"There, madam, is a house consecrated to genius. There died Voltaire—in that apartment with the shutters closed. There died the first of our great men; perhaps also the last."
On another occasion the same man objected to a note which she had written in the French language.
"Is it not good French, then?" asked the lady.
"Oh, yes, madam," replied he; "the French is very good, but the style is too cold. You begin by saying, You regret that you cannot have the pleasure. You should say, I am in despair."
"Well, then," said Lady Morgan, "write it yourself."
"You may write it, if you please, my lady, at my dictation, for as to reading and writing, they are branches of my education which were totally neglected."
The lady remarks, however, that Paris servants can usually read very well, and that hackmen, water-carriers, and porters may frequently be seen reading a classical author while waiting for a customer.
A very remarkable case in point is Marie-Antoine Carème, whom a French writer styles, "one of the princes of the culinary art." I suppose that no country in the world but France could produce such a character. Of this, however, the reader can judge when I have briefly told his story.
He was born in a Paris garret, in 1784, one of a family of fifteen children, the offspring of a poor workman. As soon as he was old enough to render a little service, his father placed him as a garçon in a cheap and low restaurant, where he received nothing for his labor except his food.
This was an humble beginning for a "prince." But he improved his disadvantages to such a degree that, at the age of twenty, he entered the kitchen of Talleyrand. Now Prince Talleyrand, besides being himself one of the daintiest men in Europe, had to entertain, as minister of foreign affairs, the diplomatic corps, and a large number of other persons accustomed from their youth up to artistic cookery. Carème proved equal to the situation. Talleyrand's dinners were renowned throughout Europe and America. But this cook of genius, not satisfied with his attainments, took lessons in the art from Guipière, the renowned chef of the Emperor Napoleon—he who followed Murat into the wilds of Russia and perished with so many other cooks and heroes.