Chapter 9

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.

I swore secrecy; but I can tell you that it can be contained in one word, and that word is SIMPATICO, which is Italian for his rendezvous with HER at the American Doctor Sim's house, for it is there he meets her. _Devine qui peut!_ (Guess who can!) I have not said anything.

At nine o'clock we all adjourned to the theater in the Palace, to reach which we passed through many rooms we had never seen before, and through a long gallery. The theater is very handsome, and as large as most of the theaters in Paris. There is always one theatrical performance during each week while their Majesties are in Compiègne. The company of the Théâtre Français had been commanded to play this evening. The piece chosen was the latest one of Émile Augier, which has had a great success in Paris, called "Le fils Giboyer." Émile Augier, who was invited specially, was present.

Madeleine Brohan, Coquelin, Breton, and Madame Favard had the principal rôles. Such distinguished artistes as those could not but give the greatest enjoyment. The theater is very handsome; there are only boxes and the parquet; the Imperial Loge reaches from the first tier of boxes to the last seats of the parquet in the shape of a shell. Any one standing up there could touch, on raising the arm, the velvet draperies of the Imperial box.

The theater is entirely lighted by wax candles, of which there must have been thousands, and all the scenery belonging to the play was sent especially from Paris.

Their Majesties sat in the center of the Imperial Loge, and the lady guests and the most important gentlemen, according to their rank, were placed beside and behind them.

The other gentlemen sat in the parquet, and circulated about between the acts.

In the boxes were places for the Court ladies, also the ladies invited from the neighboring château and from Compiègne.

The whole assemblage certainly presented the most dazzling and magnificent sight. The ladies in their beautiful toilettes and superb jewels showed to the greatest advantage in this brilliantly lighted theater. The Empress was gorgeous in yellow tulle covered with lace and jewels. She wore the famous Regent diamond, which belongs to the French Crown, in her corsage, and a superb diamond tiara and necklace. Princess Metternich, who is known to be the best dressed lady in Paris, had a black tulle dress embroidered in gold; she wore a tiara of diamonds and emeralds and a necklace of the same.

When their Majesties entered every one rose and courtesied deeply; their Majesties bowed graciously in response. The Master of Ceremonies gave the signal, and the curtain rose immediately.

The actors seemed inspired to do their best, as well they might, with such a brilliant audience before them.

I wondered if they did not miss the _claque_, to which actors are so accustomed in France. You know the _claque_ is a set of men who are hired to clap at certain points in the play indicated beforehand to them, in order that the audience may appreciate the most salient points and join the applause, if they wish to.

Every one enjoyed the play immensely. There were portions of it which were very pathetic. I noticed the Emperor was visibly affected, and the Empress wiped from her eyes _una furtiva lagrima_, as Donizetti's song has it.

I know _I_ cried my lace handkerchief wet.

The representation lasted till about half-past ten, and after our return to the salon the Emperor sent for the artists, who had by this time changed their toilettes. Their Majesties talked long, and, I should say, familiarly with them, and, judging from the way they laughed and chatted, they seemed to feel quite at their ease, especially Coquelin, who apparently put the Emperor in a very good humor. At eleven o'clock refreshments were passed round, the carriages were announced, and making a deferential "reverence" the artists took their leave, carrying with them an ornament with the monograms of their Majesties as a souvenir of their visit.

I never saw the Empress look so beautiful as she did to-night. She certainly is the most exquisite creature, and what is so charming about her is her utter lack of self-consciousness. Her smile is bewitching beyond description, her complexion perfect, her hair of the Venetian type, and her profile classical. Her head is so beautifully put on her shoulders, her neck and shoulders are absolutely faultless. None of the many portraits painted of her, not even Winterhalter's, do her the least justice; no brush can paint and no words can describe her charm. I think the famous beauty, Countess Castiglione, cannot begin to compare with her.

Their Majesties withdrew. The guests from the château and those from Compiègne took their departure, and we all dispersed to our several apartments.

I am beginning to learn the ways of the life of Compiègne.

At nine o'clock our tea, coffee, or chocolate (as we choose) is brought to our rooms by a white-stockinged and powdered valet.

If you are very energetic, you can go for a walk in the park, or (as I did to my sorrow) a visit to the town. But you are not energetic more than once, because you do not find it worth your while, as you must hurry back, and change your dress and shoes before appearing in the salon a little before eleven o'clock, the hour for breakfast. You remain in the same dress until you change for dinner or the Empress's tea. You find every morning in your room a programme for the day.

_Déjeuner à onze heures. Chasse à tir à deux heures. Comédie Française à neuf heures._

So you know what to wear and what to expect; but the invitation to tea is always made by the Empress's private _huissier_, who knocks at your door toward five o'clock and announces, "Her Majesty the Empress desires your presence at five o'clock."

The _toilette de rigueur_ for this occasion is a high-necked long silk dress, and you generally remain until six o'clock.

If you are not summoned to her Majesty's tea, tea is served in your own salon, where you can invite people to take tea with you, or you are invited to take tea with other people.

If there is a hunt, the ladies wear their green-cloth costumes and the gentlemen wear their hunting gear (a red coat, velvet cap, and top-boots). The gentlemen wear _culottes courtes_ the first evening they arrive, and on such fine occasions as the _curée_, and at the Gala Theater, where outsiders are invited; otherwise they always wear _pantalon collant_, which is the most unbecoming thing one can imagine in the way of manly attire.

At six o'clock you dress for dinner, always in ball dress, and a little before seven you meet in the Grande Salle des Fêtes. At dinner the guests are placed according to their rank, but at _déjeuner_ there is no ceremony, and you engage your partner after your heart's desire. Those who are high up at dinner try to get as far down at the end of the table as possible.

With me it is all ups and downs; at breakfast I am 'way up to the very top, and at dinner 'way down.

After _déjeuner_ the Master of Ceremonies inquires what you wish to do; that is to say, if there is nothing special mentioned on the programme, such as a review, or manoeuvers, or a _chasse à courre_, when all are expected to join.

Do you wish to walk? You can tramp up and down the one-thousand-metre-long trellis walk, sheltered from wind and rain.

Do you wish to drive? There are carriages of all descriptions, _chars-à- bancs_, landaus, pony-carriages, and even a donkey-cart, at your service.

Do you care to ride? There are one hundred and fifty horses eating their heads off in the Imperial stables waiting for you.

Do the gentlemen wish to go shooting? There are countless gamekeepers booted and spurred, with guns and game-bags on their shoulders, impatient to accompany you.

Whatever you do, you are expected to be in your rooms before four o'clock, which is the time the Empress will send for you, if she invites you for tea.

The _cercle_ always follows each repast, and dancing or music always follows the _cercle_. Tea is served at the Emperor's salon at eleven o'clock, after which their Majesties retire, and you do the same.

_November 26th._

DEAR M.,--A very embarrassing thing happened to me this morning.

We thought we could manage an excursion to the town. I wanted to see the Cathedral, and it did not seem far away.

Therefore, bright and early, at nine o'clock we started on our trip.

We saw the Cathedral; but I had not counted on the time necessary for the change of toilette, which I had to make before _déjeuner_.

I found on my table an envelope containing this poetry, which I inclose, from Théophile Gautier. I suppose he considered it as a sort of _amende honorable_.

À MADAME CHARLES MOULTON

Vos prunelles ont bu la lumière et la vie; telle une mer sans fond boit l'infini des cieux, car rien ne peut remplir l'abîme de vos yeux, où, comme en un lotus, dort votre âme assouvie.

Pour vous plus de chimère ardemment poursuivie, quel que soit l'idéal, votre rêve vaut mieux, et vous avez surtout le biasement des Dieux, Psyché, qu'Éros lui-même à grand'peine eût ravi.

Votre satiété n'attend pas le banquet, et connaissant la coupe où le monde s'enivre, dédaigneuse à vos pieds vous le regardez vivre.

Et vous apparaissez par un geste coquet, rappelant Mnémosyné à son socle appuyée comme le souvenir d'une sphère oublié.

THÉOPHILE GAUTIER.

Charles had gone long before, and I became absorbed in reading it, and forgot to look at the clock, when suddenly, seeing how late it was, I rushed down into the gallery, and what was my horror at finding myself alone with the _Cent Gardes_, who were standing at ease! It was the first time I had ever seen them look like mortal beings, and not like statues, and it signified, naturally, that every one was in the _salle à manger_, and that I was too late. However, I thought I could slip into the room unnoticed, and a place at the table would be offered to me; but, alas! it happened that just this morning the Emperor had desired me to sit next to him at the table, and the valet de chambre had been and was still, waiting for me at the door to conduct me to my place on the sovereign's left hand.

I cannot tell you how I felt as I was being marshaled up the whole length of the room, stared at by every one, and criticized, probably, for this horrible breach of etiquette. I never was so mortified in all my life. I took my place, speechless and confused, and Prince Murat, who sat on the other side of me, kept saying, "The Emperor is piping mad." The Prince Murat is half American (his mother was a Miss Frazier, from New Jersey), therefore I will forgive him for wanting to tease me.

I suppose I must have looked very red, and I certainly was very out of breath, for the Emperor, probably noticing my embarrassment, kindly said, "Don't worry; you are not late."

I told him I had been sight-seeing in Compiègne, and I hoped he would forgive me.

The Empress smiled and nodded to me in the most gracious manner across the table, as if to put me at my ease.

The Emperor told me that he had sent up to Paris for a game of croquet, having heard from Prince Metternich that we all loved so much to play it, adding that he would like to see the game himself. "We are going to have a mock battle this afternoon," said he. "All these generals and officers who are here have come from everywhere to take part I think it will amuse you to see it, if you have never seen anything of the kind."

I assured him I had never seen a battle, mock or otherwise, and had no idea what it could be like.

"Well, you shall see," he said.

"Is there," I inquired, "as much firing as yesterday?"

"Much more; but this time with cannons," he replied.

"I hope the cannon-balls are also mock," I ventured to say.

I told the Emperor of the poetry which Gautier had sent to me, and, having it in my hand, showed it to him, saying, "Ought I to forgive him?"

"You ought to forgive him," he said. "This is the most exquisite thing I ever have read."

"If your Majesty says so, I will."

The manoeuvers were to commence at two o'clock. All the ladies wore their hunting-dresses, and I was proud to don my gold button.

The various equipages were waiting to take us to the field.

The Duchess de Persigny, Princess Murat, Baron Beyens, the Marquis de Caux, and I got in the same carriage; many of the ladies appeared on horseback. Princess Ghika rode one of the three horses she had brought with her to Compiègne. Madame de Vatry rode one of the Emperor's.

All the carriages, on reaching the field where the manoeuvers were to take place, were drawn up in line, in order that every one should have a good view. Then the Emperor and Empress, on their beautiful horses, and the Prince Imperial, full of youthful dignity, on his cream-colored pony, arrived, accompanied by the staff of splendidly uniformed generals and officers, who took up their positions behind their Majesties before the manoeuvers commenced.

The Empress looked radiantly beautiful, her well fitting riding-habit showing her fine figure to the greatest advantage.

It was, as the Emperor had said, a mock battle, but it seemed to me, not having had much experience in battles, to be very real.

Officers careered over the field for dear life; orderlies with enormous flat, four-cornered things flapping across their backs, scurried to and fro; trumpeters sounded bugles, waved flags, and made signals.... What could look more real and less mock than this?

It was France _versus_ an imaginary enemy.

It seemed as if the one thing France craved and coveted was a poor, lonely farm-house in the distance, apparently unprotected. All the stratagems of war, all the trumpeting and capering about, were brought to bear on conquering that little house. The artillery collided up against it; the infantry, with drums beating, marched boldly to the very door-steps; the cavalry pranced around it.... But for the life of me, though I was staring as hard as I could through my opera-glasses, I could not tell whether France had got it or not. However, there was so much smoke, it might have capitulated without my noticing. I suppose the generals knew.

It made me think of Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade."

Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them, Volley'd and thunder'd.

The guns and cannons kept up such a continual firing that the ground actually shook under our feet.