Newspaper Page Text
1852.]
Our News Department.
The events of the week—a knowledge of which
has reached us—have been comparatively few
rid unimportant, and hence we have allowed our
Gossip to encroach upon the space usually allotted
to facts of general interest. We shall make up
for the omission by a more copious digest in our
next number, when we hope to be thawed out a
little. At present it is too cold for any thing of
consequence to occur.
ot)i* J^ie.
A Faggot of French Sticks ;or Paris in 1851. By Sir
Francis Head. Authorized copyright reprint from Mr.
Murray’s proof sheets. From the press of G. P. Putnam,
Nfw-York, [From Samuel Hart, Sen.]
The “Bubbles from the Brunnens of Nassau,”
by Sir Francis Head, is a book which Time and
popularity have stamped as one of the classics
of travel. During the very Jong interval which
has elapsed from its first publication until now,
nothing more felicitous has appeared. “Spark
ling and bright,” as the literal bubbles of the Ger
man spas, its pictures made an impression on the
mind of the reader, ever recalled with pleasure.
Little did we think that Sir Francis would achieve
a second success of the kind, and when we saw
the announcement of the book before us, with its
fanciful and alliterative title, we thought immedi
ately that the “Sticks” would be dry, and alto
gether the “Faggot” scarcely worth the tying up.
Nor did Mr. Punch’s cut at it, quoted in our last
number, tend to prepossess us in its favour. When,
however, the book reached us, and we dipped
into its neatiy printed pages, we soon discovered
that the Sticks.were full of pith, and that the ge
nius ol the “Bubbles” had covered them with
verdure and beauty.
Sir Francis, in his title-page, quotes Otway, and
evidently with allusion to himself—
“As I pursued my journey,
I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double,
Picking dry sticks and mumbling to herself.”
Never was motto less fitly chosen to indicate
ihe character of either book or its author, for al
though Sir Francis must now be “growing old,”
his step must be buoyant like his spirit, and his
utterances have all the vivacity and vigour of
: youth. We are free to acknowledge, without
turther preliminaries, that we are positively more
delighted with his book than with any sketches of
navel we have met with for years. It is a book
full ot novelties, and that too upon ground so
“ell trodden, that we had supposed it impossible
i for genius even, to invest it with any new charm.
Sir Francis tells us in his preface—
“ Nearly forty years ago, I happened to be in
aris for three or four months. Lately, on a very
Sl °rt notice, I had occasion to go to it again.
eil) S detained there rather more than three weeks
Y au oculist, whose prescriptions confined me to
U j e “ ous e several hours a day, I eked out the rest
the time by taking a few notes.”
These “few notes” fill 500 duodecimo pages
u *tn die freshest, liveliest, and most amusing re-
°f Paris and its vicinity, which we have
ever lead. The excellent Baronet saw more in
‘“lee weeks than some travellers would have seen
m l^ llee years. He carried with him letters of in
troduction, which, however, he did not present,
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
not wishing to be embarrased by private favours,
and he adds—
“ During my brief residence in the French me
tropolis, excepting three days, I dined and break
fasted by myself. I never entered a theatre—only
once a caf 6 —l neither paid nor received visits ; in
short, I totally abstained from any other society
than that which I happened to enjoy in the public
streets. My amusement solely consisted in col
lecting literary sticks, exactly in the order and
state in which I chanced to find them. They are
thin, short, dry, sapless, crooked, headless, point
less.”
With all deference to his opinion, they are none
of these. They are genuine sprigs of the tree of
knowledge, full of vigour, sap and substance.
We knew enough already of French theatres,
caftis, palaces, picture galleries, salons du bal,
cathedrals, fashionable life, &c. But, besides
these, there was a world quite unknown to us.
That world Sir Francis explored. He found it
all about him, at his elbow, beneath his feet; and
he saw it to some purpose. We should like to
tell our readers what he did see, but that his own
book will do much more effectually. He went
whithersoever he would, and the suavity of his
manners, seconded by the proverbial politeness of
the French people, proved an open sesamd to
nearly all out-of-the-way doors. Accordingly,
we find him exploring the Er.terprize Gendrale
des Omnibus, the Horse Establishment, the Equar
risseur, the Abattoir des Cochons, the Post Office,
the Police Department, the Montde Pi6te, (Pawn
broker’s Halls ;) Halle aux Vins, La Madeleine,
the Marche du Vieux Linge, La Creche, the Dog
Market, the Washing Boats, and a score of other
features of Paris, quite unknown to the reader of
ordinary Parisian tourists. The style of the book
is exceedingly graphic, and a subtle spirit of hu
mour pervades every page.
We should like to quote chapters, but our lim
its forbid, and we must be content with a few par
agraphs. La Creche is an establishment in Paris,
there being one in each of its twelve arondisse
ments, where infants are received, to be taken care
of during the day, under strict regulations, and
managed by an imposing array of committees,
&c. Avery amusing picture is presented of the
interior economy of La Creche. After describing
the pouponniere, an enclosed space for the little
ones to scramble about in, the Baronet proceeds—
“ Around the pouponniere, against the walls of
the room, there stood, shaded by white curtains,
fourteen little iron bedsteads, 2 feet 8 inches high,
on each of which was appended a black plate of
iron, bearing, in white letters, the name ol the
charitable person who had given it (the bedstead,
not the baby) to the creche. The bedding consists
of two clean mattresses, both filled with oat
chaff, a soft white pillow, blankets, but no sheets.
“In every oneot these cradle bedsteads, in each
of the three rooms, I found, as in passing along
with the sceur, I peeped into it, an iniant in a pink
cap fast asleep. One, as I gently withdrew its
curtains, sudenly twisted round, as if I had stuck
a long pin through it. Another lay quite ex
hausted, with its little toothless mouth wide open,
and with a fly on its nose. One had flushed cheeks
like roses. Another, only twenty-five days old,
looked flabby, and breathed very quickly. Ano
ther was sleeping with a fist on its left eve. Ano
ther had his right arm extended, with its tiny
empty hands wide open. Some were lying on
their sides, some on their backs. One, with its
eyes open, was sucking the whole ol its hand.
Another was crumpled up with its head under the
clothes, and its little wrong end on the pillow.
One slept with its elbow up; one, with its hand
under its cap, was pinching and pulling at its own
ear. Os one nothing was to be seen but the back
of its pink nightcap.”
‘i he chief, it not the only business, which de
tained our author in Paris, was the advice and
treatment of a distinguished occulist, wose pre
scription he followed with great fidelity, as appears
in the following account:
“On taking my first prescription from Dr. S. to
the chemist, I ascertained that the ointment with
which I was to rub my forehead and temples four
times a day, was as nearly as possible as black as
new ink. Th nfflirGnn, which was indeed a
very great one, uuu uiiijuiaaed almost the whole
of the lime I was at Paris, seemed at first not only
to forbid my seeing any sights, but to make me a
sight for any one else to see; however, after sit
ting in my sky-parlour for some minutes in an at
titude of deop reflection, I determined to dispose,
and, accordingly, I did dispose, of my misfortune
as follows:
“At five I used always to get up, and, after my
usual ablutions, I obediently blackened myself in
the way prescribed ; and, ornamented in this way,
I occupied myself for an hour and a half in wri
ting out the rough notes which, while walking,
talking, and often while rumbling along in ’buses,
I had taken on the preceding day. At a quarter
past seven I unsmutted myself, and walked about
the streets until eight, when, on returning to my
lodging, 1 rubbed my forehead black again, and
sat down to breakfast. At a quarter before ten
I—what maid-servants call—“cleaned myself,”
and, like Dr. Syntax, went forth in search of the
Picturesque. At six I returned, and dressed for
dinner —that is to say, I anointed myself again.
After my repast I unniggered my brow’ and went
out. At ten o’clock, P. M., I be-devilled mysell
again, and, after a sufficient interval, ended the
strange process of the day by going to bed.
“While I was seated at breakfast, or at dinner,
painted like a wild Indian, in the extraordinary
way I have described, it repeatedly happened that,
after a slight tap, my door was opened, sometimes
by a shopman with a band-box, inquiring if I had
ordered a hat; sometimes by a boy, bringing a
letter addressed to he knew not whom ; and two
or three times by a lady, sometimes an old one,
and sometimes a young one, who called on me,in
tending to call on somebody else. In all these
a long apologetic dialogue ensued ; and although
my visitors had thus abundant opportunity to ob
serve my grotesque appearance, which in England
would, I truly believe, have made even the Bishop
of London bite his lips or smile, yet such is the
power of politeness in the French people, that in
no one instance did any one of my visitors allow
me to perceive from his or her eyes, or from any
feature in his or her countenance, that he or she
had even observed the magpie appearance of my
face.”
Sir Francis thus describes that important char
acter in the streets of Paris, the Commissionaire :
“The luxury of living, wherever you may hap
pen to lodge, within convenient reach of a person
of this description, is very great. - For instance,
within fifty yards of my lodgings, there was an
active, honest, intelligent, dark-blue fellow, who
was to me a living book of useful knowledge.
Crumbling up the newspaper he was usually read
ing, lie could, in the middle of a paragraph and at
a moment’s notice, get me any sort of carriage—
recommend me to every description of shop—tell
me the colour of the omnibus 1 wanted—where I
was to find it—where I was to leave it —how I
ought to dress to go here —there—or anywhere:—
vvlmt was done in the House of Assembly last
night—who spoke best—what was said of his
speech, and what the world thought of things in
general. On the other hand, he was, if possible,
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