The Paris Sketch Book | Page 9

de Bourbon Villeneuve, a
dirty street, which seems interminable, and the Rue St. Eustache, the
conductor gives a last blast on his horn, and the great vehicle clatters
into the court- yard, where the journey is destined to conclude.
If there was a noise before of screaming postilions and cracked horns, it
was nothing to the Babel-like clatter which greets us now. We are in a
great court, which Hajji Baba would call the father of Diligences. Half
a dozen other coaches arrive at the same minute--no light affairs, like
your English vehicles, but ponderous machines, containing fifteen
passengers inside, more in the cabriolet, and vast towers of luggage on

the roof: others are loading: the yard is filled with passengers coming
or departing;-- bustling porters and screaming commissionaires. These
latter seize you as you descend from your place,--twenty cards are
thrust into your hand, and as many voices, jabbering with inconceivable
swiftness, shriek into your ear, "Dis way, sare; are you for ze' 'Otel of
Rhin?' 'Hôtel de l'Amirauté!'--'Hotel Bristol,' sare!-- Monsieur, 'l'Hôtel
de Lille?' Sacr-rrré 'nom de Dieu, laissez passer ce petit, monsieur! Ow
mosh loggish ave you, sare?"
And now, if you are a stranger in Paris, listen to the words of
Titmarsh.--If you cannot speak a syllable of French, and love English
comfort, clean rooms, breakfasts, and waiters; if you would have
plentiful dinners, and are not particular (as how should you be?)
concerning wine; if, in this foreign country, you WILL have your
English companions, your porter, your friend, and your brandy-
and-water--do not listen to any of these commissioner fellows, but with
your best English accent, shout out boldly, "MEURICE!" and
straightway a man will step forward to conduct you to the Rue de
Rivoli.
Here you will find apartments at any price: a very neat room, for
instance, for three francs daily; an English breakfast of eternal boiled
eggs, or grilled ham; a nondescript dinner, profuse but cold; and a
society which will rejoice your heart. Here are young gentlemen from
the universities; young merchants on a lark; large families of nine
daughters, with fat father and mother; officers of dragoons, and
lawyers' clerks. The last time we dined at "Meurice's" we hobbed and
nobbed with no less a person than Mr. Moses, the celebrated bailiff of
Chancery Lane; Lord Brougham was on his right, and a clergyman's
lady, with a train of white-haired girls, sat on his left, wonderfully
taken with the diamond rings of the fascinating stranger!
It is, as you will perceive, an admirable way to see Paris, especially if
you spend your days reading the English papers at Galignani's, as many
of our foreign tourists do.
But all this is promiscuous, and not to the purpose. If,--to continue on
the subject of hotel choosing,--if you love quiet, heavy bills, and the
best table-d'hôte in the city, go, O stranger! to the "Hôtel des Princes;"
it is close to the Boulevard, and convenient for Frascati's. The "Hôtel
Mirabeau" possesses scarcely less attraction; but of this you will find,

in Mr. Bulwer's "Autobiography of Pelham," a faithful and complete
account. "Lawson's Hotel" has likewise its merits, as also the "Hôtel de
Lille," which may be described as a "second chop" Meurice.
If you are a poor student come to study the humanities, or the pleasant
art of amputation, cross the water forthwith, and proceed to the "Hôtel
Corneille," near the Odéon, or others of its species; there are many
where you can live royally (until you economize by going into lodgings)
on four francs a day; and where, if by any strange chance you are
desirous for a while to get rid of your countrymen, you will find that
they scarcely ever penetrate.
But above all, O my countrymen! shun boarding-houses, especially if
you have ladies in your train; or ponder well, and examine the
characters of the keepers thereof, before you lead your innocent
daughters, and their mamma, into places so dangerous. In the first place,
you have bad dinners; and, secondly, bad company. If you play cards,
you are very likely playing with a swindler; if you dance, you dance
with a ---- person with whom you had better have nothing to do.
Note (which ladies are requested not to read).--In one of these
establishments, daily advertised as most eligible for English, a friend of
the writer lived. A lady, who had passed for some time as the wife of
one of the inmates, suddenly changed her husband and name, her
original husband remaining in the house, and saluting her by her new
title.

A CAUTION TO TRAVELLERS.
A million dangers and snares await the traveller, as soon as he issues
out of that vast messagerie which we have just quitted: and as each man
cannot do better than relate