Part 31

Some were of opinion that it was pleasanter to give en masse, in one big sum, than to give in driblets; others thought it more satisfactory to hand one's offering personally to the different servants; but we all, with one voice, voted the officious beadle an imposition.

The daily expenses of Compiègne, so the Gouverneur de la Maison told us, and he ought to know, are not less than ten thousand francs a day, and there are more than nine hundred people living in the Palace at a time, to be fed and warmed.

To-day, at five o'clock, the fourth série will come; it is called la série des oubliés, as ours was called la série élégante. The first is called la série obligatoire, the second les ennuyeux.

We found our carriage at the station. Our simple coupé seemed a great come-down from the beautiful carriages we had been driving in, and good Louis and the footman, in their quiet liveries, seemed in fierce contrast to the gorgeous creatures we had been familiar with so lately.

The family is at Petit Val, and we remain there quietly until January.

We found among our belongings an enormous bourriche, containing a quantity of game, hares, pheasants, and so forth.

Good night! I am tired.

PARIS, 1867.

DEAR M.,--You will have heard so much about the Exposition, that I cannot tell you anything new. It is now in full swing, and I think it is magnificent. Of course I cannot compare it to any other, as it is the only one that I have ever seen.

I have a season ticket (costing one hundred francs) containing my photograph and my autograph; therefore no one but myself can use it. The Exposition building is round, and the section of one thing goes through all the countries; for instance, art, which seems to be the smallest thing, is in the inner circle. If you only want to study one particular industry you go round the circle; but if you want to study a country you go down a section. The outer circle is for machinery, and outside in the grounds, in front of the different countries, are the cafés belonging to them. Here you can listen to the different national musics, and see the different national types and costumes, and eat the different national foods. We go almost every day, and it is always a delight. You can see the whole art of cutting diamonds, from the gravel in which they are found to their final polish. The villa of the Bey of Tunis, a Buddhist temple, a Viennese bakery, where people flock to taste the delicious rolls hot from the oven, and where Hungarian bands of highly colored handsome zitherists play from morning till night, and a hundred other attractions, make the Exposition a complete success. You pass from one lovely thing to the other. The gardens are laid through avenues of trees and shrubs, where fountains play, and beds of flowers and bouquets of plants are arranged with the most artistic taste. All these wonders will in six months' time be reduced to the level and monotony of the Champ de Mars. One can't believe that these large horse-chestnut trees in full bloom are only temporary visitors, like the people.

The Prince Oscar of Sweden (he will one day be the King) came often to the Exposition, and went about with us. He was very much interested in everything he saw, especially in the American Steinway pianos. He sent me several times some of the famous punch they make in Sweden, also some silver brooches which the Swedish peasants wear. He has a bateau mouche, in which he takes his friends up and down the Seine. The Princess Mathilde and Madame de Gallifet were of the party last Monday. We mouched as far as Boulogne, where Baron James Rothschild has a charming place called Bagatelle, which the Prince wanted very much to see.

We got out of the boat and walked up to the entrance of the park; but the porter refused, in spite of all pleadings, to let us in, and was almost rude until Monsieur Dué mentioned the name of the illustrious visitor; then the gates were thrown wide open, and we walked in and all over the place. The porter, becoming most humble and servile, offered to escort us over the house, and even asked us to take tea; but we did not succumb to either of these temptations.

There are so many kings and sovereigns here: the Emperor of Russia, who is very handsome and stately; the King of Prussia, who is accompanied by the colossal Count Bismarck, very noticeable in his dazzling white uniform, and wearing a shining helmet with an enormous spread eagle on top of it, which made him tower still more above ordinary mortals, and reminded me of all the mythological heroes I knew of. He clanked his sword on the pavement, quite indifferent to the stare of wondering Frenchmen, and was followed by several other tall Germans, who regarded everything de haut en bas with Teutonic phlegm. The Prince of Italy (Umberto) looks rather small by the side of these German giants. The Khedive of Egypt, the Shah of Persia, the ex-Queen of Spain, and other sovereigns are flitting about.

The Baron James Rothschild invited us to go to Ferrière's with Prince Oscar of Sweden. That was very amusing! We had a special train from Paris and Rothschild's special car; when we arrived at Ferrière's we first had refreshments, then we walked in the grounds till it was time to dress for dinner. We met before dining in the enormous salon in the center of the château. This salon is two stories high, with a gallery around it, and was so large that a billiard-table in one corner seemed too small to be noticed, and the concert-grand piano standing at the other end looked insignificant. The dining-table was beautifully decorated with garlands of roses and a whole collection of antique goblets, worth a fortune. There were huge bouquets of roses for the ladies, almost too big to carry.

Prince Oscar's brother had once written a very pretty song, called "I Rosens duft," which some one had arranged as a duet, and the Prince wanted me to sing it with him (he had thoughtfully brought the music). All through dinner he was teaching me the Swedish words, so that we could sing it afterward. He was so intent (and so was I) that every one, I am sure, thought we were having a tremendous flirtation, as they saw our heads almost touching when he was writing the words on the menu. He also wrote a poem to me (which I inclose), which he said he composed on the spot. How can he be so clever?

PRINCE OSCAR'S POEM

WRITTEN AT THE DINNER-TABLE AT LAFERRIÈRE'S 1867

Din sång, hur skön, hur underbar! En balsamdoft på dina läppar hvila, En välljudsström från ditt hjarta ila, Vill mana fram ur verldens haf ett svar: Din sång, hur skön, hur underbar!

Din ton, hur stark, hur ljuf, hur ren! En altareld som ingen flägt få störa, Och dock en storm som sjalens djup kan röra, En glod som smalta kan "de visas sten": Så är din ton--så stark, så ren.

Sjung mer, sjung mer, det här så godt En stund få glämma verldens hvimmel Och lyss till samklang ur en öppnad himmel, Om ock för en minut i drömma blott: Sjung mer, sjung mer, det gör mit hjärta godt.

(Translated literally)

Your voice, how beautiful, how wonderful! A perfume of balsam rests on your lips, A torrent of melody rushes from your heart, That can only be echoed by the world's ocean: Your voice, how beautiful, how wonderful!

Your voice, how full of power, how enchanting and pure! A sacred fire which no breeze can trouble, And yet a tempest that stirs the very soul, A glowing flame which can melt the philosopher's stone: Such is your voice--so powerful, so pure.

Sing more, sing more, it is so good For one moment to forget the tumult of this world And listen to the harmony of a heaven unveiled, And if only for a moment to dream: Sing more, sing more, it makes my heart rejoice.

We sang the duet after dinner with such success that we had to repeat it. Before our departure there was a grand display of fireworks: O's appeared in every dimension and design, and a blaze of fire and Bengal lights in rapid succession kept us in a continual state of admiration.

I received a little note from Jenny Lind. She is in Paris, and wished to know when she could come to see me. I wrote to her directly that I would let Monsieur Auber know, and he would probably come at four o'clock (his usual hour). Therefore, it all came about. Jenny Lind came, so did Auber. The meeting was a pleasure to them both. They talked music, art, told many anecdotes of celebrated acquaintances: Alboni, Nilsson, Patti, etc. He had brought some of his music with him, and Jenny Lind and I sang the duo of his latest opera "Le Premier Jour de Bonheur." He consulted me as to whether he might dare to ask her to dine with him, with a few congenial spirits. I said I was sure she would be enchanted to do so, which she was.

As to the congenial spirits, Auber suggested the Metternichs, Gounod, Duke de Massa, and ourselves, making ten in all.

No one refused, and we had the most delightful dinner. The Princess proposed to Auber to give his arm to Jenny Lind, and to put her at his right hand, la place d'honneur, adding, with her most ironical smile, "le génie avant la beauté." Auber made a charming host, telling one funny anecdote after the other in his quiet and typical manner. Gounod, in his low and drawly voice, said: "Vous nous donnez, mon cher Auber, des choses par trop ennuyeuses aux concerts du Conservatoire. A la pensée des 'Quatre saisons' de Haydn je m'endors. Pourquoi ne s'est-il pas contenté d'une saison?" Princess Metternich replied, "Que probablement en les composant Haydn s'est mis en quatre." "La moitié m'aurait suffi," said Auber; "pour moi, elles sont toutes mon automne." (monotone).