A rough sketch of modern Paris

by J. G. Lemaistre

MY DEAR SIR,

My two last letters were filled with details of pictures, statues, pantomimes, and fêtes. In this, I shall only speak to you of men and manners.

Visiting Paris after a revolution which has produced such extraordinary alterations in the laws, customs, and opinions of the people, I expected to find an equal change in the state of society. A great change has certainly taken place, but the change is of a different nature from what I foresaw. An english lady, of much wit, said to me the other day, “When I arrived at Paris, I expected to meet with philosophers in every society, and to hear nothing discussed but subjects of the highest import. Alas! how have I been disappointed!” As to me, I entertained no such idea; but I certainly supposed that the political events in which every person had been forced, in one way or other, to act a part, would have accustomed the minds of men to such a variance of opinion, that all subjects would be canvassed with liberality, and that, whatever might be the sentiments of an individual, he would be heard with tolerance.

The lady I have mentioned was not more mistaken than I have been. There is no country under the sun, where less freedom is allowed in conversation. I do not mean to say, that the government checks or interferes with what passes in private society; on the contrary, I have more than once heard in company remarks made at the expense of persons in power, which even in England would be thought inflammatory: but what I complain of is, that in every circle there is a certain creed, or string of opinions, from which, if one of the company were to venture to dissent, he would be considered as “de mauvaise compagnie[13].” These opinions are not confined to the affairs of France, but extend themselves to those of England; and in the societies where I have been thrown, I have been more than once suspected of jacobinism, for not joining in a philippic against Mr. Fox, or in an eulogy on lord Grenville.

As to society, it appears to me, that there are three great divisions, or principal classes, at Paris. The first, in point of antiquity, and perhaps still of public opinion (for, notwithstanding all the laws to the contrary, family prejudices are as strong as ever in France), is that of l’ancienne noblesse[14], who separate themselves almost entirely from the other classes, and live together at the houses of such of their body, as are still rich enough to give assemblies. The second, which I shall call the governmental set, consists of the ministers, of the counsellors of state, of the ambassadors, of the senators, legislators, tribunes, &c. in short, of all the constituted authorities. The third class is what the pride of the first denominates “les parvenus ou nouveaux riches;” consisting of the wealthiest individuals now in France; of persons, who, taking advantage of the circumstances which have occurred, have enriched themselves during the general wreck of private fortunes and public credit. Army contracts, national estates, and speculations in the funds, have afforded the means, by which many of these individuals have accumulated overgrown fortunes; but several respectable merchants, bankers, and other commercial men, are unjustly confounded with these, and, under the general name of “fournisseurs[15],” held up to public contempt.

The first class are still affluent, when spoken of as a body, though few of them have individually large incomes. A distinguished person, connected with the government, and to whom the most important acts of state have been specially entrusted, assures me, that the old proprietors still hold two thirds of the landed estates of France; though, in consequence of the heavy taxes[16] laid on them during the Revolution, by the loss of their woods, of their feudal rights, and of public offices which had become almost hereditary in their families, (not to mention the present law of descent, by which all children inherit equally), their incomes, though in different degrees, are, in every case, greatly diminished.

Some of the old noblesse, notwithstanding their misfortunes, still live with considerable splendour, and have houses “bien montées” in which they give balls and parties. The most distinguished of these are madame la ⸺ de ⸺, and madame ⸺, who have each an assembly once in every week. A ci-devant comtesse, belonging to the society, requested the permission of introducing to these houses an english lady, of whom it will be sufficient to say, that though not of exalted rank, she was unexceptionable in every respect, in birth, in character, in fortune, in person, and in situation of life. I think you will be as much surprised, and as much irritated, as I was, when I add, that this mighty favour was, in both instances, refused. The reason assigned for this strange want of hospitality, has induced me to mention the fact. The lady in question, having been accustomed to the highest circles in her own country, and discovering, for the first time, in this land of “liberty and equality,” the humble distance at which the wife of a commoner ought to regard the chaste and learned festivals of aristocracy, could not help expressing her surprise, if not her anger, to the french friend, who had made the application. “Je suis bien fachée[17],” replied madame la comtesse! “mais pour vous dire la vérité, the emigrés were treated with so little kindness in London, I mean, by the gentlemen and ladies there (for there is no complaint against your government), that it is impossible to persuade their relations to receive the english chez eux[18]—vraiment je suis au désespoir.”

I am unwilling to think, that such is the general language of the body of emigrants. I know, that there are amongst them men of nice honour, of noble sentiments, and of dignified demeanour; and I have heard some speak, as they ought, of the hospitality they experienced in England: but if there be any who attempt to separate the british government from the inhabitants of the country, I must beg leave to remind them, that it was the english people, from whose pockets that money was drawn, by which in their misfortunes, they were supported; and that, happily for us, our government is so constructed, that unless the popular voice had sanctioned the laudable humanity of government, not even Mr. Pitt could have afforded them that assistance, which, in every instance, they received from England. As to their reception by individuals in Great Britain, I must be permitted to observe, that such of the emigrants as dignified the poverty (into which they were cruelly thrown) by the propriety of their conduct, found generally, if not universally, that respect, to which their dreadful reverse of fortune, and their honourable industry, equally entitled them. Those who sought in beggary, in gambling, or in importunate solicitation, a dishonest and precarious existence, ought not to complain of an exclusion from society, which was alone produced by the impropriety of their own conduct. I hope the complaints against english hospitality come from the latter class; if so, the sensible and liberal french will know how to appreciate their evidence. If from the former⸺but I will not put an hypothesis, which would appear to doubt the gratitude of men, whose former lives entitle them to esteem.

Begging your pardon for this digression, into which I was involuntarily led, I return to the societies of Paris.

The second class, which I call the governmental, is the most polite to strangers. The second consul has a splendid party every week; and each of the ministers has a day, to which all foreigners may be taken by their respective ministers, after they have been presented at the Thuilleries.