In the Courts of Memory, 1858-1875 Part 12

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 d.i.c.kens. 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 d.i.c.kens 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 h.e.l.l of their own, where they went after their death, according to their deserts, and that they had souls and consciences. All his cats had cla.s.sical 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 a minuit?"

"Madame, tous les Schahs de Perse que j'ai eu l'honneur de voir a minuit ont ete 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 nave."

"You nave! You are the most _blasee_ person I ever met."

"I _blasee_! 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 poetes sont fous a cette heure de la soiree?"

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

I enjoyed my dinner immensely in spite of being _blasee_, 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 _blasee_. The Emperor exclaimed: "Vous blasee! Il faut y mettre beaucoup de bonne volonte pour etre blasee a votre age!"

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 chateau; 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 Vogue 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 Laferriere, 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 quant.i.ty 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 roles 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 finis.h.i.+ng 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 Comedie Francaise, 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 Vogue 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 (gla.s.ses 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 a vous, Monsieur le Ministre, de remedier a 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 a Paris, qu' ca s'est pa.s.se." 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 Vogue was the showman, and the servant a.s.sisting him was no less a person than the Austrian Amba.s.sador 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.