Chapter 12

The ballroom was a marvel; the walls were hung with lilac and pink satin, and the immense chandelier was one mass of candles and flowers; from each panel in the room there were suspended baskets of flowers and plants, and between the panels were mirrors which reflected the thousands of candles.

One would never have recognized the garden; it was transformed into a green glade; all the paths were covered with fresh grass sod, making it look like a vast lawn; clusters of plants and palms seemed to be growing everywhere, as if native to the soil; flower-beds by the hundreds; mysterious grottos loomed out of the background, and wonderful vistas with a cleverly painted perspective. At the same moment that their Majesties entered this wonderful ballroom, which no one had dreamed of, the famous Johann Strauss, brought from Vienna especially for this occasion, stood waiting with uplifted baton and struck up the "Blue Danube," heard for the first time in Paris.

When their Majesties approached the huge plate-glass window opening into the garden a full-fledged cascade fell over the stucco rocks, and powerful Bengal lights, red and green, made a most magical effect: the water looked like a torrent of fiery lava _en miniature_. It was thrilling.

No one thought of dancing; every one wanted to listen to the waltz. And how Strauss played it!... With what fire and _entrain!_ We had thought Waldteufel perfect; but when you heard Strauss you said to yourself you had never heard a waltz before. The musicians were partly hidden by gigantic palmettos, plants, and pots of flowers arranged in the most attractive way. But he!--Johann Strauss!--stood well in front, looking very handsome, very Austrian, and very pleased with himself.

Then came the _quadrille d'honneur_. The Emperor danced with the Queen of Belgium, the Crown Prince of Prussia with the Empress, the King of Belgium with the Princess Mathilde, the Prince Leuchtenberg with the Princess Metternich.

The cotillon was led by Count Deym and Count Bergen, and they led it to perfection; there was not a hitch anywhere. Every one was animated and gay; certainly the music was inspiring enough to have made an Egyptian mummy get out of his sarcophagus and caper about. I danced with a German _Durchlaucht_, who, though far in the sear and yellow leaf, danced like a school-boy, standing for hours with his arm around my waist before venturing (he could only start when the tune commenced), counting one-- two--three under his breath, which made me, his partner, feel like a perfect fool. When at last he made up his mind to start nothing short of an earthquake could have stopped him. He hunched up his shoulders to his ears, arched his leg like a prancing horse, and off we went on our wild career, lurching into every couple on the floor, and bumping into all the outsiders. When we were not careering together, he sat glued to his chair, refusing to dance. If any lady came up with a favor he would say, "I am a little out of breath; I will come and fetch you later." And then he would put the favor in his pocket and never go near her. He seized everything in the way of favors that came his way; some he gave to me, and the rest he took home to his small children.

I was glad, all the same, to have him for a partner, as, being a _Durchlaucht_, he was entitled to a seat in the front row, and I preferred prancing about with my _hochgeboren_ high-stepper to having to take a back seat in the third row with a minor _geboren_. After my partner and I had bounded about and butted into every living thing on the floor I brought him to anchor near his chair by clutching his Golden Fleece chain which hung around his neck. I felt like singing Tennyson's "Home I brought my warrior (half) dead." He was puffing and blowing, the perspiration glazing his face, his yellow hair matted on his forehead, and his mustaches all out of kilter.

I really felt sorry for him, and wondered why he exerted himself so much, when he could have been quietly seated watching others, or, better still, at home in bed.

The supper was served at one o'clock. Their Majesties the King and Queen of Belgium, Prince Alfred, the Prince and Princess of Prussia, the Prince of Saxe-Weimar, and all the other _gros bonnets_--too many to write about --went up-stairs through an avenue of plants and palms to a salon arranged especially for them where there were two large tables. The Emperor presided at one and the Empress at the other. Besides the _salle à manger_ and some smaller salons, two enormous tents were put up in the garden, which contained numerous tables, holding about ten people each, and lighted by masses of candles and festooned with bright-colored Chinese lanterns. Prince Metternich told me later that the candles were replaced three times during the evening.

The favors for the cotillon were very pretty, most of them brought from Vienna. One of the prettiest was fans of gray wood with "Ambassade d'Autriche, 28th May, 1867," painted in blue forget-me-nots.

We danced "till morning did appear," and it appeared only too soon. The cotillon finished at half-past five, and the daylight poured in, making us all look ghastly, especially my sear and yellow leaf, whose children must have wondered why papa _kam so spät nach hause_.

PARIS, _1867._

Last week, in the beautiful palace built by Egypt for the Exposition, there was arranged a sort of entertainment for the Viceroy, to which we were invited with the Prince and Princess Metternich. This palace is a large, square, white building of oriental ornamentation and architecture, with a courtyard in the center, where we were received by the Khedive and his suite. A fountain was playing in the middle of the courtyard of marble, surrounded by palmettos and plants of every description. A band of Turkish musicians were seated cross-legged in one of the corners playing on their weird instruments, and making what they seemed to think was music. We sat in low basket-chairs, our feet resting on the richest of oriental rugs, and admired the graceful movements of the dancing-girls, who had not more space than an ordinary square rug to dance upon. There were also some jugglers, who performed the most marvelous and incomprehensible tricks with only an apparently transparent basket, from which they produced every imaginable object.

Coffee _à la Turque_ was served in small cups with their silver filigree undercup, and Turkish paste flavored with attar of roses, and nauseatingly sweet, was passed about, with a glass of water to wash it down. Also cigarettes of every description were lavishly strewn on all the little tables, and hovering about us all the time were the thin-legged, turbaned black menials with baggy silk trousers and bright silk sashes.

Everything was so Oriental that, had I stayed there a little longer, I should not have been surprised to see myself sitting cross-legged on a divan smoking a _narghile_. I said as much as this to the Khedive, who said, in his funny pigeon-French-English, "Alas! Were it so!"

I cast my eyes down and put on my _sainte-ni-touche_ air, which at times I can assume, and as I looked at his Highness's dusky suite, who did not look over and above immaculate, in spite of the Mussulman's Mussulmania for washing, I thanked my stars that it "were not so."

The interpreter who was on duty said to Prince Metternich: "Mussulmans drink no wine, nor does the Prophet allow them to eat off silver. Therefore, to ease our consciences" (he said, _mettre nos consciences à couvert_), "we tell them that the silver plates on which they eat are _iron_ plated with silver. They think the forks are also iron, otherwise they would eat with their fingers."

The interpreter added that Mussulmans did not think the Parisian newspapers very interesting, because they contained so few crimes and no murders worth mentioning. What an insight this gives of the condition of their country and the tenor of their papers!

We took our leave of the amiable Khedive, who expressed the hope that we would soon meet again.

Before his departure from Paris there came a package with the card of one of his gentlemen, begging me, _de la part de Monseigneur_, to accept the "accompanying souvenir." The package contained two enameled bracelets of the finest oriental work in red-and-green, studded with emeralds. He sent an equally gorgeous brooch to the Princess Metternich.

PARIS, _June, 1867._

DEAR M.,--I must write you about something amusing which happened to-day. Prince Oscar was most desirous of seeing Delsarte, having heard him so much spoken of. I promised to try to arrange an interview, and wrote to Delsarte to ask him to come to meet the Prince at our house. I received this characteristic answer, "I have no time to make visits. If his Highness will come to see me I shall be pleased," and mentioned a day and an hour. Prince Oscar, Monsieur Dué, the Swedish secretary, Mademoiselle W----, and I went at the appointed time, mounted Delsarte's tiresome stairs, and waited patiently in his salon while he finished a lesson.

Monsieur Dué was very indignant at this _sans-gêne_, and apologized for Delsarte's want of courtesy; but the Prince did not mind, and occupied himself with looking at Delsarte's old poetry-books and albums.

Finally Delsarte entered and graciously received his royal visitor. The Prince was most affable and listened to Delsarte's fantastic theories, pretending to be interested in the explanation of the cartoons, and began to discuss the art of teaching, which exasperated Delsarte to the verge of impoliteness.

Prince Oscar offered to sing a Swedish song, a very simple peasant song, which he sang very well, I thought. The Swedish language is lovely for singing, almost as good as Italian. We looked for some words of praise; but Delsarte, adopting regency manners, which he can on occasions, said, in a most insinuating voice: "Your Highness is destined to become a king, one of these days. Is it not so?"

"Yes," answered the Prince, wondering what was coming next.

"You will have great responsibilities and a great deal to occupy your mind?"

"Without doubt."

"You will not have time to devote yourself to art?"

"I fear not."

"_Eh bien!_" said Delsarte, and we expected pearls to drop from his mouth, "_eh bien!_ If ever I am fortunate enough to visit your country, I hope you will allow me to pay my most humble respects to you."

"How horribly impolite," said the indignant Monsieur Dué. "He ought to have his ears boxed!"

Prince Oscar took it quite kindly, and, giving Delsarte a clap on his back which I am sure made his shoulders twinge, said: "You are right; I shall have other things to think of. There"--pointing to diagram six on the wall, depicting horror, with open mouth and gaping eyes--"is the expression I shall have when I think of music and music-teachers."

Delsarte, feeling that he had overstepped the mark, said, "Perhaps, _mon Prince_, you will sing something in French for me."

Prince Oscar, drawing himself up his whole six feet and four, glanced down at little Delsarte and said, "_Mon cher Monsieur_, have you ever read the English poets?"

Delsarte looked unutterable things; I blushed for my teacher.

"When I come again to Paris," the Prince continued, "I will come to see you. Adieu!" and left without further ceremony.

We followed him down the slippery stairs in silence.

Prince Oscar thought this little episode a great joke, and repeated it to many people.

That same evening there was a _soirée musicale_ given for him by the Minister of Foreign Affairs (Marquis de Moustier) The Prince was begged to sing, which he did three or four times. Every one was delighted to hear the Swedish songs. Ambroise Thomas, who was there, said that he thought they were exquisite, especially the peasant song, which he had introduced into his new opera of "Hamlet." The Prince and I sang the duet, "I Rosens duft." He was the lion of the evening, and I think that he was very pleased. I hoped that he had forgotten the unpleasant incident of the morning and Delsarte, of whom Monsieur Dué cleverly remarked, "Qui s'y frotte s'y pique--."

PARIS, _July, 1867._

The distribution of prizes for the Exposition took place last Thursday at the Palais de l'Industrie. It was a magnificent affair and a very hot one. You may imagine what the heat and glare must have been at two o'clock in the afternoon on a hot July day. I was glad that I was not old and wrinkled, for every imperfection shone with magnified intensity.

There was a vast platform erected in the middle of the building, which was covered with a red carpet, and over which hung an enormous canopy of red velvet and curtains of velvet with the eagle of Napoleon. The Emperor and Empress sat, of course, in the center, and on each side were the foreign sovereigns; behind them were their suites and the Imperial family. The diplomatic corps had their places on the right of the tribune.

The gentlemen, splendid in their gala uniforms, were covered with decorations, and all the ladies present were _in grande toilette_ and low-necked, and displayed every jewel they possessed.

The building, huge as it was, was packed full, every available seat occupied.

The Prince Imperial distributed the prizes. He looked very dignified when he handed the victors their different medals, accompanying each gift with his sweet and winning smile.

When Count Zichy, of Hungary, mounted the steps of the throne to receive his medal (he got a prize for his Hungarian wines) there was a general murmur of admiration, and I must say that he did look gorgeous in his national costume, which is a most striking one. He had on all his famous turquoises. His mantle and coat underneath, and everything except his top- boots, were encrusted with turquoises, some of them as big as hen's eggs. They say, when he appears on a gala occasion in his country, his horse's trappings and saddle are covered with turquoises.

The Sultan sat on the right of the Empress. You never saw anything half as splendid! A shopful of jewelry could not compare to him. He had a _collier_ of pearls which might have made a Cleopatra green with jealousy. He had an enormous diamond which held the high aigrette in place on his fez and the Great Mogul (I was so told) fastened on his breast. His costume was magnificent, and his sabre--which I suppose has cut off a head or so--was a blaze of jewels. He was the _point de mire_ of all eyes; especially when the rays of the sun caught the rays of his diamonds he blazed like the sun itself. The sun did all it could in the way of blazing that day. I know that I never felt anything like the heat in that gigantic hot-house, the sun pouring through each pane of glass and nothing to protect one against it. I felt like an exotic flower unfolding its petals.

It was a very pretty little scene, and I think that every one was impressed when the Prince Imperial went toward the King of Holland to hand him a medal (probably for Dutch cheese). The tall, stately King rose from his seat, and on receiving it bowed deeply with great ceremony. The Prince made a respectful and graceful bow in response, then the King stooped down and kissed his cheek.

I was tremendously interested when the American exhibitors came forward; there were many of them, quite a procession. They looked very distinguished in their simple dress-coats, without any decorations. I was so glad.

When it was all over it was delightful to get out into the fresh air, even if we had to stand and wait patiently about like Mary's little lamb until the carriage did appear, for we had either to wait or to worm our way, risking horses' tails and hoofs through the surging crowd of bedecked men and women, who were all clamoring for their servants and carriages.

The coachmen were swearing and shouting as only French coachmen can do on such occasions as this. The line of carriages reached almost the whole way down the Champs Élysées. We finally did find ours, and I was glad to seat myself in it. I had had the forethought to put my hat and mantle in, as we intended to drive out to Petit Val for dinner. I put my hat over my tiara and my mantle on my bare shoulders, and enjoyed driving through the shady streets.

Prince Metternich came out here the other day, I had not seen him since the tragic death of Emperor Maximilian in Mexico. I never would have believed that he could be so affected as he seemed to be by this. He cried like a baby when he told us of the Emperor's last days, of his courage and fortitude. It seems that, just as he was going to be shot, he went to each of the men and gave them a twenty-franc gold piece, and said, "I beg you to shoot straight at my heart."

How dreadful it must have been!

Prince Metternich was most indignant at Rochefort, and says he can never forgive him because, in an article in _La Lanterne_, he called the royal martyr "the Archdupe." Auber said:

"You must not forget that Rochefort would rather sell his soul than lose an occasion to make a clever remark."

"Yes, I know," moaned the Prince. "But how can one be so cruel?"

"C'est un mauvais drôle," Auber answered (don't think Auber meant that Rochefort was droll; on the contrary, this is a neat way that the French have of calling a man the _worst kind of a scamp_), and added, "Rochefort's brains are made of _pétards_," which is the French for firecrackers.

Auber told many anecdotes. I fancy he wanted to cheer Prince Metternich up a little. One of them was that, on taking leave of the Emperor, the Shah had said:

"Sire, your Paris is wonderful, your palaces splendid, and your horses magnificent, but," waving his hand toward the mature but noble _dames d'honneur_ with an expression of disapproval, "you must change all that." Imagine what their feelings would have been had they heard him.

PARIS, _August, 1867._

DEAR M.,--I thought there would be a little rest for me after the distribution of prizes and before going to Dinard; but repose is a thing, it seems, that I am destined never to get.

Monday morning I received a letter from Princess Metternich saying that the Minister of Foreign Affairs had sent her his box for that evening, to hear Schneider in "La Belle Hélène," adding that Cora Pearl was to appear as Cupidon as an extra attraction, and asked if we would dine with them first, and go afterward to the theater.

I could not resist an invitation from these two delightful people, therefore we drove into Paris and reached the embassy at half-past six, the hour named for dinner.

Prince Metternich told us that he had had a visit in the afternoon from Monsieur Dué, the Swedish secretary, who had been on the verge of desperation on account of his not having been able to secure a suitable box for King Charles XIV. of Sweden, who arrived last night to spend a few days here. He wished to see Schneider in "La Belle Hélène." Monsieur Dué had gone to the Minister of Foreign Affairs and suggested that the Minister offer his box; but that had already been given to the Metternichs. When Prince Metternich was informed of this he did not hesitate to place the box in question at the King's disposal; but, not to disappoint the Princess and me, he had taken an ordinary box opposite. The King was already in his _loge_ when we arrived. He is a large, handsome man with a full, black beard, and has a very pleasant face.

Between the first and second acts Monsieur Dué came to Prince Metternich and told him that the King desired to see him. Of course the Prince went directly, and returned delighted with the King's affability, and to our great surprise brought us a message from the King, asking us all to come to his box and join him, and proposing to send Monsieur Dué and his gentleman-in-waiting to take our places in our box.

We accepted with pleasure, and passed the rest of the evening in the charming society of the most amiable of kings. He said to me that "Oscar," as he called his brother (Prince Oscar, the hereditary Prince), had spoken about me and our singing the duet written by his brother, Prince Gustave, and asked how I managed about the Swedish words. I replied that Prince Oscar had taught them to me during the dinner preceding the singing.

"Could you understand the words?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "I only know that it was something about London and Emma."

The King laughed most heartily, and said, "I shall tell that to Oscar when I go home, and he will see how well you profited by his lessons."

We were all immensely amused at Cora Pearl's appearance; it was her debut as an actress. I never saw any one look so sheepish as she did, in spite of her paint and powder and beautiful legs. She wore high-heeled slippers, so high that she could hardly walk, which made her even more awkward than she naturally was. She only had a few lines to sing, and this she did so badly that people nearly hissed her.

She was evidently engaged as a drawing-card; but the only thing she drew was ridicule on herself.

During the second act Lord Lyons came into the box. He had known the King before, and, having heard from the Minister of Foreign Affairs that the King was at the theater, went there to pay his respects. The King, noticing that he had a decoration on, said in French: "Please take that off; I am here incognito. To-morrow I shall be official; then you can put it on." So Lord Lyons took off his star and put it in his pocket. He wanted to go after the second act, but the King said: "Monsieur Dué has arranged a supper for us at _La Maison d'Or_. You must come also." Of course Lord Lyons did not refuse.

Monsieur Dué left the box in advance of the rest of us, in order to arrange everything before the King's arrival. The King called to him, as he opened the door, "Don't forget the _écrevisses à la Bordelaise_; I have been looking forward to them for a long time."

After the performance, with which the King was delighted (especially with Hortense Schneider's song, "Dis-moi, Vénus, pourquoi," etc.), we drove to the _Maison d'Or_, where we found Monsieur Dué awaiting us. We asked at what time the carriages should come back. He said: "Not before two o'clock. His Majesty never retires before." We were then shown into a salon, where the Princess Metternich and I were asked by the King to take off our hats. "It is so much more cozy," he said. So off our hats came. We had not been seated ten minutes when we heard some very loud talking and much discussion in the corridor outside. Lord Lyons, who was nearest the door, jumped up to see what the matter was, opened the door, and peeped out.

"Oh!" said he. "It is the Duke of Brunswick making a row; he is half-seas over!" The King turned to Monsieur Dué (the King does not speak English) and said, "What did Lord Lyons say?" Monsieur Dué's English did not go very far, but he translated into Swedish what he had understood Lord Lyons to say.

The King seemed very puzzled and, addressing Lord Lyons, said:

"Was not the Duke of Brunswick obliged to leave England for fear of being arrested?" Lord Lyons coughed discreetly, and the King went on: "If I remember rightly, the Duke, who was in the royal box, shot at and killed a _danseuse_ who was on the stage! And did he not leave England in a balloon? It always seemed such an extraordinary thing. Was it true?" Lord Lyons cautiously answered that people had said all that; but it was some time ago, and added, diplomatically, that he had forgotten all the details.

"And I understood," said his Majesty, "that he can never go back there again."

"You are right. He cannot go back to England, your Majesty."

"Oh! don't Majesty me. To-night I am a simple bourgeois," the King interrupted, smilingly shaking his finger. "But tell me, how can the Duke dare return there now?"

"He does not dare," repeated Lord Lyons. "He can _never_ go back."

"But," insisted the King, "my good Monsieur Dué says that he is on his way there at this moment."