In the Courts of Memory, 1858-1875 Part 18

Gustave Dore had made some very clever caricatures of some events which he had drawn beautifully and touched off with aquarelle, as he alone could do it. The little alb.u.m was pa.s.sed stealthily from hand to hand under the shelter of the table, with the strictest injunctions not to let any one see it except your _immediate_ neighbor! With these injunctions it managed to travel about half-way down the table.

He had made a lovely sketch of her Majesty driving a chariot like the "Aurora" in the Rospigliosi Gallery, and had depicted the Emperor seated on an enormous white horse, leading a charge of cavalry, his arm uplifted.

The Princess Metternich was represented as the coachman in the charade, hat on one side, pipe in her mouth, and looking very _debonnaire_. Prince Metternich was shown standing in the middle of an arena, in full diplomatic uniform, with ma.s.ses of decorations and _cordons_. He had a long whip, such as are used in circuses, and men and women (meaning us, I suppose) capering around doing their tricks.

The sketch of Madame de Persigny was very funny. A ma.s.s of tulle petticoats, in the midst of which two little feet in the air, and a crown rolling away in the distance.

The picture he made of me was the mechanical doll, ribbons floating all about, and on every turn of the ribbons was written "Beware!"

The diplomat's shoe was not forgotten. There was a table a mile long, and at the very end of it a little shoe seen underneath.

We were in our traveling costumes, and on our return to the salon their Majesties went about saying pleasant and gracious things to every one.

They hoped we would remember our visit with as much pleasure as they would, etc.

There was a greater animation than usual, and less ceremony; people talked louder and with less restraint; every one bade good-by to the ladies and gentlemen of the Household who remained. The Empress gave her hand to be kissed by the gentlemen (some of them, not all), kissed some ladies, and shook hands with others.

When their Majesties were ready to dismiss us they bowed, and we all departed to get our hats and wraps,

I gave a lingering look at the lovely rooms I was leaving, which were now devoid of our trunks and little personal trinkets, nodded a farewell to our particular valet, who was probably thinking already of our successors, descended _l'Escalier d'honneur_, and pa.s.sed through the beautiful _Galerie des Gardes_ to the colonnades, where the _chars-a-bancs_ were ready waiting to carry us to the station. We were a rather subdued party in the train; the conversation mostly turned on the subject of _pourboires_. The _huissier_ decides the exact amount that each ought to give. For instance, he knows an amba.s.sador ought to give two thousand francs. For a minister of state one thousand francs suffices. Unofficial people like ourselves cannot be expected to be out of pocket more than six hundred francs. As for the poor n.o.bility of France, they escape with five hundred!

Some were of opinion that it was pleasanter to give _en ma.s.se_, in one big sum, than to give in driblets; others thought it more satisfactory to hand one's offering personally to the different servants; but we all, with one voice, voted the officious beadle an imposition.

The daily expenses of Compiegne, so the _Gouverneur de la Maison_ told us, and he ought to know, are not less than ten thousand francs a day, and there are more than nine hundred people living in the Palace at a time, to be fed and warmed.

To-day, at five o'clock, the fourth _serie_ will come; it is called _la serie des...o...b..ies_, as ours was called _la serie elegante_. The first is called _la serie obligatoire_, the second _les ennuyeux_.

We found our carriage at the station. Our simple coupe seemed a great come-down from the beautiful carriages we had been driving in, and good Louis and the footman, in their quiet liveries, seemed in fierce contrast to the gorgeous creatures we had been familiar with so lately.

The family is at Pet.i.t Val, and we remain there quietly until January.

We found among our belongings an enormous _bourriche_, containing a quant.i.ty of game, hares, pheasants, and so forth.

Good night! I am tired.

PARIS, _1867._

DEAR M.,--You will have heard so much about the Exposition, that I cannot tell you anything new. It is now in full swing, and I think it is magnificent. Of course I cannot compare it to any other, as it is the only one that I have ever seen.

I have a season ticket (costing one hundred francs) containing my photograph and my autograph; therefore no one but myself can use it. The Exposition building is round, and the section of one thing goes through all the countries; for instance, art, which seems to be the smallest thing, is in the inner circle. If you only want to study one particular industry you go round the circle; but if you want to study a country you go down a section. The outer circle is for machinery, and outside in the grounds, in front of the different countries, are the cafes belonging to them. Here you can listen to the different national musics, and see the different national types and costumes, and eat the different national foods. We go almost every day, and it is always a delight. You can see the whole art of cutting diamonds, from the gravel in which they are found to their final polish. The villa of the Bey of Tunis, a Buddhist temple, a Viennese bakery, where people flock to taste the delicious rolls hot from the oven, and where Hungarian bands of highly colored handsome zitherists play from morning till night, and a hundred other attractions, make the Exposition a complete success. You pa.s.s from one lovely thing to the other. The gardens are laid through avenues of trees and shrubs, where fountains play, and beds of flowers and bouquets of plants are arranged with the most artistic taste. All these wonders will in six months' time be reduced to the level and monotony of the Champ de Mars. One can't believe that these large horse-chestnut trees in full bloom are only temporary visitors, like the people.

The Prince Oscar of Sweden (he will one day be the King) came often to the Exposition, and went about with us. He was very much interested in everything he saw, especially in the American Steinway pianos. He sent me several times some of the famous punch they make in Sweden, also some silver brooches which the Swedish peasants wear. He has a _bateau mouche_, in which he takes his friends up and down the Seine. The Princess Mathilde and Madame de Gallifet were of the party last Monday. We _mouched_ as far as Boulogne, where Baron James Rothschild has a charming place called Bagatelle, which the Prince wanted very much to see.

We got out of the boat and walked up to the entrance of the park; but the porter refused, in spite of all pleadings, to let us in, and was almost rude until Monsieur Due mentioned the name of the ill.u.s.trious visitor; then the gates were thrown wide open, and we walked in and all over the place. The porter, becoming most humble and servile, offered to escort us over the house, and even asked us to take tea; but we did not succ.u.mb to either of these temptations.

There are so many kings and sovereigns here: the Emperor of Russia, who is very handsome and stately; the King of Prussia, who is accompanied by the colossal Count Bismarck, very noticeable in his dazzling white uniform, and wearing a s.h.i.+ning helmet with an enormous spread eagle on top of it, which made him tower still more above ordinary mortals, and reminded me of all the mythological heroes I knew of. He clanked his sword on the pavement, quite indifferent to the stare of wondering Frenchmen, and was followed by several other tall Germans, who regarded everything _de haut en bas_ with Teutonic phlegm. The Prince of Italy (Umberto) looks rather small by the side of these German giants. The Khedive of Egypt, the Shah of Persia, the ex-Queen of Spain, and other sovereigns are flitting about.

The Baron James Rothschild invited us to go to Ferriere's with Prince Oscar of Sweden. That was very amusing! We had a special train from Paris and Rothschild's special car; when we arrived at Ferriere's we first had refreshments, then we walked in the grounds till it was time to dress for dinner. We met before dining in the enormous salon in the center of the chateau. This salon is two stories high, with a gallery around it, and was so large that a billiard-table in one corner seemed too small to be noticed, and the concert-grand piano standing at the other end looked insignificant. The dining-table was beautifully decorated with garlands of roses and a whole collection of antique goblets, worth a fortune. There were huge bouquets of roses for the ladies, almost too big to carry.

Prince Oscar's brother had once written a very pretty song, called "I Rosens duft," which some one had arranged as a duet, and the Prince wanted me to sing it with him (he had thoughtfully brought the music). All through dinner he was teaching me the Swedish words, so that we could sing it afterward. He was so intent (and so was I) that every one, I am sure, thought we were having a tremendous flirtation, as they saw our heads almost touching when he was writing the words on the menu. He also wrote a poem to me (which I inclose), which he said he composed on the spot. How can he be so clever?

PRINCE OSCAR'S POEM

WRITTEN AT THE DINNER-TABLE AT LAFERRIeRE'S 1867

Din sng, hur skon, hur underbar!

En balsamdoft p dina lappar hvila, En valljudsstrom frn ditt hjarta ila, Vill mana fram ur verldens haf ett svar: Din sng, hur skon, hur underbar!

Din ton, hur stark, hur ljuf, hur ren!

En altareld som ingen flagt f stora, Och dock en storm som sjalens djup kan rora, En glod som smalta kan "de visas sten": S ar din ton--s stark, s ren.

Sjung mer, sjung mer, det har s G.o.dt En stund f glamma verldens hvimmel Och lyss till samklang ur en oppnad himmel, Om ock for en minut i dromma blott: Sjung mer, sjung mer, det gor mit hjarta G.o.dt.

(Translated literally)

Your voice, how beautiful, how wonderful!

A perfume of balsam rests on your lips, A torrent of melody rushes from your heart, That can only be echoed by the world's ocean: Your voice, how beautiful, how wonderful!

Your voice, how full of power, how enchanting and pure!

A sacred fire which no breeze can trouble, And yet a tempest that stirs the very soul, A glowing flame which can melt the philosopher's stone: Such is your voice--so powerful, so pure.

Sing more, sing more, it is so good For one moment to forget the tumult of this world And listen to the harmony of a heaven unveiled, And if only for a moment to dream: Sing more, sing more, it makes my heart rejoice.

We sang the duet after dinner with such success that we had to repeat it.

Before our departure there was a grand display of fireworks: O's appeared in every dimension and design, and a blaze of fire and Bengal lights in rapid succession kept us in a continual state of admiration.

I received a little note from Jenny Lind. She is in Paris, and wished to know when she could come to see me. I wrote to her directly that I would let Monsieur Auber know, and he would probably come at four o'clock (his usual hour). Therefore, it all came about. Jenny Lind came, so did Auber.

The meeting was a pleasure to them both. They talked music, art, told many anecdotes of celebrated acquaintances: Alboni, Nilsson, Patti, etc. He had brought some of his music with him, and Jenny Lind and I sang the duo of his latest opera "Le Premier Jour de Bonheur." He consulted me as to whether he might dare to ask her to dine with him, with a few congenial spirits. I said I was sure she would be enchanted to do so, which she was.

As to the congenial spirits, Auber suggested the Metternichs, Gounod, Duke de Ma.s.sa, and ourselves, making ten in all.

No one refused, and we had the most delightful dinner. The Princess proposed to Auber to give his arm to Jenny Lind, and to put her at his right hand, _la place d'honneur_, adding, with her most ironical smile, "le genie avant la beaute." Auber made a charming host, telling one funny anecdote after the other in his quiet and typical manner. Gounod, in his low and drawly voice, said: "Vous nous donnez, mon cher Auber, des choses par trop ennuyeuses aux concerts du Conservatoire. A la pensee des 'Quatre saisons' de Haydn je m'endors. Pourquoi ne s'est-il pas contente d'une saison?" Princess Metternich replied, "Que probablement en les composant Haydn s'est mis en quatre." "La moitie m'aurait suffi," said Auber; "pour moi, elles sont toutes _mon automne_." (monotone).

When we returned to the salon we discreetly waited for the promised song.

Suddenly Jenny Lind jumped up, saying, "Shall I sing something?"

Of course, every one was wild to hear her. She went to the piano and accompanied herself in "Qui la voce," of "I Puritani." We were all enchanted, clapping our hands with enthusiasm. Then Gounod played and sang, or rather hummed, a new song of his, saying to Jenny Lind, when he took his place at the piano, "I am not worthy to succeed you."

We thought him much too modest.

He _hummed_ deliriously!

They asked me to sing, and, though I really hated to sing after these great artists, I did so to please Auber, who accompanied me in "Los Djins," of which he is very proud, because it has the same ba.s.s all the way through. How little it takes to please genius!

After this Jenny Lind and I performed the duo from "Le Premier Jour de Bonheur" we had practised at my house. She put her arm around my waist while we were singing, as if we were two school-girls.

Prince Metternich played one of his brilliant Austrian waltzes, which was so bewildering that if any man had dared to put his arm round Jenny Lind's matronly waist I am sure she would have skipped off in the dance.