badauds," enraptured by any strange sight. He described a wide variety of crowds in the city of Paris. An early nineteenth-century observer of the city, Victor-Joseph Étienne de Jouy, described badauderie as the one ineffable trait of the Parisian character. "In Paris, everything becomes an event: a train of wood being floated down the river, two coaches running into each other, a man dressed differently from others, an armored car, a dog fight, if they are noticed by two people, there will soon be a thousand, and the crowd will always grow, until some other circumstance, just as remarkable, pulls it away." The Grand dictionnaire universel du XIXe siècle (1867) shows the badaud at work. "One is constantly jostled by a crowd of individuals who leave their houses each morning to kill time in city squares, intersections and on the boulevards; they have ten hours to dispose of, and when they return home in the evening, they want to have something to recount: an accident, a poor devil who falls from a bus into the street or faints from hunger, an old dog drowned in the Seine, etc., etc.; and when one of these Tituses of the pavement has seen nothing, observed nothing, he cries: I have lost my day!" This misfortune, we are told, rarely happens. "For when the street has nothing to offer, the badaud always can rely on the Morgue, the Jardin des Plantes, the Père Lachaise Cemetery, and in a last resort, there are the street performers of the place de la Bastille, or the puppeteers of the Champs-Elysées." In his drawings and engravings from the 1890s, Félix Vallotton presented a taxonomy of Parisian street crowds, demonstrators, pedestrians, and bystanders. The badaud and the flâneur The badaud was often contrasted with the flâneur. Auguste de Lacroix, Les Français peints par eux-mêmes (The French Described By Themselves, 1842) explained: "The flâneur is to the badaud what the gourmet is to the glutton... The badaud walks for the sake of walking, is amused with everything, is captivated by everything indistinctly, laughs without reason and gazes without seeing." Victor Fournel, in Ce qu'on voit dans les rues de Paris (What One Sees in the Streets of Paris, 1867), made the distinction perfectly clear. "The flâneur must not be confused with the badaud; a nuance should be observed here. […] The simple flâneur […] is always in full possession of