A stranger might, in all probability, be led to suppose that he was
invited to a tea-drinking party, when he receives a note couched in
the following terms:
_"Madame R------ prie Monsieur B--------- de lui faire l'honneur de
venir au thé quelle doit donner le 5 de ce mois."_
Considering in that light a similar invitation which I received, I
was just on the point of sending an apology, when I was informed that
a _thé_ was nothing more or less than a sort of rout, followed by
substantial refreshments, and generally commencing after the
evening's performance was ended at the principal theatres.
On coming out of the opera-house then the other night, I repaired to
the lady's residence in question, and arriving there about twelve
o'clock, found that I had stumbled on the proper hour. As usual,
there were cards, but for those only disposed to play; for, as this
lady happened not to be under the necessity of recurring to the
_bouillotte_ as a financial resource, she gave herself little or no
concern about the card-tables. Being herself a very agreeable,
sprightly woman, she had invited a number of persons of both sexes of
her own character, so that the conversation was kept up with infinite
vivacity till past one o'clock, when tea and coffee were introduced.
These were immediately followed by jellies, sandwiches, pâtés, and a
variety of savoury viands, in the style of a cold supper, together
with different sorts of wines and liqueurs. In the opinion of some of
the Parisian sybarites, however, no _thé_ can be complete without the
addition of an article, which is here conceived to be a perfect
imitation of fashionable English cheer. This is hot punch.
It was impossible for me to refuse the cheerful and engaging _dame du
logis_ to taste her _ponche_, and, in compliment to me as an
Englishman, she presented me with a glass containing at least a
treble allowance. Not being overfond of punch, I would willingly have
relinquished the honour of drinking her health in so large a portion,
apprehending that this beverage might, in quality, resemble that of
the same name which I had tasted here a few evenings ago in one of
the principal coffeehouses. The latter, in fact, was a composition of
new rum, which reminded me of the trash of that kind distilled in New
England, acidulated with rotten lemons, sweetened with capillaire,
and increased by a _quantum sufficit_ of warm water. My hostess's
punch, on the contrary, was made of the best ingredients, agreeably
to the true standard; in a word, it was proper lady's punch, that is,
hot, sweet, sour, and strong. It was distributed in tea-pots, of
beautiful porcelaine, which, independently of keeping it longer warm,
were extremely convenient for pouring it out without spilling. Thus
concluded the entertainment.
About half past two o'clock the party broke up, and I returned home,
sincerely regretting the change in the mode of life of the Parisians.
Before the revolution, the fashionable hour of dinner in Paris was
three o'clock, or at latest four: public places then began early; the
curtain at the grand French opera drew up at a quarter past five. At
the present day, the workman dines at two; the tradesman, at three;
the clerk in a public office, at four; the rich upstart, the
money-broker, the stock-jobber, the contractor, at five; the banker,
the legislator, the counsellor of state, at six; and the ministers,
in general, at seven, nay not unfrequently at eight.
Formerly, when the performance at the opera, and the other principal
theatres, was ended at nine o'clock, or a quarter past, people of
fashion supped at ten or half after; and a man who went much into
public, and kept good company, might retire peaceably to rest by
midnight. In three-fourths of the houses in Paris, there is now no
such meal as supper, except on the occasion of a ball, when it is
generally a mere scramble. This, I presume, is one reason why
substantial breakfasts are so much in fashion.
"_Déjeûners froids et chauds_," is an inscription which now generally
figures on the exterior of a Parisian coffeehouse, beside that of
"_Thé à l'Anglaise, Café à la crême, Limonade, &c_." Solids are here
the taste of the times. Two ladies, who very gallantly invited
themselves to breakfast at my apartments the other morning, were
ready to turn the house out of the window, when they found that I
presented to them nothing more than tea, coffee, and chocolate. I was
instantly obliged to provide cold fowl, ham, oysters, white wine, &c.
I marvel not at the strength and vigour of these French belles. In
appetite, they would cope with an English ploughman, who had just
turned up an acre of wholesome land on an empty stomach.
Now, though a _thé_ may be considered as a substitute for a supper,
it cannot, in point of agreeableness, be compared to a _petit
souper_. If a man must sup, and I am no advocate for regular suppers,
these were the suppers to my fancy. A select number of persons, well
assorted, assembled at ten o'clock, after the opera was concluded,
and spent a couple of hours in a rational manner. Sometimes a _petit
souper_ consisted of a simple _tête-à-tête_, sometimes of a _partie
quarrée_, or the number was varied at pleasure. But still, in a
_petit souper_, not only much gaiety commonly prevailed, but also a
certain _épanchement de coeur_, which animated the conversation to
such a degree as to render a party of this description the _acme_ of
social intercourse, "the feast of reason and the flow of soul."
Under the old _régime_, not a man was there in office, from the
_ministre d'état_ to the _commis_, who did not think of making
himself amends for the fatigues of the morning by a _petit souper_:
these _petits soupers_, however, were, in latter times, carried to an
excessive pitch of luxurious extravagance. But for refinements
attempted in luxury, though, I confess, of a somewhat dissolute
nature, our countryman eclipsed all the French _bons vivans_ in
originality of conception.
Being in possession of an ample fortune, and willing to enjoy it
according to his fancy, he purchased in Paris a magnificent house,
but constructed on a small scale, where every thing that the most
refined luxury could suggest was assembled. The following is the
account given by one of his friends, who had been an eye-witness to
his manner of living.
"Mr. B---- had made it a rule to gratify his five senses to the
highest degree of enjoyment of which they were susceptible. An
exquisite table, perfumed apartments, the charms of music and
painting; in a word, every thing most enchanting that nature,
assisted by art, could produce, successively flattered his sight, his
taste, his smell, his hearing, and his feeling.
"In a superb saloon, whither he conducted me," says this gentleman,
"were six young beauties, dressed in an extraordinary manner, whose
persons, at first sight, did not appear unknown to me: it struck me
that I had seen their faces more than once, and I was accordingly
going to address them, when Mr. B----, smiling at my mistake,
explained to me the cause of it." "I have, in my amours," said he, "a
particular fancy. The choicest beauty of Circassia would have ho
merit in my eyes, did she not resemble the portrait of some woman,
celebrated in past ages: and while lovers set great value on a
miniature which faithfully exhibits the features of their mistress, I
esteem mine only in proportion to their resemblance to ancient
portraits.
"Conformably to this idea," continued Mr. B----, "I have caused the
intendant of my pleasures to travel all over Europe, with select
portraits, or engravings, copied from the originals. He has succeeded
in his researches, as you see, since you have conceived that you
recognized these ladies on whom you have never before set your eyes;
but whose likenesses you may, undoubtedly, have met with. Their dress
must have contributed to your mistake: they all wear the attire of
the personage they represent; for I wish their whole person to be
picturesque. By these means, I have travelled back several centuries,
and am in possession of beauties whom time had placed at a great
distance."
"Supper was served up. Mr. B---- seated himself between Mary, queen
of Scots, and Anne Bullein. I placed myself opposite to him,"
concludes the gentleman, "having beside me Ninon de l'Enclos, and
Gabrielle d'Estrées. We also had the company of the fair Rosamond and
Nell Gwynn; but at the head of the table was a vacant elbow-chair,
surmounted by a canopy, and destined for Cleopatra, who was coming
from Egypt, and of whose arrival Mr. B---- was in hourly
expectation."