Chapter IV: Part 4

She called out in an indignant voice, "Did you ever hear the like?" Count Pourtales seemed dazed, while his wife looked as unconcerned as if there was nothing unusual. Then the insolent waiters began talking across the table to each other. One said, "Don't you see that lady with the rose has not got any salad?" The other answered, "Attend to your own affairs." Count Pourtales, crimson with mortification, was about to get up and apologize, when he was suddenly pulled back into his seat, and the absurd waiters began throwing pellets of bread at him.

Imagine his feelings! To be treated in this way in one's own house, by one's own servants! Every one of them must have suddenly gone crazy, or else they were drunk. For a moment consternation was depicted on all the countenances; we thought the end of the world had come.

When things had gone so far, Prince Metternich stood up and made a pretty little speech for the host, and we all drank his health, and the waiters all took off their wigs and false beards and waved them in the air.

Six of the most fashionable young gentlemen of Paris had been serving us! The Pourtales' own servants, who had kept aloof, now came in, and the _ci-devant_ waiters drew up chairs between those at the table, and the dinner finished amidst great hilarity.

PARIS, _August, 1866._

DEAR M.,--We were invited to go out to Fontainebleau yesterday for dinner. We found it a very hot ride from Paris, and really suffered in the crowded train. When we arrived at the station we found a coupé from the Imperial stables waiting for us, and an extra carriage for the maid, the valet, and the trunk, which contained our change of dress for dinner. I wished that the coupé had been an open carriage. I love to drive through those lovely avenues in the park. Princess Metternich suggested that we should take some green corn with us, as the Empress had expressed the wish to taste this American delicacy, and I took some from Petit Val.

On reaching the palace we were met by the Vicomte Walsh, who led the way to the apartment of the Baroness de Pierres, one of the _dames d'honneur_ of the Empress (an American lady, formerly Miss Thorne, of New York), who was expecting us.

You may imagine my astonishment at seeing her smoking--what do you think? Nothing less than a real common clay pipe, and you may imagine her surprise at seeing me, followed by my servant, who carried a large basket containing the corn. I told her about it, and that I had brought some at the instigation of the Princess Metternich, in order that the Empress could try it. She seemed to be delighted at the idea, and exclaimed, "We must get hold of the chef at once and tell him how to cook it." She rang her bell and gave the order. Promptly Monsieur Jean appeared in his fresh white apron and immaculate jacket and white _couvre-chef_. Baroness de Pierres and I surpassed ourselves in giving contradictory directions as to the cooking of it. She thought it ought to be boiled a long time, while I maintained that it required very little time.

"You must leave the silk on," said she.

"Has it got silk?" asked the bewildered chef.

I was of the opinion that the husks should be taken off. "By no means!" she declared, and explained that in America the corn was always served in the husk.

The chef, trying to analyze this unusual article of food, lifted one of the ears from the basket and examined it.

"En robe de chambre, alors, Madame!" said he, and looked dismayed at these complications.

"Yes," she replied, "just like a potato--_en robe de chambre_."

We could hear him as he left the room, followed by the basket, muttering to himself, "Soie! robe de chambre! Soie! robe de chambre!" in his most satirical tone. I began to feel a little nervous about it myself, and wondered if for this broth there had not been too many cooks.

We went out before dinner to see the famous carp; I looked in vain for the one with the ring in its nose.

At dinner, besides the Household, were the Princess Mathilde, Monsieur Ollivier, Monsieur Perrière, the Duke de Persigny, Baron Haussmann, and several statesmen.

The corn came in due time served as _légume_.

I was mortified when I saw it appear, brought in on eight enormous silver platters, four ears on each. It looked pitiful! Silk, _robe de chambre_ and all, steaming like a steam-engine. Every one looked aghast, and no one dared to touch it; and when I wanted to show them how it was eaten in its native land they screamed with laughter. Baron Haussmann asked me if the piece I was playing (he meant on the flute) was in _la-bémol_?

I looked to the Baroness de Pierres for support; but, alas! her eyes refused to meet mine and were fixed on her plate.

I tried to make the corn less objectionable by unwrapping the cobs and cutting off the corn. Then I added butter and salt, and it was passed about; first, of course, to the Emperor, who liked it very much; but the Empress pushed her plate aside with a grimace, saying, "I don't like it; it smells like a baby's flannels."

The Emperor, seeing the crushed look on my face, raised his glass and said, with a kind glance at me, "Here's to the American corn!" I reproached the Princess Metternich for having suggested my taking it there.

COMPIÈGNE, _November 22, 1866._

DEAR A.,--You know it has always been my wish to see the life at Compiègne, and behold, here I am!

We received the invitation twelve days ago. It reads thus:

MAISON DE L'EMPEREUR

_Palais des Tuileries, le 10 Novembre 1866.

Premier Chambellan_

Monsieur,

Par ordre de l'Empereur, j'ai l'honneur de vous prévenir que vous êtes
invité, ainsi que Madame Charles Moulton, à passer huit jours au
Palais de Compiègne, du 22 au 29 Novembre.

Des voitures de la Cour vous attendront le 22, à l'arrivée à Compiègne
du train partant de Paris à 2 heures 1/2, pour vous conduire au
Palais.

Agréez, Monsieur, l'assurance de ma considération très distinguée.

_Le Premier Chambellan_.
V'te de Laferrière.
Monsieur,
Madame Charles Moulton.

This gave me plenty of time to order all my dresses, wraps, and everything else that I needed for this visit of a week to royalty.

I was obliged to have about twenty dresses, eight day costumes (counting my traveling suit), the green cloth dress for the hunt, which I was told was absolutely necessary, seven ball dresses, five gowns for tea. Such a quantity of boxes and bundles arrived at the house in Paris that Mademoiselle Wissembourg was in a blue fidget, fussing about, boring me with silly, unnecessary suggestions, and asking so many useless questions that I wished her at the bottom of the Red Sea.

A professional packer came to pack our trunks, of which I had seven and C---- had two; the maid and the valet each had one, making, altogether, quite a formidable pile of luggage. As we saw it on the wagon driven from the house, it seemed an absurdly large amount for only a week's visit.

We arrived at the St. Lazare Station at 2.30, as indicated on the invitation.

We found the Vicomte Walsh (the Chamberlain of the Emperor) waiting to show the guests where the train was. It would have been rather difficult not to have seen it, as it was the only one in the station, and was marked "Extra and Imperial."

There were several large salon carriages with large, comfortable _fauteuils_, and some tables covered with newspapers and _journaux illustrés_ to beguile the time. It would take too much time to tell you the names of all the people I recognized at the station; but in the carriage with us were the Duke and Duchess Fernan Nuñez, Madame de Bourgogne (whose husband is Equerry of the Emperor), the two Princes Murat, Joachim and Achille, Monsieur Davilliers, Count Golz (the German Ambassador), Baron Haussmann and his daughter, and Mr. de Radowitz of the German embassy, who immediately stretched himself out contentedly in a comfortable arm-chair and fell fast asleep.

I should say there were about fifty or sixty guests.

We actually flew over land and dale. I never traveled so fast in all my life; but then I had never been in an Imperial train before. We did not stop until we reached the station of Compiègne.

I think the whole twelve thousand inhabitants of Compiègne were gathered there to stare at us, and they did stare persistently, until we had mounted the many equipages waiting for us and had driven away.

It certainly must have been very entertaining for them to see the long procession of carriages, the hundreds of trunks, the flurrying maids, and the self-important valets.

There were two landaus: one for the Metternichs and one for the German Ambassador.

The _chars-à-bancs_, of which there must have been at least ten, were dark green outlined with red, each with four prancing horses whose tails, jauntily braided with red cords, were tied to the saddles.

Each carriage had two postilions, who looked very trim in their short velvet jackets embroidered with gold and covered with endless buttons. They wore white breeches, long top-boots, black-velvet caps over their white wigs, and their little pigtails, tied with a black bow, hung down their backs, flapping up and down as they galloped.

The Princess Metternich had fourteen trunks and two maids; the Prince had his private secretary and valet, and a goodly number of trunks. This will give you a vague idea of the amount of baggage which had to be transported in the _fourgons_.

Don't you think we must have made a very imposing spectacle, as we rattled through the quiet town of Compiègne, over its old stone pavement, the postilions blowing their horns, cracking their whips, the horses galloping full speed, the _chars-à-bancs_ filled with handsomely dressed ladies, and after this long procession came the maids and the valets and mountainous piles of baggage?

When we entered the _grande cour_ (inclosure), the sentinels grasped their guns and saluted, as we passed by them, before we pulled up in front of the grand staircase of the château, where an army of lackeys were waiting to help us alight.

The Grand Chamberlain received us at the head of the stairs with pleasant cordiality and waved us toward a _huissier_, who, dressed in a black livery with heavy chains around his neck, looked very important. He, in his turn, passed us on to the particular valet allotted to us, who pompously and with great dignity showed us the way to our apartments.

Our names were on the doors, and we entered the brilliantly lighted rooms, which, after our journey, seemed most welcome with their bright fires and cheerful aspect.

Tea and chocolate were on the table waiting us, and I regaled myself while the soldiers (who seem to be the men-of-all-work here) brought in the trunks and the maid and valet were unpacking.

I must describe our rooms. We have a large salon, two bedrooms, two servants' rooms, and an antechamber. In the salon there are two long windows which reach to the floor and overlook the park. The walls are paneled with pink and mauve brocade. The covering of the furniture and the curtains are of the same stuff.

My bedroom is furnished in white and green with a delightful _chaise longue_ and large _fauteuils_, which to me are more inviting than the stiff Empire style of the salon.

I made my toilette in a maze of excitement; my maid was confused and agitated, and I thought I should never be ready. I think you will be interested to hear what I wore to-night. It was light-green tulle, embroidered in silver, the waist trimmed with silver fringe. If one could see the waistband, one would read WORTH in big letters. I thought it was best to make a good impression at the start, so I put on my prettiest gown.

On leaving our apartment, a little before seven, we found the lackey waiting to show us the way to the _Grande Salle des Fêtes_, and we followed his plump white calves through the long corridors, arriving at last at the salon where the company was to assemble.

Here we found more white calves belonging to the gorgeous liveries and the powdered heads of the lackeys, who stood there to open the doors for all comers. We were not the last, but of the latest, to arrive.

The salon seemed immense to me. On one side the windows (or rather the doors) opened on to the terrace; on the opposite side of the walls, between the pillars, were mirrors resting on gilded consoles. At one end of the room was the statue of Laetitia Bonaparte (_Madame Mère_), and at the other end was one of Napoleon I. Banquettes and tabourets of Gobelins tapestry stood against the walls. The ceiling is a _chef-d'oeuvre_ of Girodet--_style Empire_.

The Vicomte de Laferrière and the Duchesse de Bassano, the _grande maîtresse_, came forward to receive the guests.

My first feeling, when I entered the room, was that I knew no one in this numerous assemblage. There must have been a hundred people at least; but gradually the faces of my acquaintances loomed one by one out of the mist, and among them I recognized the lovely Marquise de Gallifet, who kindly beckoned me to come and stand by her, for which I felt very grateful.

The chamberlains--there were many of them--bustled about, constantly referring to some papers which they had in their hands, in order to tell each gentleman which lady he was to take in to dinner.

The Grand Chamberlain glanced round the room with an all-comprehensive look, and seemed intuitively to know when we were all present. He then disappeared into his Majesty's private salon.

There was an ominous hush, a flutter of agitation, a stiff attitude of expectancy, the guests arranging themselves according to their own consciousness of their rank; and presently the doors of the salon were quietly opened and their Majesties entered. The gentlemen bowed reverentially; the ladies courtesied very low, and the sovereigns, responding with a gracious inclination of the head, advanced toward us.

The Empress turned to the ladies, the Emperor to the gentlemen, speaking a word of welcome to as many of the guests as the time allowed. Fifty or sixty _bon soirs_ and _charmé de vous voir_'s occupy some time; but their Majesties kept their eyes on the Grand Maréchal, and he kept his eye on the clock.

The Empress looked lovely. She wore a beautiful gown, a white-spangled tulle, with a superb tiara of diamonds, and on her neck a _collier_ of huge pearls.

The Emperor was in white _culottes courtes_, white-silk stockings and low shoes, as were the rest of the gentlemen. He wore the ribbon of the _Légion d'honneur_, and on his left breast the star of the same.

The Grand Maréchal, waiting his opportunity, approached his Majesty, who went up to the Empress and gave her his arm. The Grand Maréchal then led the way slowly and with due stateliness to the banqueting hall.

The gentlemen offered their arms to their respective ladies, and we marched in procession through the long gallery, trying to prevent ourselves from slipping on the waxed floor, and passed between the splendid _Cent Gardes_, who lined both sides of the entire length of this enormous hall. Their uniforms are magnificent and dazzling; they wear light-blue coats under their silver cuirasses, white breeches, and high, shiny top-boots; and on their heads silver helmets, from which flow long manes of white horsehair that hang down their backs.

There the men stood, motionless as statues, staring stolidly before them, without so much as a stolen side-glance at the beauty and elegance passing before their eyes.

This procession of ladies glittering with jewels, the officers and diplomats in their splendid uniforms covered with decorations and gay- colored _cordons_, made a sight never to be forgotten; at least, _I_ shall never forget it.

When their Majesties entered the dining-room they separated, and took their places on opposite sides of the table, half-way down its length and exactly facing each other. The Emperor had Princess Metternich on his right hand, and the Duchess of Fernan Nuñez on his left. The Empress had the Austrian Ambassador, Prince Metternich, on her right, and the German Ambassador, Count Golz, on her left.

The other _invités_ were placed according to their rank and position: all the _gros bonnets_ were in their right places, you may be quite sure. I was such a little _bonnet_ among all those great people that I was practically nowhere, and at the tail end of everything except the members of the Household and the ladyless gentlemen, who, of course, were below me.

There must have been about one hundred persons seated at the table. I never saw such a tremendous long stretch of white linen.

The flowers, stiffly arranged at intervals, alternated with white _épergnes_ filled with bonbons, and larger fruit-dishes filled with the most delicious-looking fruit. All along the whole length of the table were placed, at regular intervals, the groups of _pâte tendre_ representing the Hunt. These, as my cavalier (Count de Bourgogne) told me, are made only at the Sèvres manufactory, expressly for the French sovereigns. They were designed in the time of Louis XV. by an artist called Urbain, and have been reproduced ever since. It would seem as if nothing had been found worthy to replace them.

The _service de table_ was of white Sèvres porcelain with only the letter "N" in gold surmounted by the Imperial crown; many of the courses were served on silver plates, in the center of which were engraved the arms of France.

A strip of red velvet carpet laid over the polished floor surrounded the table. On the outer side of this carpet were the chair, to be pushed forward as soon as people were ready to sit down. The lackeys stood in a line all the way down the room, making a very imposing sight in their red- and-white liveries; there must have been forty or fifty of them at least. The Emperor's _chasseur_ always stands behind his chair and serves him, and him alone, taking a dish of each course, as it is brought in, from the maître d'hôtel. No one but this privileged _chasseur_ can hand anything in the way of food to his Majesty. When the Emperor has served himself, the _chasseur_ hands the dish back to the _maître d'hôtel_, who passes it on to the other servants, who then serve the guests. The Empress is served in the same way.

I suppose this custom dates back to the time of the Borgias, when, in order to save their own lives, they were willing to risk those of their trusty menials by making them taste the food before it was put on the table.

A military band played during the dinner. It was placed in a large circular loggia having windows opening on to a courtyard, thus serving two purposes: to let in the air and let out the music, which, fortunately, it did, otherwise we could not have heard ourselves speak.

The dinner lasted about an hour. (The Emperor dislikes sitting long at table.) It seemed almost impossible that so much eating and drinking and changing of plates--in fact, such an elaborate repast--could be got through within such a short time. But it was!

When their Majesties had finished they rose, and everyone followed their example. All the chairs were drawn from under you, _tant pis_ if you were in the act of eating a pear and had not yet washed your fingers; but, no matter, you had to skip across the red carpet in order to let their Majesties pass.

A rather amusing incident occurred at dinner. One of the foreign ministers, who is very vain of the smallness of his feet, had donned a pair of patent-leather shoes evidently much too tight for him. During the dinner he relieved his sufferings by slipping his aching toes out of them. All went well until his chair was suddenly drawn from underneath him, as their Majesties were about to pass. In utter despair he made the most frantic efforts to recover the wandering shoes from under the table; but, alas! the naughty things had made their escape far beyond reach (a little way shoes have of doing when left to themselves); consequently, he was obliged to trip across the red carpet as best he could without them. The Empress, who keenly appreciates a comical situation, had noticed with great amusement his manoeuvers and embarrassment, and (was it just for a little fun?) stopped in passing and spoke to him, much to his confusion, for it was impossible to prevent her from seeing his little, white shoeless feet.

On our returning to the salon the magnificent _Cent Gardes_ stood just as we had left them, and I wondered if they had unbent for a moment all the time we had been at dinner.

The _cercle_ began, and their Majesties circulated about among their guests. When the Empress was in front of me, she gave me her hand and said some very kind words to me. She noticed I wore the bracelet she had given me and seemed pleased. I do not know if you ever saw this handsome bracelet--it is composed of large rubies and diamonds set in three heavy gold coils. The date when the Empress gave it to me and her name are inscribed inside. The Prince Imperial spoke to every one he knew. He has a very sweet voice, such gentle manners and winning ways. He speaks excellent English and, of course, several other languages.

Waldteufel, _le fabricant de valses_, put himself at the piano (an upright one, standing at the extreme end of the immense ballroom), and played some of his charming _entraînante_ music. But though he played as loudly as possible, it was difficult to distinguish what sort of music it was, the ballroom being so enormous. However it did not make much difference as there were only a few who wanted to dance and one could see that they were urged to do so by the chamberlains. Waldteufel has an apartment in the town of Compiègne, where he fabricates his waltzes by day and comes here to play them by night.

At ten o'clock their Majesties went into the Emperor's private salon with a selected few; then the dancing become general and livelier. Tea and cakes were served at eleven o'clock and their Majesties reentered, conversed a few moments, bowed to every one and withdrew, turned round on reaching the door, and, with a sweeping inclination of the head, disappeared.

We bade good night to our friends about us and withdrew, as did every one else, and I, for one, was glad to go to my Royal couch. Good night!

SUNDAY, _November 23, 1866._

DEAR M.,--When we came down this morning into the salon we found it almost deserted, and only realized the reason why when we saw the Empress and other ladies holding their prayer-books devoutly in their hands returning from mass, which is celebrated in the chapel of the château. They wore black-lace veils in place of hats, the Empress wearing hers draped in true Spanish fashion, which was infinitely becoming to her, being, as she is, "to the _manner_ born."

We remembered _then_ that it was Sunday, and felt subdued, seeing so many who were more pious than we were. In fact, I felt so much so that I think it would have been impossible for me to have laughed during the _déjeuner_. Perhaps it was fortunate I sat next to the Duke de Fernan Nuñez, whose sedate and polished manners suited the occasion perfectly. He did not encourage any attempt at gaiety. Oh dear, no! Far from it! I felt myself gradually freezing, and our conversation was of the most uninteresting character and dry almost to parching.

I began talking to him about Spain. I said I thought it must be such a lovely country, so full of romance, sentiment, and so forth. But he nipped my enthusiasm in the bud by informing me that he was not Spanish.

"I thought you were," I murmured.

"No; I am Italian." This staggered me a little. He was certainly the husband of the Duchess de Fernan Nuñez, who was Spanish; why had he not the same name?

He told me that he was "Dei Principi Pio-Trivulzio," one of the oldest families in Milan, and that when he married his wife (who is a _Grande d'Espagne_) he was obliged, according to the traditions of Spain, to take her name and give up his own.

The _déjeuner_ finished, we returned to the salon, and after their Majesties had talked a little with their guests the programme for the afternoon, which was to be an excursion to Pierrefonds, was offered to those who wished to go. We hurried to our rooms to put on our hats, coats, and furs, reappearing equipped for the fray.

The _chars-à-bancs_ and the carriages of their Majesties were drawn up on the garden side of the terrace. The Emperor took Prince Metternich in his dog-cart; the Empress drove herself in her English phaëton, accompanied by the Duchess de Fernan Nuñez. The rest of us were provided with big _chars- à-bancs_, each holding six or eight people, and had four horses ridden by two postilions. In the same carriage with me was the Duchess de Persigny, Count Golz, and others; and although it was very cold, we did not mind, as we were well wrapped in furs and had plenty of rugs. We enjoyed intensely the beautiful drive through the forest of Compiègne. Monsieur Davilliers told me that the forest contains about fifteen thousand hectares. I should think so, judging from the endless roads and cross-roads, the interminable avenues and wonderful vistas. There were sign-posts at every turn; those painted red pointed toward Compiègne.

It took us a long time to reach the forest at Pierrefonds, which joins that of Compiègne. By an abrupt turn of the road we came suddenly in view of the enormous castle of Pierrefonds and the little town, which is known for its sulphur baths, and only frequented in summer. No one need inform you what kind of baths they are, as their fumes pervade space and inform you themselves.

The imposing castle looks entirely out of place in its surroundings; the little hill on which it stands seems as if it had been put there in order to accommodate the castle.

We passed over two bridges and over a _pont-levis_ at the foot of the castle; then through a second gateway into a court, and finally over a drawbridge to reach the entrance.

There we got out of the carriages, passed through a dark, vaulted chapel and mounted to the platform, where we had a splendid view of the town and the forest.

Viollet-le-Duc, who was with us, is the pet architect of the Emperor; he is working hard to restore these magnificent ruins, and has now been ten years about it, but says that they will never be finished in his lifetime. The Emperor is very proud of showing them as the work of his favorite architect, and Viollet-le-Duc is just as proud of having been chosen for this stupendous undertaking.

We were spared no details, you may be sure, from the smallest of gargoyles to the biggest of chimneys. There is a huge fireplace which reaches to the ceiling in the _salle des gardes_, with funny little squirrels peering at you with cunning eyes. I wish it had occurred to the great architect to have utilized this fireplace, for he could very well have put a few logs in it and prevented us poor visitors from freezing to death.

We walked (it must have been miles), examining everything in detail. We mounted two hundred steps to see the view, and then descended three hundred steps to see the arched cellars. The castle was first bought one hundred years ago as a ruin by some one, who only paid eight thousand francs for it; then Napoleon I. bought it, and now Napoleon III. is restoring it. It is seven thousand meters square. It has eight big towers, etc. I could go on forever, I am so brimful of statistics, but I spare you.

While the hampers brought from Compiègne were being unpacked we tried to rest our weary limbs in some prehistoric chairs, whose carvings pierced our bones to the marrow. I suppose this is what they call _payer de sa personne_. I consoled myself, while drinking my tea and eating my cake, with the thought that my _personne_ was paying its little private tax to art.

After this interesting but fatiguing visit, and after the long drive through the cold, misty forest, the dead and dry leaves rustling under the horses' feet as they galloped along, I was glad to rest a moment by my cozy fire before dressing for dinner.

I was a little dismayed when I was told that the famous poet, Théophile Gautier, was to be my dinner companion. I was awed at the idea of such a neighbor, and feared I should not be able to rise to the occasion. Would he talk poetry to me? And should I have to talk poetry to him?

I tried to remember, during our promenade down the hall, Longfellow's "Psalm of Life," in case he should expect anything in this line, and I tried to remember something he himself had written; but for the life of me I could think of nothing but a very improper book called _Mademoiselle de Maupéon_, which I had never been allowed to read, so that would be of no use as conversation.

I might have spared myself this worry, for, from the time he sat down at the table, he talked of little else than cats and dogs. He loves all animals. I liked him for that, and one could see that he preferred them to any other topic.

I can't remember all the nonsense he talked. In appearance I think he must resemble Charles Dickens. I have only seen the latter's photographs; but had he not rather a skimpy hair brushed any which way and a stringy beard? I fancied him so to myself. At any rate, Gautier looks like the Dickens of the photographs.

He said he had eight or ten cats who ate with him at the table; each had its own place and plate, and never by any chance made a mistake and sat in another cat's place or ate off another cat's plate. He was sure that they had a heaven and a hell of their own, where they went after their death, according to their deserts, and that they had souls and consciences. All his cats had classical names, and he talked to them as if they were human beings. He said they understood every word he said. He also quoted some of his conversation with them, which must have sounded very funny:

"Cleopatra, have you been in the kitchen drinking milk on the sly?

"Cleopatra puts her tail between her legs and her ears back and looks most guilty, and I know then what the cook told me was true."

Then again: "Julius Caesar, you were out extremely late last night. What were you doing?" He said that when he made these reproaches Julius Caesar would get down from his chair and, with his tail high in the air, would rub himself against his legs, as much as to say he would never do it again.

"Depend upon it," he added, "they know everything we do, and more."

I asked, "When Julius Caesar comes from his nocturnal walks is he _gris_ (tipsy)?"

"Gris! Que voulez-vous dire?"

"You once wrote a poem (how proud I was that I had recollected it), 'A minuit tous les chats sont gris.'"

"C'est vrai, mais je parlais des Schahs de Perse."

"Est-ce que tous les Schahs de Perse sont gris à minuit?"

"Madame, tous les Schahs de Perse que j'ai eu l'honneur de voir à minuit ont été gris comme des Polonais."

"But the 'chats' you wrote about go mewing on roofs at midnight. Do the Schahs de Perse do that?"

"Did I write that?" said he. "Then I must have meant cats. You are very inquisitive, Madame."

"I confess I am," I answered. "You see, that poem of yours has been set to music, and I sing it; and you may imagine that I want to know what I am singing about. One must sing with an entirely different expression if one sings of gray cats or of tipsy Persian sovereigns."

He laughed and asked, with an innocent look, "Do you think I could have meant that at midnight nothing has any particular color--that everything is gray?"

"I don't know what you meant; but please tell me what you want me to believe, because I believe everything I am told. I am so naïve."

"You naïve! You are the most _blasée_ person I ever met."

"I _blasée_! I! What an idea!"

Such an idea could only emanate from a poet's brain with an extra-poetical poet's license. I was very indignant, and told him so, and said, "Est-ce que tous les poètes sont fous à cette heure de la soirée?"

"Vous voyez," he retorted, "you are not only _blasée_; you are sarcastic."

I enjoyed my dinner immensely in spite of being _blasée_, and Gautier's fun and amusing talk lasted until we were back in the salon. The Emperor approached us while we were still laughing, and began to talk to us. I told him that Monsieur Gautier had said that I was _blasée_. The Emperor exclaimed: "Vous blasée! Il faut y mettre beaucoup de bonne volonté pour être blasée à votre âge!"

I said I did not know whether to be angry or not with him.

"Be angry with him," answered the Emperor. "He deserves it."

Waldteufel began playing his delightful waltzes, and every one was boon whirling about. I never heard him play with so much dash; he really seemed inspired. Prince Metternich asked him to order a piano to be sent to his salon in the chateau. "I cannot exist without a piano," said he. "It helps me to write my tiresome _rapports_."

There were only two pianos, I believe, in the château; the one (upright) in the ballroom and the Erard in the _salle de musique_.

At eleven o'clock we went into the Emperor's salon, where tea was served.

MONDAY, _November 24, 1866._

DEAR M.,--At breakfast this morning I sat next to Prince Metternich. He told me that there was to be _conseil de ministres_ to-day, and therefore there was no question of their Majesties' presence at excursions, and no particular plans projected for this afternoon.

Thus we were left to our own devices. Prince Metternich's fertile brain was already at work to imagine something amusing to divert their Majesties for the evening. He suggested charades. He is excellent at getting them up.

When we met in the salon he spoke to the different people who he thought would be helping elements.

The Marquise de Gallifet thought that tableaux would be better; Count de Vogüé suggested games (he knew several new ones, which he proposed). All in vain! Prince Metternich insisted on charades; therefore charades carried the day, of course.

The Prince had already thought of the word "Exposition," and arranged in his mind what part each one of us was to have. The Vicomte de Laferrière, whom he was obliged to take into his confidence, told him that he would show us the room in which there was a stage for amateur performances.

As soon as their Majesties had departed we proceeded to the said room, where there was a little stage, a very little one, with red-velvet curtains. Next to this room was a long gallery, in which there was a quantity of chests containing every variety of costumes, wigs, pastiches, tinsel ornaments, and all sorts of appurtenances--enough to satisfy the most dramatic imagination.

Each garment, as it was held up to view, suggested endless possibilities; but the Prince stuck firmly to his first inspiration, and we were despatched to our different apartments to think out our rôles and to imagine how funny we were going to be.

The Empress is always present at the _conseils de ministres_, which to-day must have lasted an unusually long time, as no one was invited to her tea. So we took ours with the Metternichs. The Prince had just returned from town, and was childishly eager to display the various and extraordinary purchases he had made, which he considered absolutely necessary for the finishing touches to our toilettes. His requisites consisted of an oil-can, a feather duster, a watchman's rattle, and wax enough to have made features for the whole Comédie Française, and paint and powder for us all. He would not tell us what he had procured for his _own_ costume, as he said he wanted to surprise us, adding, what he could not buy he had borrowed.

Count Vogüé gave me his arm for dinner. Of course, we talked of little else but the charade.

Their Majesties were informed of the surprise which was awaiting them in the little theater. The Empress said to Prince Metternich, after dinner, "I hear you have prepared something to amuse us this evening. Do you not wish to go and make your arrangements? We will be ready to join you in half an hour."

All of us who were to take part disappeared to dress, and returned to the gallery connecting with the stage in due time. Peeping through the hole in the curtain, we could see the imposing and elegant audience come in and take their seats with much ceremony and calmness. They little thought how impatient we were to begin and yet trembling with nervousness. Their Majesties, the guests, and all the ministers who had stayed for dinner more than filled the theater. It looked, indeed, uncomfortably crowded.

At last every one was seated, and the first syllable, "Ex," was played with great success. It represented a scene at Aix-les-Bains.

Invalids met (glasses in hand) and discussed and compared their various and seemingly very complicated diseases. They made very funny remarks on the subject of getting their systems in order in view of the possible incidents which might come up during the Exposition of the next year.

The Marquis de Gallifet was one of the invalids, and seeing the Minister of the Interior in the audience, looked straight at him and said, "C'est à vous, Monsieur le Ministre, de remédier à tout cela (It is your business, Monsieur le Ministre, to cure all that)," which made every one roar with laughter, though Prince Metternich (our impresario) was very provoked, as he had particularly forbidden any one to address the audience.

The Princess Metternich looked very comical dressed as a Parisian coachman, with a coachman's long coat of many capes; she wore top-boots, and had a whip in her hand and a pipe in her mouth, which she actually smoked, taking it out of her mouth every time she spoke and puffing the smoke right into the faces of the audience. She sang a very lively song, the words of which her husband had found time to write for her during the afternoon. It began, "C'est à Paris, qu' ça s'est passé." She cracked her whip and stamped her feet, and must have been very droll, to judge from the screams of delight in the audience. The song was full of quips and puns, and pleased so much that she had to repeat it.

The next word was "Position," and acted only by gentlemen. An amateur, or rather a novice, was taking lessons in fencing, in order to defend himself against probable attacks upon him by the barbaric foreigners who next year would invade Paris, and he wished to be prepared sufficiently to resent all their insults.

When the curtain came down all the sky came with it, which put the public in great glee.

The whole word "Exposition" was what we call "Mrs. Jarley's Wax Works."

Count de Vogüé was the showman, and the servant assisting him was no less a person than the Austrian Ambassador himself, Prince Metternich. As the stage was small, it could not contain more than two couples at a time, so they were brought on in pairs.

First came Antony, and Cleopatra (the latter Marquise de Gallifet, beautiful as a dream) drank mechanically (having been wound up by the servant) an enormous pearl, and Antony (Prince Murat) looked on wonderingly and admiringly.

Madame de Bourgogne and Count Grammont were a Chinese chop-sticking couple. When wound up, their chop-sticks went everywhere except into their mouths. The Marquise de Chasselouplobat and the Marquis de Caux were shepherd and shepherdess, with the usual rakes, baskets, ribbons, etc.

I was a mechanical doll sent from America (the latest invention) for the Exposition. I was dressed as a Tyrolienne with a red skirt, a black bodice, and a hat with a ridiculous feather sticking out from the back of it, which Prince Metternich said I _must_ have.

While the others were on the stage Princess Metternich wrapped a lot of silk paper around me and tied it with bows of wide ribbon, thus covering me completely, head and all. I was carried in and placed on a turning pedestal.

The showman explained the wonderful mechanism of this doll, unique of its kind, and capable of imitating the human voice to such a degree that no one could hear any difference.

When he had finished talking (I thought, as I stood there, motionless and stifling under my paper covering, he never would stop) he tore off the paper and called his assistant to wind me up.

I had so far been very successful in keeping my countenance; but I assure you, when I saw Prince Metternich's get-up, my efforts to keep myself from bursting out laughing almost amounted to genius. He had said he wished his costume to be a surprise. Well! The surprise almost made the mechanical doll a failure, and had not Count de Vogüé quickly turned the pedestal around I don't know how I should have saved myself from disaster.

Prince Metternich was dressed as a servant. He had a velvetine coat, red vest, knickerbockers, white stockings, and servant's low shoes, and he wore a huge black beard and a black wig. He had made his eyebrows so bushy that they looked like mustaches; but his nose had preoccupied him more than anything else--I don't know much time he had spent in making it. First, he made it hooked and then changed it to _retroussé_, then again back to hooked, which he thought suited his style best. He commenced it when the first scene was being acted, and had just got it at the right angle when it was time for him to go on the stage. The result of his afternoon's labors must have been most gratifying, for he was a stupendous success.

He wound me up and I began singing; but everything went wrong. I sang snatches of well-known songs, cadences, trills, arpeggios, all _pêle- mêle_, until my exhibitors were in despair.

"Mais, c'est terrible," cried Vogüé. "Ne pouvez-vous pas l'arrêter? Est-ce qu'il n'y a pas de vis?"

"Il n'y a pas le moindre vice, Monsieur," shaking his head in despair.

Then I stopped short. How could I sing when I was convulsed with laughter?

"Il faut la remonter," the showman said, with a resigned air, and, turning to the audience, he announced that such a thing had never happened before. "La poupée a été probablement dérangée pendant le voyage." This caused much merriment. "Elle a besoin de l'huile," said the Prince in a loud stage whisper, and took the oil-can and flourished it about my shoulders.

They made so many jokes and puns that they were continually interrupted by the peals of laughter which followed each joke.

"Faites-la donc chanter," implored Vogüé. "N'y a-t-il pas un clou?"

"S'il y en avait eu un, je l'aurais trouvé, puisque c'est le clou de la soirée."

"Mon Dieu! Que faire? Et tout le monde qui attend. Cherchez bien. Vous trouverez peut-être un bouton."

The Prince answered, sadly, "Not a sign of a button, Monsieur." And he added, in a loud voice, "We ought to have a button in _gold_, so that one can see it."

He said this with intention, thinking it might suggest to the Emperor to give me the gold button which he only gives to those he wishes to make life-members of his Hunts. Ladies do not often get them. At last, the mortified assistant applied the rattle and wound me up again. I gave a little nod with my head; they both struck attitudes of satisfaction, and one said, "Now she is going to sing 'Beware!'" which called forth a burst of applause from the audience. I sang "Beware!" and the Prince, thinking I made the trill too long, tried to stop me by using the rattle again, which was almost the death of me. I wore some long ribbons around my neck, and the more the Prince turned it, the tighter the ribbons choked me. Happily I had breath enough to go on singing; but I turned my head and fixed a glassy eye on my tormentor, and, instead of singing "Trust her not, she's fooling thee," I sang, "Trust him not, he's choking me, he's choking me."

Luckily he understood, and the people who knew English understood and appreciated the situation.

When it was all finished the Empress came hurriedly toward me, exclaiming: "Thank Heaven! I thought the Prince was going to strangle you. I was so frightened." She then kissed me on both cheeks, and the Emperor gallantly kissed my hand.

They both said they had never laughed so much in their lives, and were most profuse in their thanks, complimenting all those who had taken part in the charade; certainly Robert de Vogüé and the Prince Metternich both outdid themselves.

It was one o'clock when tea was served in the Emperor's salon. You may imagine if I was tired.

_November 25th._

DEAR M.,--As the programme announced this morning that there was to be a _chasse à tir_ this afternoon, I put on my green costume brought for this purpose.

The Empress appeared also in a green dress, with a coquettish three- cornered hat trimmed with gold braid, and looked bewitchingly beautiful; the Emperor wore a shooting suit with leather gaiters, as did all the gentlemen. Every one looked very sportsmanlike.

M. Davilliers gave me his arm for _déjeuner_. He told me a great deal which I did not _want_ to know about hunting-dogs.

For instance, "Les chiens anglais," he said, "étaient très raillants, très perçants, mais hésitants dans les fourrés." So much Greek to me, but I pretended to understand. He continued to say that the Emperor had an excellent trainer, who obtained the best results because he treated the dogs with kindness. I inwardly applauded the trainer.

He said it was better to let them have the entire use of their faculties; whereas, if the unhappy animals are stupefied by bad treatment they lose their _initiative_, being pursued by the thought of a beating, and they don't know what to do, instead of following their natural instincts.

I agreed with him entirely, and thought that our conversation was an excellent preface to the afternoon's sport.

As the Emperor passed me, before we started off, he said, handing me a little package he held in his hand, "Here is the gold button which you did not have last night; it makes you a life member of all Imperial hunts." (So Prince Metternich's ruse had succeeded.)

I bowed very low and thanked him, and asked if it would necessitate my hunting. "Certainly not, if you don't want to," his Majesty answered; "but have you ever seen a _chasse à tir_?"

At my answer that I had never seen one, nor anything nearer to one than people going out with a gun and coming back with nothing else, he laughed and said, "I must tell that to the Empress."

It is the Emperor's habit to say, when he hears anything which amuses him, "I must tell that to her Majesty." She is always in his thoughts.

I said, looking at the button, "Last year your Majesty gave me a gold medal for singing a _Benedictus_; now I shall sing a hallelujah for this."

"It is not worth so much," the Emperor said, with a kind smile.

"Would you like to accompany me this afternoon," he asked, "and see for yourself what a _chasse à tir_ is?"

I answered that I should be delighted, and said, "Shall I come with a gun?"

"Oh dear, no! Please don't!" the Emperor exclaimed, hurriedly. "But come with stout boots and a warm coat."

The carriages were waiting, and we were soon packed in our rugs and started for the shooting.

The Emperor drove Baron Beyens in his dog-cart; the Empress drove with the Princess Metternich in a victoria to the field, where she left her and returned to the chateau. I fancy she was afraid of the dampness of this bleak November day.

We arrived at a great open place and found all the company assembled, and I should say the whole populace of Compiègne had turned into beaters and spectators. The gentlemen took their places in a long line, the Emperor being in the middle; on his right the person highest in rank (Prince Metternich), on his left Count Golz, and so forth.

Madame de Gallifet and I were a little behind the Emperor, between him and Prince Metternich. Behind us were the gamekeepers, loading and handing the guns to their masters as fast as they could. The three first gentlemen had their own _chasseurs_ and two guns each. After the gamekeepers came the men whose duties were to pick up the dead and wounded victims and put them in the bags.

It was a dreadful sight! How I hate it! I am sure I shall not sleep for a week, for I shall always see the forms and faces of those quivering, dying creatures in my dreams. I never will go to a _chasse_ again.

And the worst was, they had frightened the birds and animals into a sort of circle, where they could not escape; the butchery was awful. The victims numbered close on four thousand. Prince Metternich alone shot twelve hundred.

How happy I was when it all was over and I could get away from these horrors and this miserable sport! We were invited to the tea in the Empress's salon. I had time to change my dress and put on the high silk gown prescribed for this function.

Such beautiful rooms! First an antechamber, with cabinets of Italian carving and vitrines and inlaid tables; then the Empress's salon, a very large room filled with low arm-chairs, tables covered with knickknacks, books with paper-cutters still in them, as if they were just being read, screens with engravings _à la Louis Seize_, and beautiful fans on the walls, also splendid tapestries. It had a lovely ceiling, painted by some celebrated artist, mostly angels and smiling cherubs, who seemed to possess more than their share of legs and arms, floating about in the clouds.

The Empress generally has a distinguished person, or some kind of celebrity, either a traveler or an inventor, even a prestidigitateur (ugh, what a word!), always some one who is _en vue_ for the moment. To-day it was a man who had invented a machine to count the pulse. He strapped a little band on your wrist and told you to concentrate your thought on one subject, then a little pencil attached to the leather handcuff began muffing up and down slowly or quickly, as your pulse indicated.

The Empress seemed much interested, and called those in the room whose pulse she wished to have tested. She said, "Now let us have an American pulse." My pulse seemed to be very normal, and the exhibitor did not make any comments, neither did any one else.

"Shall we now have a Germanic pulse?" the Empress risked, and called Comte Solms. "Think of something pleasant," said the inventor. "A ballet is a nice thing to think of," said the Princess Metternich, in her shrill voice.

"Regarde, comme il va vite," the inventor cried, and he showed the paper with the most extraordinary wavy lines. Every one laughed, and no one more than Comte Solms himself.

Six o'clock came very quickly, and the Empress, rising, gave the signal for our departure.

The Marquis de Caux took me in to dinner. He is the most popular and sought-after gentleman in all Paris. No ball is complete without him, and his presence at any dinner is sufficient to assure its success. He leads all the cotillons worth speaking of, and is a universal favorite. He allowed his secret to leak out (_un secret de Polichinelle_), which all Paris is talking about.