Chapter 1314: Europe's Most Prosperous City
Mrs. Walsh chimed in, "The Paris City Hall is also planning an 'indoor water supply system.' It should be available at our place by next summer at the earliest."
This time, Brode looked disdainful. "Does Paris not even have piped water? Such things are practically ubiquitous in The Hague."
He was exaggerating, of course. Only a very small number of high-end residences in The Hague had piped water, which was a rudimentary form of running water, and even then, only if the building's location was suitable, such as being close to a river or having a windmill nearby.
Mrs. Walsh offered a gentle smile. "This is a new type of water supply system, completely different from piped water. It's said that a switch can be installed in every room, and water will flow out when it's opened.
"Oh, they call it 'tap water.'"
Walsh added, "They've built many water towers throughout the city and use steam engine-driven pumps to fill them. The water is then delivered to buildings through iron pipes.
"The tap water company has been established for several months. They will first filter the Seine River water, so the water used at home will be very clean. And normal supply can be maintained regardless of the weather.
"The tap water company's poster says the monthly usage fee is only 6 francs. I estimate half of Paris will install it."
Well, he was exaggerating too. No more than 10% of Parisian families could afford 6 francs a month for tap water, let alone the 45-franc installation fee for household hookup.
Brode immediately pressed for details about "tap water" with disbelief.
When he learned that this system could transport water to every corner of the city, and that with just a small valve called a "faucet," water could be conveniently accessed in any room, even flushing the toilet immediately after use—
These things, which seem trivial in later generations, were absolute engineering marvels in the late eighteenth century!
One must remember that the most advanced "piped water" systems of the time merely used waterwheels or windmills to lift river water to a higher elevation, then let it flow into buildings through pipes.
In users' homes, there was a device similar to a small fountain. When water was needed, they would scoop a ladleful from the "fountain." If the river ran dry or flooded, water supply would immediately cease.
Wind and rain would severely degrade water quality, and muddy water could even clog the conduits, requiring each building to have dedicated personnel for maintenance.
Mrs. Brode was already envisioning the convenience of simply turning a valve to get water at home and pouring wastewater into the sewer. She couldn't help but exclaim internally, 'This is truly elegant living.'
Indeed, the most crucial factor for a city's livability is water—the attraction of convenient water access and drainage far outweighs the grandeur of its buildings.
As the group discussed tap water, the Steam Railcar slowly pulled to a stop in front of the "Palace Garden Station."
Mrs. Brode stepped out and looked up to see a cluster of buildings surrounded by neatly trimmed flowerbeds. She hadn't yet heard the term "residential complex."
A wide, asphalt-paved avenue led directly to the entrance of the complex. The road was separated in the middle by valuable young cedar trees, with carriage lanes for different directions on either side, and pedestrian paths further out. Everything appeared perfectly organized.
She glanced at the exquisite villas behind the entrance and quietly asked Mrs. Walsh, "These houses must be very expensive, right?"
The latter nodded subtly and demurely. "They were over two thousand pounds sterling when we bought them. They're probably a bit more expensive now."
Mrs. Brode calculated in her mind, thinking that she could probably afford it if she gritted her teeth. What she didn't know was that what Mrs. Walsh meant by "a bit more expensive" was that the average price of houses here had already risen to 200,000 francs each, which was over eight thousand pounds sterling.
And once the tap water and sewage systems were completed, house prices were expected to soar even further.
Walsh instructed his servants to help the Brode family settle their luggage. Seeing that it was still early, he took them to one of Paris's famous attractions—the Sasha Zoo.
Along the way, the Steam Railcar passed an incredibly imposing stone structure. Brode blurted out, "This must be the Arc de Triomphe, right?"
Walsh nodded, introducing it in the tone of an old Parisian. "Yes, the Arc de Triomphe. It's over 50 meters tall.
"They say it'll be finished by the end of next year. Honestly, it's just a very large stone, nothing particularly special to see."
Brode gazed at the artists carving patterns on the scaffolding, somewhat surprised. "That fast? I remember hearing about its construction only a few years ago."
Walsh gestured towards several massive wooden machines parked in the distance. "The craftsmen are using steam cranes, and they've even laid tracks specifically for transporting stone here, which is why it's being built so quickly.
"That's nothing, though. They say there will soon be cranes mounted on regular railcars, which will be even more flexible and efficient."
Brode looked up at the craftsmen on the Arc de Triomphe, who had shrunk to the size of sparrows, and couldn't help but exclaim, "It's simply a miracle!"
One had to remember that similar stone structures, even half its height, would take at least a decade to complete. The French were building this colossal structure as if it were an ordinary residential building.
At six in the evening, Walsh and the others left the zoo, still lingering.
Mrs. Brode kept looking back. "We really should have brought Ernst. He would have loved it here."
Ernst was her child, only four years old, and she had left him in The Hague, worried about the hardships of travel.
Mrs. Walsh immediately began discussing children with her, and the conversation soon turned to public childcare in Paris and Europe's most advanced medical system.
Mrs. Brode began to ponder whether she could persuade her husband to settle in Paris.
As the sun vanished from the horizon, Brode returned with Walsh to the villa in the Palace Garden.
He had expected Walsh to host a banquet for him at home, but to his surprise, the latter merely changed carriages and took him and his wife to a restaurant two streets away.
He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, as this clearly seemed like a superficial gesture.
Restaurants in this era were still quite niche, mostly evolving from coffee houses or taverns that offered desserts. The food they provided was far inferior to that prepared by a nobleman's personal chef.
However, upon entering the restaurant, Brode's eyes widened instantly.
The decor was extremely luxurious and refined—golden gas chandeliers, polished terrazzo marble floors, and a circle of expensive mirrors lining the walls.
It was several times more opulent than his own home.
Walsh courteously handed him the menu, and Brode saw various rare delicacies, many of which he had never even heard of.
Indeed, as the urban bourgeoisie in France gradually developed, restaurants, as a convenient and quick dining option, began to gain favor and experienced rapid growth.
With some former imperial chefs from Versailles joining restaurants, hosting guests there had become a very stylish affair.
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