of the party had as- sembled at breakfast, Jenkins entered the room with a very rueful aspect of countenance, and looks that spoke " unutterable things." His eyes rolled wildly around him, and his hair, which had evidently undergone no discipline of the comb that morning, like the renowned Katterfelto's, ** stood on end." His cheek, too, had lost as much of its "* natural rubicundity as was well possible, though it could'^ not exactly be said that the lily had usurped the place of^' the blushing red. His knees knocked together, and his whole frame wore the appearance of considerable agitation. Surprise and concern took possession of all the company at the spectacle which their acquaintance presented. " My LIFE IN PARIS. 337 God, Mr. Jenkins," exclaimed Lady Halibut, with her somewhat masculine treble elevated to no ordinary pitch ; " sure some mishap has happened ; how mortal unwell you look ; tell us the meaning of it, my good sir, for your phi- zognomy quite compresses my spirits." *' Friend Jenkins, friend Jenkins," cried Sir Humphrey, suspending the motion of a piece of neat's tongue, which he was advancing on a fork to his mouth, " you look strangely ill, what can be your " Here the untasted morsel, coming in contact with the Alderman s olfactory nerves, proved too strong a temptation, and the pause in his speech which ensued, while he conveyed it to his prog-receiver, gave the fair Lydia, who, though not particularly partial to the Squire, was really affected at seeing his present situation, an opportunity of making an inquiry in the kindest and gentlest tone as to the cause of it. Before, however, she had received any reply, Dick, whose propensity to fun no circumstances could re- strain, placed himself on his legs full in front of his woe- begone friend, and, giving a theatrical start, exclaimed " Angels and ministers of grace defend us ! Thou com'st in questionable shape indeed, Yet, alter'd though thy mug, I'll speak to thee ; I'll call thee Jenkins, friend, pal, noble Squire ! Let us not burst in ignorance, but say Why is that face, so florid once and red, Become thus ghostly pale, thus whitely wan ; Why does thy louse-trap elevate its locks. Unkempt and uuadorn'd ? why shake those limbs By English courage erst so firmly knit ? Why do thy peepers in their cases roll ? Why dost thou thus revisit the grub-board, In guise so hideous, making all thy friends To start thus horribly with gazing at thee ? Say, what is this, wherefore, what may it be ? Has auglit befallen noble Starling ? say 15 X X 338 LIFE IN PARIS. Has some untimely stroke of adverse fate Despatch'd him to the nether reahns of glocna. To keep heroic Tea£im company ? Or does a deeper, though a tenderer wound Afflict my worthy Jenkins' am'rous breast? Has Sally Scrubwell, beauty's choicest flow'r, Pride of the ancient hall of Tally-ho, Wrong'd thy confiding love, and prov'd untrue ? Has she, while here thou tread'st Parisian ground. Her charms surrender'd to the rude embrace Of some ignoble clown, perhaps thy groom, Or the groom's helper, or the stable-boy ? (From such disgrace, heaven shield sweet Sally's fame !) Whate'er thy griefs, impart them to thy friend, Whose love and sympathy are ever thine ! " " All this play-acting and talking may be very fine, Mr. Wildfire," uttered the Squire, who had at length found his tongue, and whose manner of speaking evinced some slight portion of irritability at the small portion of sym- pathy displayed by his pal; " it may be very fine, and mayhap very funny too to your way of thinking ; but my hair, or louse-trap as you call it, (I suppose by way of po- liteness,) does not stand an end for nothing, and I must say I don't thank you much for the concern you show for me ; if that's friendship, 'tis over the left, with a vengeance. I fancy nobody can tax my pluck when I've any thing proper to stand before ; but the gamest man in life can't be proof to such a horrid scarifying dream as I've had to night ; it's quite unsensed me ; I would not have such another for the kingdom of the Indies." ** A dream, Mr. Jenkins," cried Lady Halibut ; " for heaven's sake let's hear it. I always attaches importance to dreams, and so does all people except them as have no true sense of religion. To be sure these dreams must betoken something, or what does God send 'em for." Lydia, with some difficulty, repressed a lurking LIFE IN PARIS. 339 smile at this speech, as she could perceive, from the direc- tion of her mother's countenance, that the mention of irre- ligious persons was partly intended for her : indeed, the young lady had more than once incurred her mamma's dis- pleasure, on account of her avowed scepticism on this sub- ject. Dick, when he found that his friend's situation was the effect of *' dreams that descend from Jove," was not a little curious to hear the narrative of the Squire's nocturnal imaginings ; and, with a face of becoming seriousness and flattering sympathy, apologised for his ill-timed levity, and earnestly pressed him to recite the circumstances which had had such power to disturb the even tenour of his manly soul. In this request. Sir Humphrey heartily concurred, but recommended to the Squire, by way of prolegomena, to take an ample glass of brandy, a piece of advice with which the latter readily complied, and after a few preparatory hems and has to clear his throat, begun to recount to his auditors the details of his dread vision. He informed them, that, in consequence, as he supposed, of the impression made on his mind by the singular spectacle, to which we have already adverted, of the Parisian mode of washing horses in the Seine, he dreamed that he had conducted his favourite Starling to the banks of the river, for the purpose of under- going the operation, but that, on his arrival, the rascally Mounseer flatly refused to wash an Englishman's horse. *' Upon this," proceeded Jenkins, whom his subject had by this time warmed into something like oratory, '• I began to swear a pretty round stave, and laid hold of one of the scoundrels, who had been among the most impudent, by the nape of his neck, when I thought I was pounced upon by some of the gens d'armes, who actually uncased me from stem to stern, and (begging your pardon, ladies) set me in my bare buff on Starling's back; then, pricking him with their bayonets, they forced him into the water, and bade me 340 Lll'Ii IN PARIS. wash the pair of filthy brutes together. Not being very expert at this kind of horsemanship I had no command of Starling, who floundered about till both appeared in immi- nent danger of drowning, when all at once Starling seemed to sink from under me, and was changed into the very bear that nipped off one of TeazHm's pins, and was the death of the poor beast. I shed tears again to think of it, and was cursing those hard-hearted French parsons that refused to inter the poor animal as every Christian ought to be buried, when, turning round, I spied one of them just by my side. In the rage of the moment, I was springing upon him to take vengeance for his inhumanity to Teazim, when some of his comrades came to his assistance, and the whole of them appeared morphused into fiends with large claws and red glaring torches, who came altogether to attack me as a heretic and scoffer of the church. This so terrified me that I woke with the fright, and found myself in a cold sweat, and I have not rightly recovered since." Various were the remarks upon this tale of wonder and horror by the parties present, and sundry attempts were made to soothe the ag-itated mind of Jenkins. The con- solations offered him by his friend Dick, reinforced by some bumpers of brandy, poured out on the occasion by Sir Humphrey, at length effected the desired consummation of restoring the Squires wounded spirit to something like its pristine peace and tranquillity; and by way of diversion from the remembrance of his late alarms, as well as a cordial to my Lady Halibut, who was almost as much affected by the Squire^s recital as he had been by the subject of it, it was proposed that the whole party should set forward on an excursion to the Jardin des Plantes. That love of agriculture and rural scenery, which seems LIFE IN PARIS. 341 natural to all men, peeps out even in the mass of stone which serves for the Parisian's habitation. He erects in the air a little garden of three feet in length ; he places upon his windows a pot of flowers, which may be regarded as a small tribute paid to nature by one who resides at a distance from her beauties. Sometimes, even a little fruit- tree is seen to vegetate in the narrow enclosure of a win- dow-front. The citizen, who no longer beholds the country, waters this dwarf shrub morning and evening. He culti- vates in one box the pink and the rose. Six inches of verdure console him for the loss of nature's enamelled car- pets and replace in his eye the prospect of the shady flower- ing woods. Notwithstanding the prohibition of the police, the do- mestic citizen sticks to his flower-pot and his box of mould. He conceals it when the inspector of the streets passes, and replaces it the moment he is gone by. But not unfrequently, at the very instant when such a calamity is least expected, the whole mass gives way, and falls from the fifth story. Happy the man who does not encounter the shock ! The shrub and the flowers are carried away by the current of the kennel, and the wrecks of these suspended gardens, scattered upon the pavement, prove satisfactorily how undesirable a circumstance it would be for a passenger to be present at the time of their descent. The homage offered to Pomona and Flora, exiled from the city, is visible in every street, — even in the bosom of the gloomy abode in which labour and necessity confine the artisan to his sedentary occupations. One woman feeds four hens and six rabbits, brings up eight Canary birds, and, on the outside of her window, fosters the growth of a currant or gooseberry tree. The love of the country pene- 342 ^^^^ i^' FARIS. trates even here, and displays its feeble efforts on these balconies, where the rays of the sun, intercepted by the height of the chimneys, shed their lustre but one hour in the day. The woman, who does not quit the room, is on the watch for this fortunate hour : she smiles with joy when the cup of a solitary flower begins to open to the star of day, and calls her neighbour to enjoy with her the contem- plation of the prodigy. The party were, by this time, in view of the Quai Dessaix ; the eyes of the ladies were much pleased with the objects that presented themselves. The flower market (Marche aux Fleurs), now established on the Quai Dessaix, in the centre of a spacious area, gives an agreeable variety to the scenery on the side of the river. The crowds of car- riages and fashionable parties that were pressing towards this vegetable fair imparted a life and bustle to the scene that convinced Lady Halibut and her daughter there was something to be seen interesting to the hon ton, and that they had taken the proper hour for appearing. They were not mistaken, for it was the time for visiting the flower mar- ket. About noon, this interesting spot shines in all its splendour. At that period, it is visited by the most elegant women in negligent undress, where the art of the toilet is attempted to be concealed under the veil of simplicity. The helles of the hon ton having arrived in their calash, (the coachman and footman in plain riding-coats to suit the oc- casion,) the carriage stops at the end of the Pont au Change, and takes its station in the file of those already drawn up. The lady, having received the most precious incense of flattery and admiration, and cleared the market of its finest flowers, seated in her carriage, and accompa- nied by her most intimate friend, whom she may have most unexpectedly met, traverses Paris, admiring the works of LIFE IN PARIS. 343 the Louvre, the Quai, and the Obelisks, astonished at being unacquainted with objects and places through which they drive every day. " Aye," cried Lady Halibut, as Dick made some such satirical remark, " that is what I calls Life indeed. But, come, let us be in the fashion, and go into the market* to see the flowers and the company." * Among the French, it rarely happens that a taste for any thing is not carried to such an extent as not to become a folly. Such is their rage for flowers, and for adorning their shops and mansions with these perishable embellishments, that the saloons look like greenhouses, and the ware- houses of the trader like magazines of vegetation. The work-shop of the artisan in the Jauxbourg cannot do without some pots of rosemary and sweet basil, and the cultivation of monk's hood is the most importan' business of the little lodger in the marais. It is his chief task and plea- sure to rear at his window the arbour-work and brass wire bent into arches, round which twines and displays itself in the most picturesque manner that plant whose verdure adorns his dwelling, and whose purple flowers embellish so finely the salad with which he every Sunday treats his family. For these indispensable decorations, all classes, even the most opulent* resort to the flower market. In the language of the muse : Here pomp and pride in gay parade, (For pride will everywhere invade,) For nature's choicest blooms, at noou Resort to deck the gay saloon. Here love's fair train, with beauteous mien. In charming undress oft are seen. Choosing the bouquet for the breast That will not let the lover rest. Here comes the labouring artisan, With hollow eyes and visage wan, To bear those simple wreaths away That make his heart and cabin gay. Here, too, the youth and mourning maid, Whose love is in the cold dust laid, ;J44 LIFE IN PARIS. They accordingly mixed with the loungers in this resort of Flora and fashion. Where many a plant and floweret rare Claim the fond homage of the fan-, And arboret and orange-tree In vernal season you may see. And rose-lipped maids, 'mid posies set. In kerchief and in bavolet. In passing along, 'Midst provengales and provengeaux, And lounging sparks and battered beaux, Lydia remarked that white roses seemed quite the fashion.* The belles and the beaux were exhibiting the ** rose of snow" in their breasts, and those who had it not were eager in the search for such a decoration. Our fair ones could Oft come to search the flowery scene For roses white, and evergreen, Narcissus, jasmins, violets blue. And lilies of unchanging hue, Flowers that are fairest of the year. To deck the tomb of those held dear. Now slumbering on the sunny hill Of Here la Chaise, — how mute and still ! * We believe we have before observed that in France there is a fashion in every thing j it extends even to the favour to be given to particular flowers. Every succeeding year robs one of the fashion, which it bestows upon another. Each experiences in turn the Hortensian fate, and, after having formed the delight of the boudoir and the honour of the saloon, is reduced to deck the stall of the sausage-vender or the window of the sempstress. LIFE IN PARIS. 345 not be out of the fashion. Squire Jenkins gallantly under- took to provide them with a bouquet to their wish. Step- ping up to a merchant of white roses, he took the flowers rudely in his hand, and, without waiting to inquire the price, threw down a couple of francs, and was about to withdraw, thinking that sum abundantly sufficient to satisfy the desires of the salesman. Jenktns knew not the value of the articles he held in his hand. " Au diahle soit la befe ! le barbare!" exclaimed the irritated trader ; " croyez- vous Men, Monsieur VAnglois, queje me laisse voler comme cela ? et est ce pour m'insulter que vous mavez jete votre pi^ce de deux francs? Ces roses Id valent bien deux louis d'ors."* At this insulting speech, Jenkins threw the roses, with much indignation, in the mercenary Frenchman's face, saying he was an ill-mannered scoundrel, and ought not to be encouraged in his extortionous demands. " A louis for a rose ! why, rascal, if I had you at Tallyho-Hall, I'd try the good effects of a rose-bush on the broadest part of your person." The rose-merchant, seeing the Squire was disposed to retire without paying for the damaged flow- ers, ran towards him, and laid hold of his collar, vowing he should not leave the spot without complying with his demands. This treatment from a Frenchman to an English squire was insufferable. Jenkins shook off" his assailant, and showed fight instantly, by throwing himself into a box- ing attitude, and planting a blow on the smeller of the flower-vender, which made the rose-coloured fluid flow forth as quickly in,, a c()pio^s stream. At instant, itJw toonie^i '-^^ °io ouo adoi teer ^^mbi^^yoifc ^tav J. .rsivte^ * " The deuce take tlie brute! the barbarian! do you suppose, Mr. Englishman, that I will allow myself to be robbed so? Is it to insult me ^hat you have thrown down your two francs ? Those roses are well worth a double louis," 15 y y 346 LIFE IN PARIS. Dick Wildfire fortunately made bis appearance, and prevented the Frenchman from partaking more largely in the Squire's vengeance. A crowd was immediately assem- bled, who universally condemned the barbarous conduct of the Englishman, and justified the rose-seller, on account of the flower being then the fashion, or, as we would say, the rage ; for, in this case, it had proved of the most irri- tating nature. In spite of all the arguments that Dick could use, (for the discontented Squire oflfered none but the argument of the fists or the horsewhip,) the owner of Tal- lyho-Hall was obliged to disburse his double louis for the crushed leaves, and a five franc piece for the insult given to the Frenchman's nose. The two friends then rejoined the ladies, Jenkins exclaiming, " Curse all rascally French- men who ask a louis for a bit of a dog-rose; — it's true, I once gave sixpence for a nosegay for Sally, when she thought she was longing, but I don't see why we should pam- per Frenchmen at such a rate." The ladies, learning what had happened, were content to forego the fashion and their love for white roses, at this time, and Jenkins being ral- lied into better humour about Sallys by DiCK, the party proceeded in their expedition. They were not long in coming within view of the beau- tiful theatre of the Odeon ; but, as it was in the forenoon, they sought not to take a view of the interior. The superb palace of the Luxembourg claiming, at the same time, their attention, they could not resist the desire to obtain admis- sion, and take a glance at its beauties. This splendid fabric, long the residence of princes and princesses, is not only a depository of the treasures of art, being, in this respect, the sole rival of the Louvre, but now forms the scene of the deliberations of a part of the French senate, it being styled the Palace of the Chamber of Peers. The LIFE IN PARIS. 347 principal paintings that adorned this palace, namely, the Gallery of Rubens, the History of Saint Bruno, by Le Sueur, and the Sea-Ports oi Vernet, have been removed to the great gallery of the Louvre; but the Luxembourg still con- tains many admirable pictures both of the French and Italian schools ; and the sculptures to be found in it are the finest specimens of native art of which the French can boast. Our travellers took a due survey of these orna- ments, as well as of the hall in which the peers hold their sittings. The chamber where, on wooden tribune, The legislators' tongues run glib on. In frightful Babylonian gabble. Like tumult of the raging rabble, Or those dire fiends, the monks in saw-pits, Whose revels frightened all the Capets. They gazed, as other strangers do, At Hoche and Kleher, Miraheau, And all the statues and the pictures. Passing upon them many strictures ; Then to the gardens went to travel, Admire the ponds, and pace the gravel. And wonder how the Prussian fellows Could think of spoiling such a palace^ It was with regret that they found their time too limited to examine, as fully as they could have wished, all that was worthy of notice ; but the Jardin des Plantes was the principal object of the day's excursion, and, after a short stay in the Luxembourg, they resumed their journey. As they passed along the edge of the Seine they had an opportunity of contemplating, on the opposite side, the spot rendered ever memorable by having been the site of that lawless structure of despotism, the Bastille. Some vestiges 348 LIFE IN PARIS. of that tomb of the living were visible ; part of the walls, ditches, and gates still remain. Recollecting the dreadful times past, a sensation not much in unison with pleasure was excited by the view of these ruins. Still it was gra- tifying to think that the dreadful building was destroyed. Here rose no more the captive's cry And hopeless misery's prayer and sigh ; Fallen were the prison walls, and razed Each stone that nature's rights debased : The winds of heaven were wandering tree O'er scenes of past captivity, And o'er the spot of sad repining The cheerful sun of joy was shining.* * Of the mode of treatment adopted towards prisoners in the Bastille, little can be known, from the very nature of the prison, beyond what rests upon surmise and conjecture. Some of its dread tales of mystery might, perhaps, have been brought to light at the time this temple of misery was ransacked by the infuriated populace, had not the Convention, apprehen- sive lest the contents of the archives should be of a nature to exasperate still more the general feeling, adopted every possible means to collect all existing documents, by offering pecuniary rewards to any person who should bring in such books and manuscripts as might have been obtained ; and so fortunate was the government, that every vestige appeared, by the means they had employed, to have fallen into their hands. One volume, however, escaped under circumstances of a singular nature. A Mr. Christopher Potter, more commonly known by the name of Kit Potter, was at Paris at the time that the Bastille was destroyed. This gentleman had been a member of the British parliament, and had made a great noise in the world, particularly in regard to a speculation, in which he embarked, having for its object the sale of bread at a reduced price, which proving unsuccessful, he became involved, and fled to France. At Paris, the same speculative ideas occupied his mind, and he became the proprietor of a most extensive porcelain manufactory. Among the countless visiters who repaired to the fortress after the triumph of the populace, Mr. Potier was among the foremost ; when, on LIFE IN PARIS. 349 Our party had by this lime reached the object of their destination, the Jardin des Plantes, as it is commonly examining the chamber which had contained the archives, he still found a book behind some shattered wainscoting, where it had fallen in the general scramble, and remained unnoticed. This precious document he carefully secreted under his coat, unobserved ; and, after a lapse of timej, remitted the same to his brother, Mr. Potter, of Charing-cross, by whom it was prized at five hundred pounds, as the only remaining vestige of the daily mode of issuing orders respecting persons incarcerated in that abominable edifice of tyranny. The volume in question has not yet appeared in print; but some cu- rious specimens of the treatment of prisoners in this dreary abode, ex- tracted from the official record, have come into our possession, but are too long to be added here. The name of the late Mr. Kit Potter having been introduced, we can- not resist subjoining an anecdote respecting that gentleman, which, as referring to the same epoch of history, is worth recording. On the day when Louis the sixteenth was decapitated, Mr. Potter, in the costume of a downright sans-culotte, was in attendance at the Place Louis Quime, to witness the melancholy spectacle ; and, having observed that the valet of the executioner cut oflF the whole of the King's hair, which was tied behind with a riband, he pushed his way to the scaffold, after the completion of the ceremony, where, throwing up his handkerchief, he tendered money to the executioner, in order to have it soaked in the blood of the "tyrant," as he termed the departed monarch, for the purpose of concealing his real sentiments ; then addressing the man who was in possession of the hair, he offered him a Louis (Tor for the same, accompanying the request by the most vilifying terms in regard to royalty. The plan succeeded ; for the whole hair, together with the riband, was flung down, with which and the ensanguined handkerchief Mr. Potter effected his escape with all possible quickness and privacy. This caution was highly requisite ; as, upon the affair being made public, persons connected with the government, duly appreciating the real motive of the possessor to be love for the late King, pursued every means of dis- covery : but, so effectually had Mr. Potter disguised himself, as one o^ the cut-throats of the period, that he luckily escaped the vigilance of his pursuers; for, had he been identified, there is little doubt that his head would have paid the forfeit of his" officious temerity. 350 LIFE IN PARIS. called, though its other title, of the Museum of Natural History, is, from the greater comprehensiveness of the term, far more appropriate. This noble establishment was originally founded by the celebrated Buffon, and is one of the most interesting objects at Paris. Naturalists of every description, and more especially botanists, here enjoy the amplest opportunity for cultivating their favourite studies, and of gratifying their tastes in the most superior manner. The visiters wer6 first introduced to the vast garden of the establishment, which extends to the banks of the river, and contains every kind of curious and exotic plant. There is likewise a green-house filled with such trees as cannot, from their tender nature, bear the coldness of a northern atmosphere, besides spacious hot-houses and conservatories. The whole garden, properly so called, is nearly two hundred feet in breadth and above six hundred in length. A great central avenue divides it in its whole length, and there are two other long lateral alleys, intersected with walks, which partition the whole into squares, each of which contains a particular class of plants. The imposing appearance of this magnificent assemblage of natural productions struck the whole party with admira- tion and astonishment. Lydia remarked to our hero the extreme elegance and beauty of the arrangement, and Lady Halibut uttered an exclamation of delight and surprise. The green-house above all charmed her, and she remarked to her spouse that she had never seen nothing to come up to it ; that it was not only a world, and all better than their own at Scaleshy-Park, but that, to her thinking, it beat the one in Kew- Gardens, where they used to go in the chay of a Sunday-time, as Sir Humphrey was in business. She LIFE IN PARIS. 35 X then whispered him, with an air of mystery, that a few of the plants there would be an improvement to their own collection, that she would choose them, as she had a taste that way, and that Sir Humphrey's purse was long enough to show out something that would soon make the seedy Mounseers glad to part with some of their gimcrack shrubs. The worthy Knight, whose natural phlegm was not easily disturbed, and who, after the first movement of surprise, excited by the novelty of the scene, had pretty well subsided into his habitual apathy, was, however, touched with pleasurable sensations at his consort's mention of that opulence so dear to her husband's self importance, and answered her with a smile and most gracious nod, betoken- ing his approbation of her project. We should have mentioned that the party, immediately on their introduction to the garden, were joined by some of the guides who, with that liberality so conspicuous in all the public exhibitions in the French capital, are constantly in attendance to conduct visiters round the establishment, and give them every necessary explanation. It was, how- ever, the good fortune of the Halibuts and their friends, on this occasion, to receive an unexpected reinforcement to the number of their guides and illuminators. While Dick was taking a coup dceil of the beauties before him, his attention was arrested by a very remarkable object at a short distance from him. A man of very diminutive stature, with a countenance deeply marked with the small-pox, a remark- ably sharp nose, and a pair of eyes in size and colour much resembling those of a ferret, was standing in a contem- plative mood, his visage fixed on the ground, and his limbs in an attitude apparently designed to imitate one of the Grecian antiques. A comical hat, of the smallest dimen- sions, was very insufficient to conceal the greater part of 352 WFE IN PARIS. his bushy sandy hair, which seemed for a length of time to have wantoned undisturbed in the gay luxuriancy of nature. His ** bristly beard" corresponded to the description of Burns : .■ ** Just rising in its might, It wanted four long days to shaving night." His linen, to say the least, was un peu sale, and his garments evidently of a somewhat transparent texture. His left Jhand was thrust into his waistcoat, and his right, extended to its utmost stretch, held a leathern covered book, which bore^ the evident marks of veteran service. This man of deep musings at length, turning his head round, observed Pick's eyes attentively fixed upon him, and immediately construing the circumstance into a mark of admiration, he stepped up to our hero without ceremony, and introduced , himself as ** MM savawff reconnu comme tel de tout le monde" " I per^seive," continued he, " that yo^ are fpreigners, and it is, I presume, the first time of your coming here." Dick nodded a polite assent. " In that case/', proceeded the *ai;aw#, ** you may esteem yourselves fortunate in having ijiet with me. I am always particularly happy in the opportunity of illuminating strangers; and the advantages you and your friends will derive from the infor- mation of a person like myself, versed in the most profound secrets of dXl the three kingdoms of nature, will be very different to those you could reap from the trite and hacknied explanations of these regular guides. I will, therefore, with yoBr! permission, be your , companion on the occasion." Dick could not avoid smiling at the gentleman's talents for 9elfrinscription, but he judged correctly that, if he were not so profound an aturalist.as he professed to be, he wa^, LIFE IN PARIS. 353 at least, a person acquainted with the collections in the esta- blishment, and, from his overflowing idea of his own attain- ments, likely to be a very communicative and, probably, not an undesirable companion. He, therefore, readily accepted the offer, and announced it to Lady Halibut, who, express- ing herself highly pleased with the gentleman's politeness, dropped him one of her most bewitching curtsies, accom- panied with a ** hien obligee. Monsieur ^^ whose ultra-broad accentuation operated almost like an electric shock on the listening organs of the poor savant, who involuntarily put his hand to his ears. A flattering strain, however, is often welcome, even when played upon a harsh instrument, and Lady Halibut's "vote of thanks" induced the man of science to request permission to take her Ladyship's dis- engaged arm. This was readily granted, and the contrast exhibited between the fair one's two supporters excited many a smile among the spectators. Our party, with their newly- acquired acquaintance, now entered the great avenue from the entrance in the Rue St. Victor. Here, on the right, is a tufted wood ; on the left, are the botanical school and the hot-houses ; and in the middle, a vast parterre, filled with plants, intended for the use of the professors in the botanical school. There is, likewise, a basin of water, which contains all kinds of aquatic plants. The squares, which extend from this basin to the Seine, are chiefly devoted to the study of planting; in the first, are divers species of trees; in the second, are models of hedges and fences, for cutting and grafting trees for plantations, by layers or seed, and for forming and managing vines; the third contains the different species of plants used in domestic economy ; and, in the fourth, are specimens of all the fruit trees that grow in France ! The rich and extensive lottmiinal garden is sur- 15 z z 354 LIFE IN PARIS. rounded by a railing, and, as the savant informed his auditors, contained more than seven thousand plants, shrubs, grasses, &c., distributed in natural orders and classes, according to the system of Jussieu, and ticketted with their true botanical names. " Science, indeed," con- tinued the naturalist, *' has attained the zenith of its splendour in this metropolis, and our superiority to other nations, in this respect, is demonstrable in nothing more than in the case of many foreigners who come to this establishment, and whose ignorance can be equalled only by their pretensions to knowledge. There is one, in par- ticular, who has been here frequently of late, and who is a positive annoyance to me. He comes, I am informed, from the northern part of your island, and, besides the brutality of his manners, qui est a faire horreur, he pre- sumes to differ from me on every subject which is started in his presence. His whole pleasure appears to be in contradiction, and in advancing hypothesis equally un- founded and untenable. The other day, for instance, he was labouring to prove that friction might exist indepen- dently of motion. " Mais, grand Dieu!" exclaimed the speaker, " le voild lui-meme, tout pres de la menagerie. On ne ferait pas mal de Vy faire enfermer^ *' But, good God, there he is himself, close by the Menagarie. It would be no bad thing to have him shut up there." This speech naturally made Dick turn his eyes towards the subject of it. The rival sage, whose presence was so unwelcome to the French son of science, was standing with his head uncovered, and had just pulled off a greasy glove from an unwashed hand, for the purpose of wiping his brow, which was palpably exuding " big gouts that were not there before," in consequence of the heat of the noon day sun. This operation he performed with a hand- LIFE IN PARIS. 355 kerchief, originally white, but whose present appearance indicated a runaway apprentice from the wash-tub, before its time was out. His countenance was, in appearance, quite bloodless, and its sallow thinness conveyed the idea of a case of old parchment drawn to the utmost degree of tightness over a layer of picked bones. His thick black hair literally stood up " like quills upon the fretful porcu- pine," and his beard, being about half shaved, gave his chin the appearance of a black striped check upon a saffron ground. His garments were one suit of unvarying sables, and his shirt and cravat seemed to make a friendly approximation to the same colour. " The harsher features and the look more grave" sufficiently indicated his claim to the title of a North Briton, but his eccentricity of appearance would have made him conspicuous on the shores of Patagonia or Caffraria. After wiping his forehead, he put his handkerchief into his pocket, replaced his hat upon his head, with great dignity, and, drawing a long black cane from under his arm, he began to occupy himself with projecting it in various rectilinear directions with his hand, and watching the motions. In following one of these with his eye, he remarked, by chance, the French savant in conversation with Dick and his party ; the stick immediately dropped by his side, and his "iron cheek" became doubly stern. Nor was this all ; he walked up, with a shambling gait, to our hero, and, laying hold of the button of his coat, in an awkward manner, pulled him a little aside, and said to him, " I don't know exactly who ye are, mon ; but ye seem all of you to be new comers, and strangers, as well as English folk. I'll advise ye, therefore, to be on your guard against the chattering and lies of yon idiot as ye have wi' ye. He's a mere quaacJc, mon ; what we call, in our country, a quaack, and the devil a thing does he know of science at all. Why, mon, he disputes the 356 Ll^'E ^N PARIS. justice of Professor Leslie's doctrine of fluids ; and, in a chemical analysis, the other day, he could not detect the presence of carburetted hydrogen." Dick thanked the northern luminary for his caution, but expressed his own utter ignorance of these important subjects, and hinted that as the French gentleman had been introduced to their party, they could not, consistently with common politeness, dis- pense with his company. " Weel, mon," replied the Men- tor, " ye know best about that ; but if ye listen to his stuff about science, I'd think ye clean daft." He then turned on his heel, and Dick rejoined his friends ; while at due distance some glances of no very friendly import were exchanged between the Parisian savant and the Scotch philosopher. As they passed along the elevated part of the garden, Lydia pointed ou^t to Dick an object which greatly de- lighted her ; an immense cedar of Lebanon, rising in tower- ing and majestic beauty among an infinite variety of ever- green shrubs and trees. Near it is an artificial eminence» the ascent to which is by a serpentine walk, shaded by firs. The summit is crowned by a brass pagoda, surmounted by a sphere. From this temple is a magnificent and extensive view of the greater part of Paris. Between the temple and the cedar rises a small column of grey granite on a pedestal of white marble : this formerly bore a bust of JuinncsuSy which was destroyed during the stormy period of the revolution. While Dick and his fair cousin were attentively observ- ing these interesting objects. Lady Halibut put into execution the project we have before alluded to, of making proposals for the purchase of some plants from the garden. Addressing herself to the savant ^ she described, in no very scientific terms, a few of those that had most struck her LIFE IN PARIS. 357 fancy when in the green-house, and asked if he could inform her who was the proper person to apply to, as she wished to become a buyer. "And you know, Mr. Sovong," said she, that Sir Humphrey is a man with a purse, and wouldn't mind going the length of a guinea a-piece for them." Her Ladyship's astonishment may be more easily conceived than described, upon her learning that a thousand times the sum would be offered in vain. She turned to express her disappointment and indignation at the circumstance, to her friend Squire Jenkins, who, still smarting with the wounds his pride and his purse had received from the adventure in the flower market, swore that all the Frenchmen were knaves and scoundrels alike, and that what Mr. Sovong said was all sheer gammon to try and do her into giving a large sum for some worthless bauble like their filthy dog-roses. Dick, who had by this time learned the subject of discus- sion, found out a better means of pacifying his aunt, by remarking to her that the plants she spoke of were in classes, and that a few taken from them would derange the whole ; as, being mostly exotics, they could not be replaced at pleasure. This he rendered more palpable to Ladg Halibut's intellect, by observing that it would be like breaking a single cup of her best china; the accident wx)uld necessarily spoil the whole set. This explanation was equally intelligible and satisfactory to her Ladyship, who appeared partially reconciled to the disappointment she had experienced. " But," said she, " I hope all our amusement here isn't to consist in looking at trees, flowers, and all that sort of thing. 'Tis well enough for a little while, but I begin to get a bit tired on't. I an't like you, Mr. Sovong, I don't know all about it, and han't studied the science. I should like to see some- 358 ^^FE IN PARIS. thing more entertaining. Shan't we have some spectacle?" The learned Frenchman, whose knowledge of English was not very superior, interpreting the last word of her Lady- ship's speech according to its ordinary acceptation in his own language, replied, that the theatres did not open so early.* DiCK explained to him his aunt's real meaning, and then assured her that her impatience would soon be * The word spectacle is perpetually in the mouths of both gentlemen, and ladies in Paris. Every thing that is to be seen is a spectacle. If you ask any one if he was pleased with the opera, he replies, " Out, en- chanti; le spectacle etoit magnijique.'" [" Yes, delighted ; the spectacle was magnificent."] And if you put a similar question about a ball, you re- ceive a similar answer. If you speak with enthusiasm of the picture- gallery of the Louvre, a Parisian observes, " C'est bien vrai, c'est un tres beau spectacle." [" Yes, it is a very fine spectacle."] A Parisian, talk- ing to a foreigner, is sure to have this remark, " Allez-vous souvent. Mon- sieur, au spectacle? Ne sont Us pas bien beaux nos spectacles?" [" Do you often go to the spectacles f Are not our spectacles very fine ? "] In consequence of the general application of this word in France to every thing relating to the stage, a Parisian, on his arrival in London, wishing to go to the play, supposed that he had only to look for the word spectacle in a French and English dictionary, and having found that the literal translation gave him the same word, with the most perfect confi- dence directed his hackney-coachman to drive to the spectacle. Jehu, conceiving that he wanted to purchase a pair of spectacles, conducted him to a celebrated shop in the neighbourhood of St. Paul's. The French- man flew into a passion, and, by his gestures expressed that this was not the place where he desired to go. The coachman, imagining that this was not the optician's to which he wished to be taken, carried him to several others, in different parts of the town. After a long round, during which the favourite oaths of the two countries were mutually ex- changed between Monsieur and his charioteer, the former was compelled to pass his evening in the hackney-coach, instead of the play-house, and thus learnt the difference between the French spectacles and English spectacles. UFE IN PARIS. 359 gratified, as they were about to enter the Menagerie, or col- lection of live animals, which she would, he was persuaded, find extremely amusing. Dick's annunciation, though addressed specially to Lady Halibut, was not lost upon the ears of the rest of the party, in all of whom it excited expectation, but in no one in so high a degree as in Squire Jenkins. " That's your sort, my boy," exclaimed he, " let's get, as soon as possible, out of the way of their confounded cedars and roses. We did not come here to gather nosegays. Let's have a look at their wild beasts ; though I've no notion that they'll come up to Polito's." Here, however, as our detail of these interesting sub- jects has already exceeded the limits usually allowed to a chapter, we will give the reader a moment's pause before we introduce him to the other topics that remain to be noticed. 300 I-IFK IN PARIS. CHA.P. xyiiT. The Company visit the iHfena^ene — Animal " Life in Paris" — Beauty in eternal Bloom, or the Hottentot Ve- nus still exhibiting her attractive Ponderosity — " So stands the Statue that enchants the World !"— Pan«an Science exemplified in the superior Knowledge of certain Savans, and the French Mode of picking Bones -—The Anatomies — Return by the Woods of Boulogne, the Champ de Mars, and the Elysian Fields — The haute Classe in Motion, or animated Specimens of Ton in the Vicinity of the French Metropolis. The party proceeded, by the great avenue, towards the river, on the left of which is the entrance to the Vallee Suisse. This part ofthe garden, which is separated from the great avenue by broad and deep-sunk fences, is set apart for the Menagerie oi live animals, and here the foreign herbivorous quadrupeds are kept in separate enclosures, each with its companion, and, as much as possible, surrounded by the shrubs and plants of their native country. Jenkins's anticipations of the French inferiority in this department were compelled to give way at the sight of the surprising variety of living creatures, many of them were wliolly new both to him and his companions, which here burst upon his astonished and delighted view ; and he frankly acknowledged that neither Polito's collection nor that at the Tower of London coald at all come up to the one before him. The guides, who at- LIFE IN PARIS. 361 tended the party, were very assiduous in pointing out to them and particularising all the objects most deserving of notice, and the French savant, notwithstanding the eccen- tricity and ludicrous self-importance of his manner, was a very interesting companion, from the entertaining parti- culars with which he furnished them, relative to the natural history of many of the animals that they saw. Among those that most interested them were a Brazilian buck- goat, with an East Indian she-goat, and two young buck- goats, their progeny ; a Bengal hind, an Esquimaux dog, which pleased the Squire wonderfully, and four dromedaries, two born in Paris, in 1819, the other two, one seven years old, the other at least thirty. Besides these, they remarked two Egyptian buck-goats, an African antelope, a mule of the Zebra breed, with two ichneumons, and two agantis from America. Near the round-house, a bison * was pointed out to them, and a young elephant just arrived ; with many curious specimens of sheep from Africa and the East Indies, and several species of deer and antelope from various parts of the globe. In passing the compartment assigned for the elephant, the savant took the opportunity of informing them, that, several years ago, the garden contained a pair of these animals, a male and a female ; that they lived to- gether in the most constant aflfection for years, and that, on the death of the former, his partner evinced the strongest symptoms of grief; that she was for a length of time in- consolable, and could not be prevailed on to take any nou- rishment for several days. They next proceeded to the aviary, which they found as • The same kind of animal as that which has received the title of the bonassus. 16 3 a 362 i-IFI^ IN PARIS. richly stored with feathered tenants of every kind as the menagerie with quadrupeds. Those birds that are domes- ticated are kept in enclosures ; the most remarkable of these are the cassiowarys of New Holland, male and female ; the herons of Senegal, conspicuous for having a white neck, and two glandular substances hanging from their throats ; the American cranes, male and female ; and a brown and gray vulture of Africa. In the aviary, strictly so called, are kept those birds that it is requisite to confine, comprising a variety of vultures, eagles, parrots, macaws, owls, &c. ; the most striking of these are the brown vulture, the chin- con of Africa, the yellow vulture, the royal vulture from America, the Egyptian vulture, the Brazilian vulture, the eagle pecheur, the eagle chasseur , the common brown eagle, the horned owls, and the gold and silver ,f)heasants of China. The admittance to the faisanderie, as well as to the collection of the monkey tribe, is not public, but DiCK, having learned the circumstance previously to their setting out, had taken the precaution to procure special permission for the party, by an application to the bureau ; and, fortified with this document, they found no difficulty in obtaining admission. With the superb assortment of pheasants the whole of the visiters were equally delighted, though from rather different feelings. The ladies were in raptures at the exquisite beauty and colours of their plumage ; DiCK and his friend Jenkins surveyed them with the admiring eyes of true sportsmen, and the latter could not refrain from more than once shutting one eye, and raising his hands into a suitable position^ charmed with the visionary idea of bringing some of them down with his fowling-piece. Mean- while, Sir Humphrey having selected, with an eye that, in such affairs, was gifted with no ordinary degree of dis- LIFE IN PARIS. 3g3 crimination, a brace of the finest and fattest of these ele- gant creatures, was revelling in the idea of the luxurious treat that would be afforded his delicate appetite, could they be set before him in a roasted form, enriched with all the stimulant aids of superior cookery.* The visit to the monkey assembly was far from being pro- ductive of such general satisfaction. Notwithstanding the greatest possible attention is paid to cleanliness, the nature of these animals cannot be wholly overcome ; and the nasal organs of our travellers, almost immediately on their enter- ing the apartment, were most unwelcomely and offensively assailed. Sir Humphrey damned them for stinking brutes ; his amiable consort had instant recourse to her smelling-bottle, and even the fair Lydia was soon com- pelled to follow her example ; the olfactory nerves of Dick and the Squire, particularly of the latter, were not so sen- sitive ; indeed JenKins, at first, found considerable amuse- ment in playing tricks and familiarizing himself with the inmates of the mansion, but, allowing his fams to come into too near contact with one of his newly-made acquaintance, he met with so cordial a salutation on the thumb from the ivories of the latter, that the worthy Squire found himself * The author of a Treatise on Fowling has rather ludicrously ex- pressed the value of a collection of these birds, by means of a slight change in language, though a great perversion of meaning, of a celebrated couplet of Goldsmith's: " But a bold pheasantry, their country's pride. When once destroy'd, can never be supplied." Perhaps, it is on the authority of this new reading of the English poet, that the French government has thought proper to except the faisanderie from the objects to which the public are allowed indiscriminate admission. 364 LiP^ IN PARIS. bitten to the very bone, and, beginning to express his sen- sations by sundry capers, far from indicatire of delight and approbation, he joined heartily in Sir Humphrey's exe- crations upon the monkey tribe. In the interim. Lady Halibut and Lydia had arrived opposite the cage of the ouran-outang, which they had not long contemplated, before the animal made the most violent efforts to release .himself froni his confinement, accompanied by symptoms, by no means equivocal, of the motives th^ actuated him. Our readers will probably be inclined to attribute this sin- gular burst of the tender passion to the presence of the beauteous Lydia ; but her mother, though one would have imagined that she could not have felt greatly flattered by the attentions of such an admirer, pertinaciously insisted upon placing it to her own account. She called out to Sir Humphrey, in the shrillest tone of her alarum, to come directly, for her virtue was in eminent danger ; and pro- tested that she would not stay in a place of such abomina- tion ; declaring, at the same time, that, from many things she had observed there, she was persuaded that none but married women should be admitted, and those, too, with a strong guard; and that the monkeys, besides being filthy beasts, were shocking unmoral animals. Moved by the apprehensions of her Ladyship, the party quitted a spectacle which had failed to afford them the gratification they had anticipated. Their admiration was much excited by the menagerie, which has lately been erected for the nobler wild quadrupeds, at a short distance from the pheasantry. It is a very spacious handsome build- ing, and replete with every convenience for observation and security. While Ihey were surveying this structure, their attention LIFE IN PARIS. 365 Was arrested by the sounds of persons high in dispute, among which both Dick and the savant quickly recognised the voice of the Scotch philosopher, who had been so anxious to put our hero on bis guard against Parisian quacks. They hastened to the spot whence the voices proceeded, and found the great Northern light engaged in a sturdy, though ineffectual, struggle with two of the servants belonging to the establishment, who were proceeding, in a very unceremonious manper, to eject him from the premises. On inquiring the cause of the disturbance, they were in- formed by the servants, that the gentleman in question had outraged every rule of the establishment by making a violent attack, with stones, on the bodies of some guinea- pigs that were innocently enjoying themselves in their enclosures, and that he had seriously injured one of them. The savant immediately began to exclaim, " Ah ! le bar- hare ! quelle cruaute /" which so enraged the Northern sage, iJiat he cried out, "I tell ye, mon, ye had e'en best keep a still tongue in your head, or ye'll get a buckie that will give you a mouthful o' loose teeth." Then turning to our hero, ** I judge," said he, " ye are a man of more sense than yon daft idiot, and well understand reason. I grant that I stoned the brutes, being of the swine species, and all swine, in any form, living or dead, are my aversion. No man is to be censured on the score of his natural antipathies. Besides, swine are certainly accursed animals : the law of Moses denounces them as unclean, and don't we know that the devil himself entered into a herd of them, eh, mon ?" ** Admitting the justice of yqur assertions," replied Dick, " I do not see the necessity of your playing the devil with the poor beasts." The philosopher did not relish the reply. ** Let me tell you, mon," said he, " that a jest is nae argument— -," and would have pursued the subject had not one of the servants, saying, " Messieurs, Ufaut /aire 366 ^^^'^' ^N PARIS. notre devoir" cut short his rhetoric by forcibly bearing him away. • Dick, on his return to his party, afforded some amuse- ment by recounting the calamity that had befallen the un^ fortunate Scotchman, who seemed to have sworn as per- petual enmity against swine as the youthful Hannibal had done against the Romans. None of the hearers, however, exhibited much sympathy for the misfortune of this foe to the "swinish multitude." Jenkins cursed him for a noisy, squabbling, ill-behaved, scoundrel; Lydia warmly repro- bated his wanton cruelty to unoffending animals ; Lady Halibut, considering him as the rival of the gallant savant, joined loudly in her daughter's censure of such conduct; and Sir Humphrey, on hearing that the North Briton had avowed an aversion for the whole tribe of animals, living or dead, gave it as his opinion that the man must be no better than a fool ; for, though pigs were certainly nasty beasts in their way while alive, a person could have no taste who was not alive to the delicate eating of a prime young roaster ; or who was insensible to the charms of a griskin done to a nicety. The worthy Knight summed up by observing, that the only objection, in his opinion, to eating pork was, that it was very apt to rise upon the stomach if you forgot to take a drop of something *^ori after ilto keep all quiet. mv The company next proceeded to the menagerie of the wild beasts, situated on the left side of the avenue near the river. This contains, among other animals, a very fine lion from Morocco, four lionesses, three American black bears, a panther, a porcupine, kangaroos, a brown Norway bear, several wolves from the Black Forest, two American foxes; the American jaguar, the jacfcall, and the hyaena. The next LIFE IN PARIS. 367 object they examined was, the sunk fences to which we have before alluded, which proved a rich treat to Jenkins. They contain several dens, in one of which .is kept a herd of wild boars. But the source of the Squire's rapture proceeded from three black bears, particularly one of them, which, at the order of his keeper, mounted a tree in the middle of his den, and made the different signs of the tele- graph, on receiving small pieces of cake or biscuit. The docility and talent of this engaging beast so delighted Jen- kins, that he appeared, for the time, totally to forget that it was to one of the same species Teaz'im owed his mournful and untimely end ; and, but for the salutary recollection of his reception from the monkey, and the consideration that any similar welcome on the part of the bear would be at- tended with consequences of a still more unpleasant nature, he would, doubtless, have sighed for an opportunity of cul- tivating a more familiar acquaintance with the object of his admiration. He continued, however, feeding the animal, and gazing upon its performances with an eye of exultation ; nor was it without difficulty, that he could be persuaded, even by the united solicitations of Dick and the ladies, to quit the darling spot, and accompany them to the Cahinet of Natural History. r This collection of natural curiosities is of immense ex- tent, and may be reckoned the richest museum of its kind in all Europe. Our company were first introduced to the entrance cabinet, on the ground floor, where are preserved the specimens of the fish and reptile tribes, with their divi- sions in order. At the first sight of this apartment Sir Humphrey entertained an idea that both he and his good Lady should find themselves quite at home ; but all the pro- ^und erudition this amiable couple had acquired in a long and extensive course of business, became completely be- 368 ^^^'^'- IN PARIS. wildered at the sight of the superb collection before them, which contained several hundred species from different parts of the world, arranged in several compartments, and classed according to Cuvier, LinntBus, and other eminent naturalists. The guides pointed out particularly the curious forms, struc- ture, and classes of the objects before them, remarking the peculiarities of the torpedo, the gymnotus electricus, and the cameleon, together with the beauty and variety of the boas, couleuvres, lizards, and tortoises, which, from their excellent mode and state of preservation, add greatly to the interest of this branch of natural history. From this room they passed on to the Library, composed entirely of works on natural history and botany, and com- prising above ten thousand volumes. It is further enriched with a collection of botanical plates, herbals^ plants, and other objects of natural history. From the library, the party entered a grand suite of five rooms, containing the splendid mineralogical and geological collection. In the first they were shown specimens of all the known metals, simply, and in a state of combination ; and of all the crys- tals, primitive and others. The second room exhibited samples of the carbonates and sulphates of lime, several curious minerals, principally silicious, and a great variety of spars. In the third room was a systematic arrangement of rock, granite, basalts, and porphyries, with several hundred specimens of the marbles of France, and large cases filled with agates and curious gems. Notwithstanding the striking beauty of many of these objects, they did not possess the interest that might have been expected for our travellers, and their want of scienti- fic knowledge rendered the explanations they received from the savant and the guides, in a great degree, useless to them. LIFE IN PARfS; 3g^ To the untutored eye of the common spectator there is, likewise, even in the beauty of these objects, an apparent uniformity which has rather a tiresome effect. This feeling oontinued on the minds of the party, as they passed through the remaining two rooms on the second floor, which are principally filled with what are conceived to be specimens, of the animal, mineral, and other remains of the antedilu- vian world. Of the importance of these collections no doubt can be entertained, but they are principally interest- ing to the geologist. In fact, notwithstanding the magnifi-; oence of the collections they had surveyed, it was witk something like a sensation of relief that they quitted this part of the establishment, and began to ascend the stair- case on their way to the grand zoological gallery.* As they ascended, they remarked several prepared skins of the serpents, boas, &c. conspicuous for their immense size, variety of colour, and poisonous character. But, on their entering tiie grand gallery, all their faculties were ab- sorbed in astonishment at the brilliant and delightful coup- * Before quitting the subject of the raineralogical and geological col- lection, we cannot avoid making mention of the great services rendered to the interests of science by the indefatigable exertions of the Baron Cuvier, who is at the head of this noble establishment, and resides ia the. same house which the celebrated Fourcrai/ formerly occujpied. His r^r, searches ow the subject of geology have been given to the world in his late works, in which the organic and fossil remains of antediluvian ani- mals are delineated and determined with astonishing acuteness and ac- curacy. But his attainments and talents, superior as they confessedly are, form the least part of Baron Cuviers merit. Besides possessing «»ery qualification that can adorn the philoso^er and the professor, he is 9- gentleman of the most engaging politeness and urbanity, an eQthusiastic^ lover of die sciences, as well as the intelligent guide and zealous p^trPH^ ■ won by his gallant and polite attentions^ more than by hi8 scientific display of knowledge, very pressingly invited to give them a call at their Hdtel. ^ A short time before separating from them, he had given a specimen of his eccentricity, which not a little lowered him in the good graces of Lydia, and might probably have altogether lost him the favourable opinion of her mother, had not the latter's ignorance of French prevented her understanding the subject of discussion. The savant, remarking upon the noble collection of skeletons of every description which the establishment comprised, sported, what was, it seems, with him a favourite hypothesis, viz. that all the defects in the ornamental branches of female educa- tion proceeded from due attention not being paid to the study of anatomy. He insisted that all per&ons engaged in the tuition of young ladies ought to go through a regular course of the science, in the same manner as medical students ; »nd that none of th«ir pupils should be exempted from 374 ^i^E ^N PARIS. acquiring a reputable knowledge of the elements and funda- mental principles. " For instance," said he, " what scien- tific ear can endure the expression so common among pre- ceptresses of young ladies, ' Turn out your toes. Miss;' when it is well known that the ancle-bone cannot turn either to the right or the left, that the femur, or thigh, is the moving part, and consequently the proper direction to the young person would be to turn out her femora. Then, again, the absurd command, * Sit with your feet in the stocks. Miss ;" does it not imply a total ignorance of the proper functions of the o« sacrum, and the ossa innominata?" The pedantic Latinity of the savant fortunately protected Lydia's ears from some of the most offensive passages of his discourse; but Di6k, though he could not forbear a smile at the whimsical enthusiasm of this radical reformer of female deficiencies, yet being desirous of cutting short a subject, the very introduction of which he could plainly perceive had wounded his fair cousin's delicacy, dryly asked the anatomical theorist, whether he had ever read MoZiere'* Amour Medecin. The savant did not perceive the drift of Dick's interrogatory, which had reference to Diaforus's proposition, in the comedy alluded to, of taking his mistress to see the dissection of a woman ; however, he answered lilCK in the affirmative with a tone of no pleasurable surprise ; but he felt so much disconcerted at what he regarded as a yery ill-timed interruption to his ingenious discourse, that, much to the satisfaction of both Dick and Lydia, he made no attempt to resume the subject, and his manner of taking leave of our hero was evidently much more cold and distant than that which he assumed towards the rest of the company. . Silence ensued, for a short tiine, after the departure of LIFE IN PARIS, 375 this garrulous son of science ; but was speedily dissipated by remarks upon the different amusing objects they had so lately seen, and great was the variety of opinions and com- ments delivered upon the occasion. Lydia expressed her high admiration of the excellent arrangement visible in the collection of plants ; and wished she had an opportunity of frequently visiting them, as it would aid her in her pursuit of botany, which she said was her favourite study. The naivete of her daughter's confession drew forth the animad- versions of Zifldy Halibut, who said she had no notion whatever of hottomy, and could not think who put such stuff into girls' heads. " I am sure," she continued, ** the very word is undecent, and young women can have no business with it. But these are the sort of whimsies and nonsenses that they put into girls' heads at boarding-schools, and then call them accomplishments. A fine edication is a famous thing, that's for certain, and what nobody can deny, no more than that our daughter has had no expense spared to give her the very best, and such a one as has cost Sir Hum- phrey a power of money; but I wish they had given her a little more of what we learned at school in my time, when we were taught to make shirts and plain work, and other branches of useful literature." While the good lady was thus indulging in her judicious reflections on comparative modes of female education, the party had reached, in their progress, the Bois de Boulogne, This is the most pleasing wood near Paris, from which it is about two miles distant. Previous to the time of the Revo- lution, most of the trees had fallen into a state of decay; and their complete destruction was effected by the ravages of the revolutionary axe. But when Buonaparte obtained the sovereign power, he exerted himself to the utmost to restore the Bois de Boulogne to its pristine beauty. By hia 37(5; LIFE IN FABiS. orders, the ground was entirely cleared, and vast planta- tions made, with broad alleys bordered with rows of trees. He likewise repaired the wall of the enclosure, and stocked the place with small game, not unfrequently hunting in it. It would have required but a short period of time to have rendered it a thick shady wood, but the destructive events and chances of war soon made all these improvements use- less, When the allies marched upon Paris, in 1814, the largest trees were felled to furnish pallisades for the defence of the capital, and, after the second capitulation of Paris, in July, 1815, the English troops, who were encamped oo this spot, cut down all the wood for barracks and fuel.* The lapse of half a century will scarcely suffice to repair the withering effects of these ravages. The Bois de Boulogne is still, however, replete with at- traction ; for it is a place of great notoriety as one of fashionable resort. In fact, it may be considered the Hyde Park of the French capital for rides, drives, and duels. It was high change with the promenaders in this celebrated spot for beholding the leaders of the haute classe, or Parisian resemblance to his old acquaintance, the Chevalier O'Shuf- PLETON, that our hero was fully persuaded, in his own mind, of its being no other than the Hibernian, who ap- peared to be in so fair a way of reaping those joys in the possession of the lovely Marchioness, which malignantfortune had denied to the wishes of the disappointed Wildfire. On this supposed discovery, indignant rage succeeded in DiOK's 16 3 c 378 l-^FK IN PARIS. bosom to the emotions, astonishment, and surprise, which had agitated him on his first recognising the blooming Marchion- ess, and, stung with the desire of resolving all doubts, and of doing something in this afilair to interfere with the bright prospects of his rival, he hastily made some scarcely intelligible excuse to Lydia and the rest of the company for being obliged to leave them for a few minutes to speak to an acquaintance he had just observed at some little distance, and quitted them on his reconnoitring expedition without reflecting on the little probability of his meeting with any success. Lydia was no stranger to the real cause of her cousin's abrupt and rather unceremonious departure. Love im- parts surprising quickness and clearness to the faculties of vision : she, too, had seen the Marchioness pass in, her carriage, and immediately recollected her as the same identical lady who had so obviously engrossed Dick's attentions at their visit to the Grand Opera. The emotion of the latter, on his making a similar discovery, was sufficiently discernible to Lydia, to confirm her in the belief that the impression made on her cousin by the fair promenader was by no means effaced. Had any further corroboration of her opinion been wanted, it would have been amply furnished, by the step that DiCK had just taken. Could Lydia have known how little the heart was interested in these and other similar aberrations of her lover, it would have done much towards calming the in- quietude excited in her tender bosom; but her own thoughts were too pure to admit of those distinctions which a mind less virtuous would have readily made. Incapable of con- ceiving the idea of a passion existing without affection or respect, she beheld, in the person of the Marchioness, a formidable rival ; and, in DiCK, a youth, whose fickleness LIFE IN PARIS. 379 and inconstancy almost made her despair of ever securing his affections in return for her own, which she felt, but too sensibly, were irrevocably gone, and, she much feared, thrown away. Such reflections harassed the bosom of poor Lydia, till the pangs of jealousy produced visible effects upon her coun- tenance. She appeared so ill that iarfy Halibut could not avoidobserving it, and anxiously inquired the reason of the sudden change in her daughter's appearance, which the latter attributed to the effects of the heat. Jenkins, whom Lady Halibut's question had led to notice the situation of Lydia, instantly begged that he might be allowed to offer her the support of his arm till they could reach some conve- nient resting place. The Squire, notwithstanding his ec- centricities, was not naturally deficient in good nature or humanity, and we have before adverted to the impression made on his mind by the charms of Lydia, which was by this time so far strengthened that even the empire of Sally Scrubwell over his heart had not maintained itself altogether imdiminished. The young lady, at another time, would have felt greatly disposed to decline the Squire's gallant offer, but, in her present situation, she was glad to take advantage of it, and she proceeded under the escort of the owner of Tallyho-Hall, till they reached the Champ de Mars. The scene here presented little bustle or animation; a few military officers were strolling about in it ; but this spot is now principally remarkable for the eventful scenes of which it has been the theatre, and has no great attractions for a stranger, except, indeed, during the month of Sep- tember, when it is very gay, in consequence of the annual 380 I'lF^^ IN PARIS. horse-races, for the department of the Seine, being held there. The party had not been long arrived at the Champ de Mars, when they were rejoined by Dick, who, to judge by his looks, had not been very successful in the object of his pursuit; in fact, he was so absorbed in reverie, that, for some time after joining his friends, he did not direct his looks to his lovely cousin, whose uneasiness was in no de- gree diminished by this appearance of neglect. But the moment Dick turned his eyes towards her, the mingled expression of tenderness and reproach with which she regard- ed him; the unusual and mournful paleness of her naturally sprightly countenance, and the evident agitation under which she laboured, sufficiently explained both her suffering and the cause of it to her warm-hearted though giddy lover, and oppressed him with a weight of contending feelings, in which delight at the certainty he felt of being " strongly deeply loved" by so amiable a creature, and regret at the idea of having wantonly and cruelly been the cause of in- flicting upon her unmerited pain and uneasiness, were strangely struggling for preponderance. It belongs to the selfish alone, in the intercourse of love, to rejoice, from mean and unworthy motives, at their influence over those who are unfortunately attached to them ;but to the truly gene- rous heart, nothing so strongly cements the bond of affection, as the consciousness of being beloved by the object that in- spires that affection ; nothing is so distressing as the idea of planting a thorn in the confiding bosom of one whose only fault is to love, perhaps, " not wisely, but too well." Dick's was a mind too susceptible of the warmest impres- sions and the most generous feelings, not to feel keenly the pain he had inflicted upon the attached and lovely Lydia, LIFE IN PARIS. 331 and the consciousness of his conduct affected him with deep regret. He redoubled his attentions to his beautiful cousin^ and by a series of all those delicate and indefina- ble instances of kindness and tenderness, which none but those who truly love can appreciate, he, in a short time, succeeded not only in reconciling himself to the justly of- fended Lydia, but in convincing her that, in spite of his occasional aberrations among the tempting fields of illicit enjoyment, his heart and affections were devotedly and ex- clusively her own. While our hero and his fair companion were thus en- gaged in those sweet labours of reconcilement, so de- monstrative of the truth of the poet's assertion, that " the quarrels of lovers is the renewal of love," the party, in the mean time, had reached the Champs Elysees, and the attention of all was arrested by the interesting scene which presented itself. Paris cannot boast of such extensive walks and rides as the inhabitants of London enjoy in the Parks and Kensington-Gardens ; for, though it possesses airy Boulevards, and great convenience in the distribution of the gardens, especially those of the Thuilleries and the Luxembourg, yet, with the exception of these, there is no other very conspicuous walk in Paris, except the Elysian Fields, the Bois de Boulogne being more properly entitled to rank among the environs. The Elysian Fields were first planted in 1663, by the orders of Colbert, and again in 1770, under the di- rection of the Marquis d'Angivillers. This spot was ori- ginally intended to form a sort of continuation of the esplanade in front of the Hdtel des Invalides on the other side of the river, to which it is just opposite, communica> ting with it by means of a ferry. The name by which it 382 LIFE IN PARIS. is distinguished, was suggested to the Marquis d'Angimllers by a passage in Virgil, in which that poet places, in his Elysium, those who were wounded in defence of their country; Hie manus ob patriam pugnando vulnera passi.* and, as the Marquis intended this plantation as an additional promenade for the veterans in the Hdtel des Invalides, he determined on calling it by the name of the Elysian Fields. The principal avenue extends in a straight line from the Place Louis Quinze to the Barri^re de Neuilly, or de TEtoile. Its entrance, from the Place Louis Quinze, is indicated by two very beautiful and high pedestals, sup- porting two restive horses. This avenue is the same breadth as that of the Thuilleries, and must be considered as de- cidedly the finest entrance to the French Capital. Of late years, various alterations and improvements have been made in the Elysian Fields ; and, the day being fine, our visiters were much pleased with the scene of gaiety and animation which they beheld, it being one of the fashionable days for a promenade of carriages, usually called Long-Champs. The blaze of beauty and fashion, indeed, visible here, almost exceeded what they had seen in the Bois de Boulogne; all bespoke an assemblage of the more opulent among the inhabitants of a metropolis, where pleasure ap- pears to be the only business, and " Vive la bagatelle" is the universal motto. • And here the band of gallant warriors stood. Who, in their country's cause, had shed their blood. LIFE IN PARIS. 383 Inviting, however, as was the scene before them. Sir Humphrey began, by this time, to feel certain admonitory croakings of the stomach, indicating cravings of a very imperative nature on the score of hunger, which were by no means to be satisfied by gazing either on carriages or horses, and made him in his heart wish any scenes at the devil which detained him from immediate access to the well- stored larder of Meurices Hdtel. He, at length, could not refrain from mentioning his situation to the rest of the parly, and expressing his earnest wish for a speedy return home; he found Lady Halibut's feelings on the same subject in most sympathetic unison with his own ; and Lydia, though not influenced by the same edacious motives as her parents, felt so overcome by the excursion, and pro- bably by certain circumstances which we have already mentioned, that she gladly availed herself of the oppor- tunity of joining with Sir Humphrey and his lady in their "wish to return to the Hdtel. Dick and the Squire were not disposed so soon to abandon the spot, and a separation of the party ensued in consequence ; the worthy Knight, with his lady and daughter, proceeded hoaiewards in their con- veyance, leaving our hero and his companion to pursue the prospect of amusement and pleasure aflbrded by the gay scene in which they found themselves. , The Elysian Fields are by no means deficient in attrac- tions for the votaries of diversified enjoyment. They are often the seat of superb national /efe*, and the part nearest to the river is the general resort of persons of moderate incomes, who go there to play at tennis, skittles, bowls, and other similar games. But the object which had most charms for our English pair was one of the guinguettes, so common in the environs of Paris. To both cur gentlemen Ihis scene possessed the grace of novelty ; for DiCR had 384 i^i^'E Ji^' PARIS. not yet miide his debut in one of them, though the animated description he had received from the experienced Sam Sharp of the pleasures which were to be found there, had determined him to taJte the earliest opportunity of judging for himself upon the subject ; and, on his recounting these tempting details to his companion, who " with greedy ear devoured up his discourse," the Squire was inspired with an equal degree of eagerness to share in the promised enjoy- ment. They selected for their purpose the Salon de Mars, a well known guinguette of rather a superior description to some places of the same class, being provided with an orches- tra and a room for dancing, which many of the others want.* The excellent delineation of this scene of moving pleasure, given in the plate, in great measure supersedes the neces- sity for those details, which might otherwise have been re- quisite, so true is the maxim of the ancient poet : ** Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus,"t a maxim which tio one, perhaps, has more powerfully illustrated than the inimitable artist employed upon this work. It will not escape the attention of our readers, in examining the plate, that the orchestra is so judiciously placed in the wall as to supply with music both those in the Salon and the parties who are dancing in the garden. Dick is depicted " to the very LIFE," partaking in the entertainment of the ** witching quadrille ;" indeed, nothing could have suited him better than the discovery that the * Guinguettes, possessed of these acGommodations, are distinguished from those that are without them by being termed bastringues. f " For words can ne'er so well inform the mind As gay and faithful pictures well desigu'd." LIFE IN PARIS. 335 place they had accidentally entered was provided with all the requisite accompaniments for the mazy dance, an ■ 'amusement which Dick not unjustly, perhaps, considered \- as no unapt prelude to an introduction to other mazes, more rapturous, though frequently far more hewildering . It is not to be supposed that our hero found himself, in the present instance, in the midst of partners selected from the highest walks of society. The guingueftes are chiefly fre- quented by the lower classes of the Parisian bourgeoiserie, who are drawn thither by the inducement of being able to purchase dancing and refreshments at an unusually cheap rate. But to Dick, whose eye of universal love looked upon a mop-squeezer or a duchess as equally chartered, by virtue of her sex, to receive the homage of his, if beauty sanctioned the claim, saw much to admire in the motley group before him; something, too, to hope, perhaps, as many a bright eye beamed with no very equivocal expres- sion of admiration, at the grace and agility displayed by the young Englishman. Squire Jenkins was not altogether in so enviable a si- tuation as his friend. The high-raised expectations of fun and frolic with which he had entered the guinguette va- nished almost instantly on seeing the amusement in which the visiters were engaged. The master of Tallgho-hall y^as by no means partial to what he considered the effeminate amusement of dancing ; in some of his moments of inebri- ety, indeed, when overflowing at once with the influence of Bacchus, and the amorous warmth of his bosom for his much-cherished Sally Scrubwell, he had been known to for- get his wonted antipathy to the Lesbian and Salian exer- cises, and to *' pound for fame at a prodigious rate;" but, for " tripping it on the light fantastic toe," nature and in- clination had equally disqualified him. 17 3d 3^6 LIFE IN PARIS. Reduced, therefore, without any alternative, to the situ- ation of a solitaire, amidst the assemblage of the gay, the Squire was compelled to seek consolation in an onslaught upon some of the provisions which are always to be ob- tained ready dressed in places of this description. Here, however, a new source of discontent arose. The waiter presented a carte to Jenkins, for the purpose of the latter choosing his wine. The Squire observing one kind, whose name he did not recollect having before remarked, selected it from curiosity, not being aware that it was one of the most expensive sorts. On its being brought to him, he paid the waiter the same sum he had been accustomed to give for Burgundy ; on which the officious attendant at- tempted to explain to the Squire the mistake respecting the price of the wine. Vain was the eloquence of the dis- penser of dainties ; his auditor's utter ignorance of the French language rendered all the orator said of no avail. A French waiter may truly be defined, an animal sui ffeneris. The dexterity, the nimbleness, the obsequious- ness visible in him, are unrivalled by those of his profession in any other country. The command of temper which he possesses is likewise admirable; though even in his case this amiable feature of character will sometimes give way, in his vain attempts to execute the orders of an Englishman^ who possesses just sufficient knowledge of French to be unin- telligible by words, and to disdain the use of signs; and the unfortunate garcon's vain and repeated attempts to succeed will at length, perhaps, prompt a half indignant, half impatieilt exclamation of " Mais, que voulez-vous done que je fosse. Monsieur V^ accompanied by an air and gesture which must be seen in order to be properly con- ceived. But the " very head and front of his offending has this extent, no more." One, however, of the most LIFE IN PARIS. 387 striking qualifications attached to a French waiter is, the facility with which he will decypher language which no other person would undertake to interpret, and the ingenuity ob- servable in his means of making himself intelligible in cases where he discovers oral communication to be impos- sible. Finding that all his rhetoric was to the Squire as " pearls thrown before swine," the waiter had recourse to the expedient of holding up, before the former, two fingers, by way of intimating the balance yet due. The irritation of the already disconcerted Jenkins, on discovering that two francs more than he had usually paid were demanded for his bottle of wine, was excessive ; and direful conse- quences might have ensued to the unhappy garfon, had not the volley of oaths which his friend discharged, accompanied with a devout wish, that he could but swear in French as well as he could in English, reached the ears of Dick, who, quitting the amusement in which he was engaged, repaired to the scene of the affray, which he found means to ter- minate peaceably. Perceiving, however, that the guin- guette was not likely to prove a source of great pleasure to his friend, Dick, who was never selfish in his gratifications, and who had already obtained a pretty good insight into the humours of the place, proposed to depart, and left the spot far more gratified than the Squire, who, for some time, muttered, as he went along, " curses not loud but deep" on France and Frenchmen. As the' pmr of friends, however,' Were passing through the Rue St. Honore, on their way homeward, an incident occurred which, by awaking the Squire's favourite propen- sities, in some measure dispelled the cloud of his ill humour. The wheel of a large cabriolet coming in contact with a baker's cart, drawn by a dog, which was passing through the streets, the weakest of course went to the wall; in other 3^ LIFE IN PARIS. words, the vehicle of Monsieur le Boulanger was over- thrown. To increase the troubles of the owner, while he was endeavouring to pick up some of the bread which was falling into the kennel, one of the canine breed that infest Paris, where many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree ————." — One of the worst-bred of these, taking advantage of the doubly embarassed situation of his harnessed fellow crea- ture in the drag, made a furious attack upon him^ Notwithstanding his entanglements, however, the dog in harness was not backward to resist his assailant, and a fierce fight appeared likely to ensue. Jenkins, not at all con- cerned for the feelings of the man of dough, exulted in the cheering prospect, and had already offered Dick either to lay or tajce the odds on the probable issue of the contest, when, so evanescent are our visions of bliss, all the Squire's sanguine hopes of sport were disappointed by the abrupt LIFE IN PARIS. 330 interference of the baker, who, by no means participating in Jenkins's eager desire for the continuance of the fray, by ** one fell blow" of his cudgel, sent away the assailant of his dog, yelping to the probable tune of some broken bones. The Squire was anxious that Dick should remon- strate with the French bread-merchant on this outrageous violation of the laws of canine chivalry. This, however, our hero declined ; alleging as his reason, the very differ- ent opinions that prevailed in the two countries on this im- portant topic. Jenkins took occasion, from this reply, to revert to his abuse of the Parisians, mingled with trium- phant reflections on how soon poor Teaz'im, had he been living, would have made cats' meat of both the French dogs ; and the conversation on these interesting subjects continued till Dick and his friend reached the Hotel, where they found their party waiting for them. 390 LIFE IN PARIS. fs :b '\ii ' ' CHAP. XIX. A Proposal to visit the Goblins (i. e. Gobelins J — Lady Halibut's Reluctance to see any Thing so frightful — Squire Jenkins shows himself no Carpet Knight, and swears the Goblins must he an infernal Place — Dick, having other Fish to Fry, sets out in Pursuit of more in- viting Objects — Jenkins and the Ladies venture on their proposed Expedition — The Handkerchief-Dealer— Hoiv to buy Things cheap — French Pugilism — Jenkins's Gal- lantry — An Eagerness for fair Play sometimes opens the Way for foul Practices — Unexpected Disappearance of Lydia — The Squire^s Consternation at this Event — His Efforts to recover his lost Charge — Some Notice of DiCK^S Pursuits — The Hdtel des Invalides, &;c. In a city like the metropolis of France, so amply provided with objects to attract the curiosity and excite the interest of persons of every description, travellers, whose time for visiting and inspecting Paris is necessarily limited, will find sufficient employment for each day of their sojourn in that capital. It will naturally, therefore, be imagined that, on the party re-uniting at Meurice's, some conversation took place as to their arrangements for the following day. Lady Halibut remarked that, as their stay in Paris was draw- ing to a close, they certainly ought to see every thing in their power, and wondered what place would be best to pitch upon for the morrow's excursion. A French gentle- LIFE IN PARIS. 391 main, who was in the room, begged leave to ask Madame if she had ever been to see les Gobelins. " The Goblins/' replied her Ladyship, "not I indeed. I had enough of the Catacombs ; and, as for the Goblins, though I have often heard them spoken of, I have no relish for paying them a visit; I leave all such maggots to them as have more taste for things of that sort. For my part, I wonder an exhibi- tion of the kind should be permitted." The Frenchman courteously took the liberty to inform her Ladyship that the Goblins to which he alluded were not des revenans, but only a celebrated manufactory for tapestry, considered the first in Europe. This explanation, being interpreted to Lady Halibut, wrought a total change in her feelings upon the subject ; and she felt altogether as anxious to visit the Goblins, as she had before been to decline cultivating any acquaintance with them. To be sure, she said, it was an ugly name, but, from the gentleman's account, there was no harm to be feared there. " Besides," continued she, turning to Sir Humphrey, " we may, perhaps, turn the visit to account ; for I very much want a handsome carpet for the best drawing-room at Scalesby-Parlc ; and, as this here is the place where they manufactures articles of that description, I may stand a chance of getting a good one at a reasonable rate. There is nothing like going to work at first hand, for them as has got ready money in hand to show for it." The Knight nodded approbation, though, in his heart, he did not particularly admire either the projected excursion, or the plan his rib had connected with it. My Lady then addressed herself to Squire Jenkins, saying, she trusted his usual gallantry would not allow him to refuse the ladies the pleasure of his company. The Squire, who felt little desirous of being pinned to her Ladyship's apron- strings, did not consider his prospect of enjoyment en- hanced by escorting her to what he, from the conversation 392 LIFE IN PARIS. that had passed, and particularly the good Lady's purchasing project, conceived to be neither more nor less than a large carpet-shop. Under this impression, he might, perhaps, have given vent to his sentiments in no very courteous man- ner ; but, at the moment he was about to reply to the invi- tation he had received, Dick, who had left the apartment abruptly almost immediately on their arrival, entered, and was pounced upon by his aunt, who invited him to make one of the party for the morrow's visit to the Goblins. This, however, her nephew positively declined doing, al- leging, as his excusey that he was unexpectedly obliged to devote the whole of the next day to very particular busi- ness, which, not leaving his time at his own disposal, would preclude his having the honour of attending the ladies as he could have wished. Lady Halibut was evidently piqued, and Lydia both hurt and disappointed at this reply; but it had been made in a manner which plainly spoke that remon- strance or intreaty would be alike thrown away ; and our hero's temper was so well known to both his female relatives, that he was in no danger of any attempt being made to induce him to swerve from his avowed determination. The refusal, however, of Dick occasioned a total revolution in the inclinations of JENKINS ; his penchant for Lydia had by no means abated on a more intimate acquaintance; and the prospect of being her exclusive cavalier for the day, so delighted him, that, waving both his distaste for her aunt's society and the irksomeness of a visit to a carpet-shop, he signified, much to the gratification of Lady Halibut, that he would, with great pleasure, attend her in the proposed excursion. He then took leave of bis friends, and proceeded to his own Hotel to dine, having promised to be with them the next morning at an early hour. To account for Dick's having thus left the field open to LIFE IN PARIS. J^^5 bis rival in Lydia*s affections, it may be necessary to men- tion, that he had scarcely reached the H6tel, and entered, with the Squire, the room in which the ladies and Sir Humphrey were, when he perceived his valet, Sam Sharp, at the door, beckoning him in a very significant manner. His master went to him immediately, and, having retired out of the reach of observation, the faithful Mer- cury put into our hero's hands a billet, which he said had just been delivered to him by Mademoiselle Claudine. Dick opened it with eagerness, and Sam, while his master pe- rused the contents, stood by, humming the stanza from a well-known French song : *' Dans ma Claudine, attraits, douceur, siraplesse. Tout me charmait, j'etais fier de mon choix."* The contents of the/JowZef f which our hero had received by the joint entremise of Mademoiselle Claudine and his vigilant lacquey were as follows : " My dear young Anglais, " I had the pleasure of recognising you to-day, as I passed through the Bois de Boulogne; and I perceived by your * What simple sweetness, winning mien, Unite in my belov'd Claudine/ Proud of my choice, I seek her arms, Where all is loveliness and charms. t The French word poulet literally signifies a pullet or young fowl ; but, from the circumstance of Henry IV. having, when courting the cele- brated Madame d'Estree, better known by the name of la belle Gabrielk, found means of transmitting his epistles, by enclosing them in fowls, which he sent her as piresents, the term poulet is frequently employed in the sense of a billet-doux, or love-letter. 17 3 k 394 LIFE IN PARIS. motions, not without some gratification, that I was not quite forgotten, nor, unless I deceive myself, altogether indiffer- ent to my aimable sauvage. I confess I was not without my fears on this head, when I remarked the elegant jeune demoiselle in your company ; but the tender sensibility, my dear Wildfire, and evident inquietude you evinced, re- assured me. " Yet I begin to doubt whether you English are really the preux chevaliers you have been represented. Why have I seen or heard nothing of you since tKe night which I recal with such mingled emotions ? Surely one failure does not discourage, amortir, a man with your spirit of enterprise. Do you not know the proverb, ** les obstacles ne font quHr- liter le veritable amour?" Et done vous laisser rehuter comme cela! Ah, mon ami, il faut mieux connoitre les choses. * '* I would hardly think so unworthily of my friend ; yet I almost imagined I read something in his countenance like jealousy, at the sight of the cavalier that was seated along side of me. For heaven's sake, my dear friend, banish any such feeling, if it exists ; jealousy is no longer d la mode. Fi de cette mauvaise humeur ! A quoi bon la jalou- sie, quand on se connoit aimt ?-\ I sup out of Paris this evening, but shall return the following day. If you are the man that I take you for, be by the H6tel des Invalided, * " Obstacles have only the effect of stimulating real love." And then, to allow yourself to be repulsed in this manner ! Ah, my friend, you must know things better. ' t Fie upon this ridiculous humour 1 To what purpose is jealousy, in a man who knows himself beloved ? LIFE IN PARIS. 395 about three in the afternoon to-morrow, and Claudine will make proper arrangements with you for securing a meeting, in which we may not be interrupted either by dragons or dragon-seekers. Adieu, mon cher, je vous salue de tout mon cosur. '* Tour's ever," Dick's mind was not in the most enviable state after the perusal of the lovely Marchionesses letter. Reflecting on the preceding occurrences of the day, he could well have wished that the felicity, which appeared to await him, had been deferred to rather a more distant period. His habits and feelings, however, led him to look upon a challenge in gallantry as imperative in its nature, as a defiance of a more hostile nature ; and he would have considered his cha- racter as much compromised by a refusal to accept the one as the other. He, therefore, made up his mind to decline all other engagements for the next day, that nothing might interfere with his interview with Claudine, and his hopes of meeting with his fair inamorata less beset with disastrous accidents than the preceding one. As Sam was his usual confidant on these occasiojis, he imparted to him his reso- lution, as well as the contents of the letter, with which last, indeed, the trusty valet was already pretty well acquainted. Dick, at the same time, took the opportunity of cautioning his domestic, in the event of his services being required in the same capacity as before, not to be quite so precipitate in employing measures which might involve both himself and his master in equal trouble and uneasiness. The evening was marked by no occurrence deserving of being recorded, and the night passed in undisturbed repose, to prepare the travellers for the fatigues and pleasures of 396 i-^ri^ i^ PARIS. the ensuing day. In the morning, breakfast was hardly finished with Sir Humphrey and his family, when Squire Jenkins made his appearance to claim the promised pri- vilege of being Lydia's cavalier for the day. Lady Halibut saw, with some pleasure, that he had evidently bestowed more than usual pains upon his toilet than was customary with him; and, however Lydia might regret such a substitute for her cousin, it was clear that her mother did not sympathise in her regret for Dick's absence. Indeed, the good lady was so laudably anxious to forward the views she entertained upon the Squire for a son-in-law, that notwithstanding her spouse had, in the first instance, peremptorily refused to have, as he expressed it, " either art or part" in the excursion to the Gobelins, she succeeded in making him give up his resolution, by a series of those tender persecutions which all wives so well know how to employ, and so few husbands have firmness to resist. On this the anxious mother not a little prided herself at heart, as, by ensuring her husband fur her own escort, she thought she could find means to give the Squire the opportunity, which she imagined he desired, of breaking his mind, as her phrase was, to Lydia. But this prudent arrangement was not without its disastrous consequences, as will be seen in the sequel. All things being ready for the excursion, her Ladyship, who said she was always partial to putting things forward, proposed their setting out without delay. LxDiA sighed, as she took the ^rm of Jenkins, her regret at not having Dick's company being heightened by the fears she enter- tained that his absence was, in reality, the consequence of some new infidelity ; and though her accomplished cavalier politely observing that sha was a peg or so too low, and wanted winding up a bit, brought into action all his erudition LIFE IN PARIS. 397 as a sportsman and all his gallantry as a lover, he could not sncceed in restoring her to her accustomed spirits. Lady Halibut, with Sir Humphrey, kept in the rear of the young folks, much delighted at seeing her daughter's beau so gaillard, and so assiduous in his attentions. On crossing the Petit Pont into the Rue St. Jacques, the attention of the ladies was arrested by a sight which to them was a novelty, that of one of the many dealers in the variegated handkerchiefs, of which the Parisian belles of the middling and lower classes form the showy turbans that adorn their heads. The subjoined engraving exhibits a very faithful deline- ation of one of these marchands de mouchoirs, and a pair of his female customers. Lady Halibut, on understanding the design of the showy commodities displayed for sale, felt strongly inclined to become a purchaser, having been greatly struck with the splendid appearance of these head-dresses, and having a 398 LIFE IN PARIS. project floating in her brain of decking out her own upper story with a tiara of this description ; but the worthy Knight, though, in general, pretly obsequious to the wishes of his spouse, on this occasion made a resolute stand, and protested he would never suffer any wife of his to carry such gimcrack concerns on her head, which, whatever the French Madams and Maamsels might think of them, could only make an Englishwoman look like a ballad-singer, not to say something worse. Her Ladyship well knew the oc- casional obstinacy of her husband on subjects on which he entertained any strong prejudices; and aware that all at- tempts to change the firm purpose of his mind would be vain, she was obliged to quit the tempting display, without becoming a purchaser; and the party proceeded without any further impediment till they reached the manufactory of the Gobelins. On their being introduced into this establishment^ the ladies were agreeably delighted at finding all their previous anticipations far exceeded ; and even the Squire was com- ' pelled to acknowledge in his heart, that the collection before him was a shade or two superior to the generality of carpet- shops, as soon as he and Sir Humphrey were undeceived as to the idea they had at first entertained, that the repre- sentations they saw were woven and not painted. Indeed, this famous manufactory deserves all the celebrity it has obtained. The colours, the design, and the execution of the tapestry made here, are equal to the productions of the finest painting. Lydia was particularly delighted with two pieces which were pointed out to her ; the one repre- senting the assassination of the Admiral Coligni, and the other, the heroic conduct of the President Mole, who is de- picted heroically exposing his breast to the violence of the mob, and doing his duty, unmoved by the poniards raised LIFE IN PARIS. 399 f^ against him.* But, though there are several modern pieces of great excellence in the establishment, the finest produc- tion, which it contains, is unquestionably the famous suite of the battles of Alexander, copied, in tapestry, from the designs of the celebrated Le Brun. The reputation of this manufacture is spread all over Europe. By the most ingenious processes, the workmen express, with the greatest truth, not only all the correctness of design observable in the most noted pictures, but, more- over, all the force and vivacity of. their colouring, and the gradation of their shades ; so that, at a proper distance, they have all the effect of the most finished paintings. As the visiters passed through the manufactory, they ob- served several of the workmen engaged in their occupations ; and were much surprised at the astonishing facility with which they seemed to execute the most diflBcult tasks. They were informed, by the guide, that much time and consi- derable attention were necessary to acquire the art. The apprenticeship requires six years, and, at least, eighteen are necessary to make a proficient. So much importance was attached, under the ancient regime, to keeping the process of the Gobelins in a state of inviolable secrecy, that all the workmen were locked up within the walls of the manufactory. This strictness is relaxed under the present more liberal order of things ; but the artificers, attached to the establishment, are still kept under the constant surveillance of the police. * It is to this great man that history attributes that admirable saying, " Im distance estgrande de la main d'un assassin au caur d'un honnite homme." The distance is great from the hand of an assassin to the heart of an honest man. 400 LIFE IN PARIS. Poor iricfy Halibut pretty quickly perceived that her purchasing project must vanish ; and that there was little hope of equipping the drawing-room, at Scalesby-Park, with a carpet from the Gobelins, even at second hand. In fact, she was informed, during the visit, that no article can be purchased here without first obtaining a royal order 5 the manufactory being the property of government, and sup- ported at the expense of the king. Her Ladyship, in com- mon, indeed, with the rest of the party, felt overwhelmed with astonishment at learning the uncommon costliness and expense of the articles fabricated at this magnificent esta- blishment. It sometimes requires the labour of from two to six years to complete a single piece of tapestry, the cost of which often amounts to six thousands francs, or about two hundred and fifty pounds English money ; and, even at this rate, the workmen, who amount to about a huiidred, are very inadequately paid. The price of the different articles is regulated, not by the size, but by the beauty and difiicully of the work. Every thing connected with the Gobelins indicates the care and attention that has teen bestowed upon it. Near the manufactory is an establishment for dying, directed by an able chymist, where an infinite number of shades of all colours, mostly unknown in trade, are died for the purposes of the tapestry. Woollen is exclusively used for this tapes- try, to render the colours more permanent. There is also a school of drawing, where the artists are previously taught the principles of this ingenious art. After spending a considerable time, much to their grati- fication, in surveying the various objects of curiosity, in this perfectly unique manufactory, the ladies, with their heaitx, set forward on their return. The same arrangement LIFE IN PARIS. 401 was observed as in their coining; Sir Humphrey, as in duty bound, escorting her X,ac/3/«/jip, and Squire Jenkins, Lydia. In this manner they proceeded, till they had nearly reached St. Sulpice, when her Ladyship, who kept a keen eye to business, and was much pleased at seeing the Squire and her daughter apparently in close confab together, as she elegantly phrased it, thought she perceived a favourable opportunity of putting into execution her plan of leaving the coast clear for her expected son-in-law, which she thought she might do with full security in the part of the city where they now were. She, therefore, pleaded ex- cessive fatigue, and requested Sir Humphrey to call a fiacre ; saying, at the same time, that it would be sufficient for him to accompany her, as it would be a pity to deprive the young folks of their walk ; adding, with a significant smile, thai " they seem very pleasantly taken up with each other." Her daughter regarded her with a most appealing look upon hearing of an event as little desired as expected, and was about to reply, but her Ladyship, looking daggers, though she used none, intimated, by the language of the eyes, in a manner too intelligible to be misunderstood, that remonstrance might irritate, but would certainly not prevail with her ; and the fiacre being brought, she entered it with the passive »Sir Humphrey, calling to the Squire, as the vehicle drove off, that she trusted to his gallantry and politeness to conduct the young lady safely to the Hotel. Poor Lydia's feelings, at finding herself under the ex- clusive conduct and protection of Jenkins, were of the most unenviable description. Independently of the dislike with which his roughness of manner and coarseness of lau- gnagehad inspired her, and which was not a little confirmed 17 3 F 402 I'li''^^ i^' PAUis, by the designs that she could plainly perceive her mother was meditating in his favour, the various specimens she had witnessed of the Squires eccentricities and perverseness, made her look upon him as no very trustworthy escort of a young female through the streets of a foreign metropolis. For some time, however, all went on smoothly, and her apprehensions began to dissipate. The attentions of her beau were, for many reasons, far from welcome to her; but, in spite of his uncouthness, Jenktns's obvious desire to be polite and attentive could not but claim and receive some suitable return on the part of Lydia, and appearances rather favoured the prospect of a safe and speedy arrival at the H6teL But an unlucky incident, which intervened, put to flight all these good omens. Turning the corner of a street, the Squire's attention was attracted by the sight of a crowd assembled round two men, who, in consequence of a quarrel, had come aux prises. We should say to blows, but that the expression would hardly conveya correct idea of the species of combat substituted by the Parisian canaille for our noble national mode of deciding differences by fair boxing. In- deed, in the contest the Squire witnessed on the present occasion, blows had, strictly speaking, little to do. The combatants, with open hands, sprung like tigers at each other's throats, and having mutually obtained a hold inside the cravat with one hand, each fastened bis disengaged morley into his adversary's hair, and they then began re- spectively to exercise their feet, with astonishing agility, upon each other's legs and shins. Jenkins, whom no in- treaties of Lydia could induce to stir from a spot replete to him with matters of the highest interest, beheld, with equal displeasure and astonishment, these outrageous viola- tions of the laws and customs of the English ring ; however. LIFE IN PARIS. ^QS he contented himself, for some time, with venting his dis- satisfaction in a series of oaths ; but, at length, seeing one of the combatants actually apply his teeth to the other's ear, and bite a piece off, his indignation no longer knew any bounds, and he avowed his determination of exerting his influence to produce something like fair play. He told Lydia that he would not be gone a minute, and that there was a nice little portico to the adjoining house, where she could stand safe and quiet, and await his return. In vain did the alarmed girl protest against the cruelty of such con- duct on the part of her gallant ; in vain did she implore him, with tears in her eyes, not to leave her alone in such an exposed situation, particularly with such a scene passing before her. The headstrong Squire assured her her fears were imaginary, and her alarms groundless, for that nobody would molest her if she only kept still, and waited for his return ; and, on her making an attempt to detain him, by catching hold of his sleeve, he rather abruptly sprung from her gentle grasp, exclaiming — " Upon my soul. Miss, I'm sorry for it, but can't help it; must see fair play. Miss — fair play's a jewel, you know ; can't see chaps bite each other's ears off, and call that fighting ; can't stand it ; I'll be back in the twinkling of a jiffy, Miss, before you can say Jack Robinson ; no body will harm you, only stick your- self tight in that portico." Having concluded this eloquent consolatory harangue, the champion of the rights of fistic chivalry, pushed into the thickest of the crowd, with the determination of using his utmost efforts to enforce some- thing like due attention to the laws of honour and fair fighting, on the part of the combatants, in this direful fray. In tWe circumstances in which she was left by her recreant cavalier, Lydia might well have been excused had she been overcome by those hysterical emotions so usual with 4t)4 '^^^'^ ^N PARIS. young ladies of her age ; but her's was a character possess- ing great firmness and presence of mind when any sudden emergencies called them into action ; and, though much dis- tressed at the very embarrassing and disagreeable situation in which she found herself, she had resolution to follow the parting direction of the Squire ; it being, in fact, the best thing she could do in her singular situation. Trembling and in tears she, therefore, took, her stand in the portico that Jenkins had pointed out to her, which belonged to a neat and respectable looking bouse,, situated at the corner of the street. oc asw .jooj ♦toubaoo - M .. r.o j '.- ml htiR^Bads "lo gtaiit. Meanwhile, the Squire^ whose regard for equal combat had shown itself so paramount to every consideration of gallantry, had reached the very centre of the scene of action. The contest had, by this time, excited considerable interest, and collected so great a crowd to witness the display of heroic valour, that it had required all the vigour of Jen- kins's muscles to make his way into a conspicuous situation. But now a new embarrassment arose ; his ignorance of the language rendered him unable to detail to the assembly his motives and wishes, and his reiterated cries of blond jeu, by which he wished them to understand fair play, though they contributed greatly to awaken the risibility of hia auditors, and procured the orator repeated shouts of " Bravo, Jean Bull!" continued altogether unintelligible to them. Finding, therefore, that he was likely to gain little by his rhetoric, he made a resolute attempt to effect his purpose by pressing towards the combatants, who were still carrying on the battle in the same unseemly manner as at firsts with only this difi*erence, that the war was now waging fiercely on the ground, on which both the heroes lay extended side by side. But if Jenkins's French had been caviare to the cdngregated mob, his present proceeding was perfectly LIFE IN PARIS. 405 intelligible; and, though unaware of the precise nature of his intentions, they found no difficulty in construing them into a design to interrupt, or, in some way, to interfere with the contest, in which they took so much interest. As they felt no disposition to have their sport put a stop to by an interloper, and especially by an Englishman, they no sooner perceived the Squires drift, than the latter found himself assailed, not only with sundry uncourteous saluta- tions from fists, but with most unsparing and unwelcome, as well as dishonourable, applications of shoe leather. This outrageous conduct, too, was accompanied by the most violent epithets of abuse and invective, which, however, were altogether lost upon the ear they were designed to wound. Under these trying circumstances, Jenkins's genuine English spirit and courage did not desert him ; he showed fight f and defended himself, even against this formi- dable array, with a vigour of which many of those enemies who were nearest to him soon exhibited visible proofs, such as they were, by no means, inclined to countenance. But what could single valour avail against such numbers ? A by-stander, interested in the desperate fortunes of the heroic Squire, might almost have been tempted to exclaim, with a slight alteration, the words of Andromache's pathe- tic address to her husband : — ** France in her single coves would strive in vain, Now mobs oppose thee, and thou must be slain !" ' After receiving thumps and bruises innumerable, and ad- ministering to his antagonists no small proportion in return, the unfortunate Jenkins was laid by the heels by the co- wardly manoeuvre of a rascally cur, who sneaked behind him and tripped him up, while in the very act of bestowing 406 ^^^ IN PARIS. a severe remembrancer on the pimple of one of his most active adversaries. Prone to the earth fell this mirror of British bravery ! A shout of exultation, from the surround- ing canaille, announced their joyful sense of so honourable a triumph ; and the worthy owner of Tallyho-Hall ran no small risque of being enrolled in History's recording page as a mournful instance of trampled valour, when he was providentially relieved, from his very perilous situation, by the arrival of the gens-d'armes, whom the tumult, occasioned by the single combat, had attracted to the spot. The quick dispersion of the crowd, at the sight of these worthy gentry, freed Jenkins from the immediate and imminent jeopardy in which he was. The police secured the two combatants, as well as some of the most turbulent among the by-standers. They, likewise, took into custody the fallen Squire, whose appearance, as well as position, plainly indicated his having been engaged in hostile fray. From the details of the affair, however, that they received from several who were present, these ministers of the law were led to believe that the English gentleman had interfered only with a view to put an end to the fight, and that the marks of violence visible on his person had been incurred in his unsuccessful endea- vours to effect so laudable a purpose. Acting upon this supposition, the police, to the no small surprise, as well as gratification, of their prisoner, who was anticipating a very different termination to the affair, released him, not only readily, but with marks of great respect and politeness. One of the greatest sources of uneasiness which the Squire had experienced, when he came to reflect upon his situation, on the gens-d'armes arresting him, was the very awkward position in which such an event must place Lydia ; and, in consequence, he congratulated himself not a little LIFE IN PARIS. 4Q7 6a his unexpected dismissal, which freed him from the apprehensions he had entertained of finding himself in a very uneviable dilemma. But his self-felicitation was destined to receive a sud- den and painful check. Having hastily got rid, as well as the occasion would permit, of the most conspicuous stains of dirt and blood, with which he was defiled, his first step was to repair to the portico in search of Lydia. Judge of his astonishment when he found that she was not there ! At first he could scarcely believe his eyes ; he looked about in every direction, but the person he sought was no where perceptible. Nothing could exceed the consternation of the unfortunate Jenkins. He cursed his stars a thousand times for his having been such a fool as to go gadding with a brace of petticoats, shopping and carpetting ; then be- stowed a devout malediction on Lady Halibut, for her kindness in saddling him with the exclusive charge of her daughter ; and afterwards vented his rage on the cowardice and unfair fighting of the French, to which he principally attributed his present disaster. His fondness for Lydia, too, intruded itself; he mentally vowed that he would sooner have given his horse Starling to the dogs than any harm should befal her ; and he felt not a little alarmed at the idea that his quitting her might have been the means of exposing her to real danger. By way of finish to his agreeable meditations came the pleasant idea of meeting Sir Humphrey and his Lady^ with the news of such a calamity. He too plainly foresaw the storm of wrath that awaited him in that quarter ; and felt persuaded that no eloquence would suffice to convince a pair of bereaved parents, that any regard to the laws of pugilism should have superseded his care for the safety of their child. , 408 LIFE IN PARIS. Distracted with these contepdiDg reflections, he at length adopted what, in a calmer mood, be would probably have resorted to in the first instance, as the most likely means of obtaining information ; a knock at the door of the house to which the portico belonged. It was opened by a decently- dressed middle-aged woman, who, fortunately for Jenkins, spoke and understood English tolerably. In answer to his inquiries, she told him that she had noticed the person he spoke of standing under the portico ; that the young lady did not remain there long; but, after staying a few minutes, had walked away in the direction of the Rue St. Honore. A ray of hope darted on the Squires mind at this intelli- gence; he took it for granted that Lydia had directed her steps homeward; nay, he even thought it probable that, resenting his leaving her, she might have thought proper to go home by herself for the express purpose of getting him into disgrace. At all events, he saw no method but to set out on his return to the Hotel Meurice, which he did with his alarms considerably abated, as he cherished great hopes of finding Lydia safely arrived there; and though he ex- pected to encounter the displeasure of Lady Halibut and her spouse, he thought he should find some mode of ap- peasing them, provided their daughter was in safety. As our plan requires us to keep the whole of our com- pany, however diflerent the situations in which they may be placed, moving as far as possible passibus aquis, our readers will pardon us for leaving them in the same uncertainty with the Squire, as to the fate of the lovely Lydia, and turning back to examine how our hero has been occupying his time during the interval since we left him. Dick had, ever since hi$ arrival in the French capital, LIFE IN PARIS. 40}) felt an anxious wish to inspect the celebrated hospital, or, as the French call it, the Hotel des Invalides. He had not, however, urged the point with his fellow-travellers, as they did not appear to participate in his curiosity* But having- devoted this day to engagements separate from his English friends, and the spot fixed upon by the Marchioness for his meeting Claudine being near the Invalides, he thought he had found a favourable opportunity, by visiting the esta- blishment, of dissipating the ennui which would be likely to hang upon the earlier hours of the day, if suflfered to remain unoccupied. Having, therefore, instructed Sam to keep a vigilant look-out for Claudine's arrival, and to give instant notice of it, he set out attended by that paragon of valets ; and having left him outside, as sentinel, our hero entered the walls of the magnificent establishment, conse- crated by the French government to the repose and sub- sistence of the veteran defenders of their country in old age. Dick was surprisingly struck at the sight of this superb edifice. The facade is more than 600 feet, and is crowned with a dome glittering with gold, which last ornament, how- ever, might have been spared, as it exhibits to the eye of taste more of the tawdry than the magnificent. The courts, buildings, churches, and galleries, altogether, occupy a surface of more than a hundred thousand feet. Nothing, in fact, can be more majestic than this building, nothing grander than its plan, nothing finer than its execution. The situation of the structure, the boulevards, gardens, and walks, in short, all connected with it, correspond with the unrivalled magnificence that it displays. The paintings and sculptures are likewise very superior. But it is not the inanimate objects which this establishment encloses that form its greatest attractions. It is the interesting sight of its veteran inmates reposing in peace and comfort after 18 3 G 410 JfFE IN PARIS. their long and painful toils in the tented field, that most sensibly impresses the feeling spectator. So beautiful a picture is given by the poet Thomas, in his Petreide, of the inhabitants of this noble hospital, in the passage in which Peter the Great's visit to it is men- tioned, that we cannot resist transcribing it for the perusal of our readers, particularly as the poem from which it is extracted is, notwithstanding its great merit, comparatively but little known in this country. We have subjoined an English translation of the extract. Vers les bords oii la Seine abandonnant Paris, ' Semble de ces beaux lieux, ou son onde serpente, S'eloigner k regret, et ralentir sa pente, D'lm immense palais le front majestueux Arrondi dans la nue en dome somptueux, S'elfeve et people au loin le rive solitaire. Pierre y porte ses pas. La pompe militaire, Des tonnerres d'airain, des gardes, des soldats. Tout presente a ses yeux I'image des combats. Mais cet ^clat guerrier orne un sejour tranquille. " Tu vols de la valeur, tu vols I'auguste asyle," Lui-dit Le Fort : jadis pour soutenir ses jours, R^duit a mendier d'avilissants secours, Dans un pays ingrat, sauvd par son courage, Le guerrier n'avait pas, au declin de son ^ge, Un asyle pour vivre, un tombeau pour mourir; L'etat qu'il a veng6 daigne enfin le nourrir. Louis h. tons les Rois y donne un grand exemple, — " Entrons," dit le Heros. Tous ^taient dans le Temple. C'etait Fheure oii I'autel fumait d'un pur encens; II entre, et de respect tout a frapp^ ses sens. Ces murs religieux, leur venerable enceinte, Ces vieux soldats epars sous cette voftte Sainte, Les uns levant au ciel leurs fronts cicatrises, D'autres fletris par I'age et de sang epuis^s. Sur leurs genoux tremblants pliant nn corps d^bile, Ceux-ci courbant un front saintement immobile, LIFE IN PARIS. 411 Tandis qu'avec respect sur le marbre inclines, Et plus prfes de I'autel quelques-uns prosternes, Touchaieat I'humble pave de leur tete guerrifere, Et leurs cheveux blanchis roulaient sur la poussifere, Le Czar avec respect les contempla long-temps, *' Que j'aime a voir," dit-il, " ces braves combattants ; Ces bras victorieux, glaces par les annees, Quarante ans de I'Europe ont fait les destines. Restes encor fameux de tant de bataillons, De la foudre «ur vous j'aperpois les sillons. Que vous Hie semblez grands ! Le sceau de la victoire, Sur vos ruines memes imprime encor la gloire ; Je lis tous vos exploits sur vos fronts reveres, Temples de la Valeur, vos debris sont sacres." Bientot ils vont s'asseoir dans une enceinte immense, Ou d'un repas guerrier la frugale abondance Aux depens de I'etat satisfait leur besoin, Pierre de leur repas veut ttve le temoin. Avec eux dans la foule il aime a se confondre, Les suit, les interroge ; «t, fiers de lui repondre, De conter leurs exploits, ces antiques soldats Semblent se rajeunir au recit des combats ; Son belliqueux accent emeut leur fier courage. *' Compagnons," leur dit-il, "jeviensvous rendre hommage ; Car je suis un guerrier, un soldat comme vous ; D'un regard attentif, ils le contemplaient tous, Et son front desarme leur parut redoutable. Tout a coup le Monarque approchant de leur table, Du vin dent l^urs vieux ans rechauffoient leur langueur, Dans un grossier crystal epanche la liqueur, Et la coupe a 1^ main, debout, la t^te nue, ■" Mes braves compagnons," dit-il, " je vous salue ! " 11 boit en mSme temps. Les soldats attendris, A ce noble etranger r^pondent par des oris. Tous ignoraient son nom, son pays, sa naissance, Mais de son fier genie, ils sentaient la puissance ; Leur troupe avec honneur accompagne ses pas, Son rang est inconnu> sa grandeur ne I'est pas. 412 LIFE IN PARIS. Near to the verdant banks wliere winding Seine, Retiring from fair Paris' smiling tow'rs, Seems, slow meand'ring from those beauteous scenes, To linger fondly and retard its course. A noble palace, with majestic front And sumptuous dome, aspiring to the clouds. Rises, and, from its gates, its tenants pours. Peopling from far the solitary shore. Thither the admiring Czar directs his steps. The brazen thunders, military pomp. Guards duly plac'd, and soldiers standing round. All to his eye presents a scene of war. But this parade, this show of glitt'ring arms, Adorn a tranquil, undisturb'd abode. Here, said Le Fort to the attentive Prince, Thou seest the august asylum of the brave. In former days, the warrior, forc'd to beg Degrading succours to sustain his life, III the ungrateful land his valour sav'd, Found not, to solace his declining years, A home to dwell in, or a tomb to die. But now the grateful state supports his age. Louis, to Kings the bright example gives. " Let us then enter," said the hero. All Were in the Temple ; 'twas the solemn hour At which the altar smokes with incense pure ; He enters, and each object he beholds Strikes on his senses with unwonted awe. The hallow'd walls, the venerable pile. The scatter'd vet'rans 'neath its sacred roof — Some their scarr'd foreheads lifting towards heaven. Some bow'd by age, and almost bloodless grown. Bending the feeble frame on trembling knees ; Some with their eyes devoutly downward cast. And front immoveable with sacred awe ; While others, prostrate at the altar, touch'd The lowly pavement with their warlike heads. Their whiten'd hairs rolling upon the dust. The Czar survey 'd them long with mute respect. LIFE IN PARIS. 413 Then, " how it warms my soul," the Prince exclaim'd, " To gaze upon these gallant combatants. These arms victorious, frozen now with years, Which Europe's destinies so long have sway'd. Illustrious remnant of such numerous hosts, Still on your martial frames is visible The noble ravage by war's thunders made ; How truly great you seem ! For victory's seal, E'en on your ruins glory's impress stamps ; I read your exploits on your war-worn brows, Temples of valour, hallow'd in decay ! " Now seated in a vast refectory, The frugal plenty of a warrior's meal. Provided by the state, supplies their wants. Peter delights to witness their repast, To mingle undistinguish'd in the crowd. To follow them, and question of their deeds. Proud to reply, and dwell on their exploits, These vet'ran sons of many a hard-fought field, Amid the tales of battles, seem to glow With martial fire and renovated youth. His warlike tone, their haughty courage stirs, *' Comrades," he cries, " I here my homage pay. Like you a warrior, and a soldier I ! " All turn and eye him with attentive look, And formidable seems his unarm'd front. The monarch, to their table drawing near. Fills a huge crystal goblet high with wine. That serv'd to warm the vet'rans' languid age, And, with his head uncover'd, standing up. Raises the liquor to his lips, and cries, " My gallant comrades, I salute you all ! " Then drinks. The soldiers, by his frankness touch'd, Answer the noble stranger with their shouts. None knew his name, his country, or his birth. But all the influence of his genius felt. Their band with honour follow in his train, His rank is secret, but his greatness known. 414 I-If*^ IN PARIS. One of the most touching spectacles which this establish- ment presents is the sight of those whom the privations inci- dent to war have disqualified from conveying food to their mouths, fed by the hands of careful and officious attend- ants. These sad remains of the senseless fury of battles, these bodies of whom, according to the pathetic expression of the poet, " the tomb already possesses one half," cannot here, at least, accuse their country of a criminal indifference to their sufferings in her cause. The mildness of an indulgent government has likewise been shown to the invalids, by doing away, in the residence consecrated to their declining years, with the rigours of too austere a discipline. Indeed, since this establishment is an asylum of peace and repose; since it is a reward for past services, a compensation for past sufferings, it is but just that it should be freed from those stern and severe regula- tions which are adapted for soldiers engaged in war and the duties of the camp. Much, however, as our hero was gratified with the bene- volent principle and general regulations of this retreat of the brave, he had time to make his observations and re- flexions on some imperfections, from which, indeed, no institution can be expected to be wholly exempt, but which, in the present instance, are very striking to an attentive spectator of the establishment. This vast building is of stone ; the veteran soldier is shut up within thick walls. The vaults, where the sun scarcely penetrates, even in summer, appear to render this great place very cold, very gloomy, very tiresome for old age. Long ranges of buildings, dark staircases, chilly corridors, impress an air of sadness upon this grand edifice. LIFE IN PARIS, 415 The soldiers may be said to be lodged here pell-mell, and it has been impossible to establish neatness in the spacious halls. Neither does the same spirit oi fraternity exist here as in camps. Every one seems isolated, and the most abso^ lute indifference reigns among beings formerly so united. There is no longer the danger of battles, the society of arms, nor the weight of fatigue to sustain ; the regiments, too, are mingled, and the soldiers no longer recognise each other. Hence, there is little reciprocity of benefits ; the military spirit exhibits itself only in reveries upon past glory ; this retreat offering no road to preferment, its inha- bitants live but for the present, and indulge in the recol- lection of phantoms of the past. This isolation is likewise increased by the kindness with which the war-administration has allowed to these veterans a number of little innocent liberties that enable every one of them to make his arrangements according to his own discretion ; a peculiar advantage which no imposition of general laws could embrace. This conduct, on the part of the government, is equally wise and humane ; for, since repose is the proffered boon, these soldiers should enjoy it in its full extent; it is, indeed, their principal recompense. Dick was much pleased with the kitchen arrangements, which are, indeed, unrivalled ; the immense coppers, the almost innumerable spits, the prompt and equal distribution of the dishes, are no less surprising to the eye of a stran- ger. The manner of serving the wine in the chopines (half- pint measures) to each soldier, has in it a something rapid and peculiar, which astounds the eye. But, so much are men the natural enemies of all restrictive rules, that these invalids scarcely appear at the refectory, except to carry away their assigned portion. They afterwards barter it, 416 LIFE IN PARIS. and share it as they please, and this liberty, which satisfies all tastes, prevents a thousand complaints. Experience proves, that small enjoyments without constraint gratify all men, and are universally preferred to any that could be offered them under fixed regulations, Dick might have continued much longer to express his admiration and indulge his reflections, in a place so well calculated to inspire both, had not his attention been sud- denly diverted to other objects, by the entrance of Sam, who whispered in his master's ear, that Mademoiselle Clau- tftwe had just arrived. Our hero had for some time been rather impatiently expecting her, as it was already consi^ derably past the hour mentioned in the Marchioness's letter. Sam could, perhaps, have cleared up the mystery of this delay, had he thought proper ; the fact being that he had himself detained Claudine in very interesting and close conversation for more than half an hour. The trusty valet having some small affairs to adjust with the engaging dam- sel, probably thought it right to go through with them in the first instance, in order that his master's business might afterwards be the better discussed without fear of inter- ruption ; or, possibly, he was unwilling to interrupt the latter too abruptly in his interesting visit to the invalids. Whatever might have been the motives of Sam's conduct, he did not think it necessary to advert to them before his master, when the latter expressed his surprise at the Marchioness's maid being so much later than the appointed hour, and his hopes that the circumstance might not prove the omen of a second disappointment. Dick had not proceeded far in company with his valet, before he found the faithful emissary of love and willing- beauty in waiting to deliver her mistress's message to him. LIFE IN PARIS. 417 Claudine informed our hero that the Marchioness had re- turned from her excursion to the environs ; that the Marquis was certainly out on business, which would render his re- turn altogether out of the question for the night; that, in consequence, her mistress trusted she should have the pleasure of Mr. Wildfire's company about half-past nine that evening-, when she would be alone, and at home to him. Thefemme de chambre likewise said, that she was commis- sioned to deliver her mistress's kindest regards to Mr. Wildfire, but that the former considered a verbal message, on the present occasion, a much safer channel of communi- cation than an epistolary one. Claudine concluded by in- forming our hero that he was to make his entree by the same way as before ; and that ample precautions had been taken to prevent the recurrence of any unwelcome interruption. Every thing now seemed to favour Dick's hopes of suc- cess; he remunerated the lovely and love-bearing messenger with a liberality that left her no reason to regret her share in the transaction, and gallantly sealed his donation with a salute of the fair Claudine, which conduct Sam, whose attachment to the Demoiselle was not so ardent as to render him miserable at finding " Cassio's kisses on her lips," took the liberty of imitating. They then took leave of the suivante ; Sam was dismissed with directions to meet his master,, properly provided, at the appointed hour, at the Marchioness's gate; and our hero sauntered towards the Palais Royal, intending to dine at one of the restaurateurs, and while away the time till the " shepherd's hour" should arrive. As he passed along, his attention was attracted by a ludicrous, but characteristic, incident. The rage which prevails among the Parisians for giving something of a 18 3h 418 LIFE IN PARIS. military air to almost every species of dress, is quite pro- verbial. This whimsical inclination extends itself even to- children's clothing-, who are often, in consequence of it, travestied in a very singular and ridiculous manner. A lady, who was walking a few paces before Dick, was accom- panied by her son, a child scarcely three years old, but equipped completely en militaire^ " From head to foot, my Lord; from top to toe." The mamma, too, was a little in the same style, making allowance for the diflference of sex. Her hat and feathers were modelled upon the hussar cut, and the buttons and trimming of her dress had evidently been contrived with a view to a military appearance. But while the fond parent was gazing with ecstacy on her darling oflPspring, whom she doubtlessly viewed as an embryo general, a diminutive puppy, attracted probably by the singular appearance of the little hero, stepped forward, and assailed him with a shrill peal of barking, or rather yelping, which made the infant warrior shrink back, with tearful jaegper*, from so formidable an antagonist. LIFE IN PARIS. 419 The anxious mamma's alarms for her dear pet made her forget the necessary proceeding of endeavouring to remove the object of his fears ; but DiCK, stepping forward, quickly compelled the noisy animal to take to its heels, and thus restored calm tranquillity to the bosoms of mother and son. He then proceeded to the restaurateur's without interrup- tion, w^here we shall leave him for the present, and turn our attention to what has been passing at the Hdtel Meurice. 420 J^ri'P' IN PARIS. CHAP. XX. Jenkins the Bringer of lad Tidings — Domestic Affliction — Interrogative Duett ; its pleasing Effects on the Listener— Lady Halibut in Hysterics— The Knight and Squire in search of Lydia — Dick's Adventure in the Cafe — Unexpected Restitution, and a Riddle to solve — The lost Sheepfound-^JjYBiA's Narrative— A suspected Character placed in its true Light. Our readers will of course recollect that, at the unlucky moment of Lady Halibut's entrusting- her daughter to the sole care and vigilance of Squire Jenkins, her Ladyship, accompanied by Sir Humphrey, proceeded home in a fiacre. The good lady, while in the vehicle, could not re- frain from some expressions of exultation at the general- ship she had evinced in contriving a clear stage for her expected son-in-law ; and it was with some degree of dis- pleasure that she perceived, or, at least, thought she per- ceived, that the monosyllabic replies of her husband were uttered in a tone by no means indicative of any particular gratification at his consort's exploit. Her feelings, on this subject, were on the point of expressing themselves with the energy belonging to her character, when the arrival of their fiacre at the Hotel, for a time, interrupted the tide of conversation, and the serving up of refreshments, for which their excursion of the morning had given both parties a tolerable inclination, postponed the consideration of all less LIFE IN PARIS. 421 important matters to the weighty concern of supplying the importunate cravings of appetites, which, in the case of tFie good Knight and his spouse, could generally boast of a " hungry edge" not easily to be cloj^ed. When, however, as Virgil, in his ^Eneid, happily phraseth it, " Compressu^ amor edendi," the desire of eating was repressed ; in other words, when the worthy pair had put in some pretty effectual stoppers to the demands of the prog- closet, my lady, who was inferior to none of her lovely sex in her pertinacious pursuit of any object on which she had set her mind, returned to the charge, if not exactly " like a giant refreshed with wine," yet with spirits that were yndoubtedly much invigorated by the attentions she had been paying to the viands before her. Sir Humphrey had always entertained a strong par- tiality for his nephew ; and, though no human being could have less of mercurial temperament than himself, yet, strange as it may appear, Dick's *' hair-breadth scrapes''* and innumerable mad pranks and adventures had served rather to confirm than to weaken his uncle's predilection for him. The Knight, too, though not critically versed in ** Cupid's lore," was not altogether a stranger to the little god's bewitching influence, as the adventure of the fair barbiere may have shown. He could, therefore, enter a little into similar feelings on the part of others. He thought that he had long observed in his nephew a penchant for Lydia, and that the young lady did not appear particu- larly averse from returning it ; and the kind-hearted Sir HujViPHREY had often, in his own mind, felt much pleasure * The reading of a provincial aetor of some celebrity. ' 422 J^^^^^ ^N PARIS. in the idea of seeing^ his daughter and Dick united at some future period, though both the youth of the one party and the unsteadiness of the other made him not anxious to hurry on such an event. Lady Halibut, on the contrary, had never in her heart been very much a friend to Dick. His too great vivacity and restlessness of character had always been great faults in the eyes of his aunt ; and she was the more disposed to view this part of his character in an unfavourable light, as she was aware that she herself had not always been ex- empted from becoming the subject of his waggery. His attentions to Lydia had not escaped her Ladyship's obser- vation ; but the very respect and politeness he now showed for his aunt, contrasted with his former occasional neglect of her, only rendered him more the object of her displea- sure, as she was conscious that she was indebted to h^ daughter for this change in Dick's manner. She did not, however, suspect the truth that Lydia was attached to her cousin, for the young lady, knowing her mother's un- favourable dispositions towards her lover, was extremely careful to keep her real feelings a secret from the former. From the time i\i2X Squire Jenkins was first introduced to the Halibut family, her Ladyship marked him for Lydia's future husband; but, having some suspicions of Sir Humphrey's inclination to favour Dick's pretensions, she had not imparted her views to her husband till having, as she thought, brought her plans pretty well to bear, she imagined she might do so with safety. ■'le--,"^ -it *io«|if She now, hoWever, developed to 5j> Humphrey her pro- ject in all its details, not omitting sundry commendations of her own skill and sagacity in having brought matters into LIFE IN PARIS. 423 such a state of forwardness, that there was every reason to anticipate a successful termination. Her husband, though groaning in spirit, had not courage to utter in reply to his wife's able exposition more of his real sentiments than, " But;^ my dear, don't you think there's summat like something of a liking for each other between DiCK and our LiDDY ?" Her Ladyship assured the Knight that there was not the slightest foundation for such a conjecture ; that she was confident her daughter had too much sense to think of any such thing; and that as for their nephew's palaver- ing and nonsense, 'twas just his way with all young women. That, even supposing Dick had any serious notion of his cousin, such a wild young man could be no fit husband for her ; and that it was their bounden duty, as parents, not to shut their eyes to their daughter's interests, when she had a chance of getting such a man as the master of Tallyho- Hall. Lady HALIBUT then began trumpetting forth most loudly the praises of the Squire. It seemed as if no particu- lar was likely to escape her: his mansion and his manners ; his breeding and his bull-dogs ; his graces and his grey- hounds ; all would probably have come in for their respec- tive share of commendation, had not the thread of her Ladyship's discourse been cut short in the very middle of it, by the subject of her elegant eulogium, JetiinQL .,-" Aye, you may smile as lyo© chuse," replied Jenkins, '* but, by the Lord Harry, it is no laughing matter to me to be thus assailed, on both sides, by a pair of designing demireps from the kitchen, eager to make a prey of me, and force me into marriage ; but, before I will submit to enter the noose of matrimony with either of these low-sprung Dulcineas, I will tuck myself up on the highest tree in Tallyho-Park." " Well, but what are you to do," asked Dick, " in order to avoid the annoyance of two such plagues ?" *' Why that is pre- cisely what I wish to know from you," retorted Jenkins. "^ One of two alternatives seems inevitable," said Dick. ** And what is that," eagerly asked Jenkins. " Hang or inarry," was the answerhe got from the provoking Wildfire. »fei»B** ojttfia^b eJMfoeiwrii na ti) •^fliiartU lim^* ^^ ** I cannot marry them both," growled forth JenkinS; ,^*^<^ne would be sujfficient to drive me to distraction. To be sure J did hint something about marriage to that French gipsy; but then I believed her in reality to be a Countess, and not the quondam chambermaid of Meurice's H6tel, whose fa- vours could have been bought by any one for a five-franc piece, ■^hy, my good fellow, were I matched to such a Frenchified Diana as this same Troquercoeurs, I should be rewarded for my addresses, like poor Acteon, with such a branching head of horns, before the honeymoon was half over, that I LIFE IN PARIS. 4^ should be hunted to death by my own dogs. Then, as to that impudent baggage at the Hall, who gets brats in the dog-kennel, and calls them mine, do you think I shall ever set her down at the top of my table, or father her low-begot bastards? — Never, never, while my name is Watkin Ap Jenkins." ** Then you must pay for your pleasure another way," said Dick. ** Parish officers and French lawyers have a strong desire jpowr T argent. Come, cheer up, my wonted gay Lo- thario ; do not allow yourself to be cast down by the impo- sition of a French intriguante, or the cunning ambition of a scrubbing wench. Thank your forefathers that they have given you a good estate, which enables you to pay for your seductions like a gentleman, — a thing, I assure you, not very common in these days. Come, let us see what our friends are about in the sitting-room." This advice tended much to dissipate the cloud that had darkened the visage of the love-professing owner of Tallyho-Hall, and both the sparks joined the company of the ladies with their usual iilarity.- ,b>Ladg Halibut and Sir Humphrey had been seri- ously thinking of an immediate departure from Paris. But how unstable are the purposes of the human heart ! A show, a shower, a dinner, or a card-party, shall have the power to alter the best formed resolutions; — but who can withstand the prospect of honour, the blandishments of no- bility, and an invitation to court? Lady Halibut was in raptures. She rose to meet the gentlemen, and tripped towards them like a miss of sixteen. "O ! Dick," cried she, ** you don't know who has been here, and what new honours awaits us. We can't stir this week, — that is certain. The Marquis of Shambleshajtks has done us the honour to call this 470 LIIE IN PARIS. morning to apologize for what he politely calls his too particular attentions to Lydia ; [Plague on such politeness, interrupt- DiGK. D— — n such particular attentions, muttered Jen- i^INS;] and has, by, way of making amends, offered to present me and Sir HuMPHREy at Court. Oh, you cannot conceive, said she, looking at Jenkins, how I am frightened at the idea of seduction ! I look upon a seducer as upon a devouring monster; (here Jenkins began to wince, and think on his own transgressions ;) but, added her Ladyship, as his Lordship did no harm to Lydia, after all, and is sensible of his fault, I see not why we may not accept his offer, it is so honourable and enchanting ; besides he is a Marquis, you know, and high in favour with the King." " I am glad to see your Ladyship of so forgiving a temper," said Dick ; " there are hopes for you yet, Jenkins, (turning towards the Squire, J you see it is no disgrace to be a seducer, — especially, if he be a Marquis." Lady Halibut did not choose to comprehend the sneer contain- ed in these words; it was evidenlj she had made up her mind to sport her figure among the belles of the first quality in the drawing-room of the Tuileries. Lydia's heart was alive to the sensation that actuated the breast of her mother; but, alas! delicacy prevented poor Lydi4 from being of the favoured party. Sir Humphrey had no great relish for appearing at Court ; but, as it would please his lady to manifest no reluctanqe to this flattering invita- tion, he silently acquiesced with her will. No time was to be lost in procuring dresses for the great occasion. Cards were immediately sent round to the principal dress-makers and milliners ; but, as Lady Halibut had economy in all her views, she determined, in the first place, to go a shopping for an hour, as the ladies do in Bond-Street, reviewing tb^ patient mercer's goods, whether they have any intention to purchase or not. Taking Lydia with her, and, desiring LIFE IN PARIS. 4T1 Dick and Jenkins to follow them as their cicisbeos, she led the way into the Rue St. Honore, where, though an ample field for choice, nothing met her Ladyship's approbation. Anxious to get to the Rue Vivienne, " half-bewildered in their way," they entered the Passage de Feydeau, where a number of saleable curiosities diverted, for a time, Lady Halibut's attention : a slight sketch of this thoroughfare is given in the following engraving. •iUiihv While the ladies were thus engaged, their cavalier ser- vantes were amusing themselves, as they passed along, with whatever objects offered to their view. At the corner of a dark alley, ovef the door of a house, they reaid a very flattering representation of the amusements to be found within. The bucks immediately entered, and found it a house for billiards, or, rather, for taking in the simpletons that strayed that way. Several of the French Greeks were on the watch for their prey, and eagerly welcomed our strangers to the table. Dick and the Squire were, however, aufait to the manoeuvre ; Dick's thumb, significantly ap- plied to his nose, instantly indicated that he smelt out the trick, while the sarcastic grin of Jenkins, over his shoulder, told the disappointed Monsieurs that he was no flat to be 472 I^^FE IN PARIS. taken in that net. Retiring from this den of sharpers, the friends again explored their way into day-light and liberty, remarking, that such were the scenes of life to be met with in almost every street and alley in Paris. Meantime, the ladies had proceeded to the Rue Vivienne, where they had contrived, in a very little time, and for no great purpose, to give the poor shop-keepers, as they say, a world of trouble. Expecting, however, to have a levee of the handmaids of fashion at home, by the time they should get there, they returned in haste to Meurice's. On their arrival, they found the sitting-room half-filled with milliners, dress-makers, perriqueres, plnmiseurs, &c. Every thing pre- sented to her Ladyship's alteniion was the very tip-top of the fashion, and every one of the artizans present were, according to their own accounts, fournisseurs for the Court, or patronized by the Royal Family. The choice of her Ladyship^ s wedding-dress was not a more puzzling matter than that of the robes which she had now to select. Every one, of course, supposed that she would choose to be dressed a la mode, et a la cour, but Lady Halibut had, somehow or other, imbibed a notion that an evident attachment to the ancient regime would greatly recommend her to the restored monarch. The Revolution which had caused so many changes in the political face of Europe, had also effected a complete alteration in the fashions and dress of the French nation ; but a Court, professing attachment to the ancient order of things. Lady Halibut reasoned, could not be displeased to see some relics of former fashions brought again into view. Thus laudably actuated, and with some images of a picture of the celebrated Madame Main- tenon, which she had seen at the Louvre, running in her head, she set about to make her election from the magazine of goods scattered before her. Her first choice was a robe LIFE IN PARIS. 473 of purple silk, richly ornamented with a profusion of lace, and a petticoat of French lafFety, of a salmon colour, which her Ladyship selected from its being spangled all over as thick as the specks on a trout's belly. The train was made appropriately to correspond with the robe, and was of suffi- cient length to sweep the ground two or three yards behind her. Her Ladyship's next consideration was for the cos- tume necessary for her head and heels. Her wig was de- livered into the triple care of the perriquier, the plumasier, and the milliner, who were each to do their best endeavour to adorn it in tasteful unison with the dress she had just fixed on. The cordonnier fitted her Ladyship with a pair of shoes manufactured of a striated changeable silk, composed of dark green and blue, which might not be inaptly com- pared to the back of a new* mackerel. i Her Ladyship fain would have appeared en hoop, but at the mention of hoops the whole assembly of artizans in petti- coats lifted up their hands, and declared that the hoop had been long exploded, never, they hoped, to be restored, amidst all the revolutions of fashion ; for it was an article of dress of the most inconvenient kind, as inimical to gallantry as h \fQ.s unnatural; nay, they even asserted that whoever should appear in public now, surrounded by such an incum- brance, would be believed to labour under the affliction of the dropsy. " Drop here, drop there," exclaimed Lady ; .Halibut, '* it is my opinion there were fewer crim. cons. ^^^&nd faux paws in fashionable life, when the hoop was in use, than there are now, for it was not so easy for ravishers and seducers to succeed where the citadel of virtue was guarded by a triple row of whalebone. Now, God help us! we * New, fresh. — ^Vide the Billingsgate vocabulaiy.. 20 . 3p 474 LIFE IN PAULS. women of virtue, we have nothing to protect us but our own good consciences." With this sage reflection, learned in the school of the Blues, Lad^j Halibut concluded the choice of her dress, and dismissed the subservient crowd that awaited her pleasure. The decoration of Sir Humphrey would have next en- gaged attention, but it never entered the good Knight's head that any preparation or alteration, on the score of dress, was necessary on his part. In the reverential costume of an English Justice of the Peace, he conceived he might appear, with propriety, anywhere. Had Sir Humphrey been aware that the meditated appearance at the Tuileries -would have occasioned half the expense it had already done, the prudent Baronet would sooner have made a dive into the Seine than complied with the Marquis's invitation. Let us follow up our game while we have it in view : the important day that was to exhibit Sir Humphrey Halibut, fishmonger, of Scalesby-Park, and his Lady, of fashionable notoriety, in the Salon de Trone of the Tuileries, at length arrived. After much labour, Lady Halibut was arrayed in all her glory. By the help of a copious application of paint, and the variegated nature of her dress, she appeared a beauty of a peculiar genus, partaking so much of the rara avis, that, after searching the whole of God's creation, for any thing wherewith to match her, you would have truly exclaimed, with the owner of the elephant, " None but herself can be her parallel." We pass over the smiles of DiCK, the sneers of Jen- kins, and the mingled feelings of pity and regret expe- rienced by Lydia, when her Ladyship burst upon their LIFE IN PARIS. 475 view, adorned as we have described, and impatient for a Court appearance. Sir Humphrey, with becoming mo- desty, had simply attired himself in the costume wherein he appeared on the bench of the quarter sessions ; wearing, at the same time, that inseparable gravity of look with which he passed sentence on all the rogues and vagabonds that came before him. The Marquis's carriage rattled into the court ; the heart of Lady Halibut fluttered at the sound ; in a moment his Lordship entered the room, and beheld, with astonishment, the strange and uncouth looking pair whom he had undertaken to present to the most polished and fashionable court in Europe. Time, however, did not admit of any alteration being made in his protegees' appearance. Lady Halibut, having already fortified herself with a double dose of cherry-bounce, and Sam Sharp being ap- pointed to act as page or train-bearer to her Ladyship, the Marquis drove oflf with his company, and, in a few minutes, reached the Palace of the Tuileries. Conducted by the Marquis into the first state apartment, they found the Pre- mier Gentilhomme in waiting, but it was yet too early for pre- sentation ; this being the case, the Marquis inquired whe- ther his protegees would like to amuse themselves, until his Majesty appeared, with a view of the interior of the palace; being answered in the aflHrmative, the Premier Gentilhomme deputed a state-oflScer to show them the principal apart- ments unoccupied by the Royal Family. In the mean time, the Marquis begged permission to leave them for a little, as he had something to say to one of the marshals, but solemnly assured them he would return in time to execute his office of presenting them to the King. This satisfied Lady Halibut's rising fears of disappointment, and the officer led the way into the state apartments ; in passing, they had a peep into the Salle des Marechaux, or Saloon of 476 Ltl'E IN PARIS. the Marshals, which occupies the whole of the centra! pavilion. This Salle has a balcony towards the court, or square de Carousel, and another towards the garden. It contains a series of full-length portraits of the Marshals of France, and several busts of French generals, who died in battle. The ceiling is decorated with caissons, and com- partments of ornaments, painted in grisaille. The first room after the Salle des Marechaux, is the Salle des Nobles, originally the Salle des Gardes. The ceiling, in vaults, is decorated with low-reliefs, in grisaille, set off with gold, representing marches of troops, battles, and ancient triumphs ; the whole surrounded by ornaments, with differ- ent allegorical figures allusive to warlike virtues. As they approached the Salle de Trone, or Saloon of the Throne, although assured that his Majesty had not yet entered the Chamber of Audience, the knees of our awe-struck strangers, seemed, by their trembling, already disposed to perform a most obedient genuflection. This room was formerly the King's chamber; the throne, placed opposite the window, where the bed was formerly, is surmounted by a canopy, with hangings of crimson velvet, sprinkled with Jleur de lis, and bordered with gold fringes : the whole is suspended to a large crown of laurel and oak, enchased in gold, surmounted by a helm, with plumes of white feathers. The seat of the throne, raised on a flight of three steps, covered with a carpet of crimson velvet, is decorated with sculptured ornaments and ^oMJleur de lis, on a blue ground. The room is hung with Gobelin tapestry. The principal subject of the ceiling, painted by Flamel, is Religion protecting France, with all the attributes Mi^hich characterize that kingdom and its sovereign. After the Salle de Trone, they took a glance of the king's cabinet, but here, though the ornaments are very superb, little was fpuw.d.to interest the taste of our unlearned visiters. LIFE IN PA Ills. 477 At the extremity of the grand apartments is the gallery of Diana. The pictures which adorn the ceiling are chiefly copies of those in the Farnese gallery at Rome, and were executed there by the pupils of the French Academy. This gallery served formerly for the reception of ambassadors. Mirrors, opposite the windows and at the two extremities, seem to increase its extent and richness by the repetition of the objects which adorn it. The Appartement de Service is immediately behind the gallery of Diana, and the halls which terminate the grand apartment ; it looks on the garden, and the entrance is by the great staircase, near the Pavilion de Flore. An anti- chamber, serving as a salle des gardes, two saloons, the private cabinet of the King, a second cabinet, the bed- room, and a dressing-room with its dependencies, compose the peculiar habitation of the King. The apartments appropriated to the Queens of France, on the ground floor, are less magnificent and of a less ele- vated proportion than those of the King above them. A diflference of style and a lightness of ornament prevail in them, which are very agreeable, and executed with good taste. Lady Halibut now began to express her apprehensions, that they were going too far; the rattling of coaches into the court-yard convinced her that the company were fast assembling, added to which their conductor informed her that the levee would now almost immediately take place ; they therefore hastily returned along the gallery, and were ushered into a saloon where the company were assembled that were to receive the honour of presentation. The eyes of this assembly were instantly turned on our happy pair with as much curiosity and surprize as if they had beheld 478 LIFE IN t'ARlS. a couple of natives from New Zealand or Otaheite. Here, while waiting impatiently for the Marquis, Sir Humphrey observed a gentleman of the Court, who acted as a kind of master of the ceremonies, eyeing him with a look that seemed to bode him no good ; at length this keen observer, stepping up to the Baronet, inquired if he expected to have the honour of presentation. Being answered in the affirmative, with no very gracious look in return, and, What is that to you, sir, growled back by the nettled Justice, the officer of state politely gave his worship to understand, that he could not possibly be presented in the costume he wore. This was a piece of information that placed the Baronet in a very unpleasant predicament. The vexation that it produced in the mind of Lady Halibut appeared in colours of anger, even through the deep layer of paint spread over her face. What was to be done in this situation, and how could the Marquis overlook so important an ob- stacle ; it seemed as if fate resolved to place an insur- mountable bar between the good Knight, and the honour that seemed so near him. His rib dictated an instant retirement, on the part of her spouse, for the purpose of purchasing a Court dress, and the Master of the Cere- monies having whispered to the disappointed Justice, as he withdrew, that plenty of court dresses ready-made were to be had in the Palais Royale, Sir Humphrey, accom- panied by Sam Sharp, set off full speed to Monsieur Haut-de-Chausses, where, by the help of that renowned tailor's costumometre, he got correctly equipped in a few moments. Returning to the Tuileries, and taking his sta- tion beside his spouse, who was delighted to remark the sudden alteration in his appearance, he was found com- pletely en regie, and the Master of the Ceremonies politely tendered his excuses for the interference which duty im- posed upon him. LIFE IN PARIS. 479 At that moment the Marquis returned, and expressed his agreeable surprize at the change in Sir Humphrey's habiliments. Presently, no small stir was created amongst the assembly of expectants, who waited the summons from the throne, notice was given that his Majesty was ready to receive such as desired audience. At this information, the whole crowd, male and female, passed between files of soldiers to the presence-chamber, where his Majesty was seated upon the throne. As soon as Sir Humphrey got a glance at the monarch, he exclaimed, " God bless his jolly face ; he looks as if he was as good a friend to the bottle and sir-loin as myself." The ceremony of presen- tation now commenced, when each nobleman presented his protegees, individually, announcing their names as they passed. The King received those who were presented with a bow ; when it came to the turn of our pair, the Marquis led them forward into view ; at the sight of Lady Halibut, his Majesty seemed to be seized with an irresistible inclination to allow his customary gracious smile to burst out in a vulgar horse-laugh, in which propensity the whole Court seemed disposed to join ; etiquette^ however, forbade this. My Lord Shambleshanks remarked the prevalence of this impression, and, eager to put an end to his disagreeable task, beckoned Sir Humphrey to approach at the same time. This the Baronet did with such celerity, that ere the Marquis had announced the name of his wife, and her Ladyship had made her best curtsy, in return to the royal bow, Sir Humphrey was treading on her train. Unfor- tunate disrespect to ladies superfluity of garments ! flounces, and the finest flourishes of the dress-maker's art, were trodden under foot ; and when our walking mermaid began to move, she did it with such an air, that she had nearly tripped on the floor at the foot of the throne, and left the half of her train behind her. This accident almost con- 480 LIFE IN PARIS. vulsed the Court; for not to have smiled now "was past all gravity of face." Leaving Sir Humphrey in motionless astonishment, the Marquis instantly proceeded to the assistance of her Lady- ship ; he advised her to withdraw, but she refused to move until joined by Sir Humphrey ; the Knight seeing him- self alone, without an introducer, paid his respects in the best manner he could to the King, and stalked up to his discontented rib with this address : ** my dear Tahitha, this comes of your monstrous long tail; you would surpass every one else in this ridiculous fashion, and you now see what has come of it." Her Ladyship was not without a budget of recriminatory matters ready to pour forth on the devoted head of the offending Knight ; the Marquis pre- vented any discharge of this kind at present. The pre- sentations were speedily over, when the King, going up to Lady Halibut, most graciously expressed his concern for the misfortune she had sustained, and, taking Sir Hum- phrey by the hand, recommended him to her Ladyship's pardon, hoping that she would forgive the injury he had thus unintentionally done to her tail. His Majesty then retired ; the company were now gathering in circles about this odd couple, " wondering how the devil they came there." The Marquis seeing the inconvenience that might be occasioned by this excess of curiosity hurried off his protegees, and, pleading another engagement in a different direction from their Hotel, bid them adieu, leaving them to the escort of Sam Sharp, who soon conducted them, by the Rue de Rivoli, into the Hdtel des Londres. LIFE IN"t>A1li^. 481««^'< baa .h^joiu-'^dpmm&iq.dmiw m nmmo^ orij has • 1.0 Brnfijioi- yoBtti m wdMw ,«iioq /; .- c > > r ;v isf^ i,^GHAP. XXIII. ^ VmXpected DiMppedfaiice of Dick and IaYbia — Jenki'Ns, -^f also, no where to he found— Sir Humphrey and Lady > Halibut again in Trouble — A Visit to the Temple of Hymen — Nothing so convenient as the Gretna-Green in Paris — Return of the Fugitives, a married Pair — Re- appearance of Jenkins, and Captain O'Shuffleton -^Marriage Festivity — Departure of the Party from ' Paris — Conclusion of the Narrative. ^ Lady Halibut no sooner reached the Hdtel, than she flew to her own apartment, and took a double dose of cherry- bounce, — some say it was real cogniac, but this we will not pretend to determine. After making some suitable altera- tions in her dress, she descended to the apartment where she expected to find DiCK and Lydia, not forgetting Jenkins, waiting their return. Provoking neglect! no one was present to welcome them from Court, and to give them joy on their honours ; even Sir Humphrey had dis- appeared like the rest of his relatives ; but the Baronet was soon discovered, seated beside a joint of roast beef, into which he was making deep incision, frequently accompany- ing the welcome viand with copious draughts of his favour- ite port. He had already banished from his mind all uneasy thoughts respecting what had happened at Court ; and as for the absence of DicK and Lydia, it never oc- curred to his thoughts that there was any thing uncommon 21 3q 482 LIFE IN PARIS. in it. Lady Halibut, however, was extremely restless and impatient on this point ; she wanted somebody to whom she could relate all that had taken place at the presentation, to vent her bursting heart against Sir Humphrey for his rudeness, to tell of all she had seen in the Palace, to enlarge in descriptions of the ladies' dresses, and to boast of the peculiar notice she had received from the King. What could be more distressing to a communicative mind than to be obliged to keep all these important events to one- self ? Besides, another disturbing consideration rose to her Ladyship's mind in thinking of Lydia. Ever since the iabduction of that young lady by the Marquis, her Ladyship had, as she expressed to Jenkins, entertained a strong ap- prehension of seducers, and she wanted the friendly bosom of the Squire, into which she might pour her horror of such characters. The conduct of the Marquis had not al- together pleased her during the occurrences of the day; his absences from them, and sudden, or, rather, disrespectful manner of leaving them, showed that he had some object in view. My Lord Shamhleshanks was, therefore, still viewed hy her Ladyship Mvith suspicion. It was true she had reason to believe that Lydia was under the protection of her cousin Dick, and Jenkins might be with them ; bnl still, as time flew, and no oiae appeared, her anxiety increa-^ sed until she could no longer refrain from breaking in upon the bland refection which Sir Humphrey was enjoying^, and insisting on his going with her in search of the missing parties. Sir Humphrey was at length obliged to comply, but whither were they to proceed— where to seek for the absentees? Jenkins seemed to be the only person likely to know any thing of the motions of the cousins ; they, therefore, proceeded directly to the Squire's H6tel, but found not one of the party of whom they were in search. The only thing they learned wasj that the Squire had gone LIFE IN PARTS. 483 to view a stud of horses that were to be sold at some of the stable-keepers, a circumstance that seemed to prove he was not in company with Dick and Lydia. This was still more bewildering to the ancient couple ; they knew of no business or engagement that could draw Dick or Lydia abroad at that hour, for it was now getting late in the even- ing, and Lydia never ventured to be absent from the company of her mother without first soliciting permission. Where next to seek for information they knew not. After many ineffectual attempts to trace the fugitives, the disap- pointed pair returned to their H6tel, resolving to leave Paris as soon as their party should again be re-united. The moment they entered their apartment, Dick and Lydia, who had previously arrived, and were in waiting for them, stepped forward, and falling on their knees before the Baronet and his Lady craved their forgiveness for the step they had just taken. " Why, Dick," interrupted the Knight, " your motions are often very strange and unac- countable; yon have certainly given us a great deal of trouble in seeking you ; and you^ Lydia, have been the cause of much alarm and distress to the heart of your af- fectionate mother, by being absent so long without her per- mission or knowledge. But why this uncommon ceremony, Dick, — why crave pardon in this supplicating manner ? hast not been getting into any more scrapes, I hope?" " I fear I have," replied Dick. ** Bless me," exclaimed Lady Halibut, " what an unfortunate young man you are." ** I have been taking," continued Wildfire, " this young lady to wife without your permission, and we are now, by the rites of the Church, a married pair." " Lydia mar- ried!" exclaimed ia«?y Halibut, " and without asking ray leave, or saying a word about it, — monstrous ! monstrous ingratitude ! you ought to be ashamed of yourself, Lydia, for thinking of such a thing at your age. — A girl not out of her teens to choose a husband, and marry him, too, 484 ^^^^ IN PARIS. without consulting the parent that knows most about these matters !— never was such impudence. When I went to marry your father, I went with as much regularity and order ks I used to go to market. «S^iV Humphrey, I cannot for- give this monstrous disobedience, and you are a silly man if you do." ** But remember, Lady Halibut," replied Sir Humphrey, " who it is she has chosen— it is no whipper- snapper Dandy or ruined Lord that seeks for support by cousining women of fortune ; Dick has already secured to himself a handsome independence, of which I am the trustee. Lydi A will also be independent of us in a few i^toonths, by virtue of the fortune she inherits from her aunt ; ^'jBO that Dick, with the good sense and experience he has - obtained, may, after all, prove as proper a husband for our ''^daughter as any you could cast your eyes upon." '* But, - then, think of the girl's presumption and disobedience in 'taking such an important step without consulting me." ' '* Phoo, phoo," exclaimed 5ir Humphrey, "it is now of no use to harbour resentment, the thing is done and can't be undone. You know I was very much blamed for marrying you, on account of your insuf , but let us forget that as well sts the couple before us." Lydia, at this instant extend- ing her hand to her mother, with tears in her eyes, seeming to say, I know my desar mother cannot long entertain hatred againsjt her daughter. Lady Halibut could not resist the impulse of affection ; she clasped Lydia in her arms, and both she and Sir Humphrey poured out their forgiveness and benediction on the newly-wedded pair. Dick's affection for his fair cousin was stronger than he himself was aware: ever since the attempt of the Marquis on the object of his regard, he had been more pressing in his suit, and watchful of an opportunity of securing to him- self the prize to which he looked with a lover's anxiety. The absence of the old couple at Court afforded the wished- LIFE IN PARIS. 485 for occasion of confirming those ties which bound the hearts of this yoilthful pair. To cut short delays, Dick proposed immediately to repair to the Ambassador's chapel, and the gentle Lydia could not refuse to comply with this honoura- ble wish on the part of the only man her heart approved. They were not long in reaching the English hymeneal altar, la the Fabourg St. Honore, where they were united in the inseparable bands of old fashioned matrimony. At the moment Lady Halibut was expressing her re- conciliation, in bounced Squire Jenkins, in one of his merriest moods. Addressing Dick, in his familiar manner, he exclaimed — " Where the devil do you think I have been ?" ** Can't say," replied Dick ; " at some elegant resort no doubt.'* '* On my way from looking at some old nags, I popped into a Cc^e, where a number of games were going forward ; all was harmony at first, but, in a few seconds, the whole company came to blows." " I hope you sustained no injury. Squire" ** Oh, no, not a bit." Here is a sketch of the machine that set them all to fisty-cufis,,, * This is the representation of an ingenious invention of a statical in- 486 LIFE IN PARIS. The Squire would then have entered into a detail of the properties of this curious invention, but he was interrupted by Dick, in these terms : — " That may be a very agreeable amusement, Mr. Jenkins, but I beg you will allow me to introduce a much more pleasing subject." He then pre- sented to the Squire the charming Lydia as Mrs. Wild- fire. Jenkins stared at hearing this as if deprived of the use of his faculties ; recovering himself he shook hands with Dick, and gave him joy of the prize. Then, com- mencing a caper round the room, he gave unrestrained ut- terance to such sounds as these i — ** Yoicks, yoicks, hur- rah ! hurrah! Well done, Dick, you have caught Miss Puss at last ; you have got the brush, my boy, and I hope we shall, have a Jollification over it. i ^ ;:fri?rOTL ,,A"-'':"'' ' ' '■' '■ ^- '' '" ■'^■■'- ^ ' -■ *^ I'm your's at any sort of fun, My buck, I'll tell you so ; I'll match you yet ere all is done, Or, by the noble nag I run, My name's not Tallyho ! -mm o.t bi^vt" Come, let the bridal feast be spread, And joyous bumpers flow; vnsi H QZ-. ■.:,:. ^^^ ,^ I'll kiss the bride, though she is wed,, loi hsX Ji ill 'ua A-Oste ^^ ^^""""^ *^® stocking at your headj^^-^^-^j^ ^jj^, h-ivml ^ , All's one to Tallyho ! strument, for ascertaining the force or weight of blows struck with the fist. On a table is fixed a block, to which is attached, by a worm-spring, a velvet cushion, on which the party desirous to know their power of strength. Strike their fist. The owner of the instrument, who always keeps his eye on the index, instantly calls out the weight of the blow. The cushion is sufficiently stuffed to guard the hand from accident. The observer will see that it is Jenkins that is making the experiment. LIFE IN PARIS. 437 " Suppose you challenge in a glass, And name the pretty Doe; I'll prove your love can't mine surpass, I'll swallow hogsheads for my lass ; All's onetoTallyho!" In the midst of the Squire's merriment another agreeable addition took place to the party. It was the preserver of Lydia, and our old acquaintance, the Chevalier of Industry, Captain O'Shuffleton. The Captain came to inform his friends that he was to set out for England to-morrow, having received advices, that a large fortune had been left to him by an uncle who had died in India. The party con- gratulated him on his good luck, and O'Shuffleton was not sparing in his felicitations to his friend DiCK, on the hap- piness that had now fallen to his lot. Lydia, smiling, asked the Chevalier how he could bear to leave the Mar- chioness, who must also greatly feel his absence. O'Shuf- fleton replied, that they were not so tenderly attached as that came to. There was often more show and fashion than sincerity in the attachments of French women to the danglers about them. For himself, he had resolved to com- mence a new course, and to abandon the, faults and foibles that had too much characterized his conduct ; and he be- lieved the Marchioness had virtue and determination suffici- ent to do the same. "I verily believe," cried Jenkins^ " all the world are determined to turn Benedicts and Me- thodists. " Let me, as o'er Life's course I pass, Crop pleasure as I go ; I'll take my glass, and toast my lass, I'll live, and, damme, sport my brass, Aslong'sI'mTallyho!" 43g LIFE IN PARIS. During these ebullitions, Sir Humphrey and Lady Ha- libut were urging Mr. Meurice to turn his house topsy- turvy, in order that a becoming set-out might be made in honour of this happy union. It was not long before these orders were obeyed. " Quick ! presto ! be gone," said Mr. Meurice to his head waiter ; and, in a few minutes, as if by magic, a banquet of the most luxurious kind invited the party to social glee, and friendly festivity. It is difficult to say who were the most happy on this occasion — they who partook of the dainties of the table, or the newly-married pair, who fed on thoughts of love, and expectations of fu- ture bliss. We need not tell how many bottles Sir Hum- PRHEY swallowed — how many applications his Lady mside to her cherry-bounce — how Jenkins talked of his horses and dogs — and how the Captain, when the champagne began to work, run over the story of his amours ; we are not gos- sips sufficient to dilate on the ceremonies used on putting the bride and bridegroom to bed ; nor dare we draw asunder the curtains of wedded love. Suffice it to say, that content and happiness were the portion of all, and that a new day saw our party re-united with fresh spirits and vigour, ready to take their departure for the land of their nativity. By the care and activity of Sam Sharp, the Diligence appeared in proper time, loaded with the luggage and pro- perty belonging to the party. At the sound of the conductor's horn. Sir HUMPHREY and Lady Halibut, with Mr. and Mrs. Wildfire, bade adieu to Mr. Meurice, and took their seats in the inside of the Diligence. Squire Jenkins and Captain O'Shuffleton likewise appeared at the same time riding their own nags. Thus equipped, and satisfied with Paris, the party, whom we have attended so long, joy- fully commenced their journey to Calais. Sam Sharp, for LIFE IN PARIS. 489 his services, might have been honoured with a place in the cabriolet, but he declined that station, and took up his quarters alongside Monsieur le Conducteur, who occupied the imperiale, to enjoy his society. Sam had obtained from his master a more substantial reward for his fidelity in this expedition, and he jogged on as merry as a grig, thinking on the fresh sprees and rigs he should have when he arrived in England. ii^fejiisf hun /tH rfitw ,'"j Q'.ih imdi n^ nwm »^ tt^ nyt&^'m.tsi ':W^' ^ .J^P!? 21 3 R