Page:Once a Week, Series 1, Volume II Dec 1859 to June 1860.pdf/106

28, 1860.] woman of thirty-eight, of great ambition, and the most elegant manners.

The house itself had good pretensions—but there was a cooper on one side, and a chaudronnier on the other, who kept down the prices in the Hôtel d’Ici Bas.

“They will not be heard au quatrième,”—and up I went. I made an agreement at once for a room at forty-five francs a month, including attendance—no extras except wood and candles; no table d’hôte, and I might dine where I liked.

The first introduction of a cleanly Englishman to French habits does not produce a pleasant feeling of surprise; and on the subject of the comforts of a bed-room, the French and English have scarcely an idea in common.

Let me describe my room; and before doing so, let me premise, that although the room in the étages below me are more showily furnished than mine au quatrième, the style and number of pieces of furniture are precisely the same. The Hôtel d’Ici Bas is thoroughly French. During the whole time I was in it, the only English people that came to the house were a gentleman and his wife, lately married, who had never been abroad before, arrived late one night, and departed as soon next morning as they could get their bill. They were not driven away by either the cooper or the chaudronnier.

My room, No. 14, is small, but well proportioned, with a gay paper and two windows, the curtains of which are of white muslin and rather faded blue damask. On the chimney-piece, and under a glass case, there is a gilt clock with the figure of French Fame blowing a trumpet—probably her own—and distributing leaves of laurel to several young men. The clock is not more correct than the lady blowing the trumpet. It strikes two at half-past eleven, which is rather a comfort on retiring early—and fifteen at six in the morning, which is rather a bore—but much cannot be expected for forty-five francs a month. Also on the chimney-piece there are a pair of imitation Sèvres vases, and a pair of bronze candlesticks—Cupids holding torches. Behind the clock there is a large pier-glass, which gives my face a distorted look whenever I try to shave in it. There is an uncomfortable easy chair in blue damask; a chest of drawers of inlaid wood, with a turn-down sécrétaire; and a table with a leather top embossed with gold: all this for forty-five francs a month. But here my comforts end. I am six feet high, and the bed, with figured muslin curtains, is but five feet ten inches long. My basin is a large saucer. The milk jug of an English farmhouse holds more than my water jug. The floor is of red glazed octagon tiles. The carpet is two feet square, and there is not a foot-tub in the house. On my second morning in the hotel, where I lived for the first week, I asked for a foot-bath, but as my French was only moderate, the chambermaid, who in France is usually a man, was some time before he could understand me; and then he would not believe me, for the weather was bitterly cold. An incredulous smile covered his face when it was made clear to him that the tub was to be filled with cold water.

“The blood of Monsieur would rush to his head.”

After waiting about an hour, and evidently disturbing some household arrangement, a tub was brought, containing a very small quantity of cold water. It was made of zinc, about fourteen inches high, eight broad at the bottom, and ten at the top, in shape like a section of a conic chimney-pot, but upside down. It answered the purpose pretty well—one foot at a time, and the rest was left to Providence. A suspicion crossed me at the time that this was not its usual purpose; but I should have left the hotel without knowing what that usual purpose was, if I had not one day, on leaving the table d’hôte, peeped behind a screen in the salle à manger, and there seen a garçon washing knives and forks, dishes, and plates in my bain de pied.

My curiosity cost me twelve francs; for, on leaving the hotel I purchased a zinc chimney-pot of my own. Whatever love the French may have for bathing in hot weather—and they tell me it is quite a mania—all I can say is, that during my week in that hotel of forty-eight beds, the chimney-pot was never engaged when I wanted it. Indeed, it was always in my room, except at dinner-time.

I do not mean to say that this description of my room in the hotel of Monsieur Blot represents what a visitor will get in the Grand Hôtel du Louvre; but here I am paying forty-five francs a month, and there he will pay one hundred and fifty at the lowest. He will have more carpet and gilding, and larger pier-glasses, that is all,—the style is the same; and though there may be foot-baths in the house, he will have to pay a franc or two each day for the use of them.

There is one all-sufficient reason why the French use as little water in their houses as they can avoid. It is paid for by the bucket.

The system of égouts, or drains for supplying water to cleanse the streets, to fill fire-engines, and to carry off the rain-water is complete; but every drop of water for household purposes is brought to the door in butts, and retailed by the water-carriers, who are a powerful corporation, numbering ten thousand, with whose privileges no government, since water-works were invented, has been strong enough to interfere.

The Emperor is strong, and called absolute; but he has many masters, not the least of whom is the water-carrier of Paris.

Nothing could be easier than to supply Paris with water to the very attics, for the Seine has a greater fall than the Thames at Richmond Bridge; but every attempt to introduce water-works is opposed by the water-carriers, who will not allow water to be taken from the fountains in greater quantities than in bucketfuls, except by themselves, and it is a hazardous thing for a touch-and-go dynasty to throw ten thousand able-bodied men out of employment.

Hence it is, that though the water is as good, if not better, than in any other capital in Europe, yet it answers one of the never-failing requirements of monopoly by being exceedingly dear; and hence it was, that when at last the chamberman brought me a foot-tub, it contained only a little more water than would have been required to boil an egg.