In the Courts of Memory 1858 1875. by L. de Hegermann Lindencrone

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He once said, "You may imitate my way of singing, but don't imitate my
crack."

"Oh," I said, "I love to hear you sing. I don't even hear the crack."

"Ah," he sighed, "if it had not been for that crack I should be in the
opera now."

"I am glad," I answered, "that you are not there; for then you would not
be here, teaching me." I think this pleased him.

Sometimes he is very nervous. Once, when I was singing "Voi che sapete,"
the tears rolled down his cheeks, and another time, when he was showing me
how to sing it "so," I burst into tears, and the poor man had to order his
servant to bring me some sherry to restore my nerves. There is one phrase
in this song which I never can hear sung, or never can sing myself,
without emotion.

The season is getting so late mama thinks we ought to leave London,
especially as Garcia is taking his vacation, and we are going in a few
days to Paris.

Garcia has given us a letter to his sister, Madame Viardot (of whom he
said she had brains but no voice). He wrote: "I send you my pupil. Do all
you can to persuade her to go on the stage. She has it in her."

But Madame Viardot may "do all she can"; I will never go on the stage.

If "it" is in me, it must work out some other way.

PARIS, _May, 1861._

DEAR A.,--Mother will have written to you of my engagement to Charles
Moulton. I wish you would come and see me married, and that I could
present all my future family to the most lovable of aunts.

I think I shall have everything to make me happy. In the first place, my
fiancé is very musical, composes charming things, and plays delightfully
on the piano; my future mother-in-law is a dear old lady, musical and
universally talented; my future father-in-law is a _bona-fide_ American, a
dear quixotic old gentleman who speaks the most awful French. Although he
has lived in Paris for forty years, he has never conquered the
pronunciation of the French language, but has invented a unique dialect of
his own. Every word that can be pronounced in English he pronounces in
English, as well as all numbers. For instance, a phrase such as _La
guerre de mille huit cent quinze était une démonstration de la liberté
nationale_ would sound like this: "La gur de 1815 (in English) était
une demonstration (in English) de la liberty national." It is almost
impossible to understand him; but he will read for hours unabashed, not
only to us, the drowsy and inattentive members of his family, but to the
most fastidious and illustrious Frenchmen. There are two brothers and a
sweet little sister. I shall have a beautiful home, or rather homes,
because they have not only a handsome hotel in Paris, but an ideal country
place (Petit Val) and a villa in Dinard.

Good-by. Greet all the united family from me, and tell them not to worry
over my future, as you wrote they were doing. I have renounced forever the
pomps and allurements of the stage, and I trust the leaves on the
genealogical tree will cease their trembling, and that the Fays, my
ancestors, will not trouble themselves to turn in their graves, as you
threatened they would if I did anything to disgrace them.

CHÂTEAU DE PETIT VAL, _June, 1862._

DEAREST A.,--I wish I could give you an idea of Petit Val and our life as
lived by me. Petit Val is about twelve miles from Paris, and was built for
the Marquis de Marigny, whose portrait still hangs in the salon--the
brother of Madame de Pompadour--by the same architect who built and laid
out the park of Petit Trianon.

There is an avenue of tall poplar-trees leading from Petit Val straight to
Choisy-le-Roi, where Madame de Pompadour lived, a distance of ten miles.

Like Petit Trianon, Petit Val has little lakes with shady trees bordering
them; it has grottos, waterfalls, winding paths, magnificent greenhouses,
fountains, a _rivière_, pavilions, aviaries, terraces, _charmilles_,
_berceaux_, _enfin tout!_ One feels like saying, "Mein Liebchen, was
willst du mehr?" as the poet Heine says. The park is surrounded by a _saut
de loup_ (a sunken wall about twenty feet high like "la Muette" in Paris).
There is no need of putting up sign-boards with "No trespassing here" as
no one could scale the walls of the _saut de loup_, so we feel very safe,
especially when the five iron gates are locked. Beyond the park are the
_chasse_, the farm, the vineyards, and the _potager_. We are so near Paris
that we have many visitors. The drive out here is a pleasant one, going
through Vincennes, Charenton, Alfort, etc., and one can get here in about
an hour. Duke de Morny, the Duke de Persigny and the Rothschild family,
Prince de Sagan, and different diplomats, not to speak of our numerous
American friends who are thankful for a breath of fresh air, are frequent
guests. The nearest chateau to us is Montalon, where Madame de Sévigné
used to live, and from which she wrote some of her letters. If she ever
wrote a tiresome one, it must surely have been from here, as the damp and
moldy house, covered with creeping vines and overgrown with ivy,
surrounded by melancholy cypress and poplar trees, which shut out the
view, could scarcely have inspired her with brilliant ideas.

Petit Val's _potager_ is known far and wide for the best peaches and
pears in France, and the gardener takes all the prizes in the shows: if
the prizes are in money, he pockets them; if they are diplomas, he allows
us to keep them. He is a rare old scamp.

When Mr. Moulton bought the place he had the right to call himself "De
Petit Val," and he could have--if he had wished to--been "Moulton de Petit
Val." But he turned up his American nose at such cheap nobility as this;
still he was obliged, much against his will, to conform to the obligations
which belonged to the estate. For instance, he had to give so many bushels
of potatoes to the curé, so many bushels of grain to the doctor, so many
bushels of vegetables to the postmaster, and to them all so many casks of
the awful wine we produce on the estate, known in the vernacular as "_le
petit bleu_."

When this sour wine is in the golden period of effervescing, any sick
child in the village ticketed by the doctor can be brought to the wine-
presses and dipped in. If labeled "_très malade_," he is dipped in
twice. Don't you think that this is a dreadful custom? I think that it is
awful to put such an article as this on the market; but then we know that
if a person has tasted it once they never do it again. We try to grow
green corn here; but it degenerates unless the seed is brought every year
from America. This year, not having been renewed, the corn is a failure;
but the American melons ripen here in perfection, and rivalize
successfully with the big French melons. The other day an ambassador ate
so many of them that he begged us to let him stay all night. We were quite
anxious about him, as he had an audience with the Emperor the next
morning; but he managed it somehow.

An important member of the family I must not forget! the governess,
Mademoiselle Wissembourg, who is very much of a personage. After she has
given my sister-in-law and myself our French lessons (for I still go on
studying), she gives the cook his orders, gives out the linen, writes the
letters, smooths away all annoyances, pays the bills, and keeps the
accounts, which she does in an oriental sort of way, with such fantastic
summings-up that my poor father-in-law is often on the verge of
distraction.

Our stables are well garnished; there are eleven horses (my pair
included), fourteen carriages, three coachmen, and no end of stable-boys.
My coachman, who was one of the "anciens zouaves"--so renowned for their
bravery--generally has cramps when he is told that I am going to drive
myself to Paris. And when I drive those twelve miles I do it in double-
quick time with Medjé and Hilda, my two "limousin" horses. No wonder Louis
offers up a prayer to the saints before starting, and sits, holding with
both hands on to his little seat back of me, with an expression on his
face of "O Lord, what is going to happen?"

PARIS, _January, 1863._

DEAREST MAMA,--I have been expecting letters from you and home for a long
time, but nothing has come yet.

The coldest day that Paris has ever known, since goodness knows when, has
suddenly burst upon us, and skating is just dawning on the Parisians.

The ice on the little lake of Suresnes has frozen _d'emblée_, and I
was crazy to go there and skate. We had stayed late in the country, having
spent Christmas _en famille_, and only returned to Paris a few days
ago. I had just received the skates you sent me for my Christmas present,
and I was wild to try them. What beauties they are! My old ones, with
their screws and their innumerable straps, seem horribly complicated and
clumsy. As you advised, I had very tight-fitting boots with low heels made
for them. I drove out to the Bois with baby and his _nounou_, and to
gain time put on my skates in the carriage, and when I arrived, I walked
down to the lake. I never saw such splendid ice (and I have seen many
ices). No tardy layers, no treacherous holes, just one even mirror of
marble. Imagine my surprise at not seeing a person on the ice; but there
were masses of spectators gathered on the edge of the lake looking at it.
The Emperor and the Empress were there. I knew them by sight; but the only
one I knew personally was Prince Joachim Murat, our neighbor in the
country. He married Elizabeth Wagram, and they lived with her parents at
Gros-Bois, near Petit Val.

Therefore, I stood unknown and unnoticed. I ventured one foot on the
indiscreet, reflecting surface, then the other; and while the assembled
crowd gazed at me in amazement, I made the tour of the lake on my skates.

My experience of seven years on Fresh Pond did not fail me, and I skimmed
over the flawless ice on the outer edge, like a bird with close-fitting
wings; indeed, I felt like one. The ice was so clear that one could see
the grass and stones at the bottom.

This was an exhilarating moment!

When I returned to the starting-place I saw that no one had dared to
follow my example, and as an act of (I hardly dare to write it) silly
_bravoura_ I took baby out of the nurse's arms, and with him gurgling
and chuckling with delight, his little head on my shoulder, I skated
around with him. _Only once!_ Don't scold me! I felt directly what a
wicked thing I was doing, for, if there had been a stone or a branch
frozen in the ice, I might have fallen, and then--what might not have
happened! But as long as I was alone and sure of my skates I was not
afraid. I saw some of the more courageous skaters beginning to invade the
ice, and I flew back, thoroughly ashamed of myself, and delivered my rosy
burden into the arms of its nurse, who stood aghast, like a frozen Niobe,
with wide eyes, watching me, the foolish mother. I sent them back to Paris
in the coupé, begging my husband to come and fetch me. I was vain enough
to wish him to see me in my glory.

Prince Murat came up to speak to me. As we saw the Emperor, who was on
skates, coming toward us, Prince Murat said, "Here comes the Emperor to
speak to you." I felt dreadfully frightened, for I was not sure--it being
the first time I had ever spoken to a sovereign--what was the proper
manner to address him. I knew I must say "Sire," and "votre Majesté"; but
when and how often I did not know. His Majesty held in his hand a short
stick with an iron point, such as are used in climbing the Alps, and
managed to propel himself forward by little right-legged shunts, his left
leg not daring to do anything but slide, and stopped like an engine
nearing a station, puffing and out of breath. Prince Murat moved aside,
and his Majesty looked at me, then at Prince Murat, who, in an
introductory manner, said "This is Madame Moulton, your Majesty, the
daughter-in-law of our neighbor, whom you know." "Ah!" said the Emperor,
and, turning to me, he said, "How beautifully you skate, Madame; it is
wonderful to look at you!"

[Illustration: EMPEROR NAPOLEON III]

I (frightened out of my wits) murmured that I had skated since I was eight
years old. "One can only skate like that when one learns young," the
Emperor said. And while I was wondering when I should say "Votre Majesté,"
he said, "Oserai-je demander à une patineuse si parfaite de patiner avec
un humble patineur (Dare I ask such a perfect skater as you to skate with
so humble a skater as myself)?"

He was a humble skater indeed! I answered that it would be a great honor
to me. He then stretched out his hands, and I took them very much as I
would have taken any one else's hands, and we ambled forth, I supporting
and upholding the tottering steps of the monarch of the French nation. I
felt that the eye of the nation was on me, and, indeed, it was, as much of
the nation as happened to be there; but, proud as I was, I wished that
some one would relieve me of this responsibility. Suppose his Majesty
should fall!... Dreadful thought! The Emperor skated on silently, intent
on balancing himself, and I, you may be sure, was intent on keeping him
intent. He stumbled at every stroke; but as I was on his left side--the
weak one--we got along very nicely, and we felt that we were being admired
--_patineusement_. His hat fell off once (he skated in a tall hat), and I
had to pick it up for him while he clung to my hand and lifted his other
hand to put the hat on his head. In our course we came upon the Empress,
and we slowed down neatly. She was being supported by two very "trembling"
chamberlains, who almost knocked us down in their efforts to keep their
balance. When we had come to anchor the Emperor said to the Empress, "This
is Madame Moulton! Does she not skate beautifully?" I ought to have made a
courtesy, but how could I--on skates?

The Empress was dressed in a more suitable style than the other ladies,
who evidently were going on to some reception (the idea of combining
visiting and skating!), and had rather long dresses, high heels and hats.
The Empress, though crinolined and high-heeled, had a short skirt. I had a
short cloth dress bordered with fur and a little fur toque. The Empress
looked very kindly at me and said something to the Emperor which escaped
me. When--oh, when--should I say "Your Majesty"? But I forgot everything,
gazing at the Empress, who appeared as a vision of beauty, with a bright
color in her cheeks, her eyes sparkling with animation. The Emperor said
to her, "Tu devrais patiner avec Madame (You ought to skate with Madame),"
letting go my hands. With the sweetest smile she said to me, "Will
_you_ skate with _me_?" Of course I was only too enchanted. Could I uphold
the throne in which her Majesty was strapped? I took her two hands, and we
sped on our way as best we could. I had sometimes to dig my skates in the
ice to prevent too much speed, and to keep us both on our legs, one pair
of which were Imperial. "How strange!" said her Majesty, in a moment of
breath-taking, "that I should have never seen you before, and yet, as the
Emperor says, you live in Paris!"

I replied: "Your Majesty [at last I said it], I spent last winter in the
country taking care of my health, and last summer I was in Dinard."

"Ah, je comprends," with a lovely smile, "and now?"

"Now, your Majesty [I was getting on nicely], I am going to be presented
to society in due form by my mother-in-law."

"You will then come to the Tuileries?"

"Of course, your Majesty [now I had complete court manners], I shall come
there first. My mother-in law will take the necessary steps."

"But you will not need to go through all those steps," she said,
smilingly, "now that we know you"; and added, most kindly, "To-morrow you
must come and skate with us again."

After this little breathing spell we went off on another tour, and as all
is well that ends better than you expect, I was thankful to bring her
Majesty back safely. We were hailed with enthusiasm. Charles, coming back
with the coupé, was duly complimented by both their Majesties on the
prowess of his spouse. And so we drove home.

Here endeth the first chapter and my first appearance in Parisian society.

_January, 1863._

DEAR M.,--We received the invitation for the first ball at the Tuileries
before my mother-in-law had presented me to the Grande Maîtresse Duchesse
de Bassano; but her reception-day being on the same day as the ball I was
able, fortunately, to go there and to be presented to her. Mrs. M---
preferred to make the "preliminary steps" with me in her wake.

My wedding-dress, trimmed with the beautiful lace (which came in my
_corbeille_), seemed the proper thing to wear. The gentlemen's costumes
are "_culottes courtes blanches_, white silk stockings, and a dress-coat
with gold buttons." My mother-in-law had been under the coiffeur's tongs
for hours, and when she reappeared, frizzled and curled, she looked so
unnatural that we hardly recognized her. My father-in-law refused point
blank to go with us. When asked, "Don't you want to see Lillie's first
appearance?" he answered, "I shall see her before she goes. It is not
likely I shall see much of her when she is once there." Which would
probably have been the case.

Mrs. Moulton, wishing to go in style, ordered the gala Cinderella coach
which served at my wedding. It used to take my parents-in-law to and from
the Tuileries in the time of Louis Philippe. One can see the like in
Versailles, all glass in front, white satin inside, with steps to let
down, and swung on eight undulating springs. Charles went in our coupé,
and I must say I envied him.

It is a long drive from the Rue de Courcelles to the Tuileries, and it
takes a long time, especially when the _queue_ commences at the Place
de la Concorde. I was almost dizzy as we advanced step by step, pulling up
at every moment, rocking and swaying like a row-boat in a gentle swell,
and when we got a chance to go faster the carriage rocked from side to
side, all the fringe on the coachman's box waving about. The coachman was
a study in himself, with his white wig and silk stockings, ensconced like
a hen on her nest. The valet, with powdered hair, white silk stockings,
and plush breeches, stood on his little platform behind the carriage,
holding on to the two cords on the side. I felt very fine, but not fine
enough to prevent my feeling a little sea-sick, and I could not help
thinking that it was a great pity to put on such style at night, when no
one could see us. I would have liked better to have been seen in the
daytime in this pomp and glory.

When at last we did arrive my mother-in-law's feathers were somewhat awry.
We mounted the stately staircase, lined on both sides by the superb Cent
Gardes, standing like statues on each step.

Many chamberlains were waiting, and we were conducted to the Grand Maître
de Cérémonie, who passed us on to a less grand Maître de Cérémonie, who
showed us to the place where we were to stand in the ballroom. It was a
magnificent sight, and as long as I live I shall never forget it.

The beautifully dressed ladies were covered with jewels, and the gentlemen
in their showy uniforms were covered with decorations. Each lady showed to
great advantage, as, on account of the width of their crinolines, they had
to stand very far apart.

The entire ballroom was lighted with wax candles, and was really a fairy
scene. At the end of the ballroom was the platform on which stood the
throne of their Majesties, a row of red-velvet gilded fauteuils placed
behind them for the Imperial family. The hangings over the throne, which
were of heavy red velvet with the Napoleonic eagle in gold, fell in great
folds down to the floor.

It was not long before the doors were thrown open, and every one who had
been limp and lax while waiting, chatting with his neighbor, straightened
himself up and bowed to the ground, as the Emperor and the Empress walked
in. Their Majesties stood for a moment at the door, and then went
immediately to the throne.

A few moments later the _quadrille d'honneur_ was danced by the eight
most princely of the guests. The Emperor danced with the Princess of
Wales, who has the prettiest and sweetest face one can imagine. The
Empress danced with the King of Saxony; the Prince of Wales with the
Princess Mathilde, cousin of the Emperor; the Grand Duke of Russia with
the Princess Clothilde.

Every one stood during the whole quadrille. After that was finished their
Majesties circulated among us, talking to different people. Later on the
Empress, when she had returned to the throne, sent a message to me by
Prince Murat, that she wished me to come to her.

I was frightened to death to have to cross the ballroom, feeling as if all
eyes were on me, and tripped along so quickly that Prince Murat, at my
side, said, "Don't hurry so; I can't keep up with you."

While I stood before the steps of the throne the Empress came toward me,
and with her exquisite smile, and with the peculiar charm she has when
speaking, said, "I am so glad to see you here, Madame Moulton." "And I am
so glad to be here, your Majesty; but I went through all the preliminary
steps all the same," I said, "because _ma belle-mère_ insisted upon it."

This seemed to amuse her, and after a few gracious words she left me.

As this was the first time I had seen her in evening dress, I was
completely dazed by her loveliness and beauty. I can't imagine a more
beautiful apparition than she was. Her delicate coloring, the pose of her
head, her hair, her expressive mouth, her beautiful shoulders, and
wonderful grace make a perfect ensemble.

[Illustration: EMPRESS EUGÉNIE]

She wore a white tulle dress trimmed with red velvet bows and gold
fringes; her crown of diamonds and pearls and her necklace were
magnificent.

On her breast shone the great diamond (the Regent) which belongs to the
Crown.

When I gazed on her in all her glory and prestige I could hardly believe
that we had been such chums a few days before, when skating, and that I
had held her hands clasped in mine, and had kept her from falling.

Countess Castellane gave a beautiful costume ball the other evening, which
I must tell you about, because it was so original. The stables were
connected with the salons by a long, carpeted gallery, at the end of which
was a huge fresco on the walls, representing a horse-race in a very
lifelike manner. Through a large plate-glass window one could see the
whole stable, which was, as you may imagine, in spick-and-span order; and
Count Castellane's favorite horse was saddled and bridled, a groom in full
livery standing by its side. It was amusing to see ladies in their ball
dresses walking about in the stables, where the astonished horses were
blinking in the gas-light.

In one of the quadrilles the ladies and gentlemen were dressed as
children, in short socks and frocks with enormous sashes.

Princess Metternich was costumed as a milkmaid; she had real silver pails
hung over her shoulders. Duchesse de Persigny was a _chiffonnière_ with a
_hotte_ on her back and a gray dress very much looped up, showing far
above her wooden shoes.

PARIS, _1863._

DEAR M.,--The ice in the Bois continues very good; I am skating every day.
I have commenced to teach the little Prince Imperial. He is very sweet,
and talks very intelligently for his age. The other day, when I was
skating with the Empress, a gentleman (I think he was an American),
skating backward, knocked against us with such force that the Empress and
I both fell. I tried with all my might to keep her from falling, but it
was impossible. Her first words, when we were helped on our feet again,
were, "Don't tell the Emperor; I think he did not see us."

That same evening there was a ball at the Tuileries, and when the Empress
came to speak to me she said: "How are you? I can hardly stand up." I
answered, "I am worse off, your Majesty; I can stand up, but I cannot sit
down."

Yesterday, when I came home from my singing lesson with Delle Sedie, I
found the family quite excited. The Empress's chamberlain had just been
here to say that the Empress desired that we would come to the Tuileries
next Monday, and expressed the wish that I should bring some music. I
wrote to Delle Sedie and begged him to advise me what I should sing; he
answered that he would come himself and talk it over with me, and Monsieur
Planté, a young, budding pianist, who was ordered from the Tuileries to
accompany my songs, was sent for, and Delle Sedie came at the same time.

Delle Sedie thought that I should begin with "Tre Giorni son che Nina," of
Pergolesi, and then the air from "Lucia," and if I were asked to sing
again the "Valse de Venzano."

On these occasions gentlemen wear the _pantalon collant_, which is a
most unbecoming and trying costume, being of black cloth fitting very
tight and tapering down to the ankle, where it finishes abruptly with a
button. Any one with a protruding ankle and thin legs cannot escape
criticism.

_Le petit lundi_ of the Empress was not so _petit_ as I expected; there
were at least four or five hundred people present.

I was presented to the Princess Mathilde (the cousin of the Emperor), a
very handsome and distinguished-looking lady, who is married to and
separated from Prince Demidoff. Her palace is directly opposite our hotel.
I was also presented to the Princess Clothilde, and many others. I was
very nervous before singing, but after my first song I did very well.

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