destroyed, than to effect that desirable object. Little more was
achieved than to make cuts into the external parts of the towers and
walls, and to unroof the different buildings, and, although this was
done two hundred years since, time has made little impression on the
ruins. We were shown a place where there had been an attempt to break
into the walls for stones, but which had been abandoned, because it was
found easier to quarry them from the living rock. The principal towers
were more than a hundred feet high, and their angles and ornaments
seemed to be as sharp and solid as ever. This was much the noblest
French ruin we have seen, and it may be questioned if there are many
finer, out of Italy, in Europe.
The palace of Compèigne after that of Versailles, hardly rewarded us for
the trouble of examining it. Still it is large and in perfect repair.
But the apartments are common-place, though there are a few that are
good. A prince, however, is as well lodged even here, as is usual in the
north of Europe. The present king is fond of resorting to this house, on
account of the game of the neighbouring forest. We saw several roebucks
bounding among the trees, in our drive to _Pierre-font_.[12]
Footnote 12:
Pierre-fond, or Pierre-font.
I have dwelt on the palaces and the court so much, because one cannot
get a correct idea of what France was, and perhaps I ought to say of
what France, through the reaction, _will_ be, if this point were
overlooked. The monarch was all in all, in the nation; the centre of
light, wealth and honour; letters, the arts and the sciences revolved
around him, as the planets revolve around the sun, and if there ever was
a civilized people whose example it would be fair to quote, for or
against the effects of monarchy, I think it would be the people of
France. I was surprised at my own ignorance on the subject of the
magnificence of these kings, of which indeed it is not easy for an
untravelled American to form any just notion, and it has struck me you
might be glad to hear a little on these points.
After all I have said, I find I have entirely omitted the orangery at
Versailles. But then I have said little or nothing of the canals, the
_jets d’eau_, of the great and little parks, which united are fifty
miles in circumference, and of a hundred other things. Still, as this
orangery is on a truly royal scale, it deserves a word of notice, before
I close my letter. The trees are housed in winter, in long vaulted
galleries beneath the great terrace, and there is a sort of sub-court in
front of them, where they are put into the sun, during the pleasant
season. This place is really an orange grove, and, although every tree
is in a box, and is nursed like a child, many of them are as large as it
is usual to find in the orange groves of low latitudes. Several are very
old; two or three dating from the fifteenth century, and one from the
early part of it. What notions do you get of the magnificence of the
place, when you are told that a palace, subterraneous it is true, is
devoted to this single luxury, and that acres are covered with trees, in
boxes?
LETTER XI.
TO JAMES STEVENSON, ESQUIRE, ALBANY.
I intend this letter to be useful rather than entertaining. Living, as
we Americans do, remote from the rest of the world, and possessing so
many practices peculiar to ourselves, at the same time that we are
altogether wanting in usages that are familiar to most other nations, it
should not be matter of surprise that we commit some mistakes on this
side of the water, in matters of taste and etiquette. A few words simply
expressed, and a few explanations plainly made, may serve to remove some
errors, and perhaps render your own contemplated visit to this part of
the world more agreeable.
There is no essential difference in the leading rules of ordinary
intercourse among the polished of all Christian nations. Though some of
these rules may appear arbitrary, it will be found, on examination, that
they are usually derived from very rational and sufficient motives. They
may vary, in immaterial points, but even these variations arise from
some valid circumstance.
The American towns are growing so rapidly, that they are getting to have
the population of capitals without enjoying their commonest facilities.
The exaggerated tone of our largest towns, for instance, forbids the
exchange of visits by means of servants. It may suit the habits of
provincial life to laugh at this, as an absurdity, but it may be taken
pretty safely as a rule, that men and women of as much common sense as
the rest of their fellow creatures, with the best opportunities of
cultivating all those tastes that are dependant on society, and with no
other possible motive than convenience, would not resort to such a
practice without a suitable inducement. No one who has not lived in a
large town that _does_ possess these facilities, can justly appreciate
their great advantages, or properly understand how much a place like New
York, with its three hundred thousand inhabitants, loses by not adopting
them. We have conventions for all sorts of things in America, some of
which do good and others harm, but I cannot imagine anything that would
contribute more to the comfort of society, than one which should settle
the laws of intercourse, on principles better suited to the real
condition of the country, than those which now exist. It is not unusual
to read descriptions deriding the forms of Europe, written by travelling
Americans, but I must think they have been the productions of very young
travellers, or, at least, of such as have not had the proper means of
appreciating the usages they ridicule. Taking my own experience as a
guide, I have no hesitation in saying, that I know no people among whom
the ordinary social intercourse is as uncomfortable, and as little
likely to stand the test of a rational examination, as our own.
The first rule, all-important for an American to know, is that the
latest arrival makes the first visit. England is, in some respects, an
exception to this practice, but I believe it prevails in all the rest of
Europe. I do not mean to say that departures are not made from this law,
in particular instances; but they should always be taken as exceptions,
and as pointed compliments. This rule has many conveniences, and I think
it also shows a more delicate attention to sentiment and feeling. While
the points of intrusion and of disagreeable acquaintances, are left just
where they would be under our own rule, the stranger is made the judge
of his own wishes. It is, moreover, impossible, in a large town, to know
of every arrival. Many Americans, who come to Europe with every claim to
attention, pass through it nearly unnoticed, from a hesitation about
obtruding themselves on others, under the influence of the opinions in
which they have been educated. This for a long time was my own case, and
it was only when a more familiar acquaintance with the practices of this
part of the world made me acquainted with their advantages, that I could
consent freely to put myself forward.
You are not to understand that any stranger arriving in a place like
Paris, or London, has a right to leave cards for whom he pleases. It is
not the custom, except for those who, by birth, or official station, or
a high reputation, may fairly deem themselves privileged, to assume this
liberty, and even then, it is always better to take some preliminary
step to assure one’s self that the visit will be acceptable. The law of
salutes, is very much the law of visits, in this part of the world. The
ship arriving sends an officer to know if his salute will be returned
gun for gun, and the whole affair, it is true, is conducted in rather a
categorical manner, but the governing principles are the same in both
cases, though more management may be required between two gentlemen,
than between two men-of-war.
The Americans in Europe, on account of the country’s having abjured all
the old feudal distinctions that still so generally prevail here, labour
under certain disadvantages, that require, on the one hand, much tact
and discretion to overcome, and on the other, occasionally much firmness
and decision.
The rule I have adopted, in my own case, is to defer to every usage, in
matters of etiquette, so far as I have understood them, that belongs to
the country in which I may happen to be. If, as has sometimes happened
(but not in a solitary instance in France,) the claims of a stranger
have been overlooked, I have satisfied myself by remembering, that, in
this respect at least, the Americans are the superiors, for that is a
point in which we seldom fail; and if they are remembered, to accept of
just as much attention as shall be offered. In cases, in which those
arbitrary distinctions are set up, that, by the nature of our
institutions cannot, either in similar, or in any parallel cases exist
in America, and the party making the pretension is on neutral ground,
_if the claim be in any manner pressed_, I would say that it became an
American to resist it promptly; neither to go out of his way to meet it,
nor to defer to it, when it crosses his path. In really good society
awkward cases of this nature are not very likely to occur; they are,
however, more likely to occur as between our own people and the English,
than between those of any other nation; for the latter, in mixed general
associations, have scarcely yet learned to look upon, and treat us as
the possessors of an independent country. It requires perfect
self-possession, great tact, and some nerve for an American, who is
brought much in contact with the English on the continent of Europe, to
avoid a querulous and ungentlemanlike disposition to raise objections on
these points, and at the same time to maintain the position, and command
the respect, with which he should never consent to dispense. From my own
little experience, I should say we are better treated, and have less to
overlook, in our intercourse with the higher than with the intermediate
classes of the English.
You will have very different accounts of these points, from some of our
travellers. I only give you the results of my own observation, under the
necessary limitations of my own opportunities. Still I must be permitted
to say that too many of our people, in their habitual deference to
England, mistake offensive condescension for civility. Of the two, I
will confess I would rather encounter direct arrogance, than the
assumption of a right to be affable. The first may at least be resisted.
Of all sorts of superiority, that of a condescending quality is the
least palatable.
I believe Washington is the only place in America, where it is permitted
to send cards. In every other town, unless accompanied by an invitation,
and even then the card is _supposed_ to be left, it would be viewed as
airs. It is even equivocal to leave a card in person, unless denied.
Nothing can be worse adapted to the wants of American society than this
rigid conformity to facts. Without porters; with dwellings in which the
kitchens and servant’s halls are placed just as far from the
street-doors as the dimensions of the houses will allow; with large
straggling towns that cover as much ground as the more populous capitals
of Europe, and these towns not properly divided into quarters; with a
society as ambitious of effect, in its way, as any I know; and with
people more than usually occupied with business and the family cares,
one is expected to comply rigidly with the most formal rules of village
propriety. It is easy to trace these usages to their source, provincial
habits and rustic manners, but towns with three hundred thousand
inhabitants, ought to be free from both. Such rigid conditions cannot
well be observed, and a consequence already to be traced is, that those
forms of society, which tend to refine it, and to render it more human
and graceful, are neglected from sheer necessity. Carelessness in the
points of association connected with sentiment (and all personal
civilities and attention have this root) grows upon one like
carelessness in dress, until an entire community may get to be as
ungracious in deportment, as it is unattractive in attire.
The etiquette of visits, here, is reduced to a sort of science. A card
is sent by a servant, and returned by a servant. It is polite to return
it, next day, though three, I believe, is the lawful limits, and it is
politer still to return it the day it is received. There is no
affectation about sending the card, as it is not at all unusual to put
E. P. (_en personne_) on it, by way of expressing a greater degree of
attention, even when the card is sent. When the call is really made in
person, though the visiter does not ask to be admitted, it is also
common to request the porter to say that the party was at the gate. All
these niceties may seem absurd and supererogatory, but depend on it,
they have a direct and powerful agency in refining and polishing
intercourse, just as begging a man’s pardon, when you tread on his toe,
has an effect to humanize, though the parties know no offence was
intended. Circumstances once rendered it proper that I should leave a
card for a Russian _diplomate_, an act that I took care he should know,
indirectly, I went out of my way to do, as an acknowledgment for the
civilities his countrymen showed to us Americans. My name was left at
the gate of his hotel, (it was not in Paris,) as I was taking a morning
ride. On returning home, after an absence of an hour, I found his card
lying on my table. Instead, however, of its containing the usual
official titles, it was simply Prince ——. I was profoundly emerged in
the study of this new feature in the forms of etiquette, when the
friend, who had prepared the way for the visit, entered. I asked an
explanation, and he told me that I had received a higher compliment than
could be conveyed by a merely official card, this being a proffer of
_personal_ attention. “You will get an invitation to dinner soon;” and,
sure enough, one came before he had quitted the house. Now, here was a
delicate and flattering attention paid, and one that I felt, without
trouble to either party; one that the occupations of the _diplomate_
would scarcely permit him to pay, except in extraordinary cases, under
rules more rigid.
There is no obligation on a stranger to make the first visit, certainly,
but if he do not, he is not to be surprised if no one notices him. It is
a matter of delicacy to obtrude on the privacy of such a person, it
being presumed that he wishes to be retired. We have passed some time in
a village near Paris, which contains six or eight visitable families.
With one of these I had some acquaintance, and we exchanged civilities,
but wishing to be undisturbed, I extended my visit no farther, and I
never saw anything of the rest of my neighbours. They waited for me to
make the advances.
A person in society, here, who is desirous of relieving himself, for a
time, from the labour and care of maintaining the necessary intercourse,
can easily do it, by leaving cards of P. P. C. It might be awkward to
remain long in a place very publicly, after such a step, but I ventured
on it once, to extricate myself from engagements that interfered with
more important pursuits, with entire success. I met several
acquaintances in the street, after the cards were sent, and we even
talked together, but I got no more visits or invitations. When ready _to
return to town_, all I had to do was to leave cards again, and things
went on as if nothing had happened. I parried one or two allusions to my
absence, and had no further difficulty. The only awkward part of it was,
that I accepted an invitation to dine _en famille_ with a literary
friend, and one of the guests, of whom there were but three, happened to
be a person whose invitation to dinner I had declined on account of
quitting town! As he was a sensible man, I told him the simple fact, and
we laughed at the _contre tems_, and drank our wine in peace.
The Americans who come abroad frequently complain of a want of
hospitality in the public agents. There is a strong disposition in every
man, under institutions like our own, to mistake himself for a part of
the government, in matters with which he has no proper connexion, while
too many totally overlook those interests which it is their duty to
watch. In the first place, the people of the United States do not give
salaries to their ministers, of sufficient amount to authorize them to
expect that any part of the money should be returned in the way of
personal civilities. Fifty thousand francs a-year is the usual sum named
by the French, as the money necessary to maintain a genteel town
establishment, with moderate evening entertainments, and an occasional
dinner. This is three thousand francs more than the salary of the
minister, out of which he is moreover expected to maintain his regular
diplomatic intercourse. It is impossible for any one to do much in the
way of personal civilities, on such an allowance.
There is, moreover, on the part of too many of our people, an aptitude
to betray a jealous sensitiveness on the subject of being presented at
foreign courts. I have known some claim it _as a right_, when it is
yielded to the minister himself, as an act of grace. The receptions of a
sovereign are merely his particular mode of receiving visits. No one
will pretend that the President of the United States is obliged to give
levees and dinners, nor is a king any more compelled to receive
strangers, or even his own subjects, unless it suit his policy and his
taste. His palace is his house, and he is the master of it, the same as
any other man is master of his own abode. It is true, the public expects
something of him, and his allowance is probably regulated by this
expectation, but the interference does not go so far as to point out his
company. Some kings pass years without holding a court at all; others
receive every week. The public obligation to open his door, is no more
than an obligation of expediency, of which he, and he only, can be the
judge. This being the rule, not only propriety but fair dealing requires
that all who frequent a court, should comply with the conditions that
are understood to be implied in the permission. While there exists an
exaggerated opinion, on the part of some of our people, on the subject
of the fastidiousness of princes, as respects their associates, there
exists among others very confused notions on the other side of the
question. A monarch usually cares very little about the quarterings and
the nobility of the person he receives, but he always wishes his court
to be frequented by people of education, accomplishments, and breeding.
In Europe these qualities are confined to _castes_, and, beyond a
question, as a general practice, every king would not only prefer, but
were there a necessity for it, he would command that his doors should be
closed against all others, unless they came in a character different
from that of courtiers. This object has, in effect, been obtained, by
establishing a rule, that no one who has not been presented at his own
court, can claim to be presented at any foreign European court; thus
leaving each sovereign to see that no one of his own subjects shall
travel with this privilege, who would be likely to prove an unpleasant
guest to any other prince. But we have neither any princes nor any
court, and the minister is left to decide for himself who is, and who is
not proper to be presented.
Let us suppose a case. A master and his servant make a simultaneous
request to be presented to the King of France. Both are American
citizens, and if _either_ has any political _claim_, beyond mere
courtesy, to have his request attended to, _both_ have. The minister is
left to decide for himself. He cannot so far abuse the courtesy that
permits him to present his countrymen at all, as to present the
domestic, and of course he declines doing it. In this case, perhaps,
public opinion would sustain him, as, unluckily, the party of the
domestics is small in America, the duties usually falling to the share
of foreigners and blacks. But the principle may be carried upwards,
until a point is attained where a minister might find it difficult to
decide between that which his own sense of propriety should dictate, and
that which others might be disposed to claim. All other ministers get
rid of their responsibility by the acts of their own courts; but the
minister of the republic, is left exposed to the calumny, abuse and
misrepresentation of any disappointed individual, should he determine to
do what is strictly right.
Under these circumstances, it appears to me, that there are but two
courses left for any agent of our government to pursue; either to take
_official_ rank as his only guide, or to decline presenting any one. It
is not his duty to act as a master of ceremonies; every court has a
regular officer for this purpose, and any one who has been presented
himself, is permitted on proper representations to present others. The
trifling disadvantage will be amply compensated for, by the great and
peculiar benefits that arise from our peculiar form of government
These things will quite likely strike you as of little moment. They are,
however, of more concern than one living in the simple society of
America may at first suppose. The etiquette of visiting has of course an
influence on the entire associations of a traveller, and may not be
overlooked, while the single fact that one people were practically
excluded from the European courts, would have the same effect on their
other enjoyments here, that it has to exclude an individual from the
most select circles of any particular town. Ordinary life is altogether
coloured by things that, in themselves, may appear trifling, but which
can no more be neglected with impunity, than one can neglect the varying
fashions in dress.
The Americans are not a shoving people, like their cousins the English.
Their fault in this particular lies in a morbid pride, with a
stubbornness that is the result of a limited experience, and which is
too apt to induce them to set up their own provincial notions, as the
standard, and to throw them backward into the intrenchments, of
self-esteem. This feeling is peculiarly fostered by the institutions. It
is easy to err in this manner; and it is precisely the failing of the
countryman, everywhere, when he first visits town. It is, in fact, the
fault of ignorance of the world. By referring to what I have just told
you, it will be seen that these are the very propensities which will be
the most likely to make one uncomfortable in Europe, where so much of
the _initiative_ of intercourse is thrown upon the shoulders of the
stranger.
I cannot conclude this letter, without touching on another point, that
suggests itself at the moment It is the fashion to decry the
niggardliness of the American government on the subject of money, as
compared with those of this hemisphere. Nothing can be more unjust. Our
working men are paid better than even those of England, with the
exception of a few who have high dignities to support. I do not see the
least necessity for giving the President a dollar more than he gets
to-day, since all he wants is enough to entertain handsomely, and to
shield him from loss. Under our system, we never can have an _exclusive_
court, nor is it desirable, for in this age a court is neither a school
of manners, nor a school of anything else that is estimable. These facts
are sufficiently proved by England, a country whose mental cultivation
and manners never stood as high as they do to-day, and yet it has
virtually been without a court for an entire generation. A court may
certainly foster taste and elegance, but they may be quite as well
fostered by other, and less exclusive, means. But while the President
may receive enough, the heads of Departments, at home, and the Foreign
Ministers of the country, are not more than half paid, _particularly the
latter_. The present minister is childless, his establishment and his
manner of living are both handsome, but not a bit more so than those of
a thousand others, who inhabit this vast capital, and his intercourse
with his colleagues is not greater than is necessary to the interests of
his country. Now, I know from his own statement, that his expenses,
without a family, exceed by one hundred per cent. his salary. With a
personal income of eighty to a hundred thousand francs a year, he can
bear this drain on his private fortune, but he is almost the only
minister we ever had here, who could.