Letters of Introduction.--European Etiquette.--Diplomatic Entertainments.
--Ladies in Coffee-houses.--French Hospitality.--Mr. Canning at Paris.
--Parisian Hotels.--French Lady at Washington.--Receptions in Paris
and in New York.--Mode of Announcement.--Republican Affectation.
--Hotel Monaco.--Dinner given to Mr. Canning.--Diplomatic Etiquette.
--European Ambassadors.--Prime Minister of France.--Mr. Canning.
--Count Pozzo di Borgo.--Precedency at Dinner.--American Etiquette.
--A French Dinner.--Servants.--Catholic Fasting.--Conversation with
Canning.--English Prejudice against Americans.
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 destroyed. 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 favours, 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 visitor from the country arrives; and it is the most
delicate, as it leaves the newcomer, 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 ledger.
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, _bona 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 _restaurans_ 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 even
the best house of the sort in Paris could be honoured 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 Frenchwoman 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 frolic, 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 everywhere 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 laboured, 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 an 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, etc., 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 gendarme. In the larger
hotels there are two courts, the great and _la basse cour_, the latter
being connected with the offices and stables.
Of course, these hotels vary in size and magnificence. Some are not
larger than our own largest town dwellings, while others, again, are
palaces. As these buildings were originally constructed to lodge a
single establishment, they have their principal and their inferior
apartments; some have their summer and their winter apartments. As is,
and always must be the case, where everything like state and
magnificence are affected, the reception-rooms are en suite; the mode of
building which prevails in America, being derived from the secondary
class of English houses. It is true, that in London, many men of rank,
perhaps of the nobility, do not live in houses any larger, or much
better, than the best of our own; though I think, that one oftener sees
rooms of a good size and proper elevation, even in these dwellings, than
it is usual to see in America. But the great houses of London, such as
Burlington-house, Northumberland-house, Devonshire-house,
Lansdown-house, Sutherland-house (the most magnificent of all) etc. are,
more or less, on the continental plan, though not generally built around
courts. This plan eschews passages of all descriptions, except among the
private parts of the dwelling. In this respect, an American house is the
very opposite of a European house. We are nothing without passages, it
being indispensable that every room should open on one; whereas, here
the great point is to have as little to do with them as possible. Thus
you quit the great staircase by a principal door, and find yourself in
an ante-chamber; this communicates with one or two more rooms of the
same character, gradually improving in ornaments and fixtures, until you
enter a _salon_. Then comes a succession of apartments, of greater or
less magnificence, according to circumstances until you are led entirely
round the edifice, quitting it by a door on the great staircase again,
opposite to the one by which you entered. In those cases in which there
are courts, the principal rooms are ranged in this manner, _en suite_,
on the exterior range, usually looking out on the gardens, while those
within them, which look into the court, contain the bed-rooms, boudoir,
eating-rooms, and perhaps the library. So tenacious are those, who lay
any claim to gentility here, of the use of the ante-chambers, that I
scarcely recollect a lodging of any sort, beyond the solitary chamber of
some student, without, at least, one. They seem indispensable, and I
think rightly, to all ideas of style, or even of comfort. I remember to
have seen an amusing instance of the strength of this feeling in the
case of the wife of a former French minister, at Washington. The
building she inhabited was one of the ordinary American double houses,
as they are called, with a passage through the centre, the stairs in the
passage, and a short corridor, to communicate with the bed-rooms above.
Off the end of this upper corridor, if, indeed, so short a transverse
passage deserves the name, was partitioned a room of some eight feet by
ten, as a bed-room. A room adjoining this, was converted into a boudoir
and bed-room, for Madame de ----, by means of a silk screen. The usual
door of the latter opened, of course, on the passage. In a morning call
one day, I was received in the boudoir. Surprised to be carried up
stairs on such an occasion, I was still more so to find myself taken
through a small room, before I was admitted to the larger. The amount of
it all was; that Madame de ----, accustomed to have many rooms, and to
think it vulgar to receive in her great drawing-room of a morning,
believing _au premier_, or up one pair of stairs, more genteel than the
_rez de chaussée_, or the ground floor, and feeling the necessity of an
ante-chamber as there was an abruptness in being at once admitted into
the presence of a lady from a staircase, a sort of local _brusquerie_,
that would suit her cook better than the wife of an envoy extraordinary,
had contrived to introduce her guests through the little bed-room, at
the end of the upstairs entry!
From all this you will be prepared to understand some of the essential
differences between a reception in Paris and one at New York, or even at
Washington. The footman, or footmen, if there are two, ascend to the
inner ante-chamber, with their masters and mistresses, where they
receive the cloaks, shawls, over-coats, or whatever else has been used
for the sake of mere warmth, and withdraw. If they are sent home, as is
usually the case at dinners and evening parties, they return with the
things at the hour ordered; but if the call be merely a passing one, or
the guest means to go early to some other house, they either wait in the
ante-chamber, or in a room provided for that purpose. The French are
kind to their servants; much kinder than either the English, or their
humble imitators, ourselves; and it is quite common to see, not only a
good warm room, but refreshments, provided for the servants at a French
party. In England, they either crowd the narrow passages and the
door-way, or throng the street, as with us. In both countries, the poor
coachmen sit for hours on their carriage-boxes, like so many ducks, in
the drizzle and rain.
The footman gives the names of his party to the _maître d'hôtel_, or the
groom of the chambers, who, as he throws open the door of the first
drawing-room, announces them in a loud voice. Announcing by means of a
line of servants, is rarely, if ever, practised in France, though it is
still done in England, at large parties, and in the great houses. Every
one has heard the story of the attempt at Philadelphia, some forty years
ago, to introduce the latter custom, when, by the awkwardness of a
servant, a party was announced as "Master and Mistress, and the young
ladies;" but you will smile when I tell you that the latter part of this
style is precisely that which is most in vogue at Paris. A young lady
here may be admired, she may be danced with, and she may even look and
be looked at; but in society she talks little, is never loud or
_belleish_, is always neat and simple in her attire, using very little
jewelry, and has scarcely any other name than Mademoiselle. The usual
mode of announcing is, "Monsieur le Comte et Madame la Comtesse d'une
telle, avec leurs demoiselles;" or, in plain English, "The Count and
Countess Such-a-one, with their daughters" This you will perceive is not
so far, after all, from "Master and Mistress, and the young ladies." The
English, more simple in some respects, and less so in others, usually
give every name, though, in the use of titles, the utmost good taste is
observed. Thus every nobleman below a duke is almost uniformly addressed
and styled Lord A----, Lord B----, etc. and their wives, Ladies A----,
and B----. Thus the Marquess of Lansdowne would, I think, always be
addressed and spoken of, and even announced, merely as Lord Lansdowne.
This, you will observe, is using the simplest possible style, and it
appears to me that there is rather an affectation of simplicity in their
ordinary intercourse, the term "My Lord" being hardly ever used, except
by the tradesmen and domestics. The safest rule for an American, and
certainly the one that good taste would dictate, is to be very sparing
in his use of everything of this sort, since he cannot be always certain
of the proper usages of the different countries he visits, and, so long
as he avoids unnecessary affectations of republicanisms, and, if a
gentleman, this he will do without any effort, simplicity is his cue.
When I say _avoids the affectations of republicanisms_, I do not mean
the points connected with principles, but those vulgar and underbred
pretensions of ultra equality and liberalism, which, while they mark
neither manliness nor a real appreciation of equal rights almost
uniformly betray a want of proper training and great ignorance of the
world. Whenever, however, any attempt is made to identify equality of
rights and democratical institutions with vulgarity and truculency, as
is sometimes attempted here, in the presence of Americans, and even in
good company, it is the part of every gentleman of our country to
improve the opportunity that is thus afforded him, to show it is a
source of pride with him to belong to a nation in which a hundred men
are not depressed politically, in order that one may be great; and also
to show how much advantage, after all, he who is right in substance has
over him who is substantially wrong, even in the forms of society, and
in that true politeness which depends on natural justice. Such a
principle, acted on systematically would soon place the gentlemen of
America where they ought to be, and the gentlemen of other countries
where, sooner or later, they must be content to descend, or to change
their systems. That these things are not so, must be ascribed to our
provincial habits, our remote situation, comparative insignificance, and
chiefly to the circumstance that men's minds, trained under a different
state of things, cannot keep even pace with the wonderful progress of
the facts of the country.
But all this time I have only got you into the outer _salon_ of a French
hotel. In order that we may proceed more regularly, we will return to
the dinner given by our minister to Mr. Canning. Mr. Brown has an
apartment in the Hotel Monaco, one of the best houses in Paris. The
Prince of Monaco is the sovereign of a little territory of the same
name, on the Gulf of Nice, at the foot of the maritime Alps. His states
may be some six or eight miles square, and the population some six or
eight thousand. The ancient name of the family is Grimaldi; but by some
intermarriage or other, the Duke of Valentinois, a Frenchman, has become
the prince. This little state is still independent, though under the
especial protection of the King of Sardinia, and without foreign
relations. It was formerly a common thing for the petty princes of
Europe to own hotels at Paris. Thus the present Hotel of the Legion of
Honour was built by a Prince of Salms; and the Princes of Monaco had
two, one of which is occupied by the Austrian ambassador, and, in the
other, our own minister, just at this moment, has an apartment. As I had
been pressed especially to be early, I went a little before six, and
finding no one in the drawing-room, I strolled into the bureau, where I
found Mr. Shelden, the secretary of legation, who lived in the family,
dressed for dinner. We chatted a little, and, on my admiring the
magnificence of the rooms, he gave me the history of the hotel, as you
have just heard it, with an additional anecdote, that may be worth
relating.
"This hotel," said the secretary, "was once owned by M. de Talleyrand,
and this bureau was probably the receptacle of state secrets of far
greater importance than any that are connected with our own simple and
unsupported claims for justice." He then went on to say, that the
citizens of Hamburg, understanding it was the intention of Napoleon to
incorporate their town with the empire, had recourse to a _...ceur_,[5]
in order to prevent an act that, by destroying their neutrality, would
annihilate their commerce. Four millions of francs were administered on
this occasion, and of these, a large proportion, it is said, went to pay
for the Hotel Monaco, which was a recent purchase of M. de Talleyrand.
To the horror of the Hambourgeois, the money was scarcely paid, when the
deprecated decree appeared, and every man of them was converted into a
Frenchman by the stroke of a pen. The worthy burghers were accustomed to
receive a _quid pro quo_ for every florin they bestowed, failing of
which, on the present occasion, they sent a deputation forthwith, to
Napoleon, to reveal the facts, and to make their complaints. That great
man little liked that any one but himself should peculate in his
dominions, and, in the end, M. de Talleyrand was obliged to quit the
Hotel Monaco. By some means with which I am unacquainted, most probably
by purchase, however, the house is now the property of Madame Adelaide
of Orleans.
[Footnote 5: the first three letters of the word cannot be correctly
read on the original book]
The rolling of a coach into the court was a signal for us to be at our
posts, and we abandoned the bureau so lately occupied by the great
father of diplomacy, for the drawing-room. I have already told you that
this dinner was in honour of Mr. Canning, and, although diplomatic in
one sense, it was not so strictly confined to the corps as to prevent a
selection. This selection, in honour of the principal guest, had been
made from the representatives of the great powers, Spain being the least
important nation represented on the occasion, the republic of
Switzerland excepted. I do not know whether the presence of the Swiss
chargé-d'affaires was so intended or not, but it struck me as pointed
and in good taste, for all the other foreign agents were ambassadors,
with the exception of the Prussian, who was an Envoy Extraordinary.
Diplomacy has its honorary gradations as well as a military corps; and,
as you can know but little of such matters, I will explain them _en
passant_. First in rank comes the Ambassador. This functionary is
supposed to represent the personal dignity of the state that sends him.
If a king, there is a room in his house that has a throne, and it is
usual to see the chair reversed, in respect for its sanctity; and it
appears to be etiquette to suspend the portrait of the sovereign beneath
the canopy. The Envoy Extraordinary comes next, and then the Minister
Plenipotentiary. Ordinarily, these two functions are united in the same
individual. Such is the rank of Mr. Brown. The Minister Resident is a
lower grade, and the Chargé-d'affaires the lowest of all. _Inter se_,
these personages take rank according to this scale. Previously to the
peace of 1814, the representative of one monarch laid claim to precede
the representative of another, always admitting, however, of the
validity of the foregoing rule. This pretension gave rise to a good deal
of heartburning and contention. Nothing can, in itself, be of greater
indifference whether A. or B. walk into the reception-room or to the
dinner-table first; but when the idea of general superiority is
associated with the act, the aspect of the thing is entirely changed.
Under the old system, the ambassador of the Emperor, claimed precedence
over all other ambassadors, and, I believe, the representatives of the
kings of France had high pretensions also. Now there are great mutations
in states. Spain, once the most important kingdom of Europe, has much
less influence to-day than Prussia, a power of yesterday. Then the
minister of the most insignificant prince claimed precedency over the
representative of the most potent republic. This might have passed while
republics were insignificant and dependent; but no one can believe that
a minister of America, for instance, representing a state of fifty
millions, as will be the case before long, would submit to such an
extravagant pretension on the part of a minister of Wurtemburg, or
Sardinia, or Portugal. He would not submit to such a pretension on the
part of the minister of any power on earth.
I do not believe that the Congress of Vienna had sufficient foresight,
or sufficient knowledge of the actual condition of the United States, to
foresee this difficulty; but there were embarrassing points to be
settled among the European states themselves, and the whole affair was
disposed of on a very discreet and equitable principle. It was decided
that priority of standing at a particular court should regulate the rank
between the different classes of agents at that particular court. Thus
the ambassador longest at Paris precedes all the other ambassadors at
Paris; and the same rule prevails with the ministers and chargés,
according to their respective gradations of rank. A provision, however,
was made in favour of the representative of the Pope, who, if of the
rank of a nuncio, precedes all ambassadors. The concession has been made
in honour of the church, which, as you must know, or ought to be told,
is an interest much protected in all monarchies, statesmen being
notoriously of tender consciences.
The constant habit of meeting drills the diplomatic corps so well, that
they go through the evolutions of etiquette as dexterously as a corps of
regular troops perform their wheelings and countermarches. The first
great point with them is punctuality; for, to people who sacrifice so
much of it to forms, time gets to be precious. The roll of wheels was
incessant in the court of the Hotel Monaco, from the time the first
carriage entered until the last had set down its company. I know, as
every man who reflects must know, that it is inherently ill-bred to be
late anywhere; but I never before felt how completely it was high
breeding to be as punctual as possible. The _maître d'hôtel_ had as much
as he could do to announce the company, who entered as closely after
each other as decorum and dignity would permit. I presume one party
waited a little for the others in the outer drawing-room, the reception
being altogether in the inner room.
The Americans very properly came first. We were Mr. Gallatin, who was
absent from London on leave, his wife and daughter, and a clergyman and
his wife, and myself; Mrs. ---- having declined the invitation on account
of ill health. The announcing and the entrance of most of the company,
especially as everybody was in high dinner-dress, the women in jewels
and the men wearing all their orders, had something of the air of a
scenic display. The effect was heightened by the magnificence of the
hotel, the drawing-room in which we were collected being almost regal.
The first person who appeared was a handsome, compact, well-built,
gentleman-like little man, who was announced as the Duke of Villa
Hermosa, the Spanish ambassador. He was dressed with great simplicity
and beauty, having, however, the breast of his coat covered with stars,
among which I recognized, with historical reverence, that of the Golden
Fleece. He came alone, his wife pleading indisposition for her absence.
The Prussian minister and his wife came next. Then followed Lord and
Lady Granville, the representatives of England. He was a large,
well-looking man, but wanted the perfect command of movement and manner
that so much distinguish his brethren in diplomacy: as for mere physical
stuff, he and our own minister, who stands six feet four in his
stockings, would make material enough for all the rest of the corps. He
wore the star of the Bath. The Austrian ambassador and ambassadress
followed, a couple of singularly high air, and a good tone of manner. He
is a Hungarian, and very handsome; she a Veronese, I believe, and
certainly a woman admirably adapted for her station. They had hardly
made their salutations before M. le Comte et Mad. la Comtesse de Villèle
were announced. Here, then, we had the French prime minister. As the
women precede the men into a drawing-room here, knowing how to walk and
to curtsey alone, I did not, at first, perceive the great man, who
followed so close to his wife's skirts as to be nearly hid. But he was
soon flying about the room at large, and betrayed himself immediately to
be a fidget. Instead of remaining stationary, or nearly so as became his
high quality, he took the initiative in compliments, and had nearly
every diplomatic man walking apart in the adjoining room, in a political
aside, in less than twenty minutes. He had a countenance of shrewdness,
and I make little doubt is a better man in a bureau than in a
drawing-room. His colleague, the foreign minister, M. de Damas, and his
wife, came next. He was a large, heavy-looking personage, that I suspect
throws no small part of the diplomacy on the shoulders of the premier;
though he had more the manner of good society than his colleague. He has
already exchanged his office for that of governor of the heir
presumptive, as I have already stated. There was a pause, when a quiet,
even-paced, classical-looking man, in the attire of an ecclesiastic,
appeared in the door, and was announced as "My Lord the Nuncio." He was
then an archbishop, and wore the usual dress of his rank; but I have
since met him at an evening party with a red hat; under his arm, the
Pope having recalled him, and raised him to that dignity. He is now
Cardinal Macchi. He was a priestly and an intellectual-looking
personage, and, externals considered, well suited to his station. He
wore a decoration or two, as well as most of the others.
"My Lord Clanricarde and Mr. Canning" came next, and the great man,
followed by his son-in-law, made his appearance. He walked into the room
with the quiet _aplomb_ of a man accustomed to being _lionised_; and
certainly, without being of striking, he was of very pleasing
appearance. His size was ordinary, but his frame was compact and well
built, neither too heavy nor too light for his years, but of just the
proportions to give one the idea of a perfect management of the machine.
His face was agreeable, and his eye steady and searching. He and M. de
Villèle were the very opposites in demeanour, though, after all, it was
easy to see that the Englishman had the most latent force about him. One
was fidgety, and the other humorous; for, with all his command of limb
and gesture, nothing could be more natural than the expression of Mr.
Canning, I may have imagined that I detected some of his wit, from a
knowledge of the character of his mind. He left the impression, however,
of a man whose natural powers were checked by a trained and factitious
deference to the rank of those with whom he associated. Lord Granville,
I thought, treated him with a sort of affectionate deference; and, right
or wrong, I jumped to the conclusion, that the English ambassador was a
straight-forward, good fellow at the bottom, and one very likely to
badger the fidgetty premier, by his steady determination to do what was
right. I thought M. de Damas, too, looked like an honest man. God
forgive me, if I do injustice to any of these gentlemen!
All this time, I have forgotten Count Pozzo di Borgo, the Russian
ambassador. Being a bachelor, he came alone. It might have been fancy,
but I thought he appeared more at his ease under the American roof than
any of his colleagues. The perfect good understanding between our own
government and that of Russia extends to their representatives, and,
policy or not, we are better treated by them than by any other foreign
ministers. This fact should be known and appreciated, for as one citizen
of the republic, however insignificant, I have no notion of being
blackguarded and vituperated half a century, and then cajoled into
forgetfulness, at the suggestions of fear and expediency, as
circumstances render our good-will of importance. Let us at least show
that we are not mannikins to be pulled about for the convenience and
humours of others, but that we know what honest words are, understand
the difference between civility and abuse, and have pride enough to
resent contumely, when, at least, we feel it to be unmerited. M. Pozzo
is a handsome man, of good size and a fine dark eye, and has a greater
reputation for talents than any other member of the diplomatic corps now
at Paris. He is by birth a Corsican, and, I have heard it said,
distantly related to Bonaparte. This may be true, Corsica being so small
a country; just as some of us are related to everybody in West Jersey.
Our party now consisted of the prime minister, the secretary of foreign
affairs, the Austrian and English ambassadors, and the Prussian
minister, with their wives,--the Nuncio, the Russian and Spanish
ambassadors, the Swiss chargé-d'affaires, Mr. Canning, Lord Clanricarde,
--Mr. Mrs. and Miss Gallatin, and the other Americans already mentioned,
or twenty-five in all.
If I had been struck with the rapid and business-like manner in which
the company entered, I was amused with the readiness with which they
paired off when dinner was announced. It was like a _coup de théâtre_,
every man and woman knowing his or her exact rank and precedency, and
the time when to move. This business of getting out of a drawing-room to
a dinner-table is often one of difficulty, though less frequently in
France than in most other European countries, on account of the
admirable tact of the women, who seldom suffer a knotty point to get the
ascendancy, but, by choosing the gentlemen for themselves, settle the
affair off hand. From their decision, of course, there is no appeal. In
order that in your simplicity you may not mistake the importance of this
moment, I will relate an anecdote of what lately occurred at a dinner
given by an English functionary in Holland.
When William invaded England, in 1688, he took with him many Dutch
nobles, some of whom remained, and became English peers. Among others,
he created one of his followers an Irish earl; but choosing to return to
Holland, this person was afterwards known as the Count de ----, although
his Irish rank was always acknowledged. It happened that the wife of the
descendant of this person was present at the entertainment in question.
When dinner was announced, the company remarked that the master of the
house was in a dilemma. There was much consultation, and a delay of near
half an hour before the matter was decided. The debated point was,
whether Madame de ---- was to be considered as a Dutch or an Irish
countess. If the latter, there were English ladies present who were
entitled to precede her; if the former, as a stranger, she might get
that advantage herself. Luckily for the rights of hospitality, the Dutch
lady got the best of it.
These things sound absurd, and sometimes they are so; but this social
drilling, unless carried to extremes, is not without its use. In
America, I have always understood that, on such occasions, silent laws
of etiquette exist in all good company, which are founded on propriety
and tact. The young give way to the old, the undistinguished to the
distinguished, and he who is at home to the stranger. These rules are
certainly the most rational, and in the best taste, when they can be
observed, and, on the whole, they lead perhaps to the fewest
embarrassments; always so, if there happen to be none but the well-bred
present, since seats become of little consideration where no importance
is attached to them. I confess to some manoeuvring in my time, to get
near, or away from a fire, out of a draught, or next some agreeable
woman; but the idea whether I was at the head or the foot of the table
never crossed my mind: and yet here, where they do mean the salt to come
into the account, I begin to take care that they do not "bite their
thumbs" at me. Two or three little things have occurred in my presence,
which show that all our people do not even understand the ways of their
own good society. A very young man lately, under the impression that
gallantry required it, led one of the most distinguished women in the
room to the table, merely because he happened to be next her, at the
moment dinner was announced. This was certainly a failure even in
American etiquette, every woman being more disposed to appreciate the
delicacy and respect which should have induced such a person to give
place to one of higher claims, than to prize the head-over-heels
assiduity that caused the boy to forget himself. Sentiment should be the
guide on such occasions, and no man is a gentleman until his habits are
brought completely in subjection to its dictates, in all matters of this
sort.
There was very little sentiment, however, in marshalling the company at
the dinner given to Mr. Canning. I will not undertake to say that all
the guests were invited to meet this gentleman, and that he had been
asked to name a day, as is usual when it is intended to pay an especial
compliment; but I was asked to meet him, and I understood that the
dinner was in his honour. Diplomatic etiquette made short work of the
matter, notwithstanding, for the doors were hardly thrown open, before
all the privileged vanished, with a quickness that was surprising. The
minister took Madame de Villèle; M. de Villèle, Mrs. Brown; M. de Damas,
the wife of the oldest ambassador; and the Nuncio, Madame de Damas:
after which, the ambassadors and ministers took each other's wives in
due order, and with a promptitude that denoted great practice. Even the
charge disappeared, leaving the rest of us to settle matters among
ourselves as well as we could. Mr. Canning, Mr. Gallatin, Lord
Clanricarde, the divine, the secretary, and myself, were left with only
the wife of the clergyman and Miss Gallatin. As a matter of course, the
Americans, feeling themselves at home, made signs for the two Englishmen
to precede them, and Mr. Canning offered his arm to Mrs. ----, and Lord
Clanricarde, his to Miss Gallatin. Here occurred a touch of character
that is worthy to be mentioned, as showing of how very little account an
American, male or female, is in the estimation of a European, and how
very arbitrary are the laws of etiquette among our English cousins. Mr.
Canning actually gave way to his son-in-law, leaving the oldest of the
two ladies to come after the youngest, because, as a marquis, his
son-in-law took precedence of a commoner! This was out of place in
America, at least, where the parties were, by a fiction in law, if not
in politeness, and it greatly scandalized all our Yankee notions of
propriety. Mrs. ---- afterwards told me that he apologized for the
circumstance, giving Lord Clanricarde's rank as the reason.
"_Sempereadem_," or "worse and worse," as my old friend O----n used to
translate it. What became of the precedency of the married lady all this
time? you will be ready to ask. Alas! she was an American, and had no
precedency. The twelve millions may not settle this matter as it should
be; but, take my word for it, the "fifty millions" will. Insignificant as
all this is, or rather ought to be, your grandchildren and mine will
live to see the mistake rectified. How much better would it be for those
who cannot stop the progress of events, by vain wishes and idle regrets,
to concede the point gracefully, and on just principles, than to have
their cherished prejudices broken down by dint of sheer numbers and
power!
The dinner itself was, like every dinner that is given at Paris,
beautiful in decoration, admirable in its order, and excellent in
viands, or rather, in its dishes; for it is the cookery and not the
staple articles that form the boast of the French kitchen. As you are
notable in your own region for understanding these matters, I must say a
word touching the gastric science as it is understood here. A general
error exists in America on the subject of French cookery, which is not
highly seasoned, but whose merit consists in blending flavours and in
arranging compounds, in such a manner as to produce, at the same time,
the lightest and most agreeable food. A lady who, from her public
situation, receives once a week, for the entire year, and whose table
has a reputation, assured me lately, that all the spices consumed
annually in her kitchen did not cost her a franc. The _effect_ of a
French dinner is its principal charm. One of reasonably moderate habits,
rises from the table with a sense of enjoyment, that, to a stranger, at
least, is sometimes startling. I have, on several occasions, been afraid
I was relaxing into the vices of a _gourmet_, if, indeed, vices they can
be called. The _gourmand_ is a beast, and there is nothing to be said in
his favour; but, after all, I incline to the opinion that no one is the
worse for a knowledge of what is agreeable to the palate. Perhaps no one
of either sex is thoroughly trained, or properly bred, without being
_tant soit peu de gourmet_. The difference between sheer eating, and
eating with tact and intelligence, is so apparent as to need no
explanation. A dinner here does not oppress one. The wine neither
intoxicates nor heats, and the frame of mind and body in which one is
left, is precisely that best suited to intellectual and social
pleasures. I make no doubt, that one of the chief causes of the French
being so agreeable as companions, is, in a considerable degree, owing to
the admirable qualities of their table. A national character may emanate
from a kitchen. Roast beef, bacon, pudding, and beer, and port, will
make a different man, in time, from Chateau Margau, _côtelettes_,
_consommés_, and _soufflés_. The very name of _vol au vent_ is enough to
make one walk on air!
Seriously, these things have more influence than may be, at a glance,
imagined. The first great change I could wish to make in America, would
be to see a juster appreciation of the substance, and less importance
attached to outward forms, in moral things. The second would be, to
create a standard of greatness and distinction that should be
independent, or nearly independent, of money. The next, a more reasoning
and original tone of thought as respects our own distinctive principles
and _distinctive situation_, with a total indifference to the theories
that have been broached to sustain an alien and an antagonist system, in
England; and the last (the climax), a total reform in the kitchen! If I
were to reverse the order of these improvements, I am not certain the
three last might not follow as a consequence of the first. After our
people have been taught to cook a dinner, they ought also to be taught
how to eat it.
Our entertainment lasted the usual hour and a half; and, as one is all
this time eating, and there are limits to the capacity of a stomach, a
part of the lightness and gaiety with which one rises from a French
dinner ought to be attributed to the time that is consumed at the table.
The different ingredients have opportunity to dispose of themselves in
their new abode, and are not crowded together pell-mell, or like papers
and books in ---- library, as I think they must be after a transatlantic
meal. As for the point of a mere consumption of food, I take it the palm
must be given to your Frenchman. I had some amusement to-day in watching
the different countries. The Americans were nearly all through their
dinner by the time the first course was removed. All that was eaten
afterwards was literally, with them, pure makeweight, though they kept a
hungry look to the last. The English seemed fed even before the dinner
was begun; and, although the continental powers in general had the art
of picking till they got to the finger-bowls, none really kept up the
ball but the Frenchmen. It happened to be Friday, and I was a little
curious to discover whether the Nuncio came to these places with a
dispensation in his pocket. He sat next to Madame de Damas, as good a
Catholic as himself, and I observed them helping themselves to several
suspicious-looking dishes during the first course. I ought to have told
you before, that one rarely, almost never, helps his neighbour, at a
French entertainment. The dishes are usually put on the table, removed
by the servants to be carved in succession, and handed to the guests to
help themselves. When the service is perfect, every dish is handed to
each guest. In the great houses, servants out of livery help to the
different _plats_, servants in livery holding the dishes, sauces, etc.,
and changing the plates. I believe it is strictly _haut ton_ for the
servants in livery to do nothing but assist those out of livery. In
America it is thought stylish to give liveries; in Europe those who keep
most servants out of livery are in the highest mode, since these are
always a superior class of menials. The habits of this quarter of the
world give servants a very different estimation from that which they
hold with us. Nobles of high rank are employed about the persons of
princes; and, although, in this age, they perform no strictly menial
offices, or only on great occasions, they are, in theory, the servitors
of the body. Nobles have been even employed by nobles; and it is still
considered an honour for the child of a physician, or a clergyman, or a
shopkeeper, in some parts of Europe, to fill a high place in the
household of a great noble. The body servant, or the _gentleman_, as he
is sometimes called even in England, of a man of rank, looks down upon a
mechanic as his inferior. Contrary to all our notions as all this is, it
is strictly reasonable, when the relative conditions, information,
habits, and characters of the people are considered. But servants here
are divided into many classes; for some are scullions, and some are
entrusted with the keys. It follows that those who maintain most of the
higher class, who are never in livery, maintain the highest style. To
say, he keeps a servant out of livery, means, that he keeps a better
sort of domestic. Mere footmen always wear it; the _maître d'hôtel_, or
groom of the chambers, and the valet, never.
But to return to the dispensation, I made it a point to taste every dish
that had been partaken of by the Nuncio and his neighbour; and I found
that they were all fish; but fish so treated, that they could hardly
know what to think of themselves. You may remember, however, that an
Archbishop of Paris was sufficiently complaisant to declare a particular
duck, of which one of Louis the Sixteenth's aunts was fond, to be fish,
and, of course, fit to be eaten on fast-days.
The fasting of these people would strike you as singular; for I verily
believe they eat more of a fast-day than on any other. We engaged a
governess for the girls not long after our arrival, and she proved to be
a bigoted Catholic, a furious royalist, and as ignorant as a calf. She
had been but a few weeks in the house, when I detected her teaching her
_élèves_ to think Washington an unpardonable rebel, La Fayette a
monster, Louis XVI. a martyr, and all heretics in the high road to
damnation. There remained no alternative but to give her a quarter's
salary, and to get rid of her. By the way, this woman was of a noble
family, and as such received a small pension from the court. But I kept
her fully a month longer than I think I otherwise should, to see her eat
on fast-days. Your aunt had the consideration invariably to order fish
for her, and she made as much havoc among them as a pike. She always
commenced the Friday with an extra allowance of fruit, which she was
eating all the morning; and at dinner she contrived to eat half the
vegetables and all the fish. One day, by mistake, the soup happened to
be _gras_ instead of _maigre_, and, after she had swallowed a large
plateful, I was malicious enough to express my regrets at the mistake. I
really thought the poor woman was about to disgorge on the spot; but by
dint of consolation she managed to spare us this scene. So good an
occasion offering, I ventured to ask her why she fasted at all, as I did
not see it made any great difference in the sum total of her bodily
nutriment. She assured me that I did not understand the matter. The
fruit was merely a "_rafraîchissant_" and so counted for nothing; and as
for the fish and vegetables, I might possibly think them very good
eating, and, for that matter, so did she, on Thursdays and Saturdays;
but no sooner did Friday come than she longed for meat. The merit of the
thing consisted, therefore, more in denying her appetite than in going
without food. I tried hard to persuade her to take a _côtelette_ with
me; but the proposition made her shudder, though she admitted that she
envied me every mouthful I swallowed. The knowledge of this craving did
not take away my appetite.
Lest you should suppose that I am indulging in the vulgar English slang
against French governesses, I will add, that our own was the very worst,
in every respect, I ever saw, in or out of France; and that I have met
with ladies in this situation every way qualified, by principles,
attainments, manners, and antecedents, to be received with pleasure in
the best company of Europe.
Our _connives_ in the Hotel Monaco soon disappeared after the
_chasse-café_, leaving none but the Americans behind them. Men and women
retired as they came; the latter, however, taking leave, as is always
required by the punctilios of your sex, except at very large and crowded
parties, and even then properly; and the former, if alone, getting away
as quietly as possible. The whole affair was over before nine o'clock,
at which hour the diplomatic corps was scattered all through Paris.
Previously to this dispersion, however, Mr. Gallatin did me the favour
to present me to Mr. Canning. The conversation was short, and was
chiefly on America. There was a sore part in his feelings in consequence
of a recent negotiation, and he betrayed it. He clearly does not love
us; but what Englishman does? You will be amused to hear that,
unimportant in other respects as this little conversation was, it has
been the means of affecting the happiness of two individuals of high
station in Great Britain. It would be improper for me to say more; but
of the fact I can entertain no manner of doubt, and I mention it here
merely as a curious instance of the manner in which "tall oaks from
little acorns grow."
I ought to have said that two, instead of one event, followed this
dinner. The second was our own introduction into European society. The
how and wherefore it is unnecessary to explain, but some of the
cleverest and best-bred people of this well-bred and clever capital took
us by the hand, all "unlettered" as we were, and from that moment,
taking into consideration our tastes and my health, the question has
been, not how to get into, but how to keep out of, the great world. You
know enough of these matters, to understand that, the ice once broken,
any one can float in the current of society.
This little footing has not been obtained without some _contretems_, and
I have learned early to understand that wherever there is an Englishman
in the question, it behoves an American to be reserved, punctilious, and
sometimes stubborn. There is a strange mixture of kind feeling,
prejudice, and ill-nature, as respects us, wrought into the national
character of that people, that will not admit of much mystification.
That they should not like us, may be natural enough; but if they seek
the intercourse, they ought, on all occasions, to be made to conduct it
equally, without annoyance and condescension and on terms of perfect
equality; conditions, by the way, that are scarcely agreeable to their
present notions of superiority.[6]
[Footnote 6: The change in this respect during the last ten years is
_patent_. No European nation has, probably, just at this moment as much
real respect for America as the English, though it is still mixed with
great ignorance, and a very sincere dislike. Still, the enterprise,
activity, and growing power of the country are forcing themselves on the
attention of our kinsmen; and if the government understood its foreign
relations as well as it does its domestic, and made a proper exhibition
of maritime preparation and of maritime force, this people would hold
the balance in many of the grave questions that are now only in abeyance
in European politics. Hitherto we have been influenced by every
vacillation in English interests, and it is quite time to think of
turning the tables, and of placing, as far as practicable, American
interests above the vicissitudes of those of other people. The thing is
more easily done than is commonly imagined, but a party politician is
rarely a statesman, the subordinate management necessary to the one
being death to the comprehensive views that belong to the other. The
peculiar nature of the American institutions, and the peculiar
geographical situation of the country, moreover, render higher qualities
necessary, perhaps, to make a statesman here than elsewhere.]
In order to understand why I mention any other than the French, in the
capital of France, you will remember that there are many thousands of
foreigners established here, for longer or shorter periods, who, by means
of their money (a necessary that, relatively, is less abundant with the
French), materially affect society, contriving to penetrate it in all
directions, in some way or other.