The French of the North—­for thus the Poles have been called—­are of a very excitable nature; easily moved to anger, and easily appeased; soon warmed into boundless enthusiasm, and soon also manifesting lack of perseverance.  They feel happiest in the turmoil of life and in the bustle of society.  Retirement and the study of books are little to their taste.  Yet, knowing how to make the most of their limited stock of knowledge, they acquit themselves well in conversation.  Indeed, they have a natural aptitude for the social arts which insures their success in society, where they move with ease and elegance.  Their oriental mellifluousness, hyperbolism, and obsequious politeness of speech have, as well as the Asiatic appearance of their features and dress, been noticed by all travellers in Poland.  Love of show is another very striking trait in the character of the Poles.  It struggles to manifest itself among the poor, causes the curious mixture of splendour and shabbiness among the better-situated people, and gives rise to the greatest extravagances among the wealthy.  If we may believe the chroniclers and poets, the entertainments of the Polish magnates must have often vied with the marvellous feasts of imperial Rome.  Of the vastness of the households with which these grands seigneurs surrounded themselves, enough has already been said.  Perhaps the chief channel through which this love of show vented itself was the decoration of man and horse.  The entrance of Polish ambassadors with their numerous suites has more than once astonished the Parisians, who were certainly accustomed to exhibitions of this kind.  The mere description of some of them is enough to dazzle one—­the superb horses with their bridles and stirrups of massive silver, and their caparisons and saddles embroidered with golden flowers; and the not less superb men with their rich garments of satin or gold cloth, adorned with rare furs, their bonnets surmounted by bright plumes, and their weapons of artistic workmanship, the silver scabbards inlaid with rubies.  We hear also of ambassadors riding through towns on horses loosely shod with gold or silver, so that the horse-shoes lost on their passage might testify to their wealth and grandeur.  I shall quote some lines from a Polish poem in which the author describes in detail the costume of an eminent nobleman in the early part of this century:—­

He was clad in the uniform of the palatinate:  a doublet embroidered with gold, an overcoat of Tours silk ornamented with fringes, a belt of brocade from which hung a sword with a hilt of morocco.  At his neck glittered a clasp with diamonds.  His square white cap was surmounted by a magnificent plume, composed of tufts of herons’ feathers.  It is only on festive occasions that such a rich bouquet, of which each feather costs a ducat, is put on.

The belt above mentioned was one of the most essential parts and the chief ornament of the old Polish national dress, and those manufactured at Sluck had especially a high reputation.  A description of a belt of Sluck, “with thick fringes like tufts,” glows on another page of the poem from which I took my last quotation:—­