66. The Frenchmen and the Frogs
BY SAMUEL BRECK (1779)
BEFORE the Revolution the colonists had little or no
communication with France, so that Frenchmen were known to them
only through the prejudiced medium of England. Every vulgar story
told by John Bull about Frenchmen living on salad and frogs was
implicitly believed by Brother Jonathan, even by men of education and
the first standing in society.
When, therefore, the first French squadron arrived at
Boston,[175] the whole town, most of
whom had never seen a Frenchman, ran to the wharves to catch a peep
at the gaunt, half-starved crews. How much were my good townsmen
astonished when they beheld, plump, portly officers and strong,
vigorous sailors!
They could scarcely credit the thing, apparent as it was. Did
these hearty-looking people belong to the lantern jawed, spindle-shank
race of mounseers?[176] In a
little
while they became convinced that they had been deceived as to their
personal appearance, but they knew, notwithstanding their good looks,
that they were no better than frog-eaters, because they had been
discovered hunting them in the noted Frogpond at the bottom of the
Common.
With this last notion in his head, Mr. Nathaniel Tracy, who
lived in a beautiful villa at
Cambridge,[177] made a great feast for
the admiral and his officers. Everything was furnished that could be
had in the country to ornament and give variety to the entertainment.
My father was one of the guests, and told me often that two large
tureens of soup were placed at the ends of the table.
The admiral sat on the right of Tracy,[178] and Monsieur de l'Etombe on the left.
L'Etombe was consul of France, resident at Boston. Tracy filled a plate
with soup, which went to the admiral, and the next was handed to the
consul. As soon as L'Etombe put his spoon into his plate he fished up a
large frog, just as green and perfect as if he had hopped from the pond
into the tureen.
Not knowing at first what it was, he seized it by one of its hind
legs, and, holding it up in view of the whole company, discovered that
it was a full-grown
frog. As soon as he had thoroughly inspected it, and made himself sure
of the matter, he exclaimed, "Ah! mon Dieu! un grenouille!" then,
turning to the gentleman next to him, gave him the frog.
He received it, and passed it around the table. Thus the poor
crapaud made the tour from hand to hand until it reached the
admiral. The company,
convulsed with laughter, examined the soup-plates as the servants
brought them, and in each was to be found a frog. The uproar was
universal. Meantime Tracy kept his ladle going, wondering what his
outlandish guests meant by such extravagant merriment.
"What's the matter?" asked he, and, raising his head, surveyed
the frogs dangling by a leg in all directions. "Why don't they eat
them?"
he exclaimed.
claimed. "If they knew the confounded trouble I had to catch them in
order to treat them to a dish of their own country, they would find that
with me, at least, it was no joking matter." Thus was poor Tracy
deceived by vulgar prejudice and common report. He meant to regale
his distinguished guests with refined hospitality, and had caused all the
swamps of Cambridge to be searched in order to furnish them with a
generous supply of what he believed to be in France a standing national
dish. This entertainment was given in 1778 to the celebrated Count
d'Estaing.
[[176]]
"Mounseer" is the French for "Mr."
[[177]]
The Craigie House, Washington's headquarters
1775-76, later the home of the poet Longfellow.
[[178]]
The admiral was Count D'Estaing.