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

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The "_cid-evant_" Marquis told us that the Cid had given the sword to
one of his ancestors, and remarked that it signified that his forefathers
had very decided characters, and that it was either yes or no with them. I
thought it might work the other way; it might just as well mean that the
ancestors did not know their own minds, and that first it was _yes_ and
then it was _no_ with them. The Duke, in a truly grandiose manner, lays no
restriction on the public, but throws his whole palace open every first
and fifteenth of the month, and allows people to roam at their pleasure
through all the rooms; they can even sit on the blue brocade furniture if
they like, and there is no officious guide ordering people about with
their, "This way, Madame," or "Don't sit down," "Don't walk on the
carpet," or "Don't spit on the floor."

On the ground floor are the celebrated frescoes of "Psyche," painted by
Raphael, and in the large gallery there is a little design on the walls to
which the Duke called our attention, saying it was Michelangelo's
visiting-card, and told us that Michelangelo came one day, and, finding
Raphael absent, took up his palette and painted this little picture, which
still remains on the walls, framed and with a glass over it.

Mrs. Lawrence told us of a new acquaintance she had made, a Baron
Montenaro, who said he was the last (the very last) of the Rienzis, a
descendant of Cola di. The last tribune left! "Is it not romantic?" cried
Mrs. Lawrence, and was all eyes and ears. But prosaic Duke di Ripalda
said, "How can he say he is the last of the Rienzis, when he has a married
brother who has prospects of a small tribune of his own?"

ROME, _April, 1875._

Mrs. Polk (widow of the former President Polk) and her two daughters are
very much liked here. I call Miss Polk _la maîtresse demoiselle_, because
she rules every one with a high and masterful hand.

They had some wonderful tableaux recently at their palace (Salviati),
which were most beautiful and artistically arranged by different artists.
They had turned a long gallery which had once served as a ballroom into
the theater. I was asked to sing in a tableau representing a Bohemian
hall, where, as a background, Bohemian peasants in brilliant costumes sat
and stood about. I was also dressed in a Bohemian dress, and leaned
against a pillar and held a tambourine in my hand. Tosti played the
accompaniment of "Ma Mère était Bohémienne," which was most appropriate to
the occasion.

The Princess Margherita sat in the front row, and a more sympathetic and
lovelier face could never have inspired a singer. She insisted upon my
repeating my song, which rather bored the other performers, as they had to
stand quiet while the song was going on. Tosti made the accompaniment
wonderfully well, considering that I had only played it once for him.

After the tableaux, and when the Princess had retired to a little salon
placed at her disposal, she sent word to ask me to come to her, as she
wished to speak with me. I was overjoyed to see her again, as the short
interview at the Villino could hardly be called an interview. The
Princess said; "I have heard a great deal about your singing; but I did
not believe any amateur could sing as you do. Your phrasing and expression
are quite perfect!" She finished by asking me to come to the Quirinal to
see her, "and perhaps have a little music"; and added, "The Marquis
Villamarina sings beautifully, and you shall hear him." The Princess is so
lovely, no words can describe her charm and the sweet expression of her
face. Her smile is a dream.

I had intended leaving Rome the very day she fixed for my going to her,
but of course I postponed my departure and I went, and had a most
delightful afternoon. It was the first time that I had seen the Quirinal
and I was very much interested. One of the numerous _laquais_ who were
standing about in the antechamber when I arrived preceded me into a
salon where I found the Marquise Villamarina (first lady-in-waiting of the
Princess). She came toward me, saying that the Princess was looking
forward with pleasure to seeing me, and added that she hoped that I had
thought to bring some music. I followed her through several very spacious
salons until we reached a salon which evidently was the music-room, as
there were two grand pianos and a quantity of music-books placed on
shelves. Here I found the Princess waiting for me, and she received me
with much cordiality.

The Marquis Villamarina has a most enchanting voice, liquid and velvety,
the kind that one only hears in Italy. Signor Tosti (the composer) was
already at the piano and accompanied the Marquis in "Ti rapirei, mio ben,"
a song he composed and dedicated to him. The Princess sang a very charming
old Italian song. She has a mezzo-soprano voice and sings with great taste
and sweetness. She, the Marquis, and I sang a trio of Gordigiani; then the
Princess asked me to sing the "Ma Mère était Bohémienne," which i had sung
at the tableaux. I also sang "Beware!" which she had never heard and which
she was perfectly delighted with, and I promised to send her the music. It
was a great pleasure to sing in this intimate and _sans façon_ way, with
the most sympathetic and charming of Princesses. Chocolate, tea, and
little cakes were served, which I supposed was the signal for departure.
The Princess, on bidding me good-by, gave me her hand and said, "I hope to
see you soon again."

"Alas!" I replied, "I am leaving Rome to-morrow," and as I stooped down to
kiss her hand she drew me to her and said, "I am sorry that you are going,
I hoped that you were staying longer," and kissed me on both cheeks.

PARIS, _May, 1875._

I have had a lazy month. Mrs. Moulton was delighted to have me back again,
and I was glad to rest after all my junketing. Just think, I was almost a
year in Germany!

Nina has had the measles, fortunately lightly; I was _garde malade_, and
stayed with her in her sick-room.

Howard goes to a day-school not far from the Rue de Courcelles every
morning, and comes home at two o'clock and shows with pride the book the
teacher gives him to show. They must mean it to be shown, otherwise so
much trouble would not be taken to make such lengthy and marvelous
accounts of his prowess, the numbers running up in the thousands, and
notations all through, such as _très bien, verbes sans faute_, and _dictés
parfaits_. He can repeat all the departments of France backward and
forward, and goes through the verbs, regular and irregular, like a
machine. The French love these irregular verbs, so irregular sometimes
that they border on frivolity. He has learned some rather inane patriotic
poetry, which he recites with a childish dramatic swagger.

This is about all they teach in this school; but the _rapports_ are
worth the money: they deceive the parents, making them believe their geese
are swans of the first water.

PARIS, _May._

We have had real pleasure in hearing a young _pianiste_ from Venezuela
called Teresa Careño. She is a _wunderkind_. Her mother says she is nine
years old; she looks twelve, but may be sixteen. No one can ever tell how
old a _wunderkind_ really is. Her playing is marvelous, her technic
perfect. She knows about two hundred pieces by heart, is extremely pretty
and attractive, and performs whenever she is asked. I think she has a
great career before her, and she has already got the toss-back of her
black hair in the most approved pianist manner. "Elle ne manque rien," the
great Saint-Saëns said. One can't imagine that she could play better than
she does; but she thinks that she is by no means perfect.

Though I said that I had led a _dolce-far-niente_ existence, and had been
lazy, I have been dreadfully busy and have been on the go from morning
till night: I might call it a _dolce-far-molto_ existence. I spend hours,
which ought to be better spent, in shops. I simply revel in them.

You have heard of the famous actress Sarah Bernhardt. Well, she is not
only an actress, but she is a sculptress, and is a very good one. She is
now playing at the Vaudeville. But I must begin at the beginning, the
whole thing was so amusing,

You remember Mrs. Bradley? You used to scold me for calling her "the
Omelette." They are living now in Paris; her hair and complexion are just
as yellow as they used to be; but her dresses are yellower. Beaumont said
that she was "Une étude en jaune."

The other evening she had a box at the theater, and asked me to go to hear
Sarah Bernhardt in "Le fils Giboyer." Her son, the immaculate Bostonian,
went with us. He is a duplicate of his mother's yellowness. I took Nina,
who looked extremely pretty: she was beaming with excitement; her cheeks
were flushed, and her curly, golden hair made a halo about her delicate
features. Every one stared at her when we entered the box. During the
second act I let her take my place in front, and, observe how virtue is
rewarded! In the following _entr'acte_ the _ouvreuse_ came in suddenly
without knocking (_ouvreuses_ never knock! that is one of their many
privileges) and begged to _parler à_ Monsieur. Imagine the chaste George's
feelings when he was told that the famous Sarah wished to speak with him,
and, moreover, desired him to come behind the scenes to her dressing-room.
What a situation! His red hair blushed to the very roots, and his yellow
face became n sunset. However, one is or one is not a man. He proved
himself to be one who could face danger when the time came.

Trembling at the thought of Boston, the virtuous, hearing of it, he saw in
his mind's eye the height the Puritan brows of his most distinguished
family would reach when the news would be spread over the town, and a
certain biblical scene passed before his mental vision.

He gave his lemon-colored mustache a final fascinating twist, and, humming
to himself "Hail, the conquering hero comes!" he buckled on his sword and
went--all his colors flying.

We waited breathlessly for his return, which was much sooner than we
expected, and the smile he wore was not that of a conquering hero; it was
another kind of a smile. Well, what do you think Madame Sarah wanted?
Merely to know if the child in the box was his! His! His unmarried hair
stood on end; he was so taken aback that he only had breath to mutter, "I
am not married, Madame."

Then in her most dramatic tones she demanded, "Who is the child, then?"

He told her.

"Where does this Madame Moulton live?" she asked.

He told her that also. Then, with a dismissing wave of the hand, Sarah
bade him farewell. It was all over. He had survived! Boston would never
know.

The next day I received a note from Sarah Bernhardt, asking me if I would
allow her to make a bust of _la charmante petite fille_. I answered that I
should be delighted. Then came another note telling me at what time
_l'enfant_ should come for the first sitting.

I took Nina to the studio, which was beyond the Boulevard de Courcelles in
a courtyard. It was enchanting to watch the artist at work. She was
dressed like a man: she wore white trousers and jacket, and a white
_foulard_ tied artistically about her head. She had short and frizzly
hair, and she showed us how she did it, gathering the four corners as if
it were a handkerchief, with the ends sticking up on the top of her head.
She smoked cigarettes all the time she was working.

She posed Nina in the attitude she thought interesting, with head down and
eyes up--a rather tiring position. And to keep _l'enfant_ quiet she
devised all sorts of things. Sometimes she would rehearse her rôles in the
voice they speak of as golden; because it coins gold for her, I suppose.
The rehearsing of her rôles was not so amusing, as there were no
_répliques_; but what kept Nina most quiet was when Sarah told her of the
album she was making for her. Every artist she knew was working at some
offering, and when it would be finished Nina was to have it. She would
expatiate for hours on the smallest details. Meissonier, for instance, was
painting a water-color, a scene of the war: a German regiment attacking a
French inn, which was being defended by French soldiers. Then Gounod was
writing a bit of music dedicated to _la charmante modèle_, and so forth.
Nina would listen with open mouth and glistening eyes, and at every
sitting she would say, "Et mon album?" expecting each time to see it
forthcoming. But it never came forth. It only existed in Madame
Bernhardt's fertile brain. It had no other object than to keep the model
still. It seemed cruel to deceive the child. Even to the last, when Nina
had said for the last time, "And shall I have my album to-day?" Sarah
answered that it was not _quite_ ready, as the binding was not
satisfactory, and other tales, which, if not true, had the desired effect,
and she finished the bust. It was not a very good likeness, but a very
pretty artistic effort, and was sent to the next Exposition, receiving
"honorable mention," perhaps more honorable than we mentioned her at home.
She gave me a duplicate of it made of terra-cotta.

Don't expect any more letters, for I shall be very busy before my
departure for America, which is next week, and then I shall.... Well,
wait!

Good-by.

INDEX

AGASSIZ, Professor, "Father Nature" helped to pay for his new house.
Amateur theatricals.
American songs at the French court.
American soul-probes, intimate questions answered by the Emperor,
the Empress and Prosper Mérimée.
Americans seeking a hotel.
Anti-slavery anecdotes;
Joshua Green's forgetfulness;
Phillips Brooks's story of a convert's confession.
Auber, the composer, introduced by the Duke de Persigny;
writes a cadenza for Alabieff's "Rossignol";
at Meyerbeer's funeral;
his life in Paris;
"Le Rêve d'Amour" at eighty-three;
describes the slaughter of Generals Thomas and Lecomte;
his friendship with Massenet;
entertains Madame at breakfast during the siege;
dies on the ramparts.

BALL costumes.
Ball of the Plebiscite.
Bancroft, George, historian, presents a souvenir of an enjoyable evening.
Bernhardt, Sara, makes a bust of Madame's daughter Nina.
"Beware!", Longfellow's words set to music by Charles Moulton,
wins praise.
Birthday joy for Count Pourtales.
Blind Tom imitates Auber.
Brignoli, in his prime.
Brooks, Phillips, anecdote by.
Brunswick's wicked duke and his famous crime;
his silken wig.

CAREÑO, TERESA, a _wunderkind_ at nine;
plays in Paris.
Carl XIV. of Sweden at the Exposition.
Castellane, Countess, exhibits her stable at a fancy ball.
Castiglione, Countess, as "Salammbô";
as "La Vérité".
Changarnier, General, in the lancers.
Charades and amateur theatricals.
Charity, singing for.
Cinderella coach, Mrs. Moulton's.
Compiègne and its festivities;
its grand officials and its guests;
ceremonies at the table;
dress etiquette.
Costumes for Compiègne.
Croquet at night with lamps;
imperial players;
beaten with a despised ivory mallet.
Cuba visited;
an old Harvard friend lands the party in Havana;
high officials escort Madame all over the island;
assisted by old acquaintances;
a curious Cuban waltz;
a hot time in Morro Castle;
international courtesies on the war-ships;
fame had preceded Madame;
discovers and visits Jules Alphonso;
news of Napoleon's death;
a German serenade;
"Pinafore" for the sailors;
a triumphal departure.
Curls from the "Magasin du Bon Dieu" cause a sensation.

D'AOUST'S, Marquis, operetta.
De Bassano, Duchess, _grande maîtresse_.
Delle Sedie, music-teacher, and his theories.
Delsarte and his emotion diagrams;
his "tabac,";
the Emperor's joke;
Madame visits him during the siege;
his evening dress.
De Morny, Duke (Queen Hortense's son), and his protégé;
as a librettist, with music by Offenbach;
his death.
Doré caricatures nobility.

EMERALDS from the Khedive.
Eugénie, Empress, skates with Madame;
"a beautiful apparition,";
in collision with an American;
at the play in Compiègne;
her flight from the Tuileries after Sedan assisted by Prince Metternich;
takes refuge with Dr. Evans;
widow and exile at Chiselhurst.
Evans, Dr., American dentist, shelters the fleeing Empress after Sedan.
Exposition of 1867.

GALLIFET, Marquis de, tells of his silver plate;
criticizes English idioms.
Garcia, Manuel, teacher of singing, engaged;
first impressions and lessons;
"Bel raggio" the first song.
Garibaldi in retirement;
autographs his portrait.
Gautier, Théophile, dinner companion, tells of his educated cats;
his poetical tribute to Madame.
Germans in Versailles.
Germany and the Rhineland;
visit to the Metternichs' château, Johannisberg;
reminiscences of the war;
famous Johannisberg wine;
a gentlemanly American bronco-buster captures the Westphals;
at Weimar;
calling on a noble farmer;
boar-hunting in Westphalia.
Gold button of the Imperial Hunt, a gift from Napoleon;
worn at a _chasse-à-tir_;
at a mock battle.
Gounod "hums" deliciously.
Green corn and a clay pipe at Fontainebleau.
Green, Joshua, and his Creator.
Gudin, William, artist, and his collection of cigars and cigarettes.

HATZFELDT, Count, married to Madame's sister Helen;
Bismarck's secretary;
his opinion of Napoleon;
German minister to Madrid.
Hegermann-Lindencrone, Madame Lillie de, prefatory note.

IN London society.
Imperial gifts.
Imperial hunt fashions and cruelty to animals;
the dog's share.

"LA DIVA DU MONDE"--Strakosch tempts Madame to sing in concert;
an immediate success;
story of a floral harp;
a trying moment in oratorio;
news of Mr. Moulton's illness and sudden death.
Lincoln, President, at the Sanitary Fair;
compliments Madame;
news of his assassination.
Lind's, Jenny, American memories;
comparing trills;
duets with.
Liszt plays Auber's music and praises Massenet;
his letter to Madame.
Locket souvenirs.
Longfellow, the poet disapproves of but forgives a joke.
Lowell, James Russell, cousin, a substitute for Longfellow in the
Agassiz school.

MARGHERITA, Princess of Italy, entertains Madame at the Quirinal.
Massenet at Petit Val, the Moultons' country seat.
Maximilian's death in Mexico.
Mechanical piano dance music, a substitute for Waldteufel;
Madame takes a turn.
Melody, tears, and a "speech" in Rochester's "pen".
Mérimée, Prosper, "entrancing";
his long love affair.
Metternich, Prince, Austrian ambassador to France;
describes Rossini's home life;
entertains Madame at Johannisberg;
dedicates a volume, _A l'Inspiratice_.
Metternich, Princess, leader in society and fashion;
her enormous cigars;
one of her famous dances;
her home at Johannisberg.
Moulton, Charles, engaged to marry;
his family and musical talents;
author of "Beware!";
his illness and sudden death.
Musard, Madame, and her petroleum stock.

NAPOLEON III., Emperor, introduced to Madame on the ice by Prince Murat;
skates with Madame;
invites Madame to sing at the Tuileries;
the domino his favorite disguise;
dances the Virginia reel;
places Madame next to him at dinner;
a distorted joke;
takes command of the army;
his death.
New York mansion of the late fifties.
Nilsson in "Traviata";
her famous appetite.

OFFENBACH, JACQUES, composer,
writes the music for a play by the Duke de Morny.
Old family origins.

PATTI, reminiscences of.
Petit Val, the Moultons' country seat;
its princely neighbors and guests;
Napoleon builds a bridge for;
the nightingale in the cedar;
in the path of the German army;
Madame views ruin all around;
dining with the invaders;
conquering with song;
rescued by the American Minister Washburn.
Picnic at Grand Trianon.
Pierrefonds, ancient château, excursion to;
restored by Architect Viollet-le-Duc;
second visit to.
Prince Imperial as "Pan";
leaves for the war with the Emperor;
"le baptême du feu".
Prince Oscar's tributes of punch, bracelets, and poetry;
duet with;
visits Delsarte.

RIGAULT, RAOUL, Communard prefect of Paris, insults Madame;
decrees many arrests;
gives orders for the massacre of forty hostages.
Roman days with the Haseltines;
Sculptor Story and his family;
an Italian "Mrs. Malaprop";
audience with the Pope;
visit to Garibaldi;
an accident, a dream, and a lottery ticket;
presented to the royal family;
a typical nobleman;
President Polk's widow entertains;
Madame a guest at the Quirinal;
Tosti as accompanist.
Rossini, Gioachino, his home and his wigs;
highly praises Madame's voice;
severely criticizes Wagner but praises "Tannhäuser;"
approves of Gounod.
Rothschild, Baroness Alphonse, gives a concert with no one to hear it but
herself and Madame.
Rue de Courcelles and the Moulton Hotel during the siege;
Père Moulton's prevision;
farming and dairying in the conservatory;
visited by Courbet, the Communard artist;
Auber tells of the saturnalia;
Mère Moulton leaves for Dinard;
a notable dinner party has peas from Petit Val;
Massenet and Auber at the piano;
Whist under difficulties;
shut in;
despoiled of horse, but the cow is saved;
under fire;
succoring a wounded fugitive;
refuge at Dinard.

SCHOOL-DAYS at Cambridge under Professor Agassiz;
Character sketches of the tutors, the best in Harvard.
Skating on the lake at Suresnes with baby Nina;
meets and teaches Napoleon and Eugénie;
in the Bois.
Strauss, at the Metternich ball, conducts "The Blue Danube" waltz.
Sullivan's "Prodigal Son."

THEATER at Compiègne.
Three famous artists amuse the invalid.
"Three Little Kittens."
Tips a burden at Compiègne;
Père Moulton objects and they are abolished.

VIRGINIA reel with the Emperor;
Madame de Persigny gets a fall.

WAGNER, RICHARD, severe and critical.
Waldteufel, waltz-master, at the piano.
War clouds rising;
a distressing dinner;
war declared;
false news of victories.
War play and a Virginia reel with the Emperor.
War scenes in Paris and its environs;
the Commune proclaimed;
murder of the peacemakers;
shooting of Generals Thomas and Lecomte;
Madame ministers in the hospitals;
two pathetic German patients;
an American victim;
through the mob to Worth's _atelier_;
bearding the Communard prefect Rigault;
seizure of the Moulton carriage;
fall of the Column Vendôme;
slaughter of the hostages;
MacMahon captures the city.
Washburn, American minister;
"only a post-office,";
in the Assembly;
getting passports.
Worth's _atelier_ during the Commune.

THE END

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