Farther north, the hills rise to be low mountains, though a wide and perfectly level plain spreads itself between the town and their bases, varying in breadth from two to four leagues. On the whole of this expanse of cultivated fields, there was hardly such a thing as an isolated house. Though not literally true, this fact was so nearly so as to render the effect oddly peculiar, when one stood on the eastern extremity of Montmartre, where, by turning southward, he looked down upon the affluence and heard the din of a vast capital, and by turning northward, he beheld a country with all the appliances of rural life, and dotted by grey villages. Two places, however, were in sight, in this direction, that might aspire to be termed towns. One was St. Denis, from time immemorial the burying-place of the French kings; and the other was Montmorency, the _bourg_ which gives its name to, or receives it from, the ill.u.s.trious family that is so styled; for I am unable to say which is the fact. The church spire of the former is one of the most beautiful objects in view from Montmartre, the church itself, which was desecrated in the revolution, having been restored by Napoleon. St. Denis is celebrated, in the Catholic annals, by the fact of the martyr, from whom the name is derived, having walked after decapitation, with his head under his arm, all the way from Paris to this very spot.

Montmorency is a town of no great size or importance, but lying on the side of a respectable mountain, in a way to give the spectator more than a profile, it appears to be larger than it actually is. This place is scarcely distinguishable from Paris, under the ordinary light; but on a day like that which we had chosen, it stood out in fine relief from the surrounding fields, even the grey ma.s.s of its church being plainly visible. If Paris is so beautiful and striking when seen from the surrounding heights, there are many singularly fine pictures in the bosom of the place itself. We rarely crossed the Pont Royal, during the first month or two of our residence, without stopping the carriage to gaze at the two remarkable views it offers. One is up the reach of the Seine which stretches through the heart of the town, separated by the island; and the other, in an opposite direction, looks down the reach by which the stream flows into the meadows, on its way to the sea. The first is a look into the avenues of a large town, the eye resting on the quaint outlines and endless mazes of walls, towers, and roofs; while the last is a prospect, in which the front of the picture is a collection of some of the finest objects of a high state of civilization, and the background a beautiful termination of wooded and decorated heights.

At first, one who is accustomed to the forms and movements of a sea-port feels a little disappointment at seeing a river that bears nothing but dingy barges loaded with charcoal and wine-casks. The magnificence of the quays seems disproportioned to the trifling character of the commerce they are destined to receive. But familiarity with the town soon changes all these notions, and while we admit that Paris is altogether secondary, so far as trade is concerned, we come to feel the magnificence of her public works, and to find something that is pleasing and picturesque, even in her huge and unwieldy wood and coal barges.

Trade is a good thing in its way, but its agents rarely contribute to the taste, learning, manners, or morals of a nation.

The sight of the different interesting objects that encircle Paris stimulated our curiosity to nearer views, and we proceeded immediately to visit the environs. These little excursions occupied more than a month, and they not only made us familiar with the adjacent country, but, by compelling us to pa.s.s out at nearly every one of the twenty or thirty different gates or barriers, as they are called, with a large portion of the town also. This capital has been too often described to render any further account of the princ.i.p.al objects necessary, and in speaking of it, I shall endeavour to confine my remarks to things that I think may still interest you by their novelty.

The royal residences in Paris at this time are, strictly speaking, but two,--the Tuileries and the Palais Royal. The Louvre is connected with the first, and it has no finished apartments that are occupied by any of princely rank, most of its better rooms being unfinished, and are occupied as cabinets or museums. A small palace, called the Elysee Bourbon, is fitted up as a residence for the heir presumptive, the Duc de Bordeaux; but, though it contains his princely toys, such as miniature batteries of artillery, etc., he is much too young to maintain a separate establishment. This little scion of royalty only completed his seventh year not long after our arrival in France; on which occasion one of those silly ceremonies, which some of the present age appear to think inseparable from sound principles, was observed. The child was solemnly and formally transferred from the care of the women to that of the men. Up to this period, Madame la Vicomtesse de Gontaut-Biron had been his governess, and she now resigned her charge into the hands of the Baron de Damas, who had lately been Minister of Foreign Affairs.

Madame de Gontaut was raised to the rank of d.u.c.h.ess on the occasion. The boy himself is said to have pa.s.sed from the hands of the one party to those of the other, in presence of the whole court, _absolutely naked_.

Some such absurdity was observed at the reception of Marie Antoinette, it being a part of regal etiquette that a royal bride, on entering France, should leave her old wardrobe, even to the last garment, behind her. You will be amused to hear that there are people in Europe who still attach great importance to a rigid adherence to all the old etiquette at similar ceremonies. These are the men who believe it to be essential that judges and advocates should wear wigs, in an age when, their use being rejected by the rest of the world, their presence cannot fail, if it excite any feeling, to excite that of inconvenience and absurdity. There is such a thing as leaving society too naked, I admit; but a _chemise_, at least, could not have injured the little Duke of Bordeaux at this ceremony. Whenever a usage that is poetical in itself, and which awakens a sentiment without doing violence to decency, or comfort, or common sense, can be preserved, I would rigidly adhere to it, if it were only for antiquity's sake; but, surely, it would be far more rational for judges to wear false beards, because formerly Bacon and c.o.ke did not shave their chins, than it is for a magistrate to appear on the bench with a c.u.mbrous, hot, and inconvenient cloud of powdered flax, or whatever may be the material on his poll, because our ancestors, a century or two since, were so silly as to violate nature in the same extraordinary manner.

Speaking of the Duke of Bordeaux, reminds me of an odd, and, indeed, in some degree a painful scene, of which I was accidentally a witness, a short time before the ceremony just mentioned. The _emigres_ have brought back with them into France a taste for horse-racing, and, supported by a few of the English who are here, there are regular races, spring and autumn, in the Champs de Mars. The course is one of the finest imaginable, being more than a mile in circ.u.mference, and surrounded by mounds of earth, raised expressly with that object, which permit the spectators to overlook the entire field. The result is a species of amphitheatric arena, in which any of the dramatic exhibitions, that are so pleasing to this spectacle-loving nation, may be enacted. Pavilions are permanently erected at the starting-post, and one or two of these are usually fitted up for the use of the court, whenever it is the pleasure of the royal family to attend, as was the case at the time the little occurrence I am about to relate took place.

On this occasion Charles X. came in royal state, from St. Cloud, accompanied by detachments of his guards, many carriages, several of which were drawn by eight horses, and a cloud of mounted footmen. Most of the dignitaries of the kingdom were present, in the different pavilions, or stands, and nearly or quite all the ministers, together with the whole diplomatic corps. There could not have been less than a hundred thousand spectators on the mounds.

The racing itself was no great matter, being neither within time nor well contested. The horses were all French, the trial being intended for the encouragement of the French breeders, and the sports were yet too recent to have produced much influence on the stock of the country.

During the heats, accompanied by a young American friend, I had strolled among the royal equipages, in order to examine their magnificence, and returning towards the course, we came out unexpectedly at a little open s.p.a.ce, immediately at one end of the pavilion in which the royal family was seated. There were not a dozen people near us, and one of these was a st.u.r.dy Englishman, evidently a tradesman, who betrayed a keen and a truly national desire to get a look at the king. The head of a little girl was just visible above the side of the pavilion, and my companion, who, by a singular accident, not long before, had been thrown into company with _les enfans de France_, as the royal children are called, informed me that it was Mademoiselle d'Artois, the sister of the heir presumptive. He had given me a favourable account of the children, whom he represented as both lively and intelligent, and I changed my position a little, to get a better look of the face of this little personage, who was not twenty feet from the spot where we stood. My movement attracted her attention; and, after looking down a moment into the small area in which we were enclosed, she disappeared. Presently a lady looked over the bal.u.s.trade, and our Englishman seemed to be on tenter-hooks. Some thirty or forty French gathered round us immediately, and I presume it was thought none but loyal subjects could manifest so much desire to gaze at the family, especially as one or two of the French clapped the little princess, whose head now appeared and disappeared again, as if she were earnestly pressing something on the attention of those within the pavilion. In a moment the form of a pale and sickly-looking boy was seen, the little girl, who was a year or two older, keeping her place at his side. The boy was raised on the knee of a melancholy-looking and rather hard-featured female of fifty, who removed his straw hat in order to salute us. "These are the Dauphine and the Duc de Bordeaux,"

whispered my companion, who knew the person of the former by sight. The Dauphine looked anxiously, and I thought mournfully, at the little cl.u.s.ter we formed directly before her, as if waiting to observe in what manner her nephew would be received. Of course my friend and myself, who were in the foreground, stood uncovered; as gentlemen we could not do less, nor as _foreign_ gentlemen could we very well do more. Not a Frenchman, however, even touched his hat! On the other hand, the Englishman straddled his legs, gave a wide sweep with his beaver, and uttered as hearty a hurrah as if he had been cheering a member of parliament who gave gin in his beer. The effect of this single, unaccompanied, unanswered cheer, was both ludicrous and painful. The poor fellow himself seemed startled at hearing his own voice amid so profound a stillness, and checking his zeal as unexpectedly as he had commenced its exhibition, he looked furiously around him and walked surlily away. The Dauphine followed him with her eyes. There was no mistaking his gaitered limbs, dogged mien, and florid countenance; be clearly was not French, and those that were, as clearly turned his enthusiasm into ridicule. I felt sorry for her, as, with a saddened face, she set down the boy, and withdrew her own head within the covering of the pavilion. The little Mademoiselle d'Artois kept her bright looks, in a sort of wonder, on us, until the circ.u.mspection of those around her, gave her a hint to disappear.

This was the first direct and near view I got of the true state of popular feeling in Paris towards the reigning family. According to the journals in the interest of the court, enthusiasm was invariably exhibited whenever any of their princes appeared in public; but the journals in every country, our own dear and shrewd republic not excepted, are very unsafe guides for those who desire truth.

I am told that the style of this court has been materially altered, and perhaps improved, by the impetuous character of Napoleon. The king rarely appears in public with less than eight horses, which are usually in a foam. His liveries are not showy, neither are the carriages as neat and elegant as one would expect. The former are blue and white, with a few slight ornaments of white and red lace, and the vehicles are showy, large and even magnificent, but, I think, without good taste. You will be surprised to hear that he drives with what in America we call "Dutch collars." Six of the horses are held in hand, and the leaders are managed by a postilion. There is always one or more empty carriages, according to the number of the royal personages present, equipped in every respect like those which are filled, and which are held in reserve against accidents; a provision, by the way, that is not at all unreasonable in those who scamper over the broken pavements, in and about Paris, as fast as leg can be put to the ground.

Notwithstanding the present magnificence of the court, royalty is shorn of much of its splendour in France, since the days of Louis XVI. Then a city of a hundred thousand souls (Versailles) was a mere dependant of the crown; lodgings for many hundred _abbes_, it is said, were provided in the palace alone, and a simple representation at the palace opera cost a fortune.

It is not an easy matter to come at the real cost of the kingly office in this country, all the expenditures of the European governments being mystified in such a way, as to require a very intimate knowledge of the details to give a perfectly clear account of them. But, so far as I have been able to ascertain, the charges that arise from this feature of the system do not fall much short, if indeed they do any, of eight millions of dollars annually. Out of this sum, however, the king pays the extra allowances of his guards, the war office taking the same view of all cla.s.ses of soldiers, after distinguishing between foot and cavalry. You will get an idea of the luxury of royalty by a short account of the _gardes du corps_. These troops are all officers, the privates having the rank and receiving the pay of lieutenants. Their duty, as the name implies, is to have the royal person in their especial care, and there is always a guard of them in an ante-chamber of the royal apartments.

They are heavy cavalry, and when they mount guard in the palaces, their arm is a carabine. A party of them always appear near the carriage of the king, or indeed near that of any of the reigning branch of the family. There are said to be four regiments or companies of them, of four hundred men each; but it strikes me the number must be exaggerated.

I should think, however, that there are fully a thousand of them. In addition to these selected troops, there are three hundred Swiss, of the Swiss and royal guards; of the latter, including all arms, there must be many thousands. These are the troops that usually mount guard in and about all the palaces. The annual budget of France appears in the estimates at about a _milliard_, or a thousand millions of francs; but the usual mystifications are resorted to, and the truth will give the annual central expenses of the country at not less, I think, than two hundred millions of dollars. This sum, however, covers many items of expenditure, that we are accustomed to consider purely local. The clergy, for instance, are paid out of it, as is a portion of the cost of maintaining the roads. On the other hand, much money is collected, as a general regulation, that does not appear in the budget. Few or no churches are built, and there are charges for ma.s.ses, interments, christenings, and fees for a hundred things, of which no account is taken in making out the sum total of the cost of government.

It was the policy of Napoleon to create a system of centralization, that should cause everything to emanate from himself. The whole organization of government had this end in view, and all the details of the departments have been framed expressly to further this object. The prefects are no more than so many political _aides_, whose duty it is to carry into effect the orders that emanate from the great head, and lines of telegraphs are established all over France, in such a way that a communication may be sent from the Tuileries, to the remotest corner of the kingdom, in the course of a few hours. It has been said that one of the first steps towards effecting a revolution, ought to be to seize the telegraphs at Paris, by means of which such information and orders could be sent into the provinces, as the emergency might seem to require.

This system of centralization has almost neutralized the advancement of the nation, in a knowledge of the usages and objects of the political liberty that the French have obtained, by bitter experience, from other sources. It is the constant aim of that portion of the community which understands the action of free inst.i.tutions, to increase the powers of the munic.i.p.alities, and to lessen the functions of the central government; but their efforts are resisted with a jealous distrust of everything like popular dictation. Their munic.i.p.al privileges are, rightly enough, thought to be the entering wedges of real liberty. The people ought to manage their own affairs, just as far as they can do so without sacrificing their interests for want of a proper care, and here is the starting point of representation. So far from France enjoying such a system, however, half the time a bell cannot be hung in a parish church, or a bridge repaired, without communications with and orders from Paris.

LETTER VI.

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 Amba.s.sadors.--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, a.s.sured 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 cla.s.ses, the cases of distinguished men excepted, it is usual for the stranger to seek the introduction.

Under such circ.u.mstances, 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 inc.u.mbrance 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 _cafes_. Such a thing might happen on an emergency, but it was a.s.sailing 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 circ.u.mstances. 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 cla.s.s, 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 antic.i.p.ating 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 _debut_ 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 Villele 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 _attaches_, 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 pa.s.sage 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 cla.s.ses; 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 ba.s.se 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 princ.i.p.al 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 cla.s.s of English houses. It is true, that in London, many men of rank, perhaps of the n.o.bility, 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 pa.s.sages 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 pa.s.sages, 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 princ.i.p.al 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 circ.u.mstances 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 princ.i.p.al 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 pa.s.sage through the centre, the stairs in the pa.s.sage, and a short corridor, to communicate with the bed-rooms above.

Off the end of this upper corridor, if, indeed, so short a transverse pa.s.sage deserves the name, was part.i.tioned 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 pa.s.sage. 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 chaussee_, 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 pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.sages 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'hotel_, 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 t.i.tles, the utmost good taste is observed. Thus every n.o.bleman 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 inst.i.tutions 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 circ.u.mstance 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 amba.s.sador, 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 princ.i.p.al 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 charge-d'affaires was so intended or not, but it struck me as pointed and in good taste, for all the other foreign agents were amba.s.sadors, 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 pa.s.sant_. First in rank comes the Amba.s.sador. 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 sanct.i.ty; 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 Charge-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 a.s.sociated with the act, the aspect of the thing is entirely changed.

Under the old system, the amba.s.sador of the Emperor, claimed precedence over all other amba.s.sadors, 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 pa.s.sed 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 embarra.s.sing 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 cla.s.ses of agents at that particular court. Thus the amba.s.sador longest at Paris precedes all the other amba.s.sadors at Paris; and the same rule prevails with the ministers and charges, 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 amba.s.sadors. 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 _maitre d'hotel_ 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.