A rough sketch of modern Paris

by J. G. Lemaistre

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.