town where they are situate, according to the number of rooms wanted,
according to the height of the floor, and, above all, according to the
bargain made by the individual wanting them, that it is very difficult
to fix any thing like an average. I shall only say, generally, that I
think a single man may be well lodged (at a price proportioned to the
accommodation which he requires) from five to twelve louis per month; and
a family of two or three persons, with as many servants, from twelve to
thirty louis.
A “_traiteur_” will supply a dinner at six livres (or five shillings) per
head; but the fare will neither be very good, nor very abundant.
Wine, of the best quality, if taken from the “_traiteur_,” or the master
of the hotel, will cost from five to six _livres_ the bottle. The same
may be had from a wine merchant at about half the price. I ought to
add, that it is not expected here, as in England, that the wine should
necessarily be ordered from the person who supplies your table.
The price of washing is greater than in London; and the english ladies
complain much of the manner in which it is executed.
Fuel is immensely dear. A “voie de bois,” or load of wood, the contents
of which one fire will consume in ten days, costs about thirty two or
thirty three livres (making about twenty six or twenty seven shillings
english.)
About nine livres (or seven shillings and sixpence) are paid for
admittance in the first places for each person at the “opera,” at “le
théâtre de la Feydeau,” and at “le théâtre de la rue Favart;” at the
“théâtre françois” six livres, twelve sols, (or five shillings and
sixpence english) and in the little theatres, half a crown, or three
shillings. I cannot give the prices exactly, as they vary according to
the manner in which you go to the play-house. In taking a box, more
is paid for each ticket, than what is otherwise paid simply for the
admittance of each individual at the door.
Clothing is very expensive. A plain frock of superfine cloth costs from
four louis to five and a half, according to the fashion of the tailor:
and I am told, that ladies’ muslins are at least four times dearer than
in London.
About lodgings, it is very necessary that those who intend visiting Paris
should make previous arrangements. The hotels are not so numerous as
before the revolution; and the difficulty of getting well accommodated is
much greater than any one, who has not been here, can possibly conceive.
Great advantage is also taken of the situation of strangers, who arrive
(unprepared) at one of these houses with post horses, the drivers of
which are always impatient, and very often impertinent, if you detain
them long in seeing rooms, or go to several hotels, before you are
settled.
To enable you and your friends to form some idea of the merits of
the different hotels, and accordingly to give directions to your
correspondents, I will add a list and short account of the most
celebrated.
“L’Hôtel de Grange Batelière, rue de Grange Batelière,” in the Chaussée
Dantin, (where Lord Cornwallis lodged) is a large and spacious house, in
which there are many handsome apartments. It has also the advantage of a
fine and extensive garden. I think I have heard, that the charges here
are rather high. The situation of the house is excellent; adjoining the
Boulevard, nearly opposite “_la rue de la Loi_ (or _de Richelieu_),” and
in that part of the town, which is now esteemed the most fashionable.
“L’Hôtel de l’Empire,” rue Cerruti, (formerly the private house of M. _la
Borde_, the king’s Banker) is much frequented by the english. It is of
course expensive. The high reputation which this hotel enjoys, induced me
to go there on my first arrival. I was much disappointed. I did not find
either the lodgings good, or the cooking very superiour. The principal
apartment is certainly very splendid, the price of which is ninety louis
per month; but the other rooms have nothing very particular to recommend
them. Every kind of refreshment is found in the house, and charged by the
article, as at the hotels in London, and at about the same prices.
This house is also in the “Chaussée Dantin,” and not far distant from
“l’Hôtel de Grange Batelière.”
In the “rue de la Loi,” (or “de Richelieu”) there are several hotels;
but the situation, though extremely central and convenient, has the
disadvantage of being very noisy. The upper part of the street, near the
Boulevard, is the most agreeable; and in that position are “l’Hôtel de
l’Europe,” and “l’Hôtel des Étrangers.” They appear good houses. I know
nothing of their character.
“L’Hôtel d’Angleterre, rue des Filles de St. Thomas,” very near the
“rue de la Loi,” has been inhabited by several English this winter. The
charges are said to be expensive. The situation is convenient; but it is
noisy, and surrounded by houses.
“L’Hôtel des Étrangers, rue Vivienne,” very near the “rue de la Loi,”
and the “Palais Royal,” is also in the centre of the town. This house I
have heard more generally commended by those who have lodged there, as
to its prices, accommodations, and kitchen, than any other at Paris; but
I cannot say I like the street where it stands, which is both close and
dirty.
“_L’Hôtel de Mirabeau, rue de Helder_,” is in a new street, near the
Boulevard. It seems a good house. I do not know its character.
The two hotels, the situation of which is the most agreeable, being
both near the Boulevard, the Thuilleries, and the Champs Elisées, are
“_l’Hôtel de Courlande_, _place Louis XV_, (or _de la Concorde_”),
and “_l’Hôtel des Étrangers, rue Royale_ (or _de la Concorde_).” The
former is part of that fine building, the “Garde Meuble,” and stands
in the most beautiful “_place_,” or square, of Paris. The windows
command a delightful view of the “_place_,” the bridge, the river, the
_Thuilleries_, and _Champs Elisées_. The house is newly furnished, and
only lately opened. I am sorry to add, that it consists but of few
apartments; but those which there are, are elegant and spacious. The
prices are extremely high. I was asked forty _louis_ a month for a second
floor.
The other house, I mean “_l’Hôtel des Étrangers, rue Royale_ (or _de la
Concorde_)” standing in a very wide street, which runs from the Boulevard
to “la place Louis XV,” has equal advantages as to the neighbourhood of
all the public walks, with the hotel of which I spoke last; but it does
not command the same view. I am forced also to mention, having lived two
months in the house, that the landlord is a very insolent fellow, and
his wife, if possible, more impertinent than himself.
There are three small hotels, called, “_l’Hôtel de Galle_,” “_l’Hôtel
des Quinz Vingts_,” and “_l’Hôtel de Carousel_,” all in the immediate
neighbourhood of the palace of the Thuilleries, of which each commands
a view. A single man would be agreeably lodged at one of these; but I
should not suppose, that there was sufficient accommodation at either for
a family consisting of several persons.
In the “_Fauxbourg St. Germain_,” the hotels formerly frequented by the
english either exist no more, or have lost their reputation. Those only
which are of any repute in this part of the town, seem to be “_l’Hôtel de
Rome, rue St. Dominique_,” where there are several handsome apartments,
more remarkable for their size than their cleanliness; and “_l’Hôtel de
Marengo_,” in the same street, and next door to the former. The lodgings
of the latter are good; but some friends of mine, who lived there,
complained much of the disagreeable state, in which they found the beds.
Both these hotels have good gardens.
“_L’Hôtel de Caramont_,” in the same street, belonging to the _ci-devant
comte_ of that name, though not an “_hôtel garni_,” is let in apartments,
the greater part of which were occupied first by Mr. Jackson, and
afterwards by Mr. Merry. The rooms are delightful; but it rarely
happens, that any are vacant. I forgot to mention, that there is also in
this street a small hotel, called, “_l’Hôtel de Jura_,” which is well
furnished, and has a pretty garden.
The houses, which I have enumerated, are those which are the most
known, the best situate, and the most esteemed. Beside these, there
are “_l’Hôtel de Vauban_,” “_l’Hôtel de Congrès_,” and “_l’Hôtel de la
Grand Bretagne_,” all situate in “_la rue St. Honoré_,” and said to be
respectable houses. For those also who do not object to be surrounded
with bustle and noise, “_l’Hôtel de la Chancellerie_,” near the “Palais
Royal,” will offer good accommodations. I am told, the apartments there
are uncommonly elegant, and extremely spacious[90].
To this account I must add a _negative_ recommendation of _la rue
Traversière_, in which there are several hotels, and into which the
windows of some in _la rue de la Loi_ also look. A perpetual market,
with all the attendant smells, renders the houses in “la rue Traversière”
extremely unpleasant; and the same reason obstructs the passage, so
that it is difficult, in a carriage, to find one’s way to any door in
this street. The caution is the more necessary, as postboys frequently
recommend the situation.
There is some objection to almost every hotel; I cannot, therefore,
recommend any one; but, were I to visit Paris again, I think I should
either try “_l’Hôtel de Courlande, place Louis XV_,” the situation
of which is incomparable; “_l’Hôtel de Grange Batelière_,” which, in
accommodations and size, is superior to any house of the same kind; or
“_l’Hôtel des Étrangers, rue Vivienne_,” which is universally well spoken
of by those who have inhabited it.
As to the “traiteurs,” or persons who supply you with dinners, they
sometimes belong to the house where you lodge, and sometimes not.
I tried several during my stay at Paris, and I found them all so bad, and
so uncertain, that, were I to return, I would either hire a cook, or dine
constantly at the house of a “restaurateur[91].” The most celebrated are,
_Naudit_, and _Robert_, in the Palais Royal, _Beauvillier_ in the _rue
de la Loi_, and _Verry_ in the garden of the _Thuilleries_. Besides the
public room, which is always elegantly ornamented, there is, at each of
these places, several _small rooms_, or _cabinets_, for private parties.
A long bill of fare, called “la carte,” consisting of all the delicacies
of the season, and every variety of wine, with the prices affixed to each
article, is handed to you, and the dishes are no sooner named, than they
are instantly served. The apartments are tastefully decorated, the linen
and plate are particularly clean, and the waiters civil, attentive, and
well dressed. The cooking is incomparable. Ladies, as well as gentlemen,
dine at these houses, and even in the public room several of the former
are always present. On a rough calculation, the expense of dining at one
of the first _restaurateurs_, including a fair quantity of the best wine,
varies from twelve livres (ten shillings) to a louis each person.
There are, however, inferiour houses of this kind, where, even for
_trent-six sols_ (or eighteen pence english) a dinner of several dishes,
and a bottle of wine, are allowed. As I never tried one of these
economical _repas_, I cannot speak of the fare they afford. A returned
“_abbé_” assured me, that he dined in this manner “_à merveille_;” but,
notwithstanding his authority, I should scarcely recommend a hungry
englishman to make the experiment.
In concluding my account of hotels and _traiteurs_, I must repeat my
advice to you, to make a previous bargain for whatever you may want. In
Paris, no tradesman has a settled price; and the shopkeeper or landlord,
who has the most respectable appearance, is not to be trusted.
An englishman, who, from delicacy, omits to offer a smaller sum than that
which is asked, may be certain, that he makes a present of at least fifty
per cent to the person of whom he purchases. In every line of trade the
same system is pursued; and even in buying books and plate, I have known
one fourth of the original demand taken.
Strangers ought to be particularly careful, how they deal with the
“marchands” of the “hôtel garni” where they lodge. They are a tribe of
people, who, under the recommendation of the landlord or porter, to whom
they pay a regular commission at the expense of the traveller, knock
perpetually at his door, and, with the utmost importunity, insist on
showing the different articles of their trade. What they sell is always
dear, generally out of fashion, and frequently damaged.
In calculating the expenses of Paris, much will depend on the manner
in which an individual lays out his money; and I am certain, that if a
good manager and a thoughtless young man were, during a winter passed in
Paris, to order exactly the same articles, and were afterwards to compare
their disbursements, a difference would appear in the result, of nearly
one half. It must be remembered also, that “_milord anglais_” (as they
call every englishman) is supposed to be so very rich, and so lavish of
his treasures, that he is rather flattered than offended by the largeness
of the sums which he is called upon to pay; and, while a conscientious
tradesman is satisfied with asking of another foreigner about forty or
fifty per cent beyond the value of his goods, he fails not to demand
double of him, whom, by his accent, he discovers to be a native of that
happy island, in which frenchmen believe, that gold is as common as the
air we breathe.
With these remarks, thrown out as a necessary caution, I shall conclude
my subject; and, meaning to write to you once again, before I leave
Paris, I shall, for the present, bid you adieu.
I am, &c.
LETTER XXXII.
General view of Paris, principally taken as compared with
London.
Paris, may the 14th, 1802 (24 floréal.)
MY DEAR SIR,
Having in my former letters endeavoured to give you some idea of the
particular objects of greatest curiosity, I shall, in this last, take a
general view of Paris, principally as compared with London.
I shall begin with remarking, that of all the foreigners of different
nations, who frequent this city, the english are those who are least
satisfied with its pleasures, its occupations, and its manners. For this
many reasons may be assigned. The nations of the continent have, in the
first place, in their mode of living, a kind of general resemblance,
which qualifies them more for domesticating (if I may be permitted
the expression) in a country not their own than we have. A german, an
italian, a russian, or a swede has been accustomed at home to the french
kitchen, or at least to a bad imitation of its dishes: his habits, his
fashions, and even his literary pursuits have been formed on the model of
the french: and if he has lived in a court, the french language has also
been, from infancy, as familiar to him as his own. Very different is the
situation of an englishman. He finds himself, on landing at Calais, in a
new world, and in all the ordinary occurrences of life, his habits are to
be fresh modelled.
The cleanliness, so generally prevalent in England, not only in private
houses but likewise in inns, taverns, and hotels, is seldom met with
on the continent, and it is necessary for the traveller to lay aside
his best customs, and most excusable prejudices, before he can become
tolerably easy.
To breakfast and dine in a bed-room, to eat with the same knife of every
article, to have the bed made by a man, and other indelicacies too
gross to mention, are little misfortunes to which an english gentleman
submits with regret, and a lady with real pain. The numerous but scanty
dishes which crowd a french table, among which a joint of plain roasted
meat seldom appears, cloy without satisfying the appetite of those
who have been used to simpler but more substantial food. The wine,
also, notwithstanding its high repute, seldom seems strong enough or
of sufficient body for such as are habitual drinkers of port, though,
when the latter has been for some time discontinued, the taste becomes
disagreeable. The familiarity of servants and waiters (though less than
before the revolution), is still disgusting and offensive. The necessity
of bargaining, even at the most respectable shops, for the commonest
articles of merchandize, renders the purchase of them very unpleasant.
These circumstances, however trifling, occur too frequently in the course
of every day, not to have a considerable effect on the _serenity of John
Bull_. Accustomed only to his own language, he is either totally ignorant
of the french, or speaks it with difficulty, hesitation, and fear. He is
tormented with the frequent visits[92], which he is expected to pay; and
the custom of leaving the table immediately after dinner, seldom allowing
time for more than one or two glasses of good wine, completely destroys
the original good nature of his character.
I have recapitulated these little distresses, as I am convinced they
sour the temper, and have a, considerable influence on the unfavourable
judgment often pronounced by my countrymen. I do not pretend myself to
be superiour to such weaknesses, and mention the circumstance, that
too implicit credit may not be given to the opinions of one capable of
being biassed by “trifles light as air.” I must be permitted, however,
to observe, that there are reasons of a much more serious nature, which
make the english less easy to please than other foreigners. We come from
a country, where all the arts are carried to a degree of perfection, at
least equal to what is attained on the same objects in France, and where,
in many things, the ingenuity of our manufacturers is unrivalled. In
science and literature we have not been compelled to look from home;
and while we now admire the many distinguished writers which France has
produced, they are not our only models, and with Locke and Newton, Milton
and Shakspeare, we cannot pay that unbounded homage to the genius and
learning of our neighbours, which they are apt to demand. The freedom and
excellence of our constitution accustoms us to a degree of unrestrained
conversation, seldom met with at Paris; and the general diffusion of
wealth in London, has introduced, among all orders, a degree of comfort
which is seldom found even in the proudest houses of the french capital.
The beauty of our women, and the delicacy of their behaviour, render us
less enthusiastic admirers of parisian belles, and parisian fashions,
than the strangers of other countries.
The perfection to which the stage has advanced in London, and the
splendid manner in which our theatres are lighted, prevent our being
greatly struck with the renowned _spectacles_ of this place; and
the taste, profusion, and magnificence, displayed in our private
entertainments, oppose too powerful a contrast to the gayeties of Paris,
to allow us to be much delighted with the latter. Our race of horses, and
our manufacture of carriages, are both too perfect to render it possible
for us to admire the wretched equipages, which are here considered
as the _acme_ of elegance. It is equally impossible for us to praise
the gardens of the _Thuilleries_, the Champs Elisées, or the _Bois de
Boulogne_, as long as we remember Hyde park or Kensington gardens. Nor
can the lighting and paving of Paris excite the admiration of those who
have been used to the comfortable _trottoir_ and brilliant lamps of the
streets of London.
Having thus stated the reasons, good and bad, for the tameness with which
englishmen often speak of Paris, I shall endeavour to divest myself,
as much as possible, of national prejudice, and to lay before you the
advantages and disadvantages attendant on a residence in this city.
In respect to literature, the arts and sciences, certainly every
opportunity is offered which knowledge can afford, or which a zeal for
letters can desire. In this respect, I think, Paris is superiour to
London. Besides the immense acquisitions which it has lately made, and
the great and wonderful collections that are constantly open to the
public, there are so many private institutions within the reach of men of
moderate fortune, that this city would soon rival all the universities of
Europe, did not the pleasures of the place hold out temptations dangerous
to the morals of youth.
Literary men also are more respected than in England; and, instead of
abandoning society (which is too much the case with men of learning in
our country), the industrious, but unprotected frenchman, who engages in
the career of letters, finds his way into the most brilliant circles of
the capital. Even the haughtiest of the old nobility admit into their
most intimate _coteries_, those who have attained any literary fame,
however low their origin, or however mean their appearance. On this head,
I give unqualified and unrivalled praise to Paris.
Whether a foreigner could profitably pursue any commercial speculation
here, it is not for me to inquire. I shall only observe, that,
notwithstanding the laws of equality, prejudices exist as strongly as
ever at Paris; and could a fortune be accumulated here as rapidly as in
London, that fortune would never purchase the respect and consequence
with which a similar acquisition is attended in England. A merchant (or
“négociant,” to use the french expression) is still an insignificant
character in this town, and all the wealth of India would not place him
on a level with a general, a minister, or a _ci-devant_ noble.
A man of pleasure, or rather of dissipation, may, in all the joys of
unbounded variety, destroy his health, vitiate his principles, enervate
his mind, and ruin his fortune. To the rich, however old, ugly, or
deformed, beauty will not refuse her smiles; and every assembly is
open to him who, in the morning, will convey “madame” to milliners,
jewellers, and lace merchants, and will devote his evenings to the
_boulotte_[93] of “monsieur.”
The politician, or in other words, he who is anxious to become acquainted
with the real causes of the present order of things, and to examine to
their source the many-coloured events which have preceded it, will be
much disappointed. The greater number of those who took an active part in
the revolution, have been swept away in the general torrent; the few that
remain, are either living in obscurity, and cautious of expressing their
opinions, or become, like other apostates, as violent on one side as they
were formerly on the other. Of course, no satisfactory information is to
be derived from them. As to the general bulk of the nation, passive under
the iron tyranny of that sanguinary monster, Robespierre, they preferred,
at that time, the accidental hope of individual escape, to the generous
and braver conduct of a bold resistance. They are still the same people;
and, now that their tranquillity and private happiness are secured, they
look on in perfect apathy, and (if the term were not too rash) I should
add, in sulky content.
Should France be deprived of Bonaparte, a circumstance which french men
of all parties allow would be at present a great national misfortune,
I have no doubt that obedience would be quietly and generally yielded
to whatever party should seize the reins of power. It is universally
allowed, that there is no security beyond the life of the first
consul[94]; yet no one proposes, and I am sure no one thinks of providing
against an event, which, in the order of nature, must sooner or later
arrive. You cannot, living in England, form an idea of the indifference
prevalent here about public matters.