DEAR M.,--We were invited to go out to Fontainebleau yesterday for dinner.
We found it a very hot ride from Paris, and really suffered in the crowded
train. When we arrived at the station we found a coupé from the Imperial
stables waiting for us, and an extra carriage for the maid, the valet, and
the trunk, which contained our change of dress for dinner. I wished that
the coupé had been an open carriage. I love to drive through those lovely
avenues in the park. Princess Metternich suggested that we should take
some green corn with us, as the Empress had expressed the wish to taste
this American delicacy, and I took some from Petit Val.
On reaching the palace we were met by the Vicomte Walsh, who led the way
to the apartment of the Baroness de Pierres, one of the _dames d'honneur_
of the Empress (an American lady, formerly Miss Thorne, of New York), who
was expecting us.
You may imagine my astonishment at seeing her smoking--what do you think?
Nothing less than a real common clay pipe, and you may imagine her
surprise at seeing me, followed by my servant, who carried a large basket
containing the corn. I told her about it, and that I had brought some at
the instigation of the Princess Metternich, in order that the Empress
could try it. She seemed to be delighted at the idea, and exclaimed, "We
must get hold of the chef at once and tell him how to cook it." She rang
her bell and gave the order. Promptly Monsieur Jean appeared in his fresh
white apron and immaculate jacket and white _couvre-chef_. Baroness de
Pierres and I surpassed ourselves in giving contradictory directions as
to the cooking of it. She thought it ought to be boiled a long time, while
I maintained that it required very little time.
"You must leave the silk on," said she.
"Has it got silk?" asked the bewildered chef.
I was of the opinion that the husks should be taken off. "By no means!"
she declared, and explained that in America the corn was always served in
the husk.
The chef, trying to analyze this unusual article of food, lifted one of
the ears from the basket and examined it.
"En robe de chambre, alors, Madame!" said he, and looked dismayed at these
complications.
"Yes," she replied, "just like a potato--_en robe de chambre_."
We could hear him as he left the room, followed by the basket, muttering
to himself, "Soie! robe de chambre! Soie! robe de chambre!" in his most
satirical tone. I began to feel a little nervous about it myself, and
wondered if for this broth there had not been too many cooks.
We went out before dinner to see the famous carp; I looked in vain for the
one with the ring in its nose.
At dinner, besides the Household, were the Princess Mathilde, Monsieur
Ollivier, Monsieur Perrière, the Duke de Persigny, Baron Haussmann, and
several statesmen.
The corn came in due time served as _légume_.
I was mortified when I saw it appear, brought in on eight enormous silver
platters, four ears on each. It looked pitiful! Silk, _robe de chambre_
and all, steaming like a steam-engine. Every one looked aghast, and no one
dared to touch it; and when I wanted to show them how it was eaten in its
native land they screamed with laughter. Baron Haussmann asked me if the
piece I was playing (he meant on the flute) was in _la-bémol_?
I looked to the Baroness de Pierres for support; but, alas! her eyes
refused to meet mine and were fixed on her plate.
I tried to make the corn less objectionable by unwrapping the cobs and
cutting off the corn. Then I added butter and salt, and it was passed
about; first, of course, to the Emperor, who liked it very much; but the
Empress pushed her plate aside with a grimace, saying, "I don't like it;
it smells like a baby's flannels."
The Emperor, seeing the crushed look on my face, raised his glass and
said, with a kind glance at me, "Here's to the American corn!" I
reproached the Princess Metternich for having suggested my taking it
there.