Part 35

It was a very pretty little scene, and I think that every one was impressed when the Prince Imperial went toward the King of Holland to hand him a medal (probably for Dutch cheese). The tall, stately King rose from his seat, and on receiving it bowed deeply with great ceremony. The Prince made a respectful and graceful bow in response, then the King stooped down and kissed his cheek.

I was tremendously interested when the American exhibitors came forward; there were many of them, quite a procession. They looked very distinguished in their simple dress-coats, without any decorations. I was so glad.

When it was all over it was delightful to get out into the fresh air, even if we had to stand and wait patiently about like Mary's little lamb until the carriage did appear, for we had either to wait or to worm our way, risking horses' tails and hoofs through the surging crowd of bedecked men and women, who were all clamoring for their servants and carriages.

The coachmen were swearing and shouting as only French coachmen can do on such occasions as this. The line of carriages reached almost the whole way down the Champs Élysées. We finally did find ours, and I was glad to seat myself in it. I had had the forethought to put my hat and mantle in, as we intended to drive out to Petit Val for dinner. I put my hat over my tiara and my mantle on my bare shoulders, and enjoyed driving through the shady streets.

Prince Metternich came out here the other day, I had not seen him since the tragic death of Emperor Maximilian in Mexico. I never would have believed that he could be so affected as he seemed to be by this. He cried like a baby when he told us of the Emperor's last days, of his courage and fortitude. It seems that, just as he was going to be shot, he went to each of the men and gave them a twenty-franc gold piece, and said, "I beg you to shoot straight at my heart."

How dreadful it must have been!

Prince Metternich was most indignant at Rochefort, and says he can never forgive him because, in an article in La Lanterne, he called the royal martyr "the Archdupe." Auber said:

"You must not forget that Rochefort would rather sell his soul than lose an occasion to make a clever remark."

"Yes, I know," moaned the Prince. "But how can one be so cruel?"

"C'est un mauvais drôle," Auber answered (don't think Auber meant that Rochefort was droll; on the contrary, this is a neat way that the French have of calling a man the worst kind of a scamp), and added, "Rochefort's brains are made of pétards," which is the French for firecrackers.

Auber told many anecdotes. I fancy he wanted to cheer Prince Metternich up a little. One of them was that, on taking leave of the Emperor, the Shah had said:

"Sire, your Paris is wonderful, your palaces splendid, and your horses magnificent, but," waving his hand toward the mature but noble dames d'honneur with an expression of disapproval, "you must change all that." Imagine what their feelings would have been had they heard him.

PARIS, August, 1867.

DEAR M.,--I thought there would be a little rest for me after the distribution of prizes and before going to Dinard; but repose is a thing, it seems, that I am destined never to get.

Monday morning I received a letter from Princess Metternich saying that the Minister of Foreign Affairs had sent her his box for that evening, to hear Schneider in "La Belle Hélène," adding that Cora Pearl was to appear as Cupidon as an extra attraction, and asked if we would dine with them first, and go afterward to the theater.

I could not resist an invitation from these two delightful people, therefore we drove into Paris and reached the embassy at half-past six, the hour named for dinner.

Prince Metternich told us that he had had a visit in the afternoon from Monsieur Dué, the Swedish secretary, who had been on the verge of desperation on account of his not having been able to secure a suitable box for King Charles XIV. of Sweden, who arrived last night to spend a few days here. He wished to see Schneider in "La Belle Hélène." Monsieur Dué had gone to the Minister of Foreign Affairs and suggested that the Minister offer his box; but that had already been given to the Metternichs. When Prince Metternich was informed of this he did not hesitate to place the box in question at the King's disposal; but, not to disappoint the Princess and me, he had taken an ordinary box opposite. The King was already in his loge when we arrived. He is a large, handsome man with a full, black beard, and has a very pleasant face.

Between the first and second acts Monsieur Dué came to Prince Metternich and told him that the King desired to see him. Of course the Prince went directly, and returned delighted with the King's affability, and to our great surprise brought us a message from the King, asking us all to come to his box and join him, and proposing to send Monsieur Dué and his gentleman-in-waiting to take our places in our box.

We accepted with pleasure, and passed the rest of the evening in the charming society of the most amiable of kings. He said to me that "Oscar," as he called his brother (Prince Oscar, the hereditary Prince), had spoken about me and our singing the duet written by his brother, Prince Gustave, and asked how I managed about the Swedish words. I replied that Prince Oscar had taught them to me during the dinner preceding the singing.

"Could you understand the words?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "I only know that it was something about London and Emma."

The King laughed most heartily, and said, "I shall tell that to Oscar when I go home, and he will see how well you profited by his lessons."

We were all immensely amused at Cora Pearl's appearance; it was her debut as an actress. I never saw any one look so sheepish as she did, in spite of her paint and powder and beautiful legs. She wore high-heeled slippers, so high that she could hardly walk, which made her even more awkward than she naturally was. She only had a few lines to sing, and this she did so badly that people nearly hissed her.

She was evidently engaged as a drawing-card; but the only thing she drew was ridicule on herself.

During the second act Lord Lyons came into the box. He had known the King before, and, having heard from the Minister of Foreign Affairs that the King was at the theater, went there to pay his respects. The King, noticing that he had a decoration on, said in French: "Please take that off; I am here incognito. To-morrow I shall be official; then you can put it on." So Lord Lyons took off his star and put it in his pocket. He wanted to go after the second act, but the King said: "Monsieur Dué has arranged a supper for us at La Maison d'Or. You must come also." Of course Lord Lyons did not refuse.

Monsieur Dué left the box in advance of the rest of us, in order to arrange everything before the King's arrival. The King called to him, as he opened the door, "Don't forget the écrevisses à la Bordelaise; I have been looking forward to them for a long time."

After the performance, with which the King was delighted (especially with Hortense Schneider's song, "Dis-moi, Vénus, pourquoi," etc.), we drove to the Maison d'Or, where we found Monsieur Dué awaiting us. We asked at what time the carriages should come back. He said: "Not before two o'clock. His Majesty never retires before." We were then shown into a salon, where the Princess Metternich and I were asked by the King to take off our hats. "It is so much more cozy," he said. So off our hats came. We had not been seated ten minutes when we heard some very loud talking and much discussion in the corridor outside. Lord Lyons, who was nearest the door, jumped up to see what the matter was, opened the door, and peeped out.

"Oh!" said he. "It is the Duke of Brunswick making a row; he is half-seas over!" The King turned to Monsieur Dué (the King does not speak English) and said, "What did Lord Lyons say?" Monsieur Dué's English did not go very far, but he translated into Swedish what he had understood Lord Lyons to say.