Part 15

Everything, in a court, goes by clock-work. Your little great may be out of time, and affect a want of punctuality, but a rigid attention to appointments, is indispensable to those who are really in high situations. A failure in this respect, would produce the same impression on the affairs of men, that a delay in the rising of the sun, would produce on the day. The appearance of the different personages named, all so near each other, was the certain sign that one greater than all could not be far behind. They were the dawn of the royal presence. Accordingly, the door which communicated with the apartments of the king, and the only one within the railed space, opened with the announcement of “_le service du Roi_,” when a procession of footmen of the palace appeared, bearing the dishes of the first course. All the vessels, whether already on the table, or those in their hands, were of gold, richly wrought, or, at least, silver gilt, I had no means of knowing which; most probably they were of the former metal. The dishes were taken from the footmen, by pages of honor, in scarlet dresses, and by them placed in order on the table. The first course was no sooner ready, than we heard the welcome announcement of “_le Roi_.” The family immediately made their appearance, at the same door by which the service had entered. They were followed by a proper number of lords and ladies in waiting. Every one arose, as a matter of course, even to the “_jeunes, jolies, et duchesses_;” and the music, as became it, gave us a royal crash. The _huissier_, in announcing the king, spoke in a modest voice, and less loud, I observed, than in announcing the Dauphin and the ladies. It was, however, a different person, and it is probable one was a common _huissier_, and the other a gentleman acting in that character.

Charles X. is tall, without being of a too heavy frame, flexible of movement, and decidedly graceful. By remembering that he is a king, and the lineal chief of the ancient and powerful family of the Bourbons, by deferring properly to history and the illusions of the past, and by feeling _tant soit peu_ more respect for those of the present day than is strictly philosophical, or perhaps wise, it is certainly possible to fancy that he has a good deal of that peculiar port and majesty, that the poetry of feeling is so apt to impute to sovereigns. I know not whether it is the fault of a cynical temperament, or of republican prejudices, but I can see no more about him than the easy grace of an old gentleman, accustomed all his life, to be a principal personage among the principal personages of the earth. This you may think was quite sufficient,—but it did not altogether satisfy the _exigence_ of my unpoetical ideas. His countenance betrayed a species of vacant _bonhomie_, rather than of thought, or dignity of mind, and while he possessed, in a singular degree, the mere physical machinery of his rank, he was wanting in the majesty of character and expression, without which no man can act, well, the representation of royalty. Even a little more severity of aspect would have better suited the part, and rendered _le grand couvert, encore plus grand_.

The King seated himself after receiving the salutations of the courtiers within the railing, taking no notice, however, of those who, by a fiction of etiquette, were not supposed to be in his presence. The rest of the family occupied their respective places in the order I have named, and the eating and drinking began, from the score. The different courses were taken off and served by footmen and pages, in the manner already described, which, after all, by substituting servants out of livery for pages, is very much the way great dinners are served, in great houses, all over Europe.

As soon as the King was seated, the north door of the gallery, or that on the side opposite to the place where I had taken post, was opened, and the public was admitted, passing slowly through the room without stopping. A droller _mélange_ could not be imagined, than presented itself in the panoramic procession; and long before the _grand couvert_ was over, I thought it much the most amusing part of the scene. Very respectable persons, gentlemen certainly, and I believe in a few instances ladies, came in this way, to catch a glimpse of the spectacle. I saw several men that I knew, and the women with them could have been no other than their friends. To these must be added, _cochers de fiacres_, in their glazed hats, _bonnes_, in their high Norman caps, peasants, soldiers, in their shakos, _epiciers_ and _garçons_ without number. The constant passage, for it lasted without intermission, for an hour and a half, of so many queer faces, reminded me strongly of one of those mechanical panoramas, that bring towns, streets and armies, before the spectator. One of the droll effects of this scene was produced by the faces, all of which turned, like sunflowers, towards the light of royalty, as the bodies moved steadily on. Thus, on entering, the eyes were a little inclined to the right; as they got nearer to the meridian, they became gradually bent more aside; when opposite the table, every face was _full_; and, in retiring, all were bent backwards over their owners’ shoulders, constantly offering a dense crowd of faces, looking towards a common centre, while the bodies were coming on, or moving slowly off, the stage. This, you will see, resembled in some measure the revolutions of the moon around our orb, matter and a king possessing the same beneficent attraction. I make no doubt, these good people thought we presented a curious spectacle, but I am persuaded they presented one that was infinitely more so.

I had seen in America, in divers places, an Englishman, a colonel in the army. We had never been introduced, but had sat opposite to each other at _tables d’hôte_, jostled each other in the President’s House, met in steam-boats, in the streets, and in many other places, until it was evident our faces were perfectly familiar to both parties; and yet we never nodded, spoke, or gave any other sign of recognition, than by certain knowing expressions of the eyes. In Europe, the colonel reappeared. We met in London, in Paris, in the public walks, in the sight-seeing places of resort, until we evidently began to think ourselves a couple of _Monsieur Tonsons_. To-night, as I was standing near the public platform, whose face should appear in the halo of countenances, but that of my colonel. The poor fellow had a wooden leg, and he was obliged to stump on in his orbit, as well as he could, while I kept my eye on him, determined to catch a look of recognition, if possible. When he got so far forward as to bring me in his line of sight, our eyes met, and he smiled involuntarily. Then he took a deliberate survey of my comfortable position, and he disappeared in the horizon, with some such expression on his features as must have belonged to Commodore Trunnion, when he called out to Hatchway, while the hunter was leaping over the lieutenant, “Oh! d—n you; you are well anchored!”

I do not think the dinner, in a culinary point of view, was anything extraordinary. The King ate and drank but little, for, unlike his two brothers and predecessors, he is said to be abstemious. The _Dauphin_ played a better knife and fork, but, on the whole, the execution was by no means great for Frenchmen. The guests sat so far apart, and the music made so much noise, that conversation was nearly out of the question, though the King and the _Dauphin_ exchanged a few words, in the course of the evening. Each of the gentlemen, also, spoke once or twice to his female neighbour, and that was pretty much the amount of the discourse. The whole party appeared greatly relieved by having something to do during the dessert, in admiring the service, which was of the beautiful _Sèvres_ china. They all took up the plates, and examined them attentively, and really I was glad they had so rational an amusement, to relieve their _ennui_.

Once, early in the entertainment, _M. de Talleyrand_ approached the king, and showed him the bill of fare! It was an odd spectacle to see this old _diplomate_ descending to the pantomime of royalty, and acting the part of a _maitre d’hôtel_. Had the duty fallen on _Cambacérès_, one would understand it, and fancy that it might be well done. The king smiled on him graciously, and, I presume, gave him leave to retire; for soon after this act of loyal servitude, the prince disappeared. As for _M. Louis_, he treated Charles better than his brother treated Sancho, for I did not observe the slightest interference on his part during the whole entertainment, though one of those near me said he had tasted a dish or two, by way of ceremony, an act of precaution that I did not myself observe. I asked my neighbour, the _abbé_, what he thought of _M. de Talleyrand_. After looking up in my face distrustfully, he whispered—“_Mais, Monsieur, c’est un chat qui tombe toujours sur ses pièds_,” a remark that was literally true to-night, for the old man was kept on his feet longer than could have been agreeable to the owner of two such gouty legs.

The _Duchesse de Berri_, who sat quite near the place were I stood, was busy a good deal of the time _à lorgner_ the public through her eye-glass. This she did with very little diffidence of manner, and quite as coolly as an English duchess would have stared at a late intimate, whom she was disposed to cut. It certainly was neither a graceful, nor a feminine, nor a princely occupation. The _Dauphine_ played the Bourbon better, though when she turned her saddened, not to say _cruel_ eyes, on the public, it was with an expression that almost amounted to reproach. I did not see her smile once during the whole time she was at table, and yet _I_ thought there were many things to smile at.

At length the finger bowls appeared, and I was not sorry to see them. Contrary to what is commonly practised in very great houses, the pages placed them on the table, just as _Henri_ puts them before us democrats every day. I ought to have said that the service was made altogether in front, or at the unoccupied side of the table, nothing but the bill of fare, in the hands of _M. de Talleyrand_, appearing in the rear. As soon as this part of the dinner was over, the King arose, and the whole party withdrew, by the door on the further side of the gallery. In passing the _gradins_ of the ladies, he stopped to say a few kind words to an old woman, who was seated there, muffled in a cloak, and the light of royalty vanished.

The catastrophe is to come. The instant the King’s back was turned, the gallery became a scene of confusion. The musicians ceased playing and began to chatter; the pages dashed about to remove the service, and every body was in motion. Observing that your —— was standing, undecided what to do, I walked into the railed area, brushed past the gorgeous state-table, and gave her my arm. She laughed, and said it had all been very magnificent, and amusing, but that some one had stolen her shawl! A few years before, I had purchased for her a merino shawl of singular fineness, simplicity and beauty. It was now old, and she had worn it, on this occasion, because she distrusted the dirt of a palace, and laying it carelessly by her side, in the course of the evening, she had found in its place, a very common thing of the same colour. The thief was deceived by its appearance, your —— being dressed for an evening party, and had probably mistaken it for a cashmere. So much for the company one meets at court! Too much importance, however, must not be attached to this little _contre tems_, as people of condition are apt to procure tickets for such places, and to give them to their _femmes de chambre_. Probably half the women present, the “_jeunes et jolies_” excepted, were of this class. But, mentioning this affair to the old _Princesse de ——_, she edified me by an account of the manner in which _Madame la Comtesse de_ —— had actually appropriated to the service of her own pretty person, the _cachemire_ of Madame _la Baronne de_ —— in the royal presence; and how there was a famous quarrel, _à l’outrance_, about it; so I suspend my opinion, as to the quality of the thief.

LETTER X. TO R. COOPER, ESQ., COOPERSTOWN, NEW YORK.

We have been to Versailles, and although I have no intention to give a laboured description of a place about which men have written and talked these two centuries, it is impossible to pass over a spot of so much celebrity, in total silence.

The road to Versailles lies between the park of St. Cloud and the village and manufactories of Sèvres. A little above the latter, is a small palace called Meudon, which, from its great elevation, commands a fine view of Paris. The palace of St. Cloud, of course, stands in the park; Versailles lies six or eight miles farther west; Compiègne is about fifty miles from Paris in one direction; Fontainebleau some thirty in another, and Rambouillet rather more remotely, in a third. All these palaces, except Versailles, are kept up, and, from time to time, are visited by the court. Versailles was stripped of its furniture, in the revolution, and even Napoleon, at a time when the French empire extended from Hamburgh to Rome, shrunk from the enormous charge of putting it in a habitable state. It is computed that the establishment at Versailles, first and last, in matters of construction merely, cost the French monarchy two hundred millions of dollars! This is almost an incredible sum, when we remember the low price of wages in France; but, on the other hand, when we consider the vastness of the place, how many natural difficulties were overcome, and the multitude of works from the hands of artists of the first order it contained, it scarcely seems sufficient.

Versailles originated as a hunting-seat, in the time of Louis XIII. In that age, most of the upland near Paris, in this direction, lay in forest, royal chases; and as hunting was truly a princely sport, numberless temporary residences of this nature, existed in the neighbourhood of the capital. There are still many remains of this barbarous magnificence, as in the wood of Vincennes, the forests of St. Germain, Compèigne, Fontainebleau, and divers others; but great inroads have been made in their limits, by the progress of civilization and the wants of society. So lately as the reign of Louis XV. they hunted quite near the town, and we are actually, at this moment, dwelling in a country house, at St. Ouen, in which tradition hath it, he was wont to take his refreshments.

The original building at Versailles was a small _château_, of a very ugly formation, and it was built of bricks. I believe it was enlarged, but not entirely constructed, by Louis XIII. A portion of this building is still visible, having been embraced in the subsequent structures, and, judging from its architecture, I should think it must be nearly as ancient as the time of Francis I. Around this modest nucleus was constructed, by a succession of monarchs, but chiefly by Louis XIV., the most regal residence of Europe, in magnificence and extent, if not in taste.

The present _château_, besides containing numberless wings and courts, has vast _casernes_ for the quarters of the household troops, stables for many hundred horses, and is surrounded by a great many separate hotels, for the accommodation of the courtiers. It offers a front on the garden, in a single continuous line, that is broken only by a projection in the centre, of more than a third of a mile in length. This is the only complete part of the edifice that possesses uniformity; the rest of it being huge piles, grouped around irregular courts, or thrown forward in wings, that correspond to the huge body like those of the ostrich. There is on the front next the town, however, some attempt at simplicity and intelligibility of plan, for there is a vast open court lined by buildings, which have been commenced in the Grecian style. Napoleon, I believe, did something here, from which there is reason to suppose that he sometimes thought of inhabiting the palace. Indeed, so long as France has a king, it is impossible that such a truly royal abode can ever be wholly deserted. At present, it is the fashion to grant lodgings in it, to dependants and favourites. Nothing that I have seen gives me so just and so imposing an idea of the nature of the old French monarchy, as a visit to Versailles. Apart from the vastness and splendour of the palace, here is a town that actually contained, in former times, a hundred thousand souls, that entirely owed its existence to the presence of the court. Other monarchs lived in large towns, but here was a monarch whose presence created one. Figure to yourself the style of the prince, when a place more populous than Baltimore, and infinitely richer in externals, existed merely as an appendage to his abode!

The celebrated garden contains two or three hundred acres of land, besides the ground that is included in the gardens of the two Trianons. These Trianons are small palaces erected in the gardens, as if the occupants of the _château_, having reached the acmé of magnificence and splendour, in the principal residence, were seeking refuge against the effects of satiety, in these humbler abodes. They appear small and insignificant after the palace; but the great Trianon is a considerable house, and contains a fine suite of apartments, among which are some very good rooms. There are few English abodes of royalty that equal even this of _le Grand Trianon_. The _Petit Trianon_ was the residence of Mad. de Maintenon; it afterwards was presented to the unfortunate _Marie Antoinette_, who, in part, converted its grounds into an English garden, in addition to setting aside a portion into what is called _la petite Suisse_.

We went through this exceedingly pretty house and its gardens, with melancholy interest. The first is merely a pavilion in the Italian taste, though it is about half as large as the President’s House at Washington. I should think the Great Trianon has quite twice the room of our own Executive residence, and, as you can well imagine from what has already been said, the capitol, itself, would be but a speck among the endless edifices of the _château_. The projection in the centre of the latter, is considerably larger than the capitol, and it materially exceeds that building in cubic contents. Now this projection is but a small part, indeed, of the long line of _façade_, it actually appearing too short for the ranges of wings.

_Marie Antoinette_ was much censured for the amusements in which she indulged, in the grounds of the Little Trianon, and vulgar rumour exaggerating their nature, no small portion of her personal unpopularity is attributable to this cause. The family of Louis XVI. appears to have suffered for the misdeeds of his predecessors, for it not being very easy to fancy anything much worse than the immoralities of Louis XV. the public were greatly disposed “to visit the sins of the fathers on the children.”

_La petite Suisse_ is merely a romantic portion of the garden in which has been built what is called the Swiss hamlet. It contains the miniature abodes of the Curé, the Farmer, the Dairy-Woman, the _Garde de Chasse_ and the _Seignieur_, besides the mill. There is not much that is Swiss, however, about the place, with the exception of some resemblance in the exterior of the buildings. Here it is said the royal family used occasionally to meet and pass an afternoon in a silly representation of rural life, that must have proved to be a prodigious caricature. The King (at least so the guide affirmed) performed the part of the _Seignieur_, and occupied the proper abode; the Queen was the Dairy-Woman, and we were shown the marble tables that held her porcelain milk-pans; the present King, as became his notorious propensity to field-sports, was the _Garde de Chasse_, the late King was the Miller, and, _mirabile dictu_, the archbishop of Paris did not disdain to play the part of the _Curé_. There was probably a good deal of poetry in this account, though it is pretty certain that the Queen did indulge in some of these phantasies. There happened to be with me, the day I visited this spot, an American from our own mountains, who had come fresh from home, with all his provincial opinions and habits strong about him. As the guide explained these matters, I translated them literally into English for the benefit of my companion, adding that the fact rendered the Queen extremely unpopular, with her subjects. “Unpopular!” exclaimed my country neighbour; “why so, sir?” “I cannot say; perhaps they thought it was not a fit amusement for a Queen.” My mountaineer stood a minute cogitating the affair in his American mind, and then nodding his head, he said—“I understand it, now. The people thought that a King and Queen, coming from yonder palace to amuse themselves in this toy hamlet, in the characters of poor people, _were making game of them_!” I do not know whether this inference will amuse you, as much as it did me at the time.

Of the gardens and the _jets d’eau_, so renowned, I shall say little. The former are in the old French style, formal and stiff, with long straight _allées_, but magnificent by their proportions and ornaments. The statuary and vases that are exposed to the open air, in this garden, must have cost an enormous sum. They are chiefly copies from the _antique_. As you stand on the great terrace, before the centre of the palace, the view is down the principal avenue, which terminates at the distance of two or three miles with a low naked hill, beyond which appears the void of the firmament. This conceit singularly helps the idea of vastness, though in effect it is certainly inferior to the pastoral prettiness, and rural thoughts of modern landscape gardening. Probably too much is attempted here, for if the mind cannot conceive of illimitable space, still less can it be represented by means of material substances.