How to Enjoy Paris in 1842 | Page 3

but that it certainly had not the body that foreign wines
have that we are in the habit of drinking in England.
Good Humour not appearing to relish his brother's receipt for making
vin ordinaire, changed the subject, by observing that a woman who was
standing at the door of an auberge where we were stopping had a very
fine expression of countenance, although rather thin and pale, but that
there was a pensive cast which prevailed throughout her features and
rendered the tout ensemble interesting.
"Oh very fine, indeed," said Discontent, with a sarcastic smile, "as
complete a picture of skin and grief as one could wish to see. Pray, sir,
is she one of your beauties?"
I admitted that her appearance was rather pleasing, but that beauty was
out of the question, nor did I understand his brother to have made any
remark conveying the idea that she possessed that charm so truly rare.
"What a delightful house and garden," exclaimed. Good Humour, as we

passed by a residence, that had rather an inviting appearance; "now, is
it not an agreeable spot to live in," he continued, as he turned to me
with a look, so assured of confirmation on my part, that I could not find
it in my heart to disappoint him. But as I was about to answer,
Discontent grumbled out a few words, which I think were to the effect,
that where the country was so hideously frightful, that any thing that
was decent attracted notice, but that the same object in England would
not have been regarded; asking me if I had ever travelled through a
more ugly country in my life.
However I felt inclined to check his tendency to condemn all he beheld,
yet I could not in truth otherwise than acknowledge that it was as
uninteresting as it was possible to be, of which every one must be
aware who has travelled from Calais to Boulogne.
Good Humour, however, was still undaunted, and a rather jolly, and
very rosy, looking young female passing at the moment, elicited from
him the exclamation of "Oh, what a pretty girl, and good natured!"
"The very type of fat contented ignorance," interrupted Discontent,
without allowing his brother to finish his sentence.
Soon after we entered Boulogne, where the white houses, lively green
shutters, and cleanly appearance of the Grande Rue attracted the
admiration of Good Humour, who observed with his usual energetic
manner, "What a cheerful pleasant looking town, and how very pretty
the houses are!"
"For outside show, well enough, which may be said of most things in
France," murmured Discontent; "but see the inside of those houses, and
you will find there is not a single window or door that shuts or fits as it
ought; and if they are inhabited by French people, you will find
cobwebs and dirt in almost every corner. Am I not right, sir," said he,
turning to me with a triumphant air. But before I could answer, Good
Humour took up the cause, observing, "Really, brother, you cannot
speak from what you have seen, as the Hôtel Bourbon is the only house
we have yet entered, and it was impossible to exceed the cleanliness
observed within it; therefore your remarks can only proceed from

reports you have had from others, whose vision, perhaps, was as
clouded as your own appears to be, by a pre-determination to view
everything in France in the most unfavourable light." Perceiving that
Discontent, by the angry look which he assumed, was about to reply in
a bitter tone to his brother, I thought the best means of averting the
storm would be to interpose a sort of middle course between them, and
remarked that the gentleman's observation, as to the windows and doors
not fitting well, was very correct, but with regard to the dirtiness of the
French it had been greatly exaggerated.
Discontent declared that he had received his account of France from
persons who had lived long in the country, and on whose judgment he
could rely; "whereas," added he, "you perhaps have seen but little
either of the nation or of the people."
I replied that I had known France nearly fourteen years.
"Then," said he, "if you have known France so long as that, I suppose
you have become Frenchified yourself."
I was about to make a sharp reply, but was prevented by the younger
brother remarking, "After you have said so much against the French,
your observation to the gentleman was anything but complimentary,
and savoured much of rudeness."
"I merely said I was sure that his brother did not mean to be rude, and
therefore I should not consider his observation in that light."
"Rough and rude I always was, but I did not mean to give