A Residence in France | Page 4

has been so long before the public, that it is not
easy to say anything new. I may, however, give you a trait or two, to
amuse you.
I have seen more of him this winter than the last, owing to the
circumstance of a committee of Americans, that have been appointed to
administer succour to the exiled Poles, meeting weekly at my house,
and it is rare indeed that he is not present on these benevolent occasions.
He has discontinued his own soirées, too; and, having fewer demands
on his time, through official avocations, I gain admittance to him
during his simple and quiet dinners, whenever it is asked.
These dinners, indeed, are our usual hours of meeting, for the
occupations of the General, in the Chamber, usually keep him engaged
in the morning; nor am I commonly at leisure, myself, until about this
hour of the day. In Paris, every one dines, nominally, at six; but the
deputies being often detained a little later, whenever I wish to see him,
I hurry from my own table, and generally reach the Rue d'Anjou in
sufficient season to find him still at his.
On quitting the Hôtel de l'Etat Major, after being dismissed so

unceremoniously from the command of the National Guard, Lafayette
returned to his own neat but simple lodgings in the Rue d'Anjou. The
hotel, itself, is one of some pretensions, but his apartments, though
quite sufficient for a single person, are not among the best it contains,
lying on the street, which is rarely or never the case with the principal
rooms. The passage to them communicates with the great staircase, and
the door is one of those simple, retired entrances that, in Paris, so
frequently open on the abodes of some of the most illustrious men of
the age. Here have I seen princes, marshals, and dignitaries of all
degrees, ringing for admission, no one appearing to think of aught but
the great man within. These things are permitted here, where the mind
gets accustomed to weigh in the balance all the different claims to
distinction; but it would scarcely do in a country, in which the pursuit
of money is the sole and engrossing concern of life; a show of
expenditure becoming necessary to maintain it.
The apartments of Lafayette consist of a large ante-chamber, two salons,
and an inner room, where he usually sits and writes, and in which, of
late, he has had his bed. These rooms are en suite, and communicate,
laterally, with one or two more, and the offices. His sole attendants in
town, are the German valet, named Bastien, who accompanied him in
his last visit to America, the footman who attends him with the carriage,
and the coachman (there may be a cook, but I never saw a female in the
apartments). Neither wears a livery, although all his appointments,
carriages, horses, and furniture, are those of a gentleman. One thing has
struck me as a little singular. Notwithstanding his strong attachment to
America and to her usages, Lafayette, while the practice is getting to be
common in Paris, has not adopted the use of carpets. I do not remember
to have seen one, at La Grange, or in town.
When I show myself at the door, Bastien, who usually acts as porter,
and who has become quite a diplomatist in these matters, makes a sign
of assent, and intimates that the General is at dinner. Of late, he
commonly dispenses with the ceremony of letting it be known who has
come, but I am at once ushered into the bed-room. Here I find Lafayette
seated at a table, just large enough to contain one cover and a single
dish; or a table, in other words, so small as to be covered with a napkin.

His little white lap-dog is his only companion. As it is always
understood that I have dined, no ceremony is used, but I take a seat at
the chimney corner, while he goes on with his dinner. His meals are
quite frugal, though good; a _poulet rôti_ invariably making one dish.
There are two or three removes, a dish at a time, and the dinner usually
concludes with some preserves or dried fruits, especially dates, of
which he is extremely fond. I generally come in for one or two of the
latter.
All this time, the conversation is on what has transpired in the
Chambers during the day, the politics of Europe, nullification in
America, or the gossip of the chateau, of which he is singularly well
informed, though he has ceased to go there.
The last of these informal interviews with General Lafayette, was one
of peculiar interest. I generally sit but half an hour, leaving him to go to
his evening engagements, which, by