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

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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.

I wondered why so much powder and energy should be wasted on a helpless
farm-house, and dreaded to think what the real thing must he, if this was
only sham.

When it was apparently finished, and every one in the neighborhood had
surrendered, they sounded a grand fanfare, and blew a mighty blast of
trumpets, the officers dashed up full tilt to the Emperor, and announced,
"Victory all along the line!"

I can't tell you how sweet the little Prince looked when he distributed
the _médaille de mérite_ to the brave warriors, who received it with
due modesty, saluting gravely.

The Emperor rode about among the carriages and asked us ladies how we had
liked it, and if there had been too much noise.

The company at dinner to-night looked particularly brilliant; there must
have been a hundred and fifty people present, as the generals and the
officers were asked to remain to dinner. I had one general next to me at
table, the famous General Changarnier, who my other neighbor said had one
foot in the grave and the other _dans le plat_. He was so old and thin and
bony that if his uniform had not kept him up he would have crumbled
together before my eyes, and have become a zero instead of a hero.
However, he kept together while dinner lasted, for which I was thankful,
and I returned him safely to posterity and to the salon.

Their Majesties devoted themselves exclusively to the Army after dinner;
but they sent word by a chamberlain that we were to commence dancing,
though they had not finished the _cercle_.

Waldteufel was already seated at the piano, waiting.

The officers danced vigorously. The elder ones ventured on quadrilles, and
danced them with great gusto.

Prince Murat, noticing the old general skipping about so youthfully,
proposed a Virginia reel, with a view to giving them a little more
exercise.

Every one entered into the spirit of it; but there were only a few who
knew how to dance it.

Both Prince and Princess Metternich had learned it at Petit Val. Madame
Gallifet knew it as "Sir Roger de Coverley" from her English days, and
Prince Murat must have learned it from his American mother.

The Emperor danced with me, as he said he would only dance with an
_expert_!

The Empress had Count Golz for her partner, and stood next to me; Princess
Metternich (full of fun) chose one of the most ancient warriors. Madame de
Persigny and Prince Murat were at the end of the line; the other guests
filled the intermediate places.

Prince Metternich, knowing the music, thought he was absolutely necessary
at the piano, consequently he took Waldteufel's place there.

I, as "the expert," led off. The Emperor tried to imitate me, but became
confused by the constant shouting from his cousin (Prince Murat) at the
other end. However, he and I managed to finish our part; but the Emperor
refused to be swung, and we marched down the middle of the line, hand in
hand, disregarding the rules in a truly royal manner. Then, having watched
the Empress go through her part (she also marched down in a royal manner),
the Emperor seemed bored at looking at the others, and called the Marquis
de Caux to take his place. Next, Prince Metternich began improvising reels
of his own invention, which turned into all sorts of fantastic measures,
which were impossible to dance by. Madame de Persigny, in turning, fell
flat on her back; every one rushed to her rescue, which caused great
confusion, as people lost their places and could not find them again.

This brought our famous reel, which proved to be a dead failure, to an
abrupt close; and the old generals, for whose sake we danced it, never got
a chance to show what they could do; and we were thankful when Waldteufel
returned to the piano and played a waltz, to which we could dance until it
was time for the Emperor's tea, and then,

_Bonsoir!_

_November 27th._

DEAR M.,--Baron Haussmann took me in to _déjeuner_ this morning. The
Baron is the Préfet de Paris. He is very tall, bulky, and has an
authoritative way of walking ahead and dragging his partner after him,
which makes one feel as if one was a small tug being swept on by a man-of-
war! I wondered if the _Cent Gardes_ noticed how I tripped along, taking
two steps to his one, until he reached his seat at the table, into which
he dropped with a sigh of relief.

His body in profile defies any one's looking around the corner, so to
speak. I could only see at intervals Marquise Chasselouplobat's shapely
elbows and hands. Our conversation turned on the new improvements he
intends to make in Paris. He asked me how I liked the boulevard of his
name, just completed.

"I like it," I answered, "though it has deprived us of a good part of our
garden." (It had cut off just half of it.)

"It brings you nearer the Bois," he added. "I hope the Government paid you
well for it."

"I suppose the Government thinks it did; but our croquet-ground is gone
forever."

"Forever!" he repeated. "Where do you play now?"

"Sometimes at the Austrian embassy."

"Is its garden large enough for that?"

I answered, "It is not large enough for a real croquet-ground; but the
ambassador is such an ardent player that he has arranged a place under the
trees where we play--sometimes at night with lamps on the ground."

"I should think that would be very difficult; quite impossible, in fact."

"What else can we do? We have no other place."

After a moment's hesitation he asked, "How would you like it if I put a
piece of ground in the Bois at your disposal?"

I could have screamed with joy! What a piece of news to tell my friends
after breakfast. I chanted a little _Gloria_ under my breath, and asked
him if he really meant it. He said, "Of course I mean it, and as soon as I
return to Paris I will have the formal papers made out and sent to you,
and you can claim the ground when you like." He added, gallantly, "I will
have the document made out in your name, Madame, in souvenir of our
breakfast to-day."

Is he not a very generous man? But if every time he sits next to a lady he
gives her a slice of the Bois de Boulogne he will soon be out of the
government books.

You can readily imagine the delight of my fellow-players when I told them
all this after our return to the salon.

The weather looked unsettled; no one felt like driving or walking.
However, later, the wind veered about, the sun came out of the heavy
clouds, our spirits rose with the barometer, the elements seemed to point
to outdoor amusements. What better than a game of croquet?

The Emperor, as I said before, had sent to Paris for the game, and Prince
Metternich felt it would be rude not to use it. We have been playing it so
much this year that we have quite got it on the brain, and we were very
excited and most eager to play, and orders were given to have the box
brought out on the terrace.

Both their Majesties were highly interested; they examined everything with
the greatest curiosity, unwrapped the balls themselves, and were quite
anxious to begin.

The question was, where should the game be put up, and where should the
wickets be put down? The lawn was wet, the gravel walks were too narrow.
The only place that could be found was under the _charmille_ on the
terrace, where stood a grove of old platane trees.

Prince Metternich was, of course, the moving spirit, and undertook to
manage everything. He and d'Espeuilles got a meter measure and measured
off the distances with great care and precision before placing the
wickets. This took a long time. Then he distributed the mallets and the
corresponding balls to each person, and we stood in front of our weapons
ready to commence. Prince Metternich was so long and particular about
telling the rules that he succeeded only in confusing all the beginners.

The Empress was to play with the Prince Metternich, the Marquis de
Gallifet with the Princess Metternich. The Emperor was to play with the
Marquise de Gallifet, Monsieur d'Espeuilles was to play with me:--eight
people in all! Nothing is so dreadful as a game of croquet with people
four of whom are beginners.

The Empress was the first to play; her ball was placed so near the wicket
that nothing short of genius could have prevented her from going through,
which she did with great triumph; her next stroke went far beyond, and she
worried it back by a succession of several pushing knocks into its
position. No one made any remarks. Then the Emperor made a timid stroke,
which gently turned the ball over. Prince Metternich remarked that he (the
Emperor) should hit harder, at which his Majesty gave such a whack to his
ball that it flew into the next county.

"Never mind," said Prince Metternich, and put another ball in front of the
Emperor's mallet, and somehow it got through the wicket.

Princess Metternich played next, and she was an adept, so all went well
with her. I came after her, and managed to get his Majesty's ball on its
way a bit. Tiresome pauses and long explanations followed.

Prince Metternich shouted, trying to rally the players.

"Marquis, where are you?" disturbing the Marquis from a flirtation. "It is
your turn to play."

"Really; what shall I do?"

"Try to hit this ball."

"_Par exemple!_ Which ball? Where is it? I do not even see it."

"Here it is behind this tree, if you _caramboler_ against the tree you
might hit it." And in this way it went on until the Emperor, bored to
death, slowly disappeared and the Empress suddenly discovered that her
feet were cold and went away, and couples flirtatiously inclined began
wandering off, and it was nearly dark and tea-time before Prince
Metternich (who was worn out trying to make people understand or take any
interest in the game) realized that there were only a few devotees left on
the battle-field amid damaged trees and chipped balls.

So ended our game of croquet; we felt crushed and crestfallen.

At the Empress's tea, to which we were bidden, we were not spared
satirical gibes on the subject of our luckless game.

The Marquis de Gallifet, _Officier d'Ordonnance de l'Empereur_, whom
I sat next to at dinner, is what one might call sarcastic--he actually
tears people to pieces; he does not leave them with a shred of reputation,
and what he does not say he implies. He thinks nothing of saying, "He!
He's an abominable scoundrel. She! She is a shameless coquette!" and so
forth. He spares no one; nevertheless, he is most amusing, very
intelligent, and an excellent talker. He told me of his awful experience
in the war of Mexico. He had been shot in the intestines and left for dead
on the field of battle. He managed, by creeping and crawling, "_toujours
tenant mes entrailles dans mon képi_" to reach a peasant's house, where
the good people took care of him until he was able to be transported to a
hospital. There he stayed through a dismal year of suffering. In order to
keep the above-mentioned _entrailles_ in their proper place, the doctors
covered them with a silver plate. "I had my name engraved on it," he said.

He asked me, "Did you ever hear anything like that?" I tried to fancy how
any one would look placarded like that, but replied that I had never heard
of anything quite so awful; but I _had_ heard that every cloud had a
silver lining. He laughed and said, "I shall call myself a cloud in
future."

The dinner to-night was very good. I give you the menu:

Potage tortue clair,
Crème de volaille,
Brisotins de foie gras,
Saumon Napolitain,
Filet de boeuf à la moderne,
Suprême de perdreaux,
Homards à la Parisienne,
Gelinottes rôties,
Salade,
Petits pois à l'Anglaise,
Ananas Montmorency,
Glaces assorties,
Café--Liqueur (both served at the table).

Dinner over, we filed before the _Cent Gardes_ in their shining uniforms
through the long gallery.

It was earlier than usual when we began to dance; but we were (at least I
was) interrupted by receiving a message from their Majesties, asking me if
I would kindly sing something for them. Of course I did not refuse, and we
adjourned to the music-room, where the Erard piano was.

[Illustration: THE MUSIC HALL--CHÂTEAU DE COMPIÈGNE]

I did not exactly know what to sing; but Prince Metternich soon relieved
my mind on that score by saying, "Don't bother about singing anything
serious, and especially _don't_ sing anything classical." The Princess
Metternich could accompany anything which was not too difficult; therefore
we thought I had better sing "_Ma mère était bohémienne_," of Massé, which
I did. I saw directly that this melodramatic music, beautiful as it is,
did not suit the occasion, for though the gaily attuned audience was
visibly affected by the phrase, _Et moi j'ai l'âme triste_, they did not
show more signs of emotion than by making a little dab at their eyes with
their pocket-handkerchiefs.

The Princess remained at the piano, ready to accompany the other songs I
had brought, which were of the same character, and I stood by her, trying
to decide what I should sing next, when the Emperor came up and asked me
for "Beware!" Charles accompanied that, and I sang it. The Empress asked
me if I would sing some Spanish songs for her. I sang "Chiquita," which I
learned with Garcia, and the "_Habañero_." She seemed very pleased, and
made me many compliments. Then the Emperor begged me for some negro songs,
and asked me if I knew "Massa's in the Cold, Cold Ground," or "Suwanee
River," or "Nelly Bly," all of which he remembered having heard in
America.

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