A Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour in France and Germany, Volume Two | Page 2

the other. The
places, where these chairs are found, are usually flanked by coffee
houses. Incessant reports from drawing the corks of beer bottles
resound on all sides. The ordinary people are fond of this beverage; and
for four or six sous they get a bottle of pleasant, refreshing, small beer.
The draught is usually succeeded by a doze--in the open air. What is
common, excites no surprise; and the stream of population rushes on
without stopping one instant to notice these somniferous indulgences.
Or, if they are not disposed to sleep, they sit and look about them:
abstractedly gazing upon the multitude around, or at the heavens above.
Pure, idle, unproductive listlessness is the necessary cause of such
enjoyment.
Evening approaches: when the Boulevards put on their gayest and most
fascinating livery. Then commences the bustle of the _Ice Mart_: in
other words, then commences the general demand for ices: while the
rival and neighbouring _caffés_ of TORTONI and RICHE have their
porches of entrance choked by the incessant ingress and egress of

customers. The full moon shines beautifully above the foliage of the
trees; and an equal number of customers, occupying chairs, sit without,
and call for ices to be brought to them. Meanwhile, between these
loungers, and the entrances to the caffés, move on, closely wedged, and
yet scarcely in perceptible motion, the mass of human beings who
come only to exercise their eyes, by turning them to the right or to the
left: while, on the outside, upon the chaussée, are drawn up the
carriages of visitors (chiefly English ladies) who prefer taking their ice
within their closed morocco quarters. The varieties of ice are endless,
but that of the Vanille is justly a general favourite: not but that you may
have coffee, chocolate, punch, peach, almond, and in short every
species of gratification of this kind; while the glasses are filled to a
great height, in a pyramidal shape, and some of them with layers of
strawberry, gooseberry, and other coloured ice--looking like pieces of a
Harlequin's jacket--are seen moving to and fro, to be silently and
certainly devoured by those who bespeak them. Add to this, every one
has his tumbler and small water-bottle by the side of him: in the centre
of the bottle is a large piece of ice, and with a tumbler of water, poured
out from it, the visitor usually concludes his repast. The most luxurious
of these ices scarcely exceeds a shilling of our money; and the quantity
is at least half as much again as you get at a certain well-known
confectioner's in Piccadilly.
It is getting towards MIDNIGHT; but the bustle and activity of the
Boulevards have not yet much abated. Groups of musicians,
ballad-singers, tumblers, actors, conjurors, slight-of-hand professors,
and raree-shew men, have each their distinct audiences. You advance.
A little girl with a raised turban (as usual, tastefully put on) seems to
have no mercy either upon her own voice or upon the hurdy-gurdy on
which she plays: her father shews his skill upon a violin, and the
mother is equally active with the organ; after "a flourish"--not of
"trumpets"--but of these instruments--the tumblers commence their
operations. But a great crowd is collected to the right. What may this
mean? All are silent; a ring is made, of which the boundaries are
marked by small lighted candles stuck in pieces of clay. Within this
circle stands a man--apparently strangled: both arms are extended, and
his eyes are stretched to their utmost limits. You look more

closely--and the hilt of a dagger is seen in his mouth, of which the
blade is introduced into his stomach! He is almost breathless, and ready
to faint--but he approaches, with the crown of a hat in one hand, into
which he expects you should drop a sous. Having made his collection,
he draws forth the dagger from its carnal sheath, and, making his bow,
seems to anticipate the plaudits which invariably follow.[3] Or, he
changes his plan of operations on the following evening. Instead of the
dagger put down his throat, he introduces a piece of wire up one nostril,
to descend by the other--and, thus self-tortured, demands the
remuneration and the applause of his audience. In short, from one end
of the Boulevards to the other, for nearly two English miles, there is
nought but animation, good humour, and, it is right to add, good
order;--while, having strolled as far as the Boulevards de Bondy, and
watched the moon-beams sparkling in the waters which play there
within the beautiful fountain so called,--I retread my steps, and seek the
quiet quarters in which this epistle is penned.
The next out-of-door sources of gratification, of importance, are the
Gardens of the Thuileries, the _Champs Elysées_, and the promenade
within the _Palais Royal_;