LETTER XXXVI.

Improvements of Paris.--Introduction of Carpets and

Trottoirs.--Maisonnettes.--Not likely to answer in

Paris.--The necessity of a Porter and Porter's

Lodge.--Comparative Expenses of France and

England.--Increasing Wealth of the Bourgeoisie.

Among the many recent improvements in Paris which evidently owe their

origin to England, those which strike the eye first, are the almost

universal introduction of carpets within doors, and the frequent

blessing of a _trottoir_ without. In a few years, unless all

paving-stones should be torn up in search of more immortality, there

can be no doubt that it will be almost as easy to walk in Paris as in

London. It is true that the old streets are not quite wide enough to

admit such enormous esplanades on each side as Regent and Oxford

Streets; but all that is necessary to safety and comfort may be

obtained with less expense of space; and to those who knew Paris a

dozen years ago, when one had to hop from stone to stone in the fond

hope of escaping wet shoes in the Dog-days--tormented too during the

whole of this anxious process with the terror of being run over by

carts, fiacres, concous, cabs, and wheelbarrows;--whoever remembers

what it was to walk in Paris then, will bless with an humble and

grateful spirit the dear little pavement which, with the exception of

necessary intervals to admit of an approach to the portes-cochère of

the various _hôtels_, and a few short intervals beside, which appear

to have been passed over and forgotten, borders most of the principal

streets of Paris now.

Another English innovation, infinitely more important in all ways, has

been attempted, and has failed. This was the endeavour to introduce

_maisonnettes_, or small houses calculated for the occupation of one

family. A few such have been built in that new part of the town which

stretches away in all directions behind the Madeleine; but they are

not found to answer--and that for many reasons which I should have

thought it very easy to foresee, and which I suspect it would be very

difficult to obviate.

In order to come at all within reach of the generality of French

incomes, they must be built on too small a scale to have any good

rooms; and this is a luxury, and permits a species of display, to

which many are accustomed who live in unfurnished apartments, for

which they give perhaps fifteen hundred or two thousand francs a year.

Another accommodation which habit has made it extremely difficult for

French families to dispense with, and which can be enjoyed at an easy

price only by sharing it with many, is a porter and a porter's lodge.

Active as is the race of domestic servants in Paris, their number

must, I think, be doubled in many families, were the arrangement of

the porter's lodge to be changed for our system of having a servant

summoned every time a parcel, a message, a letter, or a visit arrives

at the house.

Nor does the taking charge of these by any means comprise the whole

duty of this servant of many masters; neither am I at all competent to

say exactly what does: but it seems to me that the answer I generally

receive upon desiring that anything may be done is, "Oui, madame, le

portier ou la portière fera cela;" and were we suddenly deprived of

these factotums, I suspect that we should be immediately obliged to

leave our apartments and take refuge in an hôtel, for I should be

quite at a loss to know what or how many additional "helps" would be

necessary to enable us to exist without them.

That the whole style and manner of domestic existence throughout all

the middling classes of such a city as Paris should hang upon their

porters' lodges, seems tracing great effects to little causes; but I

have been so repeatedly told that the failure of the _maisonnettes_

has in a great degree arisen from this, that I cannot doubt it.

I know not whether anything which prevents their so completely

changing their mode of life as they must do if living in separate

houses, is to be considered as an evil or not. The Parisians are a

very agreeable, and apparently a very happy population; and who can

say what effect the quiet, steady, orderly mode of each man having a

small house of his own might produce? What is admirable as a component

part of one character, is often incongruous and disagreeable when met

in another; and I am by no means certain if the snug little mansion

which might be procured for the same rent as a handsome apartment,

would not tend to circumscribe and tame down the light spirits that

now send _locataires_ of threescore springing to their elegant

_premier_ by two stairs at a time. And the prettiest and best

_chaussés_ little feet in the world too, which now trip _sans souci_

over the common stair, would they not lag painfully perhaps in passing

through a low-browed hall, whose neatness or unneatness had become a

private and individual concern? And might not many a bright fancy be

damped while calculating how much it would cost to have a few statues

and oleanders in it?--and the head set aching by meditating how to get

"ce vilain escalier frotté" from top to bottom? Yet all these, and

many other cares which they now escape, must fall upon them if they

give up their apartments for _maisonnettes_.

The fact, I believe, is, that French fortunes, taken at the average at

which they at present stand, could not suffice to procure the pretty

elegance to which the middle classes are accustomed, unless it were

done by the sacrifice of some portion of that costly fastidiousness

which English people of the same rank seem to cling to as part of

their prerogative.

Though I am by no means prepared to say that I should like to exchange

my long-confirmed habit of living in a house of my own for the

Parisian mode of inhabiting apartments, I cannot but allow that by

this and sundry other arrangements a French income is made to

contribute infinitely more to the enjoyment of its possessor than an

English one.

Let any English person take the trouble of calculating, let their

revenue be great or small, how much of it is expended in what

immediately contributes to their personal comfort and luxury, and how

much of it is devoted to the support of expenses which in point of

fact add to neither, and the truth of this statement will become

evident.

Rousseau says, that "cela se fait," and "cela ne se fait pas," are the

words which regulate everything that goes on within the walls of

Paris. That the same words have at least equal power in London, can

hardly be denied; and, unfortunately for our individual independence,

obedience to them costs infinitely more on our side of the water than

it does on this. Hundreds are annually spent, out of very confined

incomes, to support expenses which have nothing whatever to do with

the personal enjoyment of those who so tax themselves; but it must be

submitted to, because "cela se fait," or "cela ne se fait pas." In

Paris, on the contrary, this imperative phrase has comparatively no

influence on the expenditure of any revenue, because every one's

object is not to make it appear that he is as rich as his neighbour,

but to make his means, be they great or small, contribute as much as

possible to the enjoyment and embellishment of his existence.

It is for this reason that a residence in Paris is found so favourable

an expedient in cases of diminished or insufficient fortune. A family

coming hither in the hope of obtaining the mere necessaries of life at

a much cheaper rate than in England would be greatly disappointed:

some articles are cheaper, but many are considerably dearer; and, in

truth, I doubt if at the present moment anything that can be strictly

denominated a necessary of life is to be found cheaper in Paris than

in London.

It is not the necessaries, but the luxuries of life that are cheaper

here. Wine, ornamental furniture, the keep of horses, the price of

carriages, the entrance to theatres, wax-lights, fruit, books, the

rent of handsome apartments, the wages of men-servants, are all

greatly cheaper, and direct taxes greatly less. But even this is not

the chief reason why a residence in Paris may be found economical to

persons of any pretension to rank or style at home. The necessity for

parade, so much the most costly of all the appendages to rank, may

here be greatly dispensed with, and that without any degradation

whatever. In short, the advantage of living in Paris as a matter of

economy depends entirely upon the degree of luxury to be obtained.

There are certainly many points of delicacy and refinement in the

English manner of living which I should be very sorry to see given up

as national peculiarities; but I think we should gain much in many

ways could we learn to hang our consequence less upon the comparison

of what others do. We shudder at the cruel madness of the tyrant who

would force every form to reach one standard; but those are hardly

less mad who insist that every one, to live _comme il faut_, must

live, or appear to live, exactly as others do, though the means of

doing so may vary among the silly set so prescribed to, from an income

that may justify any extravagance to one that can honestly supply

none.

This is a folly of incalculably rarer occurrence here than in England;

and it certainly is no proof of the good sense of our "most thinking

people," that for one private family brought to ruin by extravagance

in France, there are fifty who suffer from this cause in England.

It is easy to perceive that our great wealth has been the cause of

this. The general scale of expense has been set so high, that

thousands who have lived in reference to that, rather than to their

individual fortunes, have been ruined by the blunder; and I really

know no remedy so likely to cure the evil as a residence in Paris;

not, however, so much as a means of saving money, as of making a

series of experiments which may teach them how to make the best and

most enjoyable use of it.

I am persuaded, that if it were to become as much the fashion to

imitate the French independence of mind in our style of living, as it

now is to copy them in ragoûts, bonnets, moustaches, and or-molu, we

should greatly increase our stock of real genuine enjoyment. If no

English lady should ever again feel a pang at her heart because she

saw more tall footmen in her neighbour's hall than in her own--if no

sighs were breathed in secret in any club-house or at any sale,

because Jack Somebody's stud was a cut above us--if no bills were run

up at Gunter's, or at Howell and James's, because it was worse than

death to be outdone,--we should unquestionably be a happier and a

more respectable people than we are at present.

It is, I believe, pretty generally acknowledged by all parties, that

the citizens of France have become a more money-getting generation

since the last revolution than they ever were before it. The security

and repose which the new dynasty seems to have brought with it, have

already given them time and opportunity to multiply their capital; and

the consequence is, that the shop-keeping propensities with which

Napoleon used to reproach us have crossed the Channel, and are

beginning to produce very considerable alterations here.

It is evident that the wealth of the _bourgeoisie_ is rapidly

increasing, and their consequence with it; so rapidly, indeed, that

the republicans are taking fright at it,--they see before them a new

enemy, and begin to talk of the abominations of an aristocratic

_bourgeoisie_.

There is, in fact, no circumstance in the whole aspect of the country

more striking or more favourable than this new and powerful impulse

given to trade. It is the best ballast that the vessel of the state

can have; and if they can but contrive that nothing shall happen to

occasion its being thrown overboard, it may suffice to keep her

steady, whatever winds may blow.

The wide-spreading effect of this increasing wealth among the

_bourgeoisie_ is visible in many ways, but in none more than in the

rapid increase of handsome dwellings, which are springing up, as white

and bright as new-born mushrooms, in the north-western division of

Paris. This is quite a new world, and reminds me of the early days of

Russell Square, and all the region about it. The Church of the

Madeleine, instead of being, as I formerly remember it, nearly at the

extremity of Paris, has now a new city behind it; and if things go on

at the same rate at which they seem to be advancing at present, we

shall see it, or at least our children will, occupying as central a

position as St. Martin's-in-the-Fields. An excellent market, called

Marché de la Madeleine, has already found its way to this new town;

and I doubt not that churches, theatres, and restaurans innumerable

will speedily follow.

The capital which is now going so merrily on, increasing with almost

American rapidity, will soon ask to be invested; and when this

happens, Paris will be seen running out of town with the same active

pace that London has done before her; and twenty years hence the Bois

de Boulogne may very likely be as thickly peopled as the Regent's Park

is now.

This sudden accession of wealth has already become the cause of a

great increase in the price of almost every article sold in Paris;

and if this activity of commerce continue, it is more than probable,

that the hitherto moderate fortunes of the Parisian _boursier_ and

merchant will grow into something resembling the colossal capitals of

England, and we shall find that the same causes which have hitherto

made England dear will in future prevent France from being cheap. It

will then happen, that many deficiencies which are now perceptible,

and which furnish the most remarkable points of difference between the

two countries, will disappear; great wealth being in many instances

all that is required to make a French family live very much like an

English one. Whether they will not, when this time arrives, lose on

the side of unostentatious enjoyment more than they will gain by

increased splendour, may, I think, be very doubtful. For my own part,

I am decidedly of opinion, that as soon as heavy ceremonious dinners

shall systematically take place of the present easy, unexpensive style

of visiting, Paris will be more than half spoiled, and the English may

make up their minds to remain proudly and pompously at home, lest,

instead of a light and lively contrast to their own ways, they may

chance to find a heavy but successful rivalry.

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