Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1873-08-06
PARIS.
wicked wRtiersOn, Wine and W0'
men of the World.

men oil the WOriu.
Henry Watterson's Paris letter to the Louis
willie Courier Journal
PARIS. July lS. 1873.
This is Paris. 1t is Paris and early
morning. There are pretty bare-headed
shop girls fitting hither and yon, and
looking for all the world like the figures
which appear on China vases.
The woman who has the best turned
ankle in England, and you might go
even higher still without impairing the
perspective, assured me only fortnight
ago that the French girls are singularly
wanting in statuesque attractions, and
pointed with pride to clump of
British vestals, each one of whom she as
sured me realized Hegarth s line ofbeauty
so perfectly that the tape that meas
ured Powers Greek Slave or the Medci
Venus would serve them all as well. 1t
may be so. The English girls are a
strapping set, beginning with the pink
faced lady and going down to the yellow
haired harlot But when it comes down
to the matter Of countenance their
claims upon ones admiration are ex-
ceedingly indirect. The girls of Paris,
on the other hand, conceal whatever de-
iciencies of figure they may have in
herited by costumes the most tasteful
and naive, looking out at you in sweet,
bewitching way, as if they meant to have
you believe that if Paris is heaven they
are its angels. The English girls, high
or low, remind you of the bayfield, and
the cow-lot. There is in them and about
them an offensive materialism redolent
of the mould above the rose. The
French girls are etherealized. They
call up visions of dance and Proveincal
song, of moonlight and banks of violets,
and are redolent of the rose above the
mould. An English girl will smirk be-
fore looking glass until the very quick
silver giggles and grows dim, and come
away drab for all her 6nery. A French
girl has only to clap on fig leaf and
bit of ribbon TO appear dressed in the
hight of fashion.
Forgive these familiarities. 1t is
Paris, and one must needs feel little
sinful. If it be the wickedest city in
Christendom, which take leave to deny
it is in every respect the least disgusting
in its wickedness. If it be the most ar
ti6cial, it is the most brilliant and de-
lightful. The most beautiful woman that
/ ever saw, and the woman who dressed
most exquisitely, was cen little care
less of herself; perhaps she paid so much
to her clothes that she had no
time left for her person. at all events,
beneath the array of silks and laces and
linens, she was dirty baggage. That
is Paris. 1t is clean and gay to look
upon; but it now and then smells, and
is the worse for the lack Of little more
cold water. A city OF fountains, it is
not city of mops and brooms. Yet
one grows used to its dirt and its odors,
which, it 'nust be owned, are chiefly hui
man. Indeed, in spite Of their frivolity
and their filth, the French are more
honest and pleasing than the English, in
whose very bluntness and brusquerie
there are the elements Of duplicity.
The French are too transparent to de-
ceive. Their swindles ars small and
comical. There is something fantastic |
in their larcenies and their lying, which |
one is disposed to discount in favor OF
tho next bottle of claret.
This clRret tastes nowhere so well as |
in Paris. Drink i as you will, it is not
the same fluid you made wry faces at
lust across the channel. BIT i goes
best with the 6lets and the trufles, Of
which, thanks TO the pigs Of Perrigord,
there are still abundance.
They say the gaieiy Of the Empire is
yone They say that Paris is sonsber in
rs Republican dress. ! confess / don't
see il. The last time ! vas here the
Empire was in its prime. sansy was
plentiful. The court lisported itself in
! palace, which indeed is in ruins. The
column Vendome stood where at present
gou see only an inclOsure Of rude planks.
The Bois de Boulogne had lost none OF
is trees. With these exceptions, how
ever, Paris seems as glittering and as
reckless as ever Il was. II may be lit
.le easier 10 cross the street in front OF
he Grand Hotel. But it is sumner, the !
lull season, and hundreds OF thousands |
,f people are out Of town. As il is, COM
ng here from London, the place daz-
lies one with its splendOr. aud yOa are
not moved TO shed any tears over the
lead Empire. That Paris owes Il many |
,f is fneries is true. But Paris was /
Paris before Napoleon, and Paris is Paris |
gtiu. In the day time, IN the night tine, |
4 is the sane; the same foudness for
ieht aud uoiss, the same fondness for
,hade and flowers, the sane fondneas for |
he open air. In the Champs Elysees, |
,lone The bonleFaris there i nothing /
but eating aad drinking The Empire l
Z gone. Vivs ls Reppbhguel fes-l