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Paris As It Was and As It Is

F >> Francis W. Blagdon >> Paris As It Was and As It Is




* * * * *

_March 22, in continuation._

Most persons are acquainted with DIDOT'S stereotypic editions of the
classics, &c. which are sold here for 15 _sous_ per copy. Nothing
more simple than the plan of this mode of printing. A page is first
set up in moveable types; a mould or impression is then taken of the
page with any suitable plastic substance, and a solid page is cast
from it. The expense of a solid page exceeds not that of resetting it
in moveable types; so that, by this invention, the price of books
will be considerably reduced, and standard works will never be out of
print. Nor are these the only advantages attending the use of
stereotype; I must mention another of still greater importance.

By the common method of printing, it is impossible ever to have
correct books. They are in the market before all their errors are
discovered; and the latest edition of a work, which ought to be the
most correct, is necessarily the most faulty; for it presents not
only the errors of that from which it was copied, but also those
peculiar to itself. Stereotypic books are printed only to answer the
extent of the demand; and errors, when discovered, being corrected in
the metal, they must, through time and attention, become immaculate;
a circumstance of infinite importance in astronomical and
mathematical tables of every description.[3]

For elegance of printing, DIDOT is the BENSLEY of Paris; but to see a
grand establishment in this line, you must go to the _Rue de la
Vrillière_, near the _Place des Victoires_, and visit the

PRINTING-OFFICE OF THE REPUBLIC.

Under the title of _Imprimerie Royale_, this establishment vas
formerly placed in the galleries of the _Louvre_. Instituted by
Francis I in 1531, it was greatly enlarged and improved under Lewis
XIII and Lewis XIV. It has also been considerably augmented since its
removal, in 1791, to the hotel belonging to the late Duke of
Penthièvre, which it now occupies.

In its present state, it may be considered as the most extensive and
most complete typographical establishment in being. Every branch
relating to typography, from the casting of the type to the article
of binding, is here united. The _dépôt_ of punches contains upwards
of 30,000 characters of all languages. Among others, here are to be
remarked, in all their primitive purity, the beautiful Greek ones of
Garamon, engraved by order of Francis I, and which served for the
editions of the Stephen, the Byzantine, &c, the oriental characters
of the Polyglot of Vitræus, and the collection of exotic characters
from the printing-office of the Propaganda. The government business
alone constantly employs one hundred presses. A much greater number
can be set to work, if wanted.

Independently of the works concerning administration and the
sciences, which are executed here at the public cost, the government
allows authors to cause to be printed at this office, at their own
private expense, such works as, on account of their importance, the
difficulty of execution, and the particular types which they require,
are entitled to that favour.

On applying to the director, the amateurs of typography are instantly
admitted to view this establishment, and shewn every thing
interesting in it, with that spirit of liberality which is extended
to every public institution here, and which reflects the highest
honour on the French nation.

[Footnote 1: At the last annual sale at Rambouillet, the average
price of a good Spanish ram was no more than 412 francs or £17
sterling. The dearest sold for 620 francs.]

[Footnote 2: The statistical accounts of the different departments,
which are to be compiled by order of the Minister of the Interior,
will specify all the agricultural improvements. The few already
published, shew that if the population of France is somewhat
diminished in the large towns, it is considerably increased in the
country-places.]

[Footnote 3: It is, however, to be remarked that the merit of this
invaluable invention is not due to France, but to Britain. As far
back as the year 1725, a Mr. GED, of Edinburgh, turned his thoughts
to the formation of cast letter-press plates, and, in 1736, printed a
stereotype edition of Sallust. Being opposed by a combination of
printers and booksellers, whose ignorance and prejudices he was
unable to overcome, he relinquished the prosecution of his discovery;
and thus the stereotypic art was lost to the world, till
rediscovered, in 1780, by Mr. ALEXANDER TILLOCH. In the year 1783,
Mr. TILLOCH took out a patent for it, in conjunction with Mr. FOULIS,
then printer to the University of Glasgow. They printed several books
in this manner; but it seems that they also experienced an opposition
from the booksellers, and, owing to different circumstances, have not
since availed themselves of their patent. Notwithstanding this
evidence of priority, the French dispute the invention; and the
learned CAMUS, in his "_Historical Sketch of Polytypage and
Stereotypage_," affirms, on the authority of LOTTIN, that, towards
the end of the seventeenth century, the stereotypic process was put
in practice in France, for printing the calendars prefixed to the
missals. Hence it is seen that the claim of the English is supported
by positive proof; while that of the French rests on bare assertion.]



LETTER LXXXV.

_Paris, March_ 26, 1802.

In visiting a foreign country, and more especially its capital, the
traveller, whose object is instruction, enters into the most minute
details, in order to obtain a complete knowledge of the various
classes of its inhabitants. As Seneca justly observes, in his
epistles, what benefit can a person reap from his travels, who spends
all his time in examining the beauty and magnificence of public
buildings? Will the contemplation of them render him more wise, more
temperate, more liberal in his ideas? Will it remove his prejudices
and errors? It may amuse him for a time, as a child, by the novelty
and variety of objects, which excite an unmeaning admiration. To act
thus, adds the learned stoic, is not to travel, it is to wander, and
lose both one's time and labour.

"_Non est hoc peregrinari, sed erraie_."

Wherefore Horace, in imitation of Homer, says, in praise of Ulysses,

"_Qui mores hominum multorum vidit, et urbes_."

I have, I hope, given you enough of sights and shows; let us then, my
good friend, follow the wise example of the ancients, and take a view
of men and manners.

Owing, in some measure, to the levity of French character, and the
freedom which now prevails generally enough in all society here, this
sort of study, sometimes so tedious, is greatly facilitated. In the
Parisian assemblies of the present day, by an almost continual
collision, self-love discovers the weak side of an individual whose
whole merit consists in a little small-talk, and a rotation of those
_jolis petits riens_, which, seconded by a well-favoured countenance
and an agreeable carriage, have given him in the world the reputation
of an amiable man; while, from another, we see a thousand essential
qualities, concealed under a coarse exterior, force themselves into
notice, and which his modesty, or more frequently his timidity,
prevented him from displaying.

From the preceding preamble, you will naturally conclude that I
purpose to appropriate this letter to a few remarks on the

PRESENT STATE OF SOCIETY IN PARIS.

In this city are three very distinct kinds of society. But the order
I shall adopt in the description of each of them must not, in any
way, lead you to prejudge my opinion respecting the rank which they
hold among the French themselves. In this respect, I shall abstain
from every sort of reflection, and, confining myself to the simple
character of a faithful narrator, shall leave to your sagacity to
decide the question.

I shall begin by the society, chiefly composed of the _ci-devant
noblesse_, several of whom, never having quitted France, have
preserved some of their property; and of emigrants, lately returned
to their own country, and who have enough remaining to allow them to
have a household establishment, but in a very modest style indeed,
compared to that which their rank and fortune enabled them to support
before the revolution.

You present yourself at the residence of _Madame la Marquise de
C----_. In the anti-room, you declare your name and quality to the
groom of the chambers. Then, the opening of one or two folding-doors
announces to the mistress of the house, and to the company, the
_quantum_ of the ceremonies which are to be paid to the newcomer.
Keep your eye constantly on the _Marquise_, her behaviour will
regulate yours in regard to the individuals who compose her party. In
the course of conversation, take special care not to omit the title
of the person to whom you address yourself. Such an instance of
forgetfulness savours of a man of the new _régime_. Never pronounce
the new denominations respecting the divisions of the French
territory, the months, the weights, measures, &c. Those words would
draw on you an unfavourable interpretation. If you are inclined to
hear a discussion on the arts and sciences, or on any new discovery
whatever, you seldom find, in these parties, persons who can gratify
your taste; though you may meet with many who, as Locke says, "know a
little, presume a great deal, and so jump to a conclusion."

From the plebeians, whose presence the _ci-devant_ nobles are so
condescending as to endure, much obsequiousness and servility are
required; and it is expected that the distance of rank should never
be forgotten. But the learned or scientific French revolutionist, who
admits no other distance than that between knowledge and ignorance,
not choosing to submit to such conditions, seldom presents himself at
the house of _Madame la Marquise de C----_. However, you will hear
her company speak of the court of France, of the interest which each
individual had there, and also a few anecdotes not uninteresting, and
which will furnish you with some ideas of the brilliant parties there
formed. After this discussion, one will talk to you of his regiment;
another, of his hunting establishment, of his _châteaux_, of his
estates, &c. _Chez Madame la Marquise de C----_, you will find no
inconsiderable prepossession against every thing that is not of the
old order of things, and even some exclusive pretensions to manners
which belong to those only who are real gentlemen. Yet, through all
these absurdities, you will always see good-breeding prevail in this
society, and the disposition which distinguishes a Frenchman from
other polished nations, will here break forth and present itself to
you in a striking manner.

While speaking of the _ci-devant noblesse_, I cannot forbear to
mention the loss which those who had the happiness of her
acquaintance, have sustained by the recent death of Madame DE
CHOISEUL, the relict of the duke of that name, minister to Lewis XV.
Her virtues shed such a lustre round her, that it reached even the
monarch himself, who, when he banished her husband to Chanteloup,
wrote to him: "I should have sent you much further, but for the
particular esteem I have for Madame DE CHOISEUL, in whose health I
take no small interest." This uncommonly-respectable woman will long
be quoted and deservedly regretted, because she was modest in
greatness, beneficent in prosperity, courageous in misfortune, pure
in the vortex of corruption, solid in the midst of frivolity, as
simple in her language as she was brilliant in her understanding, and
as indulgent to others as she was superior to them in grace and
virtue.

I shall next lead you to the house of a _parvenu_, that is, one of
those, who, from having made some successful speculations, and
possessing a conscience not overnice as to the means of fixing
Fortune, is enabled to live in the expensive style of the _ci-devant_
court-lords and farmers-general. A letter changed in the person's
name, not unfrequently a _de_ or a _St._ added, (sometimes both)
puzzles the curious, who endeavour to discover what was formerly M.
_de St. H------_, now in the enjoyment of an annual income of a
hundred thousand francs, or £4000 sterling.

At his house, more than any where else, etiquette is kept up with an
extraordinary minuteness; and evil tongues will tell you that it is
natural for M. _de St. H------_ to remember and avail himself of the
observations which he had it in his power to make in the place he
formerly occupied. Under his roof, you will find little of that ease
and amiableness which are to be remarked in the other societies of
Paris. Each individual is on his guard, and afraid of betraying
himself by certain expressions, which the force of habit has not yet
allowed him to forget. But if you are fond of good music, if you take
a pleasure in balls, and in the company of _femmes galantes_ or
demireps; and even if first-rate jugglers, ventriloquists, and mimics
amuse you by their skilful performances, frequent the house of M. _de
St. H------_, and every day, or at least every day that he is at
home, you will have a new entertainment.

Between the acts, the company make their remarks, each in his own
way, on what they have just seen or heard. Afterwards, the
conversation turns on the public funds. Little is said, however, on
affairs of State, the bankruptcies of the day, and the profit which
such or such a speculation might produce. The ladies, after having
exhausted the subject of the toilet, finish by giving, as an apology
for their own conduct, the charitable enumeration of the peccadilloes
which they fancy they have remarked in other women.

So little am I disposed for gaming, that I forgot to mention
_bouillotte_, _quinze_, and also whist and reversi, which are
introduced at all these parties. But the two last-mentioned games are
reserved for those only who seek in cards nothing more than a
recreation from the occupations of the day. At the others, gain is
the sole object of the player; and many persons sit at the
gaming-table the whole night, and, in the depth of winter even,
never leave it till the "garish sun" warns them that it is time
to withdraw.

I have now only to introduce you at M. _B------'s_, Counsellor of
State. Here you will find the completion of the other two societies,
and a very numerous party, which affords to every one a conversation
analogous to his taste or his means. Refrain, however, from touching
on politics; the French government, still in its infancy, resembles a
young plant exposed to the inclemency of the air, and whose growth is
directed by skilful hands. This government must remove, and even
sometimes destroy every obstacle it meets with, and which may be
prejudicial to the form and direction that it thinks proper to give
to its branches and various ramifications. Beware, above all, of
speaking of the revolution. That string is too delicate to be touched
in regard to certain individuals of M. _B------'s_ party, perhaps
also in regard to himself: for the periods of the calamities which
the French have undergone are still quite recent, and the parts that
many of these persons may have acted, call to mind recollections too
painful, which, for their tranquillity, ought ever to be buried in
oblivion. And, in fact, you will always perceive, in the meetings of
this class, a harmony, apparent indeed, but which, surprises a
stranger the more, as, of all the societies in Paris, it presents to
him the greatest medley in point of the persons who compose it.

In this society you will hear very instructive dissertations on the
sciences, sound literature, the fine arts, mechanics, and the means
of rendering useful the new discoveries, by applying them with
economy to the French manufactories, either public or private: for M.
_B------_ considers it as his duty to receive with distinction all
the _savans_, and generally all those called men of talent. In this
line of conduct, he follows the example set him by the government;
and every one is desirous to appear a Mæcenas in the eyes of
Augustus. In other respects, the house of M. _B------_ will afford
you the agreeble pastimes which you have found at M. _de St.
H------'s_.

In Paris, however, are several other societies which, to consider
them rightly, are no more than a diminutive of those you have just
left; but which, nevertheless, are of a character sufficiently
distinct in their composition to justify their pretensions to be
classed as well as the others. This difference proceeding chiefly
from that of political opinions alone, an acquaintance with the great
societies here will enable you to select those of the middle class
which you may think proper to frequent, according to your taste, or
your manner of seeing and judging of the events of the French
revolution. Yet, you must not hence conclude that the conversation
turns chiefly on that subject in this particular class of the
Parisian societies. They concern themselves less about it perhaps
than the others, whether from the little share they have had in it,
or because they have but very indirect connexions with the
government, or lastly, and this final reason is, I believe, the most
conclusive, because a Frenchman, from the nature of his character,
ends by forgetting his misfortunes and losses, cares little for the
future, and appears desirous to enjoy the present only; following, in
that respect, the precept of La Fontaine:

_"Jouis dès aujourd'hui, tu n'as pas tant à vivre;
Je te rebàts ce mot--car il vaut tout un livre."_

In truth, although, among this people, vexations and enjoyments are
almost always the result of imagination, they have preserved the
remembrance of their misfortunes only to turn to account the terrible
lessons which they have received from them, by adopting, in regard to
the present and to the future, that happy philosophy which knows how
to yield to the circumstances of the moment. This it is (you may rely
on the fact) that has contributed, more than any other cause, to
re-establish, in so short a period, the order and tranquillity which
France presents to the eyes of astonished foreigners. This it is too
that has, in a great measure, obviated the fatal consequences which
their past troubles must have made them fear for a long time to come,
and for which few remedies could be expected, especially when we
reflect on the divisions which the revolution has sown in almost
every family in this country.

P. S. The sound of cannon, which strikes my ear at this moment,
announces the signature of the definitve treaty. In the evening, a
grand illumination will take place to celebrate the return of the
most desirable of all blessings.

"------------O beauteous Peace!
Sweet union of a State! What else but thou
Giv'st safety, strength, and glory to a people?"



LETTER LXXXVI.

_Paris, March 28, 1802._

Whatever changes may have been introduced by the revolution, in one
respect at least, the Parisians still preserve towards foreigners
that urbanity for which they were remarkable half a century ago, when
Sterne paid them a visit. If you ask a shopkeeper here, of either
sex, the way to a place, perhaps at some distance, he or she neglects
the occupation of the moment to direct you, with as much solicitude
and attention as though a considerable advantage was to be the result
of the given information. It is the small sweet courtesies of life,
as that sentimental traveller remarks, which render the road of it
less rugged.

Sometimes, indeed, a foreigner pays dearly for the civility shewn him
in Paris; but, in laying out his money, he must ever bear in mind
that the shopkeepers make no scruple to overcharge their articles to
their own countrymen, and some will not blush to take, even from
them, a third less than the price demanded.

Soon after my arrival here, I think I mentioned to you the excessive
dearness of

FURNISHED LODGINGS.

Since the revolution, their price is nearly doubled, and is extremely
high in the most fashionable parts of the town, such as the _Chaussée
d'Antin_, the _Rue de la Loi_, the _Rue de la Concorde_, &c. For
strangers that know not in Paris any friend who will take the trouble
to seek for them suitable apartments, the only way to procure good
accommodation is to alight at a ready-furnished hotel, and there hire
rooms by the day till they can look about them, and please
themselves.

For my own part, I prefer the quiet of a private lodging to the
bustle of a public hotel, and, as I have before mentioned, my
constant resource, on such occasions, has been the _Petites
Affiches_. If you go to the office where this Daily Advertiser is
published, and inspect the file, it is ten to one that you
immediately find apartments to your wishes.

A single man may now be comfortably lodged here, in a private house
with a _porte-cochère_, at from 5 to 8 louis per month; and a small
family may be well accommodated, in that respect, at from 12 to 16
louis. A larger party, requiring more room, may obtain excellent
apartments at from 20 louis a month upwards, according to the
situation, the conveniences, the taste and condition of the
furniture, and other contingencies. To prevent subsequent
misunderstanding, I would always recommend a written agreement.

The English have hitherto paid dearer than other foreigners for
whatever they want in Paris, because they generally trust to their
servants, and think it beneath them to look into those matters
connected with their own comfort. But the _Milords Anglais_ are now
entirely eclipsed by the Russian Counts, who give two louis where the
English offer one. A person's expenses here, as every where else,
materially depend on good management, without which a thoughtless man
squanders twice as much as a more considerate one; and while the
former obtains no more than the common comforts of life, the latter
enjoys all its indulgences.

With respect to the gratifications of the table, I have little to add
to what I have already said on that subject, in speaking of the
_restaurateurs_. If you choose to become a boarder, you may subscribe
at the _Hôtel du Cirque_, _Rue de la Loi_, and sit down every day in
good company for about seven louis a month; and there are very
respectable private houses, where you may, when once introduced, dine
very well for five livres a time; but, at all these places, you are
sure to meet either English or Americans; and the consequence is,
that you are eternally speaking your mother-tongue, which is a
material objection with those who are anxious to improve themselves
in the French language. For a man who brings his family to Paris, and
resides in private apartments, it might, perhaps, be more advisable
to hire a cook, and live _à l'Anglaise_ or _à la Française_,
according to his fancy.

No conveniences have been so much improved in Paris, since the
revolution, as

JOB AND HACKNEY CARRIAGES.

Formerly, the _remises_ or job-carriages were far inferior to those
in use at the present day; and the old _fiacres_ or hackney-coaches
were infamous. The carriages themselves were filthy; the horses,
wretched; and the coachmen, in tatters, had more the look of beggars
than that of drivers.

Now, not only good hackney-coaches, but chariots and cabriolets
likewise, figure here on the stands; and many of them have an
appearance so creditable that they might even be taken for private
French equipages. The regular stipulated fare of all these vehicles
is at present 30 _sous_ a _course_, and the same for every hour after
the first, which is fixed at 40 _sous_.[1] In 1789, it used to be no
more than 24. For the 30 _sous_, you may drive from one extremity of
Paris to the other, provided you do not stop by the way; for every
voluntary stoppage is reckoned a _course_. However, if you have far
to go, it is better to agree to pay 40 _sous_ per hour, and then you
meet with no contradiction. From midnight to six o'clock in the
morning, the fare is double.

The present expense of a job-carriage, with a good pair of horses,
(including the coachman, who is always paid by the jobman) varies
from 22 to 24 louis a month, according to the price of forage. If you
use your own carriage, the hire of horses and coachman will cost you
from 12 to 15 louis, which, in 1789, was the price of a job-carriage,
all expenses included.

Under the old _régime_, there were no stands of cabriolets.[2] These
carriages are very convenient to persons pressed for time; but it
must be confessed that they are no small annoyance to pedestrians. Of
this Lewis XV was so convinced, that he declared if he were Minister
of the Police, he would suffer no cabriolets in Paris. He thought
this prohibition beneath his own greatness. To obviate, in some
measure, the danger arising both from the want of foot-pavement, and
from the inconsiderate rapidity with which these carriages are not
unfrequently driven, it is now a law that the neck of every horse in
a cabriolet must be provided with bells, and the carriage with two
lamps, lighted after dark; yet, in spite of these precautions, and
the severity which the police exercises against those who transgress
the decree, serious accidents sometimes happen.

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