Part 11

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 every body 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 every 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 ascendency, but, by choosing the gentleman 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 Mad. 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 manœuvering 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 Mad. de Villele; M. de Villele, Mrs. Brown; M. de Damas the wife of the oldest ambassador, and the Nuncio, Mad. 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. “_Semper eadem_,” 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 flavors 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 Château Margau, _côtelettes_, _consommés_ and _souflés_. 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 make-weight, 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 Mad. 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, &c., 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 honor for the child of a physician, or a clergyman, or a shop-keeper, 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 intrusted 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 _maitre 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 neighbor, 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 XVIth’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 bigotted 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 XVIth 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 _maïgre_, and, after she had swallowed a large plate-full, 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 “_refraichissante_,” 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 _côtellette_ 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 _convives_ 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 diplomatick corps was scattered all through Paris.

Previously to this dispersion, however, Mr. Gallatin did me the favor to present me to Mr. Canning. The conversation was short, and was chiefly on America. There was a sore spot 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 _contre tems_, 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[5] notions of superiority.

Footnote 5:

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.

LETTER VII. TO JACOB SUTHERLAND, ESQ., NEW YORK.