When a sturdy American republican crosses the Atlantic to serve as a foreign minister, something rather dreadful often happens to his common sense. Suddenly, the representative of a free people becomes obsessed with knee-breeches, royal drawing rooms, and exactly where he sits at dinner. This biting 1887 essay asks a question that still prickles: should the United States indulge in the pomp of ambassadors or stick to business? The answer involves a surprising amount of fuss over gold lace and the seductive danger of European snobbery.