Are we there yet? We know Dickens left England on 2 July, and we surmise from contemporary popular routes that he would have travelled from Boulougne through Abbeville and Beauvais to Paris. We can glean further details from a letter dated 7th August to 1844 to the Count D’Orsay, in which Dickens says:
We had a charming journey here. I cannot tell you what an immense impression Paris has made upon me. It is the most extraordinary place in the world […] I walked about the streets – in and out, up and down, backwards and forwards – during the two days we were there, and almost every house, and every person I passed, seemed to be another leaf in the enormous book that stands wide open there.
So, clearly Dickens liked Paris – more on that in a moment – but also, he and his family stayed there for two days. The final piece of the puzzle is Dickens’ later account in Pictures from Italy where he announces:
On a fine Sunday morning in the Midsummer time and weather of eighteen hundred and forty-four, it was, my good friend, when […] an English travelling-carriage of considerable proportions, fresh from the shady halls of the Pantechnicon near Belgrave Square, London, was observed (by a very small French soldie; for I saw him look at it) to issue from the gate of the Hotel Meurice in the Rue Rivoli at Paris.
So, putting all this together, we know Dickens and his family stayed at the Hotel Meurice; that the left on a Sunday morning, and that they were in Paris for two days. IF we assume all of above to be precise and accurate then that would most likely mean that Dickens arrived on Friday 5th July in Paris. (Note – I capitalise ‘if’ because we’re basing this on a friendly letter to the Count written a month later, and a travel narrative written nearly two years later – but, given that Dickens was writing his letters from Italy with a mind to adapt them for publication, it’s a reasonable assumption to think they would be relatively accurate when giving details like this – not to mention that he makes reference to ‘two days’ twice in the letter to D’Orsay). Phew – detective work over (for now).
Now that we’re in Paris, let’s get back to what Dickens thought of the place. His letter to D’Orsay is very complimentary of Paris for its ‘novelty, novelty, novelty; nothing but strange and striking things [that] came swarming before [him]’. Of course the Paris Dickens saw was quite different to the Paris we might think of – the Eiffel Tower would not be built for another four decades – but one thing that curiously enough would have been familiar to modern tourists was the Cathedral of Notre Dame undergoing restoration. Admittedly, the circumstances in the 1840s were a little more triumphant than the current situation: the immense success of Victor Hugo’s Notre Dame de Paris (aka The Hunchback of Notre Dame) in 1831 led to a movement to restore this previously neglected building, and work commenced in 1843. Incidentally, Dickens would eventually meet Hugo, in 1846 when he returned to Paris for a shorter holiday (Forster notes in his biography that Hugo addressed Dickens with ‘very charming flattery’ – but then Forster would note that, wouldn’t he?).
Despite his outpouring of praise to D’Orsay, Dickens does not comment on Paris in Pictures from Italy, beginning the narrative with his exit from the city. Accordingly, Dickens’ precise activities during those two days remain a mystery. The letter to D’Orsay suggests it would have been a welcome break from the travelling, but given Dickens’ roving tendencies it is likely that his enjoyment of Paris would have been tinged with restlessness and anticipation of the journey ahead, and destinations yet to be seen.
There are certainly details in Pictures which are less flattering than the letter to D’Orsay. We are told the departing carriage is observed ‘by a very small French soldier’, whose height is apparently not unique in the French military, at least according to Dickens:
I am no more bound to explain why the English family travelling by this carriage, inside and out, should be starting for Italy on a Sunday morning, of all good days in the week, than I am to assign a reason for all the little men in France being soldiers, and all the big men postillions; which is the inevitable rule.
Likewise, Dickens comments on the pavements of Paris being ‘never-to-be-forgotten-or-forgiven’ which raises several questions, the most prominent being how exactly does a pavement manage to upset someone so much that forgiveness is required in the first place, let alone out of the question?!? But that sense of overwhelming vitality that he presents to D’Orsay in his talk of novelty and immense impressions also comes through in Pictures. Despite leaving on a Sunday morning, Dickens notes the bustle in Paris even then, with ‘very little in the aspect of Paris…to reproach us for our Sunday travelling….
The wine-shops (every second house) were driving a roaring trade; awnings were spreading, and chairs and tables arranging, outside the cafes, preparatory to the eating of ices, and drinking of cool liquids, later in the day; shoeblacks were busy on the bridges; shops were open; carts and waggons clattered to and fro; the narrow, uphill, funnel-like streets across the River, were so many dense perspectives of crowd and bustle, part-coloured nightcaps, tobacco-pipes, blouses, large boots, and shaggy heads of hair;
It certainly seems as though Paris was a highlight of this early part of the journey for Dickens, which is not surprising given the size of the city and the opportunity it must have offered for Dickens to explore and observe. In contrast, in his description of what comes immediately after, Dickens notes the uniformity of the road and locations which they will come across: ‘A sketch of one day’s proceedings is a sketch of all three’. Ouch.
Dickens In Italy 
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