HOTEL DE LONDRES, Rue des petits Augustins. Friday February 8th, 1845. My dear Elizabeth, I have been so much occupied of late that my correspondence is rather slack; partly owing also to the circumstance that it was not until yesterday I could obtain an apartment with a fireplace, and my former lodging was too cold to allow of my sitting to write in it at night; for, as you know, turning in cold ensures the continuing so for several hours afterwards. Now I have a very commodious little apartment, conformable to Humboldt's, which is immediately below it: there is a bed-kennel and washing room off the chamber, so that I am quite nicely lodged. The tables in almost all these houses are made of a coarse marble, full of fossils, and though this material may be very agreeable in summer, it is wofully cold in winter. Every morning I take my breakfast before going out, bread, coffee and eggs, when not invited; but only coffee, when asked out; and in the latter case the hour is never earlier than 11 o'clock. This Paris is the prettiest place possible, whether by day or night, and one could hardly ever tire of looking at the shop

windows, which are universally well-glazed and tastefully arranged. As in other foreign parts, the different Trades cluster, more or less, together; and the groups of jewellers, confectioners, printsellers and especially of vendors of ornaments of no use, are exceedingly beautiful. Most single people dine at a Restaurateur's, where the meals are good and cheap, and the cookery of such things as plain fish, and roast fowl, is unexceptionable, so are the plain soups; but every such article of cutlets is abominably ill-dressed, soaked in butter and burnt up to hide the faults. It seems customary to eat of 5 dishes, but 3 are quite as many as I can manage, and these are soup, fowl and fish, often indeed substituting oysters or an omelette for the first and last. However my friends often invite me, and thus I seldom go to the restaurateur's. There is no beer, and I take instead half a bottle which is generally tolerable; and for all this, including bread and another dish, if I choose to order it, the price is charged 1/8d. My companion is generally a droll little Frenchman, called Montagne, who lives alone, up 4 pairs of stairs (there is "sich ‘[such]’ a getting up stairs here, as you never did see"); he resides close by me, is nearly 80 years old and a very good Cryptogamic Botanist. M. DeLessert is the great man among Naturalists in Paris; he lives in the Rue Montmartre, his house is fine and well worth seeing. I very often go thither to visit his collection, but

being a Banker, he has no time to spend in his Museum during the day, nor is he a Botanist himself, though a great Patron of that Science. A brother's family reside with M. DeLessert; the brother is a Member of the Chamber of Deputies and a very pleasant little man, his wife too is exceedingly agreeable and both are most kind to me. The customs at dinner here are not precisely like what we are used to in England, for the chief gentleman takes the 2nd chief Lady and so on. The names are put on the plates in large parties, which is an excellent plan though it often separates the couples; for there is sometimes an advantage in departing from the ceremonious mode of entrée and the individuals may gain by the change, since it does not follow that the gentleman of highest rank must necessarily find himself most comfortably placed by the greatest lady - or vice versâ. After dinner, the guests go away together; each gentleman leading the lady next to whom he has been seated. I did not understand this at first, but luckily took the hint, by Mad ‘[Madame]’ DeLessert saying she could not afford to lose me so soon, which was very polite. Indeed the people here are wonderfully polite, which I fear often cloaks a great deal of hypocrisy. The dinner is served by many "flunkeys," who are generally black (not in the face) and neither gold nor silver is commonly seen on the footmen's dresses: they hand round dishes innumerable and inform you of their names, though none have been so polite

as Mrs. Lawrence's servant was in telling me that something was "most particular good." After dinner we go into the Salons: these, in M. DeLessert's house are most spacious and agreeable; they run back from the house about 100 yards. There are besides two beautiful drawing-rooms, richly furnished and adorned with good pictures. The first "Salon" is a Conservatory, carpeted and full of most exquisite flowers, especially Camellias, Acacias, Mimosa &c ‘[etc]’. There are also gold fishes, in a large square tank of plate glass, full to the brim and placed on a high table near the wall, so that the fish look as if swimming in a piece of rock crystal. At the back are bird cages, where the birds have equally the appearance of being marvellously lively, though enclosed in a mass of solid crystal. From the upper end of the Conservatory opens an exquisite little withdrawing-room or Cabinet, furnished with sofas and books, the walls painted in arabesque and profusely gilt; it is like entering a casket of jewels or an enchanted Palace of the Arabian Nights. The second Salon is large and hung with rare and beautiful pictures, exquisite pieces by Raphael, Murillo and great Masters and many paintings of recent date and (to my mind) of great excellence: there is a fine Pianoforte and many other decorations in this room. The 3rd Salon is smaller and contains pictures by recent or living artists, exceedingly good, I thought, and has ‘[have]’ not supposed that such works were pro

duced in this so-called degenerate age of Painting. The 4th Salon is small but contains a beautiful copy in marble of the Apollo Belvedere terminating the rooms and directly facing a Nymph, placed at the commencement of this suite of apartments, which being all of one length and the statues, both of white marble and placed alike against dark crimson curtains, a most elegant termination is formed at each end. These rooms were built lately and intended chiefly for the use of the family, not of the Baron himself, who seldom gives large parties, but oftener entertains a small number, either of fellow peers, or of Naturalists. I meet there many great men, as the Duke de Broglie, and M. Co ?, the Geologist, who is also a Peer, though plain Monsieur; this often occurs, and is the case with M. Brongniart, the Geologist and Director of the Royal Sèvres China manufactory, and with many other persons. People here have all been most kind to me and I receive much more attention than I could possibly have expected, especially from persons of rank, who, like our politicians I suppose, are very busy at this season. M. F. DeLessert got me an excellent place at the Chamber of Deputies, which is a beautiful apartment, with 20 marble pillars, placed in a semicircle. The Members sit in a sort of amphitheatre; and at one end, or rather at the centre of the half-circle, there is a Tribune for the President and speakers. The room is fitted up with deep red marble, on which the decorations in white marble look like cameos;

and marble friezes, gilding and green velvet complete the ornaments. A huge and (to my mind) very ugly picture is placed over the Tribune. The Chamber is lighted by a ground glass window, which is opened when dusk comes on, and thence descends a most exquisite lustre; you can conceive nothing more tasteful, it is neither large nor gaudy. Next week I am to visit the Chamber of Peers, where M.? has got a place for me and hopes to take me with himself, though this must depend on my being able to suit his time, and my many engagements render it doubtful. I have also an order to see the Hotel de Ville, a most magnificent building outside, compared with which our new Exchange is very poor, though the new Houses of Parliament will beat the Hotel de Ville. Great ingenuity has been bestowed on its embellishment, within and without: for the covered ways and arched galleries are of exquisitely carved stone and the ceilings of the corridors running at the top of the building are brilliantly painted in Fresco. In Paris, wherever there is a fine edifice, space is left for it to be advantageously seen. The French show wonderful taste in embellishing, and though it is easy to call it French Taste by way of disparagement, it is not so easy to surpass the beauty of effect which they produce. I dare say most of the buildings and fine sights here may be full of faults and certainly they do not look well upon paper, but the reality is both striking and pleasing.

The Italian Opera House in Paris is small but brilliantly decorated. The roof is a light canopy, upborne by 10 female figures about twice the size of life and all the supports of the tiers of boxes are of carved figures. There is a profusion of gilding, arabesque and painting: the cushions are of crimson velvet, and the front boxes, which project considerably, have the whole line of balustrade gilt, and they are papered with crimson and furnished with crimson damask draperies, with gold fringe, setting off to great advantages the dresses and jewels of the ladies. The theatre itself for the performance is small, but exquisitely ornamented. I Puritani and Lablache are attracting great crowds and the singing is quite wonderful. There is no Ballet, and the price of the Pit is but 3/6d; whilst in England it is 10/6d and in a house at least 5 times as big. But the French prefer the Drama to Vocal music, and frequent the other theatres, of which I am told there are no less than 18 and all more or less dirty. I have now so many invitations that I hardly know how I am to get away from this place: not before Friday next and more probably Monday; for to-morrow I go to M. Gay's and Baron DeLessert's (the latter in the evening) and on Monday and the other days of next week, to Brongniart, Decaisne, Richard, Comte Jaubert and sundry others. I generally visit the Jardin des Plantes in a morning, about 2 miles distant from this house

and a most horribly dirty walk, through the worst part of Paris, which is bad indeed! With all the beauties of Paris, it has many unpardonable faults, as the filth of the streets, which are abominable in bad weather: the pavement too is wretched: few streets are flagged on both sides, but here a bit and there a bit; sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other; obliging you to keep dodging across over the gutters and rough stones, to gain a scrap of pavement. The Omnibuses are very ordinary and though Celerity, Expedition and the like, are very "slow Coaches;" the cabs are better, but not particularly good nor to be compared with those in London. The price is 1 franc and 1/4, for which you may go from one end of Paris to the other, provided you do not stop; if you do, the charge is double, or you may pay by the hour; the plan is excellent for practical purposes. The horses are generally small. Two-horse carriages are rather rare, Broughams are common and Pilentums innumerable, the latter being quite the rage, and as they are tastefully fitted up, they look very well with a good horse. Though noblemen in England would not put even their coronets on such small affairs, the owners here emblazon their arms fully on the panels. The weather has been rather improving lately, though still raw and uncomfortably cold. There are however so many miles of covered way in Paris that foot passengers do not experience the

same inconvenience during rain that they do in London. Indeed the comfort and amusement of the populace seem to be most sedulously studied here; probably because they are such captious customers to deal with. The public buildings are enormously large. The Palais Royale, begun by Richelieu, a Minister who seems to have had many of Wolsey's faults, is at least 3 times or 4 times the size of Somerset House. It has 3 Courts or Quadrangles, all with arcades and the whole length within is filled with shops, so closely and regularly placed as to look like a wall of glass and ? pretty things. This place was once the Bazaar of Paris, but the more beautiful shops on the Boulevards have cut it out. It still contains the best Restaurateurs in Paris, Véry and some others, whose establishments are fitted out like superb Palaces. Baron Humboldt took me to Véry's the other day and gave me as luxurious a dinner as could be provided, for which I am sure he paid most tremendously. It is seldom he has to buy his own dinner, and when he does I suppose he likes a good one. This morning I received letters from my Father and Mother and from Maria, enclosing the Chart: pray thank them all. Tell Maria I am much obliged to her for the care she takes of my letters. I ought certainly to have left directions for a coloured copy of the Antarctic Cryptogamia to be sent to Mr.

Wilson and I suspect Papa cannot read my writing. The odd plates of cryptogamia which he mentions are probably proofs for the next number, but Fitch should know: they should number after L.XIV. Pray ask him to prepare Reeves for my breaking off after Part X. Tell Maria that I suspect the Mr. Browne she tells me of to be an Assistant Surgeon whom I knew in the Island of Ascension. Many thanks to Mamma for her letter. I am very sorry to hear Grandmamma is so poorly: this weather is against present amendment; but the worse I hope is over. Love to Grandpapa Hooker. What can I get for him? Your affte. ‘[affectionate]’ brother, |JOSEPH D. HOOKER.