The General Style Of
Dress, Perhaps, Is Not So Tasteful, So Simply Elegant As Ours.
Upon
the whole I think more highly of our own country (I mean from a
social point of view alone) than before I came abroad.
There is
less superiority over us in manners and all the social arts than I
could have believed possible in a country where a large and wealthy
class have been set apart from time immemorial to create, as it
were, a social standard of high refinement. The chief difference
that I perceive is this: In our country the position of everybody
is undefined and rests altogether upon public opinion. This leads
sometimes to a little assumption and pretension of manner, which the
highest class here, whose claims are always allowed by all about
them, are never tempted to put on. From this results an extreme
simplicity of manner, like that of a family circle among us.
What I have said, however, applies less to the South than to the
large cities of the North, with which I am most familiar at home. I
hope our memory will not be completely effaced in Washington, for we
cling to our friends there with strong interest. Present my
respectful regards to the President, and my love to Mrs. Walker and
Miss Rucker. To the Masons also, and our old colleagues all, and
pray lay your royal commands upon somebody to write me. I long to
know what is going on in Washington. The Pleasantons promised to do
so, and Annie Payne, to whom and to Mrs. Madison give also my best
love. Believe me yours with the highest regard.
E.D. BANCROFT.
LETTER: 2 December
Yesterday we dined at the Prussian Minister's, Chevalier Bunsen's.
He met your father in Rome twenty years since, and has received us
with great enthusiasm. Yesterday at dinner he actually rose in his
seat and made quite a speech welcoming him to England as historian,
old friend, etc., and ended by offering his health, which your
father replied to shortly, in a few words. Imagine such an outbreak
upon routine at a dinner in England! Nobody could have done it but
one of German blood, but I dare say the Everetts, who know him,
could imagine it all.
LETTER: To W.D.B. and A.B.
LONDON, December 19,1846
My dear Sons: . . . Yesterday we dined at Macready's and met quite
a new, and to us, a most agreeable circle. There was Carlyle, who
talked all dinner-time in his broad Scotch, in the most inimitable
way. He is full of wit, and happened to get upon James I., upon
which topic he was superb. Then there was Babbage, the great
mathematician, Fonblanc, the editor of the EXAMINER, etc., etc. The
day before we dined at Mr. Frederick Elliott's with a small party of
eight, of which Lady Morgan was one, and also a brother of Lord
Normanby's, whom I liked very much. Lady Morgan, who had not
hitherto much pleased me, came out in this small circle with all her
Irish wit and humor, and gave me quite new notions of her talent.
She made me laugh till I cried.
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