Paris

A View of Paris, and Places Adjoining: With an Account of the Court of France, and of the Late King James: To Which is Added, the Present Posture of Affairs in That Kingdom, Discovering an Insufficiency in the French to Maintain a War. London, 1701.

Having enter’d this famous City, we were set down near the Louvre, and drop’d in first at a paltry House where the Fellow call’d himself in his Sign Le grand Voyageru, (or great Traveller) and pretended to Speak all Languages, but could scarce speak his own. Finding here but indifferent Accommodation, our Man provided us a Lodging in a House, where liv’d no less than two and twenty Families; thither we were carried in Sedans with Wheels, drag’d along by one Man, no Hackney-Coaches being then to be had. This was on a Sunday, and I was not a little surpriz’d to see Violins about the Streets, and People singing and dancing every where, as if they had been mad.

Strangers are very welcome in Paris, provided they bring a great deal of Money along with them: And indeed here are so many Occasions to spend it, that unless a Man have two Guardian Angels, one to keep his Desires within bounds, ’tother to manage his Purse, both his own Extravagance, and the subtle cringing Avarice of this Nation, will soon send him home with empty Pockets. All I have got for near Two Hundred Pounds I have spent here in Seven Months time, is a Qualification I never was acquainted with, I mean, Flattery. In France a Man must commend every thing that is French, and extol the Grandeur of their King and Monarchy; their Politeness, and good Breeding; their Fashions, and manner of Eating and Drinking. Nay, he must applaud Hypocrisy and Bigotry, because they are so much countenanc’d from Above, that tis almost a capital Crime to speak against them. To comply with the Folly of the Nation, I have taken my Degrees in the School of Complimenting, and begging Pardon; such insignificant Words of Course being more common in France, than Sighing in Italy, or Belching in Holland. Promises, Tenders of Services, and Protestations of Friendship, are here of the nature of Nightingals; Vox, vox, & præteret nihil, a meer Sound, and no Substance. …

CABARETS.

Here are as many Cabarets (or Taverns) and Rotisseries (or Cook shops) as Coffee-Houses in London; both which are much inferior to ours, both in cleanliness and convenience. The Cabarets are generally more Nasty than any English Ale-house I ever saw; and then they have not the liberty to dress Meat, but must fetch it from the Cooks; therefore most People seldom eat at the Cabarets, but Diet at Ordinaries. The first time I went into a Cabaret, the Drawer came in singing Uin Chably, Tonnerre, Champagne, de Grave, Bourgogne, Cabreton, Macon, Mulsau, Hermitage, Argenteuil, Nanterre, Gentilly, d’Ivry, Surenne, Sillery, Volonné, Frontignac, Muscat, St. Laurent; he was going on in his Litany, but I began to be weary of hearing so many Wines nam’d, and drinking none, and so stop’d his mouth, and call’d for a Flask of Champagne, and another of Vin de Grave; the first prov’d very good, but the other not so fine as the Bourdeaux-Wines we drink at the Three Tuns in Shandoys-Street, or at the Rose in Convent-Garden. Wine is cheap enough here without the City, but as soon as it has enter’d it, it is Sold almost as dear as in London. The Cabaretiers, or Vintners, stile themselves Marchands de Vin.

ORDINARIES.

’Tis extraordinary dear Living in Paris, in Comparison of London; for a Gentleman cannot Diet at a good Ordinary under Four Livers a Day, nor have a tollerable good Lodging for less than four Lewis’s d’Or per Month. The French Cooks are as Industrious in Inventing new Ragoos, and Kickshaws, as the Taylors in cutting out new Fashions. Their Fowl is good and well Larded; but their other Meat is generally so adulterated with Sauces, that ’tis impossible to determine whether what one Eats is Beef, Mutton or Veal. Except Legs of Mutton, I have not yet seen a whole Joint of Meat Serv’d up at Table; the Butchers being unacquainted with Surloins and Rumps, and generally cutting their Beef into thin Slices, scarce thicker than a Six-Penny-Stake in London.

They Brew here a sort of good Beer, not quite so strong as our Common Two-Penny Drink in London, but clearer than Notingham-Ale.

Here’s a Cook-shop in Ruë St. Honnoré, where 300 Men are Employ’d in Larding of Fowl, all at a time: The Master keeps a Register of the places where they Live, and of the times when they are to bring in Fowl Larded; he told me, that he sometimes drest Dinners of a Thousand Livers.

Coffee-Houses.

There are but few Coffee-houses in Paris, but then they are generally as fine as our Chocolate-Houses, and much more Expensive; a Dish of Tea or Coffee, being Sold for Une petite piece, or a French Groat; a Dish of Chocolate Ten Sols, and their Ratefia’s, and other strong Liquors in proportion. All their Tea, Coffee-Pots, and other Utensils are Silver: There’s one Coffee-House near the Pont-neuf, where are no less than 34 Marble-Tables: I have seen another with Looking-Glass all about it; but there is not one where there is a Fire, even in the Sharpest Winter Days.

(From the Internet Archive)