Society as I Have Found It
dinner, would so monopolize it that the great wit, Sydney Smith, said he
did not distinguish between monologue and dialogue.
When the President of the United States goes to a dinner, all the guests
must be assembled; they stand in a horseshoe circle around the _salon_;
the President enters; when the lady of the house approaches him, he
gives her his arm, and they lead the way to the dining-room, the
President sitting in the host’s place, with his hostess on his right. On
arriving at the house where he is to dine, if the guests are not all
assembled, he remains in his carriage until he is notified that they are
all present. No one can rise to leave the table until the President
himself rises. If he happens to be deeply interested in some fair
neighbor, and takes no note of time, the patience of the company is
sadly tried.
On entering a _salon_ and finding yourself surrounded by noted or
fashionable people, you are naturally flattered at being included; if
the people are unnoted, you are annoyed. The surprise to me is that in
this city our cleverest men and politicians do not oftener seek society
and become its brilliant ornaments, as in England and on the Continent
of Europe. Disraeli, Mr. Gladstone, Lord Palmerston, all were in society
and were great diners out. In fact, all the distinguished men of Europe
make part and parcel of society; whilst here, they shirk it as if it
were beneath their dignity. They should know that there is no power like
the social power; it makes and unmakes. The proverb is that, “The way to
a man’s heart is through the stomach.”
Now as to the length of a good dinner. Napoleon the Third insisted on
being served in three-quarters of an hour. As usual here we run from one
extreme to another. One of our most fashionable women boasted to me that
she had dined out the day before, and the time consumed from the hour
she left her house, until her return home, was but one hour and forty
minutes. This is absurd. A lover of the flesh pots of Egypt grumbled to
me that his plate was snatched away from him by the servant before he
could half get through the appetizing morsel on it. This state of things
has been brought about by stately, handsome dinners, spun out to too
great length. One hour and a half at the table is long enough.
A word about the decoration of the table. In this we are now again
running from one extreme to the other. A few years ago, the florist took
possession of the table, and made a flower garden of it, regardless of
cost. Now, at the best dinners, you see perhaps in the centre of the
table one handsome basket of flowers; no _bouquets de corsage_ or
_boutonnières_; the table set with austere simplicity; a few silver
dishes with bonbons and _compotiers_ of fruit, that is all. Now,
nothing decorates a dinner table as flowers do, and of these I think the
_Gloire de Paris_ roses, the Rothschild rose, and Captain Chrystie’s the
most effective. A better result is produced by having all of one kind of
flower, be it roses, or tulips, or carnations.
It is now the fashion to have the most superb embroidered table-cloths
from Paris, in themselves costing nearly a year’s income. But it is to
be remembered that thirty years ago we imported from England the fashion
of placing in the centre of the table a handsome piece of square scarlet
satin, on which to place the silver. At the dinner the eye should have a
feast as well as the palate. A beautifully laid table is very effective.
I have seen Her Majesty’s table at Windsor Castle all ready for her. I
have heard her footmen, in green and gold, re-echo from hall to kitchen
the note that “dinner is served,” and then I was told to go; but I saw
all I wanted to see. Her six footmen placed their hands on the little
velvet Bishop’s cap, which covered the lion and the unicorn in frosted
gold on the cover of her six _entrée_ dishes; as dinner was announced,
this velvet cap was removed. The keeper of her jewel room has a large
book of lithographs of just the pieces of gold plate that are to
decorate Her Majesty’s table on different occasions, all regulated by
the rank of her guest. Her Majesty, in the time of Prince Albert, dined
at 8:15. Her head _chef_ informed me then that her real dinner was eaten
at 2 P.M., with the Prince of Wales, and it was for this he exercised
his talent. At eight and a quarter she took but soup and fish.
It is to be borne in mind that a host or hostess cannot be too courteous
or gracious to their guests; and again, that guests in being late at
dinner oftentimes commit a breach of politeness. Apropos of this, whilst
in Paris one of our Ministers to the French Court related to me the
following anecdote, illustrating true French politeness. His daughter
arrived late at the dinner of a high personage. When her father
remonstrated, she replied, “Did you not see that one of the family
arrived after us?” The next day our Minister heard that the Duchess,
with whom he had dined, had sent her daughter out of the room to come in
after them, to relieve them of any embarrassment at being late.
Another point has had some discussion. At a large dinner, where the only
lady is the hostess, should she rise and receive each guest? This is
still a vexed question. Again, at a large dinner of men, is it incumbent
on every one present to rise on the entrance of each guest? On one
occasion I failed myself to do this, not thinking it necessary. The
distinguished man who entered said afterwards that I had “slighted him.”
It was certainly unintentional. In a small room, if all get up, it must
create confusion.
If you intend to decline an invitation to dinner, do so at as early a
date as possible. A dinner invitation, once accepted, is a sacred
obligation. If you die before the dinner takes place, your executor must
attend the dinner. (This is not to be taken literally, but to illustrate
the obligation.) The person to whom the dinner is given takes in the
hostess, if she is present, going in first with her; that is, if it is
only men (no ladies present but the hostess). Should there be ladies, he
still takes in the hostess, but then follows all the guests; going in
with the hostess after all the guests. The only exception to this rule
is where the President of the United States, or Royalty dines with you.
In England, in the note of invitation to dinner, you are never asked _to
meet any one_ but Royalty. The distinction of rank makes the reason for
this obvious. If Royalty dines with you, at the top of the note of
invitation, in the left hand corner, it is written: “To meet His Royal
Highness,” or other Royalty. Our custom is otherwise. It is to invite
you to meet Mr. Robinson, or Mrs. Robinson, or Mr. and Mrs. Robinson.
This is accepted and approved by all in this country, for in this way
you are privileged to invite, at a day’s notice, any number of guests;
for one sees it is to meet a stranger, temporarily here; a sufficient
reason for so short a notice to a large dinner; besides which you have
it in your power to pay the stranger or strangers a compliment in a
pointed way, by making them or him the honored guest of that dinner.
If you propose accepting, your note of acceptance should be sent the day
after the invitation has been received. After dining at a ladies’ dinner
it is obligatory that you leave your card at the house where you have
dined, either the next day or within a day or two. This is called, by
the French, a _visite de digestion_. In England, this custom is dying
out, for men have not the time to do it.
I would here compare society to a series of intersecting circles; each
one is a circle of its own, and they all unite in making what is known
as general society. Meeting people at a large ball is no evidence of
their being received in the smaller circles. What the French call the
_petit comité_ of good society is the inmost circle of all, but,
naturally, it is confined to a very few. Meeting a person constantly at
dinner, at the most exclusive houses, should be sufficient evidence to
you that he or she is received everywhere, and if you find people
persistently excluded from the best houses at dinners, you may be
satisfied that there is some good reason for it.
When you introduce a man into the sanctuary of your own family, it is
supposed by a fiction to be the greatest compliment you can pay him; but
do not be misled by this, for there is nothing more trying to the guest
than to be the one outsider. A friend of mine invariably refuses such
invitations. “Why,” said he, “my dinner at home is sufficiently good; I
am called out with my wife,--both of us compelled to don our best
attire, order the carriage, and go to see and be with, whom? A family
whose members are not particularly interesting to us.” Men with whom you
are only on a business footing you should dine at your Club, and not
inflict them on your family.
COOKS AND CATERING.
CHAPTER XXIII.
_Some practical Questions answered--Difference between Men and
Women Cooks--Swedish Women the cleanest and most economical--My
bills with a Chef--My bills with a Woman Cook--Hints on
Marketing--I have done my own Buying for forty years--Mme.
Rothschild personally supervises her famous Dinners--Menu of an
old-fashioned Southern Dinner--Success of an Impromptu Banquet._
Twenty years ago there were not over three _chefs_ in private families
in this city. It is now the exception not to find a man of fashion
keeping a first-class _chef_ or a famous _cordon bleu_. In the last six
years Swedish women cooks have come over here, and are excellent, and by
some supposed to be better than _chefs_. No woman, in my opinion, can
give as finished a dinner as a man. There is always a something in the
dinner which has escaped her. It is like German and Italian
opera,--there is a finish to the Italian that the Germans can never get.
But Swedish cooks deserve special mention; they are really
wonderful--cleanliness itself. That is where the French _chef_ fails. He
must have scullions tracking his very footsteps to keep things clean,
while the Swedish woman does her work without making dirt. These women
get nearly as large wages as the men,--sixty dollars a month and a
scullion maid. What a contrast to living in France! I had the best
_chef_ in Pau in 1856 for twenty-five dollars, and the scullion received
three dollars a month.
The question is often asked, What is the difference in expense to a
household between a _chef_ or a woman cook? This question is only
learned by experience, which teaches me that with a woman, my butcher’s
bill would be $250 to $275 a month; with a _chef_, $450 to $500.
Grocer’s bill, with woman cook, say, $75; with a _chef_, $125. This does
not include entertaining. For a dinner of twelve or fourteen one’s
marketing is easily sixty dollars, without the _foie gras_ or fruit. An
A1 _chef_’s wages is $100 a month; he takes ten per cent. commission on
the butcher, grocer, baker, and milkman’s bill. If he does not get it
directly, he gets it indirectly. In other words, besides his wages, he
counts on these commissions. I speak now of the ablest and best; others
not quite so capable take five per cent.
Always remember that the Frenchman is a creature of impulses, and works
for two things, glory and money. An everyday dinner wearies him, but a
dinner _privé_, a special dinner, oh, this calls forth his talent, which
shows that the custom some have of calling in and employing a _chef_ to
cook them a special dinner is correct. If you do not keep a _chef_ out
of respect for your purse or your health, it is a good plan to know of
an “artist” whom you can employ on special occasions, with the express
agreement that he submits the list of what he wants, and lets you make