The New York Herald Newspaper, March 1, 1873, Page 4

AMERICA IN PARI, Tho. Lost Remnant of the Re- publican Israel. THE AMERICAN COLORY IN FRANCE. What Our Dear Brethren Do in Foreign Lands. King Washburne and His Colonial Court. COLONISTS WHO MAKE COLLECTIONS. THE WAIFS OF THE COLONY. Literary and Artistic Life and Paris as a Historical Study. The Circus as an Estab- lished Institution. The Perils of Husbands and Fathers with Ladies in Their Train. THE CONGRESS AT THE GRAND HOTEL, The Last American of the Season. What an Average American Brother Thinks of France. American Hegiras to France from the Rise of Shoddy to the Fall of Tammany. “A Hundred Thousand Francs at a Sitting.” Does Foreign Life Ever Be- come Home Life P A CYNICAL VIEW OF THE COLONY. “True Hearts are More than Coronets, and Simple Faith than Normar Blood.” THE INTERDICTED COMEDY. How Victorien Sardou Satirizes Cur Country in ‘‘Uncle Sam.” MR. WASHBURNE AS CENSOR. Was the Prohibition of the Play Only a Cunning Advertisement ? Paris, Feb, 9, 1973, Ido not know that I shall succeed in carrying out fully your instructions in reference to the American colony in Paris, And yet I see full well that there can be no theme more interesting to the affectionate American mind than tidings of this Jost remnant of our republican Israel—to know how “America in Paris” lives and flourishes; what its men and women 40; what, above all things, they find to compensate for exile from dear, dear America, Shall make a report that will fall upon the colony like one of the cunningly-devised hand grenades which Orsini threw under the imperial carriage? Orsinikilled and wounded innocent per- sons only. Shall incur that responsibility ? Shall Itellyou all the gossip that comes to a HERALD correspondent in a colony where nearly every Member spends his time in discussing the other members? That, I am afraid, would do harm to many and kindness to none—something the HERALD would never do. But “America in Paris’ has phases that will interest friends at home ‘without offence to friends abroad. And of this let me write as answering fully the spirit of my in- structions, GENERAL ASPECTS OF THE COLONY. In numbers I have heard that the colony will muster as a minimum, in Winter, from two thou- Band to tiree thousand souls, In Summer it will go as high as ten thousand—twenty, perhaps, ‘whefi there is an Exhibition. There is the Ameri- can quarter, whichis the gaudiest, most expensive and most pretentious part of Paris. This quarter inclides the Champs Elys¢es, the Boulevard Hauss- mann and the radius of wide, magnificent streets sweeping around the Arch of Triumph, It is noted that in the American quarter tradesmen charge twenty-five or thirty per cent additional for their goods, and in compensation paint the American coat-of-arms on their windows. It 1s further noted that tavern keepers make a point of con- sulting American tastes, and announce, as an al- lurement te the American mind, fishballs and buckwheat cakes for breakfast and pumpkin pies for dinner. Furthermore it has been observed as # colonial custom that the longer the colonist Tesidgs here the more he craves the cemtre of the city—thé narrow, quaint streets near the Palais Royal. While the resident section is around the Arch, the business section te on the-Rue Seribe, the Rue de Ia Paix and the stréets around the new opera house. Here are the banking houses where you receive your money, and ‘American buffets,” where you may spend i for Bourbon whiskey and “mixed drinks,” There aré American clergymen ‘Whe will minister to the soul, and American physi- clans who will care for your body, amd @ small, reserved class of superior beings engaged in den- irs p opularly believed to be worth many and to be tn confidential rela- ® crowned heads of Eerope, There iors whe wili decorate the bedy in anand save you from the pulpy, Of the French tailers. There are (ng rooms, where you ther rom the East and the Wins 1g also to be found on the French om that day by paying $5 you can she celebration and hear the great coleny proclaim liberty to all the Jand and all the iahabitants thereof. If so movea you can make & speech yoursels, THE HEAD OF THE COLONY, ‘The head of the colony ls the Minister. That distin. guished officér had thé Ontivis! oustody of the star. spangled banner and the eagic, and he must see that nota star of the banner t# tarnished nora feather ruMed in our bird's glorious tail. The Minister is our king, and the reigning sovereign is ‘Xubu B. Washburne, He holds his court out ia the NEW YORK HERALD, SATURDAY, MARCH 1, !1873.—TRIPLE SHEET. Avenue L’Impératrice, beyond the Arch of Tri- umph, living in a hotel of bis own. He has his legation im the Rue de Chatflot, on the “Hill of Chailiot” as it was called on the old maps. This waa the most famous spot in Paris during the siege, for whilo Lord Lyons and his British lion, and the other Ministers with their birds and beasts of national glory, hurried away, Washburne re- mained, having in charge not only his own noble eagle with one head and one tall, but the eagle of Prussia, with its two heads and two tails, Greatly has he been honored for this by every one but Jules Favre, A sturdy, prompt, kindly,’ brave, gifted man is Ehu B, Washburne, and ag king of the colony is held in respect. His vice-regent is Colonel Wickham Hoffman, @ man ‘honorably known in New York before the war as a citizen, during it as’ a soldicr, and since It as a diplomatist. Coloncl Heffman came hero with General Dix, and the only thing that stands in his way 1s that, boing extremely useful, no Mun- ister will consent to 5o promotion to & mission. He 1s one of the most competent men now serving the country abroad; full of information, which he does not squander upon gentlemen of the press, attentive, courteous, always at his post, and cer- tain to have a mission when we come to have a civil service in diplomacy, Colonel, we have in this court Mr, Washburne's son, Gratiot, whom the dowagers with danghters on In addition to the their hands willbe glad to learn ts in single life yet—a bright-eyed, prompt, amiable and intelligent Secretary,|and popular in the colony. archies have two courty—as in England there is As all mon- Buckingham Palace and Marlborough House, and as in Paris there was the Tuileries and the Palais Royal—so in the colony there is a prince apparent in the Consulate, The Consul General for France and Algeria, and the prince apparent or Prince of Wales of the colony, is General Joha Meredith Read, Jr., of Albany, the son of J. M, Read, now Chief Jus- tice of the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania, and descendant from George Read who_ signed the Declaration of Independence. Although a young man, General Read has gained literary distinction, and is a member of many scientific and literary societies, The General has his Palaise Royal near the Champs Elys¢es, and dispenses his hospitall- ties with a lavish hand. He is also very popular in the colony, more especially as he docs not, like many other Consuls General in former times, set up a palace in opposition to the Minister, nor does he, like many of our present Consuls, entertain his American friends with reflections upon the government because Con- gress does not raise thé salary of their office. Around these acparate centres—the Ministry and the Consulate—the colony revolves in harmony, A reception at the Ministry and a dinner with the General are among the comforts of life, unless you add a paragraph in the personal column of the American Register; for the colony has its press likewise, being American in that respect truly. There is @ journal in London called the Anglo- American, given to American néWs; another, called the Swiss Times, is published in Geneva, but this is American and English in its news. Galignant’s journal is printed dally, and, although English for nearly halfa century, is becoming American in its old days and has our Yankee coat of arms painted on its window side by side with the roaring British lion. The Register is the colonial organ, and in ita columns colonial public opinion is generated. Over the Register presides John J. Ryan, a gentleman well known to the HERALD, who spent twenty years under the eye of its founder, and shows tho effects of that masterly training in bis new, delicate and independent station. PHASES OF COLONIAL CHARACTER. You pass beyond these spheres, and the colonial harmony ceases, The colony breaks into its little zones or worlds, each a different world, and one, generally speaking, in great contempt of another. There is a Washington Club, a kind of Upper House or House of Lords in its way, which many seck, while few are chosen, and where members may discuss Baccarat for 100,000f,, or the Athana- sian creed, as they please, for the deliberations are secret, There is the Congress, which holds its sessions in the courtyard of the Grand Hotel—a talking If net a deliberative body (of which I shall speak again), access to which Is open to any one who will buy @ bottle of champagne, There are general distinctions, but our colony hasmany, many others. There are the old resident and the new resi- dent, the American in trace and the American who has nothing to do, the one who can speak French and the one who cannot, but insists upon buying a French newspaper and reading it im a dazed condition, as he sits at his café, in the belief that the attempt somehow improves his positien in society; the resident who has his family and the one who has no visible relations of a famtiy character—the American who has the red ribbon of the Legion of Honor and his fellow countryman who denounces the custom as disloyal, but would give twenty per cent of his for- tune to have a similar decoration. And so on in distinctions even more minute if ene cared to fol- low them. COLONISTS WHO “MAKE COLLECTIONS.” But before following them there is aclass that we might rudely, and scarcely with accuracy, call the “Virtuoso” colony. This is composed of peo- ple who ‘collect’? things. But even this requires 9 division, There is the virtuoso who is a kind of pawnbroker or Chatham street Hebrew of the Original Jacobs tendency, and who runs from one bric-a-vrac and curiosity shop to another buying all that is curious and odd, to be resold to Ameri- can customers in the Summer. I do not now refer te this class—although there are some in the colony who follow the trade who will sell you anything from a chine jug of Louis XIV.'s time to a stolen fragment of the Column Vendome, and faillng to make five hundred per cent profit will take five. Your true virtuoso is @ man of taste and culture, who makes a “collection.” There is one well known to the writer of these lines, whose hobby is the French Revolution. A picture, print or book on the French Revolution is a source of joy to him. He is quite moony on the subject, and will spend an afternoon on the guays among the old book stores, and if he can find a new print of Mirabeau or a colored caricature @f Robespierre or an edition of Pere Duchesne, goes home in tri- umph and makes himself a blessing to bis family. If he has one rare print and sees another he will buy it, not because he needs it, but to prevent some one else from possessing it. I know an- other, @ most respected member of the colony, though neither one Of the lords in the club, nor an attendant at the Grand Hotel Congress, nor to an-alarming extent @ courtier of our reigning Powers, whose taste js for books and prints illus- treating the American Revolution. There was a time, too, when Paris was@ mine for those who had fancies tn this way. America and France were 80 closely connected during the Revolution thata great part of the literature of the country was tinted with events in the Jerseys and Virginia, and the achievements of the famous General Wash: ington. Franklin resided tn Paris several years, was of French sympathies, and was honored by the French peopie. Ido not know how many por- traite of Franklin were made here, but I have heard hundreds assigned as the fgare. To collect these Franklins, to gather an assortment of them, to have copies of the peculiar prints, those witha turn to the nose oF an extra button to the garment, or rudely engraved and with no more resemblance to the philosopher than to any conspicuous figure in that history—any odd, quaint or unusual Franklin is & rare, great treasure. Can you imagine this feeling? Do you know what itis to yearn fer something—to root and search it eut? Have yeu felt the exquistte sense of possession? Have you ciimbed the beatling crag under gun fre god with beating heart wrested the colors? Have you stood in the cricket or base ball fleld tip toe en the springy grass and seen the ball fying from the driven bat, and felt ttio your hand, your fingers tingling with pain as yourheart beat higher to the cheers of thousands? If these sensations have come to you, then, on, fri , you may know what it is to be @ and virtuoso grub among the shops for Franklins and Washingtons and colored carica- tures of Rebespierre in the Rue Richelieu and on the Quai Voltaire. COLONISTS WITH HOBBIES. Nor do our virtuosos end with these plain, Genuine delights. Gramercy, no! There is one Who had @n admiration for Napoleon the First. 5o he searched and jpquired aud purchased until he tad “a collection.” Ome day he was in the Latin Quarter discussing hia fancy with & dealer in prints. “How many different prints of Napoteoa are there?’ ‘Three thousand,” was bhe answer. Think of that, you who contem- Plate collecting in Paris, Napoleon was an item in the period known ag the French Revolution, and yet of him alone, to havea complete collection, you must buy 3,000 prints, There is another of the colony whose specialty ta the Commune. This came and flourished and fell two years age. One Would think that it would be an easy matter to gather the records of that brief and recent time. But there are necessary documents and copies of Proclamations and newspapers of the Commune as @iMcult to buy as those of the French Revolution. So truly do we learn that the history of each day has ite own web and woof, Once snap asunder the threads, and weary is tho work of again weaving them together. Another of my virtuoso friends has 4 fancy for Horace. Let it come in any shape, any translation or style, so it is unlike another in his keeping, aud the day that brings it is caiendared among the red-letter annals. Another Minds life to consist of the painter Velasquez, You know Ve- lasquez.as the ohiefof the Spanish school—dead, how many years ago? Well, my friend spends his time in going from place to place, wherever there 18 @ reputed work of Velasquez, to leok at it, and dwell upon the color and the movement, and the clear life and light that come from the marvellous canvaas, like the life that one sees under the light of the blessed sun, and to write full notes, meaning ultimately a book. Iconfeas this seems a pleasing fancy—this hunting the creations of a God-inspired master like Velasquez—from capital to capital—from Stockholm to Seville and from 8t. Petersburg to London; and when my friend, with bis young, rapturous face, began to glow as he talked of his hobby, I thought there was a kind of knight- errantry in his mission, Others collect old china and porcelain. Of this I know littie—my fancies in the cup and plate line being casily satisfied. But Iam told that no fascination grows upon the collector with more power than this for cluna, and that some of our countrymen have been known to experience emotions of an agitating nature upon discovering a plate of the time of Louis XIV. Thore are collectors, too, whose designs in the col- lecting line are neither quaint nor high nor patri- otic, but who have grossly diseased fancies for things forbidden to men. Of such one writes with Pain and anger, as though we stamped them down into the dust, COLONIAL WAIFS, Thore are here in our colony types not classes of an original character. ‘There is the stout old dowager, who has three daughters she wants to marry off her hands, and trails from Paris to the Springs, and from the Springs to Paris, and to Italy and the Pyrenees. And you always encounter her just when you don’t want to be bothered; and there comes the ripple of talk about the Kicklebys and the Dicklebys, and that horrid beast in yellow whiskers, who came so near marrying Matilda; but he was not a count ora Prussian offlcer—only an adventurer from Wiesbaden. Then comes your friend the British officer, who was once in the Guards, with baggy trousers, and plays billiards and likes Americans so much that he will not con- sort with Engushmen, and Is a relative of the Duke of Bethnal Green, whose colors he wears, Well, our British friend has troubles with his family, who do not like his fondness for Americans, and resent it by limiting his allowance; but when he becomes thirty he will have his money, and @ little loan until that time would be so jolly—and if you would like to know the Duke be at Chantilly on Sunday. Then we have our friend the Count, who speaks English with such acicar ac- cent, and nag been oll over America, and will be- come a director in your company and place shares for his noble family for £5,000; and you will not be- Meve he gambled on the Mississippi long ago. Then you have your Irish friend, whose French—varring the Tipperary accent—is fluent, who isa graduate of Trinity College and was punished for his devo- tion to the true cause, and found times bad enough even in New York, and wotld like to travel with you, and pay his share of the xpenses, if youcould advance him a little until hoi. :ars from his bankers, who, sorrow upon them, for ‘blackgyards that pre- tind to be bankers," have not answered his drafts, Then you have your friend who chews tobacco and sees nothing in Parts to compare with America, and has an invention, and wants to ascertain how he can invite the whole Paris press to a ddjeuner; never mind the expense—a bottle of cham- pagne on each aside of each i : gOfengachs, plate aif necessary. Then you have your friend whe is | in the Ghurch, and has a cough, and travels on a purse made up by his congregation, and means when he reaches Rome to deliver a lecture against the Catholics; and would not mind seeing the Pope ifhe could have an hour with him on theological queations; who eats.an early break(ast, is always on the run from one palace to another, and carries & carpet-bag with him, which tn time turns out to be his clothes, that he will not leave to the mercy of dishonest French servants. Then comes your exceedingly sharp young man, who crosses the Ocean six times a year—as purchaser of goods for wholesale houses in New York, and knows the best hotels for table d’hote, and has high amusement in telling English travellers of the horrors of American life, and how no prudent man would walk up Broadway without carrying @ loaded pistol in his hands, and how Americans are dying for a mon- archy, and would like one of the Queen's sons, Then you have your friend who 1s always in trouble, whom no one treats well, who suffers from a suc- cession of unappeasable wrongs; and you lend him @ hundred francs to pay the landlady who ts actu- ally in possession, and have your own thoughts when you see him beaming with smiles, riding in the Bois de Boulogne tn the afternoon with a woman at his side, who is neither bis grandmother nor his landlady. ARTIST LIFE IN THE CoLoNy, You find these types constantly appearing and disappearing. They Moat over the surface of our colonial life like the weeds and strange growths which one sees in the brackish streams of the for- est. These, however, are not representative of the colony. ‘There are colonists that one docs not meet at the Grand Hotel or on tbe Boulevards, One who Knows told me that during the siege Atuericans came to light of whose existence the Legation was not aware. There are those who come here for study and rest—literary people and artists—who slip down to Fontainebleau during the Summer and in the Winter do their work in qgulet, out ofthe way studios, over near the Luxem- bourg. When Mr. Lowell came here he took an apartment in the Latin Quartier, near the book shops, aad was pever seen in hotel or banking house. Here he entertained Mr. Emerson, and I question if one colonist out of twenty knew that two of the most famous Americans of the day were welling with them. Art life in Paris weuld inake a letter by itself. Asan art centre Paris is Not as pretentious as Florence or Rome, There ig no such gallery here as !n Madrid or Dresden. But good work has @ perpetual market, and around Paris there are endless opportunities for study and ebdservation, Art lifein Rome is a good deal like painting pictures or making statues on the house- tops. There art hasa society and social grades, and there you have what {s called “the brother. hood of art,” which has @ stifling effect upon the independence and growth of the artist, In Paris it ig 80 easy to burrow into the deep earth and hide away with no care for society or kid gloves, And go in literature. Parts is a charming piace for true literary work. Writing people—especially those with means—who suffer {rom the damp, de- pressing fogs of London and the roar and fever of New York life, say that Paris has @ tranquility and Sunshine that they do not find elsewhere. And when the mind becomes jaded and will not obey the spur, there are the outlying forests and long Walks in the Bois, and little runs to Sceaux to dine under the chestnut trees, or a day at Versailles to see the (ountains play. HISTORICAL STUDIRG IN PARIS. If the colonist is literary and historical in his tastes he will find inspiration in the assoctations of the wonderful city, You may walk miles and miles aiong the Paris streets and almost at every step meet @ historical association. You see all manner of palaces and paiace ruins, from the wall of the baths where the Roman Emperor Julian bathed down to the gharred wal) of the Tuileries built by Napoleon IIL. This, however, belongs to the guide- book history, which Galignani will tell you for five francs, But under this ts @ history which comes with study and going out to see. Here, for instance, lived Robespierre. It is s plain, dingy house, on the Rue St. Honoré—a house of his time, as the architecture ahows, but aow occupied by @ tradesman, Duplay, the carpenter, and the @aughter, and Robespierre, witn his dog, have van- ished like shadows; and this marrow gateway, which looks so dark now, and through which passed and repassed the first men of France in the anx- ious days of terror, is given over to workmen, who Pad in and ont, and tradesmen who chaffer with you over a bargain. And you have only to take & 6mall walk along the route paced daily in those days by Maximilian himself and you come to the site of the Jacobin Club, where Mother Jacobin Tuled until the crushing days of Thermidor, But club and club house and all the men and women who were wont to gather there have gono the dark road into the realms of silence, and now you see & commodious market house, and burly women cry you to buy fish’ on the spot where Danton once thundered, Nor ia it far to the old Church of St. Roch, which has tha meom- ory—that one Napoleon Bonaparte found the beginning of his career here—for St. Roch ta the church which was held by the insurrectionists when ho, as General of the Convention, opened upon them with real powder and ball, and so, in a whitf, ended the French Revolution. And, speak- ing of Napoleon, you may cross the river and see the top garret room which he and Junot eccupted, at five francs a month—the darkest shadows ahead—nothing to do but to sit brooding and look- ing out at the Tuileries, sweeping so majestically before them and mocking their fate with its irony of grandeur. And you may return and cross the boulevard and walk a Httle way towards Montmar- tre and see the house where Napoleon lived when he returned from Egypt. It is on the Rue |a Vic- toire, When he went to live there with Josephine it was called Rue Chautereine, but in his honor it was named the Street of Victory, and is so named until this day, and you may see his home, where was planned the Eighteenth of Brumaire, with ita Open courtyard, which has a general appearance of dinginess and looks like the courtyard of a livery stable. While’ in this vicinity you may see where Mirabeau lived and died in the rosy hours of his fame, and in the room underneath you may now sult yourself with hats and caps or any kind of head gear; or you may continue your inquiries and discover the house where John Paul Marat, ‘‘the frlend of the people,” was taking his bath one day, When Charlotte Corday stabbed him. ESTABLISHED INSTITUTIONS IN THE COLONY. The two institutions around which our colony centres harmoniously, after the Ministry and the Consulate, are the Circus and the Bon Marché, I have never heard of the circus as @ conservative or @ harmonizing institution except among the nursery maids, nor ig it, according to the best authorities, largely sought by the Americans at home. But in the colony the circus is an institu- tion. Saturday is the evening given to fashion, and upon every Saturday evening you will find the high benches and uncomiortable seats crammed with the American colony. Mere all distinctiens are lost. The colonist who has the red ribbon looks blandly down upon his compatriot who despises the decoration. Here the lords of the Washington Club and the commoners of the Con- gress, in the Grand Hotel, assembie in strength, One of the mysteries of colonial life is this passion for the circus, and I suppose it is because, ander the French gloss and the glitter of foreign life, there lingers the home feelings which well up at the sight of the well-remembered clown and the athlete who does such marvellous feats, and the fair maiden with the wavy golden hair, who xneels and jumps and breaks through the hoops, while the steed gallops beneath her, and you wish One so comely were weil settled in life. And the colonial mind goes back to earlier days, when the circus caravan and its retinue meander- ing into the village was a sight to remember in dreams—more gorgeous than the Queen of Sheba in all her majesty. So the circus, which at home is 9 wearisome performance, aud by no means a criterion of the highest tasto, becomes a soothing and home-recalling and heart-uniting influence in these strange, foreign lands. Next to the circus, as an institation in the colony, is “Au Bon Marché,” If there are any fond husbands who have visited Paris and read these words I know well what bitter memories they recall. Oh, fellow ceuntry- men, who love and honor and have sworn to pro- tect and cherish, when you come to Paris avoid “au Bon Marchéi? Whd cajers here with » full purse, atid wife ond daughter in train, must Yeave ‘all hope behind, at least while the money holds out. “Au Bon Marché” is a vast magazine for the sale of everything that woman can need or crave. ‘When you compass what is meant by this definition you will know the danger and the temptations of ‘Au Bon Marché.” I mention it as one of a class—a vast class, You run against stores of this character all over Paris. They are named like the cafés and the taverns, but with a wider and more poetical sweep of fancy. “The Scottish. Mountains,” “The Carnival of Venice,” “The Spring,” ‘‘The Great House of Peace,” “The Good Devil,” “The Infant Jesus,” “Old England,” “A Thousand and One Nights,” ‘The House—Is It Not?’ These are some of the names given to the dry goods stores, or rather shops, containing, as I remarked, all that Womam can need or crave, and where Americans are expected to come and squan- der their fortunes. In these great stores the colonists sink all rank, all social pretensions, all claim to be more than plain Americans in a foreign land eager to win a bargain. The colonists differ on many points, and walk their own ways with high mein, But they are Americans after all, and suffer like the rest of mankind when they go with their wives and daughters to ‘‘Au Bon Marché,”” THE CONGRESS AT THE GRAND MOTEL, Our countryman when he comes here, not as a colonist, but as @ sojourner, finds @ fascination in Paris, He plans his Continental trip—the Rhine, Cologne, Maycnce and the German route—and you bid him farewell at the raliway station and see him disappear in his van, with hat-box, cane, shawl, umbrella, soft felt hat, meerschaum pipe, large Harper or Appleton guide book, and say again “Goodbye,” as though you would not see him for @ season. In a week or two you run against him on the Boulevards, most probably wearing @ mew style of hat, and learn that he has “done” the Continent and means to have another “go” at Paris. His life here is at best monotonous. He calls the waiters “John” and gives them a frano, And ifa waiter is shrewd—as some are— and address him as ‘‘My Lord,” in wretched Eng- lish, he will receive five francs another time. He likes the courtyard of the Grand Hotel. In this wide, open place, the sun shining through the glase skylights, seated around small iron tables, late im the afternoon, you will any pleasant Sum. mer day see that congress of our beleved fellow gouutrymen to which I have referred in continuous session, all talking at the same time, encouraging their eloquence with champagne, The subjects of their deitberation are generally American politics and the immorality of the French nation. Your Presidential campaign was fought with more ferocity m Paris than tn America. We had nothing else to do to Wager our money on ome candi- date or another. During the few weeks when the issue was in dowbt party fever ran to its highest point, and those of our American friends holding office were tn an anxious, undecided state of mind. Iremember ene venerable representative of our starry flag who had served several administra. tions, and would serve several more if the country 80 demanded, who gave his views during this un- certain period in this fashion: support Grant. You know Grant Is our President. But remember, Ihave nothing against Greeley, for whom 1 have great respect.” Batin time Pennsylvania voted for Hartranft, and the minds of these gentlemen became easier and did not even show “respect” for poor Mr. Greeley. THE LAST AMERICAN OF THE SEASON. During the Midsummer months the congress in the Grand Hotel ts well attended, and the home- sick American will have his heart giaddened by the sharp cockatoo sccent in which he hears the English language spoken, reminding him 80 noisily and sweetly of home, This congress is easy of access. There is no trouble in gaining admission to this body, Social digtinctions—so stropa at paane-nare perpen here. {have seen the con- gress session, attended by s gambler, a Goctor of divinity, two or three bankers, 8 general officer of the army and one or two fraudulent bankrupts, The members were harmonious and discoursed in company, and (all bat the divine) rank out of the same wine bottle and talked at the top of their voices, and almost quarrelied as to who should pay at the end. But as the Summer dics away the congress thing out, Some hurry home; others go to the south, and whoever enters the high and stately hall towards November wilt 8ce ®@ painful spectacle. The last American Of the season, deserted by his companions, sits over his third bottle of wine, vainly look- ing for @ familiar face, smoking a mammoth Cigar, his feet spread over a chair, his eye looking dismally at the carving and the decorations ana the equipages that come an@ go. The familiar faces have fled. There is no one to whom he can express his contempt for the French nation—no one to whom he can impart his information as to what Bismarck will do. He is dreadfully alone. He may visit the Legation, and talk to the black-eyed young Washburne, or be entertained with the most absolute politeness by Colonel Hoffman ; but he dis- covers that the Legation people have “views” and do not express them. He may go down to the Con- sulate and see General Read; but the General, who is politeness and official courtesy embodied, has also @ habit of listening, and of confining his visit- ors to their business, which soon exhausts a va- grant American who has “views” and desires to discuss them, Even the circus has closed. Bowles, Brothers & Vo., famous a8 a conversation saloon, has closed also. He is stranded and alone, On mail days he has his New York HEgRALD as a com- fort, and the eagerness with which he reads that famous Journal would delight ita editors. Down to the last, the very last items, marriages and deaths and ship news and advertisements, beginning with the personal cotumn, he ruminates and reads again and again, until nature summons him to his cham- pagne. WHAT THE AVERAGE AMERICAN THINKS OF FRANCE. AsT have said, our average wandering country- man in these landa has positive views on one point, the utter worthlessness of the French nation. The men are all cowards, The women are all—what shall we say? Of course the French would be whip- ped by the Germans! Why, a regiment of Ameri- cans, well-drilled, and under the command of Sheridan, could march through France from Nice to Lille. Under Napoleon it was diferent, becauso he was a great man, But when he died all valor diced with him. In addition to being cowards, the french will steal. No one will deny that, and if you did our compatriot would utterly confound you by produc- ing a series of hotel bills, every one of which had some exorbitant charge for candles, The narra- tives of the capacity of hotel keepers would make an Tilad, and the conclusion reached is that French- men are made to rob and Americans to be robbed; and there is no help for it, except by a system of extermination or general deputation. In addition to this, there are other evils. He ands the French- man vastly overrated in the accomplishments which all the world assigns to him. No French- man, strange to say, can cook. He may make a fruitless little salad, or some ineMcient sauce, but fora “square meal” give our American friend a good old-fashioned Virginia negro grandmamma, whe understands how to make hoc-cake. There are no oysters in France, and the few ‘‘Ameri- cans” that may be had for their weight in hard money are a poor consolation for the body. accustomed to Saddle Rocks and Bie Points, Qur friend will confound you on this cookery ques- tion by showing that there is not an oyster stew to be found in all this great city. Another luxury ho misses is greencorn. The absence of green corn is an indication of the worthlessness of the French taste, There is champagne, to be sure, 80 dear to the heart of the American abroad as well as at home; but champagne, according to his theory, 1s made by Germans and German capital. Cheese is ® grievance to him, How any human being can eat French cheese, and why every French waiter will insist upon offering our compatriot cheese at various stations of the meal is something he can- not understand, unless there be some hidden in- sult to all the world in the composition of the checse—a circumstance he is disposed to believe, And as to the women, his opinions on this matter are opinions upon which this writer would rather not dwell. JARDIN MABILLEL But while passing hurriedly over the woman question and the views entertained by our average low countrymen upon the ladies of France, why "Ye that he believes that, as a genoral thing, French ladies are in the habit of dancing at the Jardin Mabille ? Have I described Mabiile? Iam halfafraid of that shrine. Well, Mabille is a gar- den just off the Champs Elys¢es, where you pay an unusually large fee for entrance. There are one or two small fountains, wooded walks, a shooting gullery, little alcoves, where you may sip coffee or what not, and a profusion of colored lanterns blaz- everywhere, and painted canvas, that looks like endless forests, and innumerable mirrors flashing the light to and fro In the ‘centre is a band of musicians and a boarded dancing floor. This 1s the Jardin Mabille—Mabille biniself at the door, with his keen, Orrental face, taking in the money. It 1s a Summer ‘garden, and the music and dancing are under the stars, Well, Mabille has in his employ several young women, with hard, leering fuces, and sev- eral young men, with shiny hats, who mingle around in the crowd as though they had paid to come in and are really visitors, When the music commences (generally the music of that harmo- nious imp of Satan musician Offenbach) these young men and women, evidently in the easiest and last stages of virtue, rush upon the boarded floor and dance peculiar dances—the “can-can,”” among others—not much more indecently, how- ever, than I have seen it on the New York stage. Our Paris-American Congress, assembled in 8 circle, believes that it sees the ladies of Paris ata common evening entertainment, I could never see the Jardin Mabille except as a humbug of the most transparent and dazzling kind, and why our American friends should visit it and give it fame I cannot imagine, except that Mabille is said to be avery bad place, and they attend ex. pecting that something outrageous will certainly happen. Then, as I remarked, in studying the in- stitutions of the country and the habits and cus. toms of a nation Mabilleisa fine lesson. I do not imagine that it occurs to one out of ten of our observing countrymen that Mabille is simply an institution kept by a Frenchman for English and Americans to visit. During the first season the American frequents Mabtille. If he prolongs his stay, and becomes a colonist, he takes this garden at its value and never Visits it at all. THE DANCING HALLS IN THE LATIN QUARTER, A new inatractive exhibition to those of our countrymen who are curious about the “manners and customs” of the nation will be found over in the Latin quarter, im the dancing hall Rear the Loxemburg. There isa low entrance, generally guarded by genedarmes. A circular sun of biez- ing red light indicates the way. If you are eari- ous and pause a moment, you willsee in the ight thrown Iato the night by the lanterns the figure of 8 soidier in bronze on ® pedestal, in the atti- tude of command, his hand pointing to some im- aginary foe. This bronze figure represents the fa- mous Marshal Ney, and on this spot, where you may stand and hear the fiddling and the dancing, Maré phal Ney was shot by French soldiers under Louis XVIII, for having commanded French soldiers under Napoleon. This dancing hail on sun- day evening, when the clerks are in abundance, or on Thursday evening, when the students come in numbers, is not without its at- tractions to the observing American mind. You enter under the radiating lights and go downa pair of greasy stairs, and see on the floor of the hall between two and three thousand people, mainly young men, who are “studying” at the schools in the Latin quarter, The romp and noise and elatter, the buzz and hum of loud conversa. tion, song and repartee, joking and drinking continues, until the music strikes up and the mul- titade dissolves into a mass of dancing hamanity. As to the dancing, I cannot say more than that it is very wild, with a tendency to the can-can and other improper manifestations, and I have heard my American brethren cqndemn ( 1a strong terms, ‘There Gancing nausin'ourside secuons, and ene yon the Rue St. Honoré, much frequented by our countrymen, almost opposite kbar Robenatite lived with Duplay, tle car- p ruled ret with po ton eaten France from a gar! FRENCH VIEWS OF ‘THE COLONY. You can understand, perhaps, how the average Amorican abroad, his-observations- Hmited to the Luxembourg and Mabiile, will bave original and not Over-complimentary notions as to the morals of France. The French are like ghe Oninese, They do not welcome the foreigner. They have made Paris the most Beautifal city in the world, because they are artiste by nature, and could not have made an ugly 3nd forbidding city bad they triea, Whether you see Paris in detail aa you 0 reaming along the boulevards, or see it by day from the top of the Arch of Triumph, or by night from tue heights of Montmartre, you are impressed with ite Marvellous beauty. But this Paris was made by Frenchmen for Frenchmen, and if the forcigner comes—well, he could do no better elsewhere, thinks Monsieur Crapaud—no better at all, and 80 he comes to Paris. But there is #0 hearty welcome. A Frenchman wil never ask bow you like his city, Of course, you like it, and know and feel and are gind to adintt that for beauty and taste and all the resources. of civiliza tion there is nothing in the world like Paris, But that American instinct for commendation which leads the Yankee to call every post village a ‘city’ and every Alderman a: celebrated’ man ts not found among the French, There is no welcome im the French character towards the forcigner, none of the going into society which grects the for- eigner in America. The Amertcan colony is re- garded very much by Paris in general as New York would regard @ German colony in Hoboken or a colony of Poles near the Bowery. There is a story of @ famous Senator who came to this city some time ago. He knew nothing about foreign customs, He had known honor and was resolved to be true to the dignity of his station. He would have his apartments in the best hotel and one of them should be a splondid parior tp which he could receive his callers, But no one called, none of the nobility; none of the splendid names of the Empire; no one, In fact, except the representatives of the Legation and the consulate. The eminent Senator sat alone in his parlors for s day or two, and then took to the boulevards; and since then, Iam told, he has the opinion that the French are no more gociable than the English But, in truth, a Senator of the United States in thé Grand Hotel, sitting alone in a vast parlor, waiting for visitors, would make no more impression upom the mind of a Frenchman than a Senator from Mexico or Brazil. In fact, the average Frenchman, when he thinks of America, is apt to confound the United States with Brazil and Paraguay—to think of it all as one country, inhabited by an extrava gant, expensive and, in some respects, a wilé people, who, strange to say, are white, Nor is this surprising when one considers the character of the representatives of our country who come te Paris, There is, of course, the class accustomed te foreign life; studious men, who seek the Latw Quarter ; business men, who keep in trading circles) the American gentleman, with his “Europeas habit” upon him, who knows Paris and avoids his fellow countrymen, and liven down in the narrow streets towards the Palais Royal. But every Summer there comes the shoal of sight seers from England and America, The En; ‘lish traveller isa type in himself, You seo him jn the comedies, is the pictorial satirical papers, in the shape of a toy. The one eyeglass, the small billycock hat, the Plaided coat and striped trousers, the brows hanging Dundreary beard, the opera glass swung over his shoulder and the inseparable umbrella, This is the Englishman as French fancy paints him So he was to our fathers. But the typical Amert can changes with every season. THE AMERICANS WHO HAVE COME ABROAD, There was the hegira of “war Americans” dur- ing the Rebellion, whea there were a Southernanda Northern colony, who used to frown on each other as they passed along the boulevards. The French police had their own time to prevent these Mon- tagges and Capulets from doing more than bite their thumbs at each other. I remember a comic print of the time, entitlea ‘North and South Americans Discuss Politics.’ The scene was an Omnibus on a boulevard, filled with passengers, seated om the top. Atone end was a Northernos with a pistol drawt, firing at a Southerner at the other end, who had a pistol drawn also, the alarmed passengers striving, in every attitude, te avold the shots. French feeling was much with the South, upon whose supporters the Emperor ‘was wont to smile his gloomy, inscrutable smile, After the cotton loan was sold and money ran short our “erring countrymen” found Paria @ hard place and were reduced to many shifts, But with the war came the shoddy lords. “During the closing years of the war the shoddy class foamed over Paria and amazed the frugal French mind by extrava- gance and want of culture. This was the harvest time of the cooks, and the concierges, and waiters at the casés, and more especially the dealers in Pictures and imitation jewelry. The shoddy lords were followed by the petroleum aristocracy—an astonishing class, Who generally came in groups, under @ competent courier, wpo spoke all lan- guages and robbed his clients. Then came the ‘Tammany hegira. First we had Mr. Sweeny and some of the chiefs, who came to study Paris, so that they might gain hints for beautifying New York. The example became contagious, and all the Ameri- cus boys came, wearing dazzling diamond pins and gaudy scarfs, and drove around in carriages and drank champagne before breakfast, and smoked amazing cigars, and gave the waiters a napoleon for drink-money, and spent their time in houses Where the female society, it is said, was more amiable than exclusive. As most of these aston- ishing young men were known as colonels, or generals, or judges, or Senators in Albany, and as in their interviews with Frenchmen they took ng pains to diminish their importance at hoine, Frenchmen began to have their own ideas as to the ruling classes of our dear native land, But this happy hegira came to anend. We have had Tammany men since, but they came like birds in &@ moulting state. Their diamonds are gone. They no longer boast of their consequence in New York. They spend their time considering extradition treaties, and, notwithstanding the Carlist troubles, show @ singular affection for Spain, THE OUTSIDER AND THS INSIDER, Between the Summer-comers and the residents of the colony there are no relations of enthusiasm. The colony, for instance, has its club, with superb apartments, in the Place de l'Opéra, looking dowa at the Column Vendome, It looks down also upon the Grand Hotel, and while our average American brother who is doing his Paris for the first time sits at the café and drinks his champagne. wonder. ing whether he will be seasick returning home, the colonists sit at the club windows and wonder what brings Americans over to Paris, anyhow—Ameri- cans, atleast, who do not have a hundred thousand ayear, Between these twe classes a flerce feud rages, Your correspondent recalls some conyersa- tions that came to him during his investigations, which, with due reserve and generous pruning, he will reproduce. One was oD outsider giving his views about the club amd the coleny. ‘We belong to the clubi’? said Jonathan, the outsider, “we belong to the club—never! I want to choose my own company. When I gamble I go to Baden-Baden and don’t win 100,000 francs from my friends at baccarat, and that’s what they do at the club every night, Why, if it were notfor Meredith Read they would all be in the Conciergerie or breaking stones on the roads. I don’t see why they should not break stones, Any man that would win 100,000 franca from his friends at a sitting and in a club is not @ gentieman—no, he fs not, by God!” “But? said your correspondent, ‘if men choose to play for 100,000 francs at baccarat, Whose business ia it, and where is there more sin in playing fora hundred thousand framcs than fora hundred?” “q know,’’ said. Jonathan, the outsider, “but you are @ journalist, and if you do your duty you will ex- pose the club.” ‘Go on,” was the response; “that is my trade.” Weil,’ said Jonathan, “the mom. bers of that club are a disgrace to the colony. Ne one will admit them into society, and so the make a society of theirown, Meredith Read iss gentioman., He asked me to dipner when I came