The Portland daily press., 1868-05-02
Letter from Paris.
PARIS, April Ia. 1868.

PARIS, April IA, 1868.
To the Editor of the Press:
Easter commenced with sullen clouds and o
cold biting air. Nevertheless the Americans
celebrated the religious festival in the rue de
Be1Ti church, by an excellent discourse fror,
DR.. Eldrdge, and charming music-for Mrs
Ronalds lent her voice as did Mr.. Perkins
aud both sang ravishiDgly; most Americans
know the sweetness and fexibllity of the notes
of the first, but the Carl Formes compass of
Mr.. Perkins created sensation.
Neither did the cold weather put aside the
greatest Of all Partisan fairs, for on Easter
Sunday ginger was hot in the mouth; !" then
commenced the mighty gathering known un-
der the name of Foire an pain d'epice, or as we
might call it spiced cake, or gingerbread fair.
TIE heart of this popular coming together was
at the Place du II6ne-a large circular public
common, surrounded with trees. When the
government gives the people jollity and fire.
works, they make this spot one of their van
tage grounds; but other generations have seen
lugu0rious spectacles ON this same Place du
Tr6ne, for here, in the August of 1894 the ia
cobns stopped in one day the heart pulsations
of filty-ni fellow beings But now we will net
think of these things, for here is the old street
of the Faubourg- -Saint-Antoine, and the magni-
ficent road to Vincennes-to Vincennes, only a
mile and half from Paris, where the Duke
d'Enghien was shot by order of Napoleon I,
in the March of 1904, where there is a famous
chateau, and a charming forest, where kings
once built palaces, and Saint Louis under a
huge old oak administered justice. OF the
chateau, to tell the truth, only the Donjon re-
mains, which fortress always supplementary,
was once royal residence, but the Jealous Lou
is XI turned it into a state prison, and could
we op to ask the stones about the thousand
spirits sent to their grim embrace by secret
letters, and who were tortured out of lie, we
should never get back to our gingerbread fair.
1t is painful to think that one can never take
q sail along the current of life without running
against the ugly snags and rusty traps of cru
city. We might think these days were better,
if the criminal courts of England did not tell
us that the present amusement of their Mary
Mannings and Mary Newels consists in scar
| ing children to death with red-hot iron, or
cooking them alive in cauldrons of boiling wa
| ter. Infant torture is now merry sport for
English women.
To what can 1 compare gingerbread fair to
give you an idea of it? have it-let some OF
your elder readers recall an old-fashioned
Maine muster day; then let them imagine the
Place du Tra5e; great circle with magnif-
cent avenues; here is NJ. Haussman's long
boulevard du Prince Eugene, where cannon
balls can quel riot, and the boulevard Ma
zas famous for it's prison; but we will not now
stop there, for this boulevard extends to tn,
Seine, to Bridge Austerlitz; and together will
these the avenue Montrtu nil and the bouvelard
already mentioned, and the broad race course
leading 10 Vincennes-let them imagine al
to be covered thick, thick thick, with the moi
siest, gayest, maddest fair that is held in al
France. CoDjuring, soug-si=ging, all manner
of games, lotteries, vaulting, tight-rope uano
ing, all sorts of grotesque disguises' 'es'iNs
gyrating clowns, the giantess and the dwarf
brilliant crockery, theatres, Puncn anu oaus
different musical bands drumming ana hnog
screaming of children, (hut only for JOY gener