Part 10

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 every thing 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,) &c. &c., 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 stair-case, 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 stair-case, 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 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 corridore, to communicate with the bed-rooms, above. Off the end of this upper corridore, 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 _rèz 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 stair-case, 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 up-stairs 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 _maitre 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 leurres des moiselles_:” 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——, &c., 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 every thing 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 under-bred 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 _Hôtel 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 Hamburgh, understanding it was the intention of Napoleon to incorporate their town with the empire, had recourse to a _douceur_, 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.

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 honor 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 honor 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 heart-burning 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 favor of the representative of the Pope, who, if of the rank of a Nuncio, precedes all ambassadors. This concession has been made in honor 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 counter-marches. 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 any where, but I never before felt how completely it was high breeding to be as punctual as possible. The _maitre 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 every body 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 recognised, 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 _àplomb_ of a man accustomed to being _lionized_, 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 Villele 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 fidgetty, 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!