two, the Tuileries and the Palais Royal. The Louvre is connected with
the first, and it has no finished apartments that are occupied by any of
princely rank, most of its better rooms being unfinished, and are
occupied as cabinets or museums. A small palace, called the _Elysée
Bourbon_, is fitted up as a residence for the heir presumptive, the Duc
de Bordeaux; but, though it contains his princely toys, such as
miniature batteries of artillery, &c., he is much too young to maintain
a separate establishment. This little scion of royalty only completed
his seventh year not long after our arrival in France, on which occasion
one of those silly ceremonies, which some of the present age appear to
think inseparable from sound principles, was observed. The child was
solemnly and formally transferred from the care of the women to that of
the men. Up to this period, Madame la Viscomtesse de Gontaut-Biron had
been his governess, and she now resigned her charge into the hands of
the Baron de Damas, who had lately been Minister of Foreign Affairs.
Madame de Gontaut was raised to the rank of Duchess on the occasion. The
boy himself is said to have passed from the hands of the one party, to
those of the other, in presence of the whole court, _absolutely naked_.
Some such absurdity was observed at the reception of _Marie Antoinette_,
it being a part of regal etiquette that a royal bride, on entering
France, should leave her old wardrobe, even to the last garment, behind
her. You will be amused to hear that there are people in Europe, who
still attach great importance to a rigid adherence to all the old
etiquette, at similar ceremonies. These are the men who believe it to be
essential that judges and advocates should wear wigs, in an age when,
their use being rejected by the rest of the world, their presence cannot
fail, if it excite any feeling, to excite that of inconvenience and
absurdity. There is such a thing as leaving society too naked, I admit,
but a _chemise_ at least, could not have injured the little Duke of
Bordeaux, at this ceremony. Whenever a usage that is poetical in itself,
and which awakens a sentiment without doing violence to decency, or
comfort, or common sense, can be preserved, I would rigidly adhere to
it, if it were only for antiquity’s sake; but, surely, it would be far
more rational for judges to wear false beards, because formerly Bacon
and Coke did not shave their chins, than it is for a magistrate to
appear on the bench with a cumbrous, hot, and inconvenient cloud of
powdered flax, or whatever may be the material, on his poll, because our
ancestors, a century or two since, were so silly as to violate nature in
the same extraordinary manner.
Speaking of the Duke of Bordeaux, reminds me of an odd, and, indeed, in
some degree, a painful scene, of which I was accidentally a witness, a
short time before the ceremony just mentioned. The _emigrés_ have
brought back with them into France, a taste for horse-racing, and,
supported by a few of the English who are here, there are regular races,
spring and autumn, in the _Champs de Mars_. The course is one of the
finest imaginable, being more than a mile in circumference, and
surrounded by mounds of earth, raised expressly with that object, which
permit the spectators to overlook the entire field. The result is a
species of amphitheatric arena, in which any of the dramatic
exhibitions, that are so pleasing to this spectacle-loving nation, may
be enacted. Pavillions are permanently erected at the starting-post, and
one or two of these are usually fitted up for the use of the court,
whenever it is the pleasure of the royal family to attend, as was the
case at the time the little occurrence, I am about to relate, took
place.
On this occasion, Charles Xth came in royal state, from St. Cloud,
accompanied by detachments of his guards, many carriages, several of
which were drawn by eight horses, and a cloud of mounted footmen. Most
of the dignitaries of the kingdom were present, in the different
pavillions, or stands, and nearly or quite all the ministers, together
with the whole diplomatic corps. There could not have been less than a
hundred thousand spectators on the mounds.
The racing itself was no great matter, being neither within time,
nor well contested. The horses were all French, the trial being
intended for the encouragement of the French breeders, and the
sports were yet too recent to have produced much influence on the
stock of the country. During the heats, accompanied by a young
American friend, I had strolled among the royal equipages, in
order to examine their magnificence, and returning towards the
course, we came out unexpectedly at a little open space,
immediately at one end of the pavillion in which the royal family
was seated. There were not a dozen people near us, and one of
these was a sturdy Englishman, evidently a tradesman, who betrayed
a keen and a truly national desire to get a look at the king. The
head of a little girl was just visible above the side of the
pavillion, and my companion, who, by a singular accident, not long
before, had been thrown into company with _les enfans de France_,
as the royal children are called, informed me that it was
_Mademoiselle d’Artois_, the sister of the heir presumptive. He
had given me a favorable account of the children, whom he
represented as both lively and intelligent, and I changed my
position a little, to get a better look of the face of this little
personage, who was not twenty feet from the spot where we stood.
My movement attracted her attention, and, after looking down a
moment into the small area in which we were enclosed, she
disappeared. Presently a lady looked over the ballustrade, and our
Englishman seemed to be on tenter-hooks. Some thirty or forty
French gathered round us immediately, and I presume it was thought
none but loyal subjects could manifest so much desire to gaze at
the family, especially as one or two of the French clapped the
little princess, whose head now appeared and disappeared again, as
if she were earnestly pressing something on the attention of those
within the pavillion. In a moment, the form of a pale and sickly
looking boy was seen, the little girl, who was a year or two
older, keeping her place at his side. The boy was raised on the
knee of a melancholy-looking and rather hard-featured female of
fifty, who removed his straw hat, in order to salute us. “These
are the _Dauphine_ and the _Duc de Bordeaux_,” whispered my
companion, who knew the person of the former by sight. The
Dauphine looked anxiously, and I thought mournfully, at the little
cluster we formed directly before her, as if waiting to observe in
what manner her nephew would be received. Of course my friend and
myself, who were in the foreground, stood uncovered; as gentlemen
we could not do less, nor as _foreign_ gentlemen could we very
well do more. Not a Frenchman, however, even touched his hat! On
the other hand, the Englishman, straddled his legs, gave a wide
sweep with his beaver, and uttered as hearty a hurrah as if he had
been cheering a member of Parliament who gave gin in his beer. The
effect of this single, unaccompanied, unanswered cheer, was both
ludicrous and painful. The poor fellow himself seemed startled at
hearing his own voice amid so profound a stillness, and checking
his zeal as unexpectedly as he had commenced its exhibition, he
looked furiously around him, and walked surlily away. The
_Dauphine_ followed him with her eyes. There was no mistaking his
gaitered limbs, dogged mien, and florid countenance; he clearly
was not French, and those that were, as clearly turned his
enthusiasm into ridicule. I felt sorry for her, as with a saddened
face, she set down the boy, and withdrew her own head within the
covering of the pavillion. The little _Mademoiselle d’Artois_ kept
her bright looks, in a sort of wonder, on us, until the
circumspection of those around her, gave her a hint to disappear.
This was the first direct and near view I got of the true state of
popular feeling in Paris, towards the reigning family. According to the
journals in the interest of the court, enthusiasm was invariably
exhibited whenever any of their princes appeared in public; but the
journals in every country, our own dear and shrewd republic not
excepted, are very unsafe guides for those who desire truth.
I am told that the style of this court has been materially altered, and
perhaps improved, by the impetuous character of Napoleon. The king
rarely appears in public with less than eight horses, which are usually
in a foam. His liveries are not showy, neither are the carriages as neat
and elegant as one would expect. The former are blue and white, with a
few slight ornaments of white and red lace, and the vehicles are showy,
large and even magnificent, but, I think, without good taste. You will
be surprised to hear that he drives with what, in America, we call
“Dutch collars.” Six of the horses are held in hand, and the leaders are
managed by a postillion. There is always one or more empty carriages,
according to the number of the royal personages present, equipped in
every respect like those which are filled, and which are held in reserve
against accidents; a provision, by the way, that is not at all
unreasonable in those who scamper over the broken pavements, in and
about Paris, as fast as leg can be put to the ground.
Notwithstanding the present magnificence of the court, royalty is shorn
of much of its splendor in France, since the days of Louis XVIth. Then a
city of a hundred thousand souls, (Versailles) was a mere dependant of
the crown; lodgings for many hundred _abbés_, it is said, were provided
in the palace alone, and a simple representation at the palace opera,
cost a fortune.
It is not an easy matter to come at the real cost of the kingly office
in this country, all the expenditures of the European governments being
mystified in such a way, as to require a very intimate knowledge of the
details, to give a perfectly clear account of them. But, so far as I
have been able to ascertain, the charges that arise from this feature of
the system do not fall much short, if indeed they do any, of eight
millions of dollars, annually. Out of this sum, however, the king pays
the extra allowances of his guards, the war office taking the same view
of all classes of soldiers, after distinguishing between foot and
cavalry. You will get an idea of the luxury of royalty, by a short
account of the _gardes du corps_. These troops are all officers, the
privates having the rank, and receiving the pay, of lieutenants. Their
duty, as the name implies, is to have the royal person in their especial
care, and there is always a guard of them, in an ante-chamber of the
royal apartments. They are heavy cavalry, and when they mount guard in
the palaces, their arm is a carabine. A party of them, always appear
near the carriage of the king, or indeed near that of any of the
reigning branch of the family. There are said to be four regiments or
companies of them, of four hundred men each; but it strikes me the
number must be exaggerated. I should think, however, that there are
fully a thousand of them. In addition to these selected troops, there
are three hundred Swiss, of the Swiss and royal guards; of the latter,
including all arms, there must be many thousands. These are the troops
that usually mount guard, in and about all the palaces. The annual
budget of France appears in the estimates, at about a _milliard_, or a
thousand millions of francs, but the usual mystifications are resorted
to, and the truth will give the annual central expenses of the country,
at not less, I think, than two hundred millions of dollars. This sum,
however, covers many items of expenditure, that we are accustomed to
consider purely local. The clergy, for instance, are paid out of it, as
is a portion of the cost of maintaining the roads. On the other hand,
much money is collected, as a general regulation, that does not appear
in the budget. Few or no churches are built, and there are charges for
masses, interments, christenings, and fees for a hundred things, of
which no account is taken, in making out the sum total of the cost of
government.
It was the policy of Napoleon to create a system of centralization, that
should cause every thing to emanate from himself. The whole organization
of government had this end in view, and all the details of the
departments have been framed expressly to further this object. The
prefects are no more than so many political _aides_, whose duty it is to
carry into effect the orders that emanate from the great head, and lines
of telegraphs, are established all over France, in such a way that a
communication may be sent from the Tuileries, to the remotest corner of
the kingdom, in the course of a few hours. It has been said that one of
the first steps towards effecting a revolution, ought to be to seize the
telegraphs at Paris, by means of which such information and orders could
be sent into the provinces, as the emergency might seem to require.
This system of centralization has almost neutralized the advancement of
the nation, in a knowledge of the usages and objects of the political
liberty that the French have obtained, by bitter experience, from other
sources. It is the constant aim of that portion of the community which
understands the action of free institutions, to increase the powers of
the municipalities, and to lessen the functions of the central
government; but their efforts are resisted with a jealous distrust of
every thing like popular dictation. Their municipal privileges are,
rightly enough, thought to be the entering wedges of real liberty. The
people ought to manage their own affairs, just as far as they can do so
without sacrificing their interests for want of a proper care, and here
is the starting point of representation. So far from France enjoying
such a system, however, half the time a bell cannot be hung in a parish
church, or a bridge repaired, without communications with, and orders
from, Paris.
LETTER VI.
TO MRS. POMEROY, COOPERSTOWN, NEW YORK.
I quitted America with some twenty letters of introduction, that had
been pressed upon me by different friends, but which were carefully
locked up in a secretary, where they still remain, and are likely to
remain for ever, or until they are distroyed. As this may appear a
singular resolution for one who left his own country to be absent for
years, I shall endeavour to explain it. In the first place, I have a
strong repugnance to pushing myself on the acquaintance of any man; this
feeling may, in fact, proceed from pride, but I have a disposition to
believe, that it proceeds, in part, also, from a better motive. These
letters of introduction, like verbal introductions, are so much abused
in America, that the latter feeling, perhaps I might say both feelings,
are increased by the fact. Of all the people in the world we are the
most prodigal of these favors, when self-respect and propriety would
teach us we ought to be among the most reserved, simply because the
character of the nation is so low, that the European, more than half the
time, fancies he is condescending when he bestows attentions on our
people at all. Other travellers may give you a different account of the
matter, but let every one be responsible for his own opinions and facts.
Then, a friend, who, just as we left home, returned from Europe after an
absence of five years, assured me that he found his letters of but
little use; that nearly every agreeable acquaintance he made was the
result of accident, and that the Europeans, in general, were much more
cautious in giving and receiving letters of this nature, than ourselves.
The usages of all Europe, those of the English excepted, differ from our
own on the subject of visits. There the stranger, or the latest arrival,
is expected to make the first visit, and an inquiry for your address, is
always taken for an intimation that your acquaintance would be
acceptable. Many, perhaps most, Americans lose a great deal through
their provincial breeding, in this respect, in waiting for attentions
that it is their duty to invite, by putting themselves in the way of
receiving them. The European usage is not only the most rational, but it
is the most delicate. It is the most rational, as there is a manifest
absurdity in supposing, for instance, that the inhabitant of a town is
to know whenever a visiter from the country arrives, and it is the most
delicate, as it leaves the new-comer, who is supposed to know his own
wishes best, to decide, for himself, whether he wishes to make
acquaintances, or not. In short, our own practices are provincial and
rustic, and cannot exist when the society of the country shall have
taken the usual phases of an advanced civilization. Even in England, in
the higher classes, the cases of distinguished men excepted, it is usual
for the stranger to seek the introduction.
Under such circumstances, coupled with the utter insignificance of an
ordinary individual in a town like Paris, you will easily understand
that we had the first months of our residence, entirely to ourselves. As
a matter of course, we called on our own minister and his wife, and as a
matter of course, we have been included in the dinners and parties, that
they are accustomed to give at this season of the year. This, however,
has merely brought us in contact with a chance-medley of our own
countrymen, these diplomatic entertainments being quite obviously a
matter of accident, so far as the set is concerned. The dinners of your
banker, however, are still worse, since with them the visiting list is
usually a mere extract from the leger.
Our privacy has not been without its advantages. It has enabled us to
visit all the visible objects without the incumbrance of engagements,
and given me leisure to note and to comment on things, that might
otherwise, have been overlooked. For several months we have had nothing
to do, but to see sights, get familiarized with a situation, that, at
first, we found singularly novel, and to brush up our French.
I never had sufficient faith in the popular accounts of the usages of
other countries, to believe one half of what I have heard. I distrusted,
from the first, the fact of ladies, I mean real _bonâ fide_ ladies,
women of sentiment, delicacy, taste, and condition, frequenting public
eating-houses, and habitually living, without the retirement and
reserve, that is so necessary, to all _women_, not to say _men_, of the
_caste_. I found it difficult, therefore, to imagine I should meet with
many females of condition in _restaurants_ and _cafés_. Such a thing
might happen on an emergency, but it was assailing too much all those
feelings and tastes which become inherent in refinement, to suppose that
the tables of event the best house of the sort, in Paris, could be
honored by the presence of such persons, except under particular
circumstances. My own observation corroborated this opinion, and, in
order to make sure of the fact, I have put the question to nearly every
French woman of rank, it has since been my good fortune to become
sufficiently acquainted with, to take the liberty. The answer has been
uniform. Such things are sometimes done, but rarely; and even then it is
usual to have the service in a private room. One old lady, a woman
perfectly competent to decide on such a point, told me frankly, “We
never do it, except by way of a frolick, or when in a humour which
induces people to do many other silly and unbecoming things. Why should
we go to the _restaurateurs_ to eat? We have our own houses and
servants, as well as the English, or even you Americans”—it may be
supposed I laughed—“and certainly the French are not so devoid of good
taste as not to understand that the mixed society of a public house, is
not the best possible company for a woman.”
It is, moreover, a great mistake to imagine that the French are not
hospitable, and that they do not entertain as freely, and as often as
any other people. The only difference between them and the English, in
this respect, or between them and ourselves, is in the better taste and
ease which regulate their intercourse of this nature. While there is a
great deal of true elegance, there is no fuss, at a French
entertainment; and all that you have heard of the superiority of the
kitchen, in this country, is certainly true. Society is divided into
_castes_, in Paris, as it is every where else; and the degrees of
elegance and refinement increase as one ascends, as a matter of course,
but there is less of effort, in every class, than is usual with us. One
of the best-bred Englishmen of my acquaintance, and one, too, who had
long been in the world, has frankly admitted to me, that the highest
tone of English society, is merely an imitation of that which existed in
Paris, previously to the revolution, and of which, though modified as to
usages and forms, a good deal still remains. By the highest tone,
however, you are not to suppose I mean that labored, frigid, heartless
manner, that so many, in England especially, mistake for high breeding,
merely because they do not know how to unite with the finish which
constant intercourse with the world creates, the graceful semblance of
living less for one’s self than for others, and to express, as it were,
their feelings and wishes, rather than to permit one’s own to escape
him, a habit, that, like the reflection of a mirror, produces the truest
and most pleasing images, when thrown back from surfaces the most highly
polished. But I am anticipating, rather than giving you a history of
what I have seen.
In consequence of our not having brought any letters, as has just been
mentioned, and of not having sought society, no one gave themselves any
trouble on our account, for the first three or four months of our
residence in Paris. At the end of that period, however, I made my
_début_, at probably as brilliant an entertainment, as one usually sees,
here, in the course of a whole winter. Mr. Canning, then Secretary of
State for Foreign Affairs, came to Paris on a visit, and, as is usual on
such occasions, diplomacy was a good deal mixed up with eating and
drinking. Report says, that the etiquette of the court was a good deal
deranged by this visit, the Bourbons not having adopted the hale-fellow
hospitality of the English kings. _M. de Villèle_, or, _M. de Damas_,
would be invited to dine at Windsor, almost as a matter of course; but
the descendant of Hugh Capet hesitated about breaking bread with an
English commoner. The matter is understood to have been gotten over, by
giving the entertainment at St. Cloud; where, it would seem, the royal
person has fewer immunities than at the Tuileries. But, among other
attentions that were bestowed on the English statesman, Mr. Brown
determined to give him a great diplomatic dinner; and, our own legations
having a great poverty of subordinates, except in the way of travelling
_attachés_, I was invited to occupy one end of the table, while the
regular Secretary took his seat at the other. Before I attempt a short
description of this entertainment, it may help to enliven the solitude
of your mountain residence, and serve to give you more distinct ideas of
the matter, than can be obtained from novels, if I commence with a
summary of the appliances and modes of polite intercourse in this part
of the world, as they are to be distinguished from our own.
In the first place, you are to discard from your mind, all images of two
rooms and folding-doors, with a passage six feet wide, a narrow carpeted
flight of steps, and a bed-room prepared for the ladies to uncloak in,
and another in which the men can brush their hair, and hide their hats.
Some such snuggeries, very possibly exist in England among the middling
classes; but I believe all over the continent of Europe, style is never
attempted, without more suitable means to carry out the intention.
In Paris every one, who mingles with the world, lives in a hotel, or a
house that has a court and an outer gate. Usually, the building
surrounds three sides of this court, and sometimes, the whole four;
though small hotels are to be found, in which the court is encircled on
two, or even on three of its sides, merely by high walls. The gate is
always in the keeping of a regular porter, who is an important personage
about the establishment, taking in letters, tickets, &c., ejecting
blackguards and all other suspicious persons, carrying messages, besides
levying contributions on all the inmates of the house, in the way of
wood and coal. In short, he is, in some measure, held to be responsible
for the _exits_ and entrances, being a sort of domestic _gens-d’arme_.
In the larger hotels, there are two courts, the great and _la basse
cour_, the latter being connected with the offices and stables.