Our travelling party in Paris and Amsterdam

Front matter

■ ■■III . I M l b l.l MH »| III I I

W\Tm ram i n i li nn ■ i I i i I nil pi

S.J/J' i\*r J lliy^

Contents

CHAP. PAGE

I. Landing at Calais 11

II. Paris from the Triumphal Arch 23

Chapter I. LANDING AT CALAIS

IN England the American traveller feels at home. The people speak a language with which he is familiar ; the habits and customs, the religious observances, the social developments, resemble the styles of life seen in his own land. His sympathies move on with the steady march of English ideas, and constantly he finds something to remind him of the great nation on the other shore of the broad Atlantic.

But when he crosses that narrow channel, and steps out upon the continent, he feels that he is among strange people, in a land of strange customs. The language of the inhabitants is unintelligible jargon ; the form of government is repulsive to his republican prejudices ; the features of common life differ widely from any thing

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he sees at home, and he is ever conscious that he is a stranger in a strange land.

Thus it was with the travellers whom we have followed across the Atlantic, through Ireland, Scotland, and England. The gentlemen were but imperfectly acquainted with the French language ; Walter had studied it but a single term, while little Minnie could not understand a word of it.

They reached Calais late at night, and beneath a cloudy, moonless sky, stumbled ashore, Mr. Tenant holding Walter firmly by the hand, and Mr. Percy taking care of Minnie. At the landing they met several soldiers, and five or six armed policemen ; one of whom shouted hoarsely as our friends came up, —

" Passports ! passports ! passports ! "

" What does he want, pa?" asked Minnie.

" He wants our passports."

" What for ? "

" To examine them, to see who we are, where we are from, and what we want."

So Mr. Percy took charge of the children, and Mr. Tenant went with the passports into a large room, where several men were sitting with piles of papers before them. They examined the documents very hastily, and gave them back again ; and the party passed through the building,

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which in the darkness of the night they could not inspect, not knowing whether it was a police office, custom house, or depot, and found the cars on the other side, and were soon on their way for Paris.

The cars were very comfortable, and our travellers were able to get asleep. They had a whole carriage to themselves, and as the seats were sumptuously cushioned, and the road a very smooth one, they were as much refreshed as if they had been in a hotel. Minnie was the first one to awake ; and as she rubbed her eyes, she said, with a yawn, —

"I say, Walter."

"What?"

" It is morning."

"Well — yes."

" We ought not to lose our views of the country," said Mr. Percy, letting down the window near him, and looking out.

" We have all slept soundly in this car, w^hich is fitted up with as much elegance as a lady's boudoir," remarked Mr. Tenant, who was gazing about.

They conversed in an easy, desultory manner for some time, riding by villages, near vineyards, and along through a fine country, rarely making any stops. As the day advanced, the party felt the need of refreshments, and Walter said, —

" The first depot we come to, I will get something to eat, if the cars stop."

" We would hardly trust you out of our sight," replied his father.

" You would want a valet-de-place to help you buy your breakfast, Walter," said Mr. Tenant.

" A Y&letr&e-place ! What is that ? " cried Minnie.

" Walter will tell you."

" Well, Walter, what is it ? "

"A servant, I believe. But I should not need him. Pa, shall I try when we stop again ? "

" Try what ? "

" To purchase some refreshments ? "

" Yes, my son, if you will keep within sight of us."

" All right, sir."

Just then the cars stopped at a place about fifty miles from Paris, and Walter sprang out, and hurried into the depot, and soon returned, bringing in a piece of paper a number of sandwiches, French sausages, and other specimens of French cookery.

" How did you make the change, Walter ? " asked his father.

" Why, I gave him some English money, and he would not take it. Then I took out the five franc piece you gave me yesterday, and let him make his own change."

" Have you the right change back ? "

"I don't know."

" A pretty boy to buy things. I'll try next time," shouted Minnie.

" Well, he gave me some small pieces, and 1 did not know what they were, and so hurried back as quickly as I could."

" Well, let us see what you have got," said Mr. Tenant.

So Walter displayed the articles he had bought, and soon they had made a hearty breakfast. The conversation turned on French cookery, and Minnie declared that she should be delighted with it, and indeed with every thing French.

" Ah, Min, you will not know what you do eat over here — whether frogs or dogs," said Walter.

" Hum ! frogs and dogs ! "

" Well, I have heard of the delightful manner in which French cooks serve up dogs, cats, and frogs, so that the most experienced will hardly

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distinguish them from the choicest dishes ever craved by the appetite of the epicure.''

" Nonsense ! ain't it, Mr. Tenant ? "

" I do not know, child, how it is here ; but I have heard the story of a distinguished American, who, in China, sat down to a sumptuous feast, and ate voraciously of a delicate dish which was set before him. When his dainty meal was finished, and he sat wondering what the food could be which had tempted his appetite to such an extent, a servant entered, and, wishing to have his curiosity gratified, and yet being entirely unacquainted with the language, he pointed to the dish, and said, ' Quack, quack,' meaning to ask if it was duck. The servant replied, ' Bow wow, bow wow,' intimating that the delicious food was not duck, but dog."

Just at that moment Minnie had a sandwich to her lips, and with an exclamation of disgust, she threw it out of the window, much to the amusement of her friends, who teased her a little for her admiration of French cookery.

" Minnie," said her father, " what we eat is much a matter of taste."

" How so, pa ? "

"Why, we laugh at the French for eating frogs — "

" Ugh ! "

" Yet we eat many things not as delicious."

" Delicious ! How you talk ! "

" Have you ever tasted turtle soup, Minnie ? "

" 0, yes, many a time."

" And how do you know the frog is not as good ? and as clean ? "

" Well, I declare ! "

" In some countries dogs are eaten, and we think it very disgusting ; yet we kill the filthy hog, and deem his flesh excellent."

" I am glad frog is not my taste."

" And who can say that your taste is better than that of the dog-eating Russian, or the frogeating Frenchman ? "

" I don't know, pa, but I wish Mr. Tenant would help me argue it."

A hearty laugh greeted the little girl, who felt some disposition to pout, but wisely concluded to laugh with the rest, at her own discomfiture.

" But, pa," said she, " this conversation annoys me — talking about frogs and dogs for food ! "

" I know it does, my dear child ; and I introduced it for a special reason."

" What was it ? "

" I wished to show you that many things are mere matters of taste. You are now in a strange

VOL. III. 2 country, and will see many strange and unusual things. Your first impulse will be to condemn them because you have never seen them before. I wished to impress upon you the idea, that in much you will see, the difference is not so greatly in your own favor."

" I will think of that."

"Do so, and remember that you must not condemn what you see because it does not accord with your taste. Perhaps the taste of the people around you is best, after all ; and you should be thoughtful ere you venture your opinion in condemnation."

" Thank you, pa, for the caution. I will endeavor to look at things on both sides."

The forenoon was half gone when the train reached Paris. The baggage of our travellers, which had been ticketed through from London, and thus escaped an examination at Calais, was here overhauled. A very civil, polite officer asked the children to unlock their bags, which they did, and he merely laid his hand upon the top, and passed on. The two gentlemen were not so fortunate, for a consequential personage persisted in taking out their clothing, and unrolling the packages, at which they were quite indignant, as the operation seemed to be unnecessary.

On entering a carriage, they drove to Hotel Meurice, in Rue de Rivoli, and were soon accommodated with a suit of elegant and spacious apartments, overlooking the garden of the Tuileries. Minnie's room opened into her father's, and Walter's into that of Mr. Tenant ; and the view from all of them was very pleasant.

A little circumstance occurred just after their arrival which amused them very much. Breakfast was ordered, though it was late in the forenoon ; and Minnie, who completed her toilet before the others, ran down before them. The building being very large, the windings numerous, and the passages long, she lost her way, and became somewhat bewildered, until she could not tell where to go. At length a very finelooking gentleman came along the passage, and she appealed to him.

" Sir, can you tell me the way to the dining room ? "

The man looked at her in astonishment.

" Monsieur, (sir,) I mean, where is the — the dejeuner (breakfast) room ? "

The man smiled, and shook his head.

" Can't you understand me ? "

The man shook his head.

Minnie thought again for some French word that she had heard Walter repeat, and then stammered out, " La table, monsieur ? " (the table, sir.)

The man shook his head again ; and finally, seeing her look at his jewelled watch chain, pulled out his watch, and thinking she might wish to know the hour, said, —

" 11 est midi" (it is twelve o'clock.)

"Hum! Stupid!" said the child to herself.

Just now Walter came along, and relieved Minnie of her embarrassment, by asking, very properly and in tolerable French, the way to the dining room, which they soon found, Walter indulging in a pleasant, good-natured laugh at Minnie's use of the language of which she scarcely knew a word.

When they were seated at the table, they found that the servants could all speak English, that the food was cooked in English style, and that the house had every appearance of an English hotel. This made them feel at home, and their anticipations of a delightful time increased as the day wore on.

The children were amused with every thing they saw. The streets, the people, the houses, were all so different from those seen in London, that they could not restrain their exclamations of pleasure and surprise. As they sat at their ooj^oo

windows, they saw crowds of people on the sidewalks below ; soldiers were marching along the streets ; the gendarmes were standing on the corners, or moving about among the masses ; the garden of the Tuileries across the street was thronged with happy men, women, and children, who were lounging on seats, walking under the trees, drinking beer at the stands, or engaged in some kinds of amusement.

Walter and his sister did not go out that evening, but rested for the work before them on the following days. They spent the evening in writing letters to friends at home. Walter penned a long letter to his mother, in which he told her all he had seen since he last wrote, what adventures he had met, what curious incidents had transpired, and all the news he could think of. Minnie wrote to Charlie a very curious letter, full of fun and nonsense, just like herself, over which Charlie doubtless had many a laugh when he read it.

They also found letters for them at the hotel, from home ; and that well-known handwriting, from that dear mother, was read again and again, blotted with tears, and finally kissed, as a precious memento of fond maternal love. That night they slept sweetly — those honest, truthful, intelligent children, across whose young lives no shadow had ever yet fallen, and whose guileless hearts knew no great and sorrowing sin, and who, though young, trusted devoutly in the great God, whom they daily addressed — " Our Father, who art in heaven."

How beautiful the trusting confidence of children who can lie down to sleep, dreaming of no injury or danger, because they meditate no injury to others ! no visions but happy ones flitting through the night-watch, because they only think of ministering to the happiness of others. The more we come in contact with the heartless world, its great wrongs, its amazing sorrows, its corroding cares, the more do we lose what always we might wish to keep — the trust and unsuspecting confidence of childhood.

Chapter II. PARIS FROM THE TRIUMPHAL ARCH

I^HE morning after their arrival in Paris, - Walter, rushing into his father's room before sunrise, cried out, " Bon jour, Monsieur ," (good morning, sir.)

" Good morning, my son."

" I have ordered breakfast, and a carriage, — got a guide, and helped Mr. Tenant mark out the work for the day."

" Very well ; I am glad of it."

" And my opinion was not consulted," cried Minnie, from the room adjoining.

" Of course not."

" Why not ? "

" We set you down as a child, who had no opinion."

u Hoity, toity ! No opinion, indeed ! We'll see ! "

" Where do you propose to go first, my son ?" asked Mr. Percy.

" Mr. Tenant thinks we had better take a view of the city from the Triumphal Arch."

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" That would be wise."

So after breakfast they all left the hotel, and, passing along Rue cle Rivoli, entered Place de la Concorde, famous in the history of Paris.

" 0, what a beautiful place ! " cried Minnie, in delight.

" See those fine fountains, pa, and that pillar, and those statues. I never saw so lovely a spot ! " said Walter.

" What is that pillar, pa, that Walter is running up to ? " asked Minnie, seeing Walter direct his steps towards the column to which she pointed.

"That," replied Mr. Percy, "is the Luxor Obelisk, an Egyptian shaft, at least three thousand years old, and which is covered with unread Egyptian characters. It was brought from Egypt during the reign of Louis Philippe."

" What are those great drawings I see on the base ? "

" Those are engravings and diagrams of the machine by which it was raised to its present elevation."

" Was it much trouble to raise it ? "

" Yes, it was a great work, and it is said that t!ie engineer who had charge of the work felt the most extreme solicitude as to his success ; and as thousands gathered to see the obelisk rise to its position, he moved among them with a charged pistol protruding from his vest, with which he had determined to commit suicide, if, by any accident, he should fail in his attempt."

" He must have been a foolish man to have meditated such a dreadful deed as that."

" Yes, a man must be dreadfully blinded, to commit suicide."

" How nobly it looks in the centre here ! "

"It is in a very showy position, and stands where the guillotine stood in the time of the revolution, and where the wretched Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, and their unfortunate friends, met a dreadful fate."

" Please tell me about it, pa."

" The story is a long one, my child, and you must read it for yourself."

" Just enough for me to understand about these things."

" Well, Louis XVI. was king of France, and Marie Antoinette was his queen."

" Who was she ? "

" She was the daughter of Francis I., Emperor of Germany, and Maria Theresa, his wife. She was married to the King of France, and in the revolution was executed on this spot, her husband having been executed previously."

" Was she a good woman ? "

" Much too good for such a fate."

" Why did they kill her then ? "

" Because the people thought she had influenced her husband to oppress them."

" Was it not a dreadful fate ? "

" Yes, the beautiful queen was confined in the Conciergerie, where in a few weeks her head became prematurely gray, and — "

" What is the Conciergerie ? "

" It consisted of a series of subterranean dungeons. The queen was taken from this horrid prison, and executed, October 14, 1793. She was carried to the place on a cart rude in structure, and hard to ride in. As she rode along, many of the women of Paris gathered around the cart, and reviled the fallen queen, crying out, l Down with the Austrian ! down with royalty ! ' As the poor creature was thrown about in the cart, unable to stand or sit, the wretches shouted in merriment. At length they arrived at this spot, just where they had killed her husband."

" Was she calm ? "

" Yes ; so it is said."

" How could she be ? "

" Sometimes people who are naturally very timid have fortitude in times of such severe trial."

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"Well, goon."

" There is but little more. She was taken from the cart to the scaffold, bound to the plank, and the axe descended. The head dropped into a basket placed for it, and the executioner caught it up, and held it aloft, while the people shouted coarsely, i Vive la Repiiblique ! ' "

" Can you describe the guillotine to me, pa ? "

" Some time at the hotel, or elsewhere, I will ; not now."

" Had the queen any children ? "

" Yes, a boy and girl."

" Poor, dear children ! "

" One was the dauphin, seven years old."

" What became of them ? "

" The young dauphin was killed probably by harshness and severity. Simon, his brutal jailer, had orders to get rid of him. He was neglected, half fed, and abused until his reason tottered ; and he is said to have died June 9, 1795, in his tenth year."

" Is said to have died ? "

" Some have questioned whether he died, or whether he was taken away, and carried to America. One or two persons have pretended to be the dauphin."

" What became of the princess ? "

" The sister, Maria Theresa, named for hei grandmother, was permitted to go to Austria. On the fall of Napoleon, after she had become a beautiful and gifted woman, and the Duchesse d'Angouleme, she returned to Prance, lived a checkered life, and died not long ago somewhere in Germany."

" What a terrible tale is this ! "

" You must read it all carefully. You will find it to equal in thrilling interest the sad tale of Mary, Queen of Scots."

" Where can I find it ? "

" When you return home I will obtain the account in some instructive historical work, and you can read it."

Leaving this spot, so consecrated with blood, the theatre of so many terrible scenes, the party entered the Elysian Fields.

" What place is this, father ? " asked Walter.

" This is the famous Champs Elysees."

" 0, yes, I have heard of it."

They found the place a fine promenade, striking out from Place de la Concorde one and a quarter miles, laid out with foot and carriage paths, and forming a beautiful resort for the gay and fashionable crowds, who sit and walk by hours, hearing sweet music and witnessing gay scenes. Trees finely trimmed, and hedges carefully trained, give shelter from the sun, while thousands of chairs and benches furnish seats when the people are weary. These grounds are let for panoramic and other exhibitions, from which an income is derived of about twenty thousand francs per annum. On the afternoon or evening of any pleasant day, thousands of persons are seen moving about under the trees, or resting themselves on the benches, or enjoying some of the sports of the place and occasion.

" Why, pa, I should think it was a muster ground," said Minnie, as they entered the shaded walks.

" So should I," replied Walter.

The scene was a very interesting one. All kinds of amusements seemed to be in progress. Beneath the trees, young men, in large numbers, were engaged in the various games calculated to give strength and vigor to the muscular system. On both sides of the Avenue de Neuilly, which is twelve feet wide, and paved with bitumen, were pavilions richly decorated and finely illuminated, radiant with all the colors of the rainbow, and flowing with banners, ribbons, pennants, and laces. Some of these were open on one side, and filled with singers, and in others various fancy articles were exposed for sale. The party wandered about for some time, and then passed on towards the Triumphal Arch,

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" From this Arch we shall get a fine view of the city," remarked Mr. Tenant, as they approached.

" Who built it, Mr. Tenant ? " asked Walter.

" It was commenced by Napoleon, and completed in 1836, at a cost of more than ten million francs."

" It does not look as if it was so costly a structure."

" No, but we shall find, when we reach it, that it is very imposing. It consists of a grand central arch, ninety feet high and forty-five feet wide, through which passes a traverse arch, scarcely less bold and magnificent in its proportions."

" How high is it ? "

" One hundred and fifty-two feet, and sinks its solid stone foundation twenty-five feet below the surface of the ground."

They reached the Arch, paid a woman a franc, and went up to the top.

" How many steps did you make, Minnie ? ' : asked Walter.

" Two hundred and sixty."

" I counted two hundred and sixty-one."

" Grand, grand ! " exclaimed Mr. Tenant, as he caught a view of the city.

" Eureka ! Eureka ! " shouted Walter*

VIEW OP PARIS. 31

And the view was indeed one of the finest in the world, and long they stood gazing down upon it. The Champs Elysees, with the spacious avenue, was thronged with people. Beyond, the palaces were glistening in the sun ; old Notre Dame and the Pantheon lifted up their towers and domes, like monuments amid a sea of habitations ; the ornamented columns pointed upward, like the fingers of a giant ; the broad, flat roof of La Madaleine stretched out like a plain ; while all around, a beautiful country was spread out in every direction.

" Pa, will you point out to us some of the objects of interest ? " asked the children.

" Yes, after we have swept our gaze about, and taken a general view."

When they had stood some time looking out upon the sea of shining roofs and stately buildings, Mr. Percy said to the children, —

" Now I will tell you what prominent objects we can see, as near as I can from this map of the city I have in my hand."

" Well, father," said the lad, " Minnie and I have been wondering what that tall pillar is which we see yonder."

" 0, that is near our hotel."

" What is it ? "

" It is a pillar erected by Napoleon to commemorate his German victories. It stands in what is called Place Vendonie."

" What is that figure on top ? "

" That is the bronze figure of Napoleon himself, who is looking out from his dizzy elevation upon the passing multitudes below."

" Is it a very fine pillar ? "

" Yes. It is an imitation of the Trajan Pillar at Rome, and surpasses it in grandeur, and in the heroism of the deeds which it commemorates."

" What is it made of?"

" It is made of stone, and covered with bronze bass-reliefs, formed entirely of cannon taken in the battles of the conqueror. The bass-reliefs are spiral, and display the most noted events in the German campaigns."

" And what is that dome I see out there, looking so nobly, as it rises above the flat roofs ? "

" That is the dome of the Hotel of the Invalids, a building we shall visit in a few days, where we shall see many old soldiers."

Mr. Percy also pointed out the various objects of interest all over the city, a general view of which was obtained by each member of the party ; and they all descended, having enjoyed themselves finely, and feeling fully repaid for the tiresome ascent.

VIEW OF PARIS. 33 *o>^oc

At the base they found an old woman who had views of Paris to sell, and our party purchased several of them to take home to their friends. Walter took the roll of engravings under his arm, and they all went slowly down the broad and spacious avenue, looking at the people as they swept by, or gazing in at the windows upon the rich goods and rare articles displayed to view ; and when they reached their rooms, the children were ready to throw themselves on their beds and rest.

In the afternoon of the same day, Mr. Percy said to Walter, —

" My son, I think you had better not go out again to-day."

" I do not wish to ; I prefer to rest."

" How will you spend the time here ? "

"In writing letters."

"Did you not promise Mr. Falkner, your teacher, that you would write to him ? "

" Yes, sir, and I will do it to-day."

"That would be well, for Mr. Falkner has done much to improve your mind, and give you a thorough training in your studies as far as you have gone."

" I will write a long letter."

" Write it well ; be careful of your sentences, vol. m. 3 and show him how well you can write, and with what skill you can compose."

Mr. Percy and Mr. Tenant then went out, and Walter was left with Minnie as his charge. The little girl, however, preferred to have an afternoon nap, and Walter wrote the following letter to his school teacher : —

Dear Sir :

I promised to write you during my absence, and I improve the present time to do so. We are now in one of the great cities of the world, and though we have had but a general and very imperfect view of it, I wish to state the impressions made on my own mind by what I have seen since we have been here.

Up to this time, our tour has been of the utmost interest to us all. We have seen many of those things which have long been partially familiar by our reading, and now we have come to scenes of new and strange fascination for us all.

The city of Paris is one of the most beautiful on the globe, in some respects excelling in the elegance of its public buildings, and the taste of its people, any other. London is the great mart of commerce. Every where are seen the evidences of industry, and the tokens of successful business. You do not think of looking for

VIEW OP PARIS. 35

beauty there ; but every street and lane, thronged with hurrying, driving people, force upon you the conviction that you are in the world's great exchange, the vast market place of nations. You expect to be jostled, trodden upon, spattered with mud, lose your temper, and perhaps your purse. But Paris strikes you differently. The streets are wide and clean ; the houses are neat and gay colored; the people are quiet, courteous, and gayety comes borne upon every blast. No two cities could present a more striking contrast, and in no two do the forms of life more widely vary, and appear more strikingly dissimilar.

Our first view of the place was from the Triumphal Arch. This is a magnificent monument erected by order of Napoleon, to celebrate his victories, and is one of the most imposing and elaborate structures of the kind in the world. It stands on elevated ground, on the outskirts, and overlooking the city. It is sixty feet front and twenty feet thick, and forty-five feet high. Father thinks that from the top of this Arch the most beautiful city view in Europe is obtained. On looking from the Golden Gallery of St. Paul's, in London, though the view is a very fine one, the houses are dingy and the streets irregular ; the public buildings are so located as not to be seen with any great degree of distinctness, and over the whole hangs the perpetual London fog, obscuring the vision and spoiling the view. The prospect from the dome of St. Peter's, in Rome, father tells me, is veryfine ; but Rome is small in its extent, and one of course must conjure up the memories of the past, to give him an idea of the sublimity of the view he is taking.