Count de Vogüé was the showman, and the servant assisting him was no less
a person than the Austrian Ambassador himself, Prince Metternich. As the
stage was small, it could not contain more than two couples at a time, so
they were brought on in pairs.
First came Antony, and Cleopatra (the latter Marquise de Gallifet,
beautiful as a dream) drank mechanically (having been wound up by the
servant) an enormous pearl, and Antony (Prince Murat) looked on
wonderingly and admiringly.
Madame de Bourgogne and Count Grammont were a Chinese chop-sticking
couple. When wound up, their chop-sticks went everywhere except into their
mouths. The Marquise de Chasselouplobat and the Marquis de Caux were
shepherd and shepherdess, with the usual rakes, baskets, ribbons, etc.
I was a mechanical doll sent from America (the latest invention) for the
Exposition. I was dressed as a Tyrolienne with a red skirt, a black
bodice, and a hat with a ridiculous feather sticking out from the back of
it, which Prince Metternich said I _must_ have.
While the others were on the stage Princess Metternich wrapped a lot of
silk paper around me and tied it with bows of wide ribbon, thus covering
me completely, head and all. I was carried in and placed on a turning
pedestal.
The showman explained the wonderful mechanism of this doll, unique of its
kind, and capable of imitating the human voice to such a degree that no
one could hear any difference.
When he had finished talking (I thought, as I stood there, motionless and
stifling under my paper covering, he never would stop) he tore off the
paper and called his assistant to wind me up.
I had so far been very successful in keeping my countenance; but I assure
you, when I saw Prince Metternich's get-up, my efforts to keep myself from
bursting out laughing almost amounted to genius. He had said he wished his
costume to be a surprise. Well! The surprise almost made the mechanical
doll a failure, and had not Count de Vogüé quickly turned the pedestal
around I don't know how I should have saved myself from disaster.
Prince Metternich was dressed as a servant. He had a velvetine coat, red
vest, knickerbockers, white stockings, and servant's low shoes, and he
wore a huge black beard and a black wig. He had made his eyebrows so bushy
that they looked like mustaches; but his nose had preoccupied him more
than anything else--I don't know much time he had spent in making it.
First, he made it hooked and then changed it to _retroussé_, then again
back to hooked, which he thought suited his style best. He commenced
it when the first scene was being acted, and had just got it at the right
angle when it was time for him to go on the stage. The result of his
afternoon's labors must have been most gratifying, for he was a stupendous
success.
He wound me up and I began singing; but everything went wrong. I sang
snatches of well-known songs, cadences, trills, arpeggios, all _pêle-
mêle_, until my exhibitors were in despair.
"Mais, c'est terrible," cried Vogüé. "Ne pouvez-vous pas l'arrêter? Est-ce
qu'il n'y a pas de vis?"
"Il n'y a pas le moindre vice, Monsieur," shaking his head in despair.
Then I stopped short. How could I sing when I was convulsed with laughter?
"Il faut la remonter," the showman said, with a resigned air, and, turning
to the audience, he announced that such a thing had never happened before.
"La poupée a été probablement dérangée pendant le voyage." This caused
much merriment. "Elle a besoin de l'huile," said the Prince in a loud
stage whisper, and took the oil-can and flourished it about my shoulders.
They made so many jokes and puns that they were continually interrupted by
the peals of laughter which followed each joke.
"Faites-la donc chanter," implored Vogüé. "N'y a-t-il pas un clou?"
"S'il y en avait eu un, je l'aurais trouvé, puisque c'est le clou de la
soirée."
"Mon Dieu! Que faire? Et tout le monde qui attend. Cherchez bien. Vous
trouverez peut-être un bouton."
The Prince answered, sadly, "Not a sign of a button, Monsieur." And he
added, in a loud voice, "We ought to have a button in _gold_, so that
one can see it."
He said this with intention, thinking it might suggest to the Emperor to
give me the gold button which he only gives to those he wishes to make
life-members of his Hunts. Ladies do not often get them. At last, the
mortified assistant applied the rattle and wound me up again. I gave a
little nod with my head; they both struck attitudes of satisfaction, and
one said, "Now she is going to sing 'Beware!'" which called forth a burst
of applause from the audience. I sang "Beware!" and the Prince, thinking I
made the trill too long, tried to stop me by using the rattle again, which
was almost the death of me. I wore some long ribbons around my neck, and
the more the Prince turned it, the tighter the ribbons choked me. Happily
I had breath enough to go on singing; but I turned my head and fixed a
glassy eye on my tormentor, and, instead of singing "Trust her not, she's
fooling thee," I sang, "Trust him not, he's choking me, he's choking me."
Luckily he understood, and the people who knew English understood and
appreciated the situation.
When it was all finished the Empress came hurriedly toward me, exclaiming:
"Thank Heaven! I thought the Prince was going to strangle you. I was so
frightened." She then kissed me on both cheeks, and the Emperor gallantly
kissed my hand.
They both said they had never laughed so much in their lives, and were
most profuse in their thanks, complimenting all those who had taken part
in the charade; certainly Robert de Vogüé and the Prince Metternich both
outdid themselves.
It was one o'clock when tea was served in the Emperor's salon. You may
imagine if I was tired.
_November 25th._
DEAR M.,--As the programme announced this morning that there was to be a
_chasse à tir_ this afternoon, I put on my green costume brought for this
purpose.
The Empress appeared also in a green dress, with a coquettish three-
cornered hat trimmed with gold braid, and looked bewitchingly beautiful;
the Emperor wore a shooting suit with leather gaiters, as did all the
gentlemen. Every one looked very sportsmanlike.
M. Davilliers gave me his arm for _déjeuner_. He told me a great deal
which I did not _want_ to know about hunting-dogs.
For instance, "Les chiens anglais," he said, "étaient très raillants, très
perçants, mais hésitants dans les fourrés." So much Greek to me, but I
pretended to understand. He continued to say that the Emperor had an
excellent trainer, who obtained the best results because he treated the
dogs with kindness. I inwardly applauded the trainer.
He said it was better to let them have the entire use of their faculties;
whereas, if the unhappy animals are stupefied by bad treatment they lose
their _initiative_, being pursued by the thought of a beating, and they
don't know what to do, instead of following their natural instincts.
I agreed with him entirely, and thought that our conversation was an
excellent preface to the afternoon's sport.
As the Emperor passed me, before we started off, he said, handing me a
little package he held in his hand, "Here is the gold button which you did
not have last night; it makes you a life member of all Imperial hunts."
(So Prince Metternich's ruse had succeeded.)
I bowed very low and thanked him, and asked if it would necessitate my
hunting. "Certainly not, if you don't want to," his Majesty answered; "but
have you ever seen a _chasse à tir_?"
At my answer that I had never seen one, nor anything nearer to one than
people going out with a gun and coming back with nothing else, he laughed
and said, "I must tell that to the Empress."
It is the Emperor's habit to say, when he hears anything which amuses him,
"I must tell that to her Majesty." She is always in his thoughts.
I said, looking at the button, "Last year your Majesty gave me a gold
medal for singing a _Benedictus_; now I shall sing a hallelujah for this."
"It is not worth so much," the Emperor said, with a kind smile.
"Would you like to accompany me this afternoon," he asked, "and see for
yourself what a _chasse à tir_ is?"
I answered that I should be delighted, and said, "Shall I come with a
gun?"
"Oh dear, no! Please don't!" the Emperor exclaimed, hurriedly. "But come
with stout boots and a warm coat."
The carriages were waiting, and we were soon packed in our rugs and
started for the shooting.
The Emperor drove Baron Beyens in his dog-cart; the Empress drove with the
Princess Metternich in a victoria to the field, where she left her and
returned to the chateau. I fancy she was afraid of the dampness of this
bleak November day.
We arrived at a great open place and found all the company assembled, and
I should say the whole populace of Compiègne had turned into beaters and
spectators. The gentlemen took their places in a long line, the Emperor
being in the middle; on his right the person highest in rank (Prince
Metternich), on his left Count Golz, and so forth.
Madame de Gallifet and I were a little behind the Emperor, between him and
Prince Metternich. Behind us were the gamekeepers, loading and handing the
guns to their masters as fast as they could. The three first gentlemen had
their own _chasseurs_ and two guns each. After the gamekeepers came the
men whose duties were to pick up the dead and wounded victims and put them
in the bags.
It was a dreadful sight! How I hate it! I am sure I shall not sleep for a
week, for I shall always see the forms and faces of those quivering, dying
creatures in my dreams. I never will go to a _chasse_ again.
And the worst was, they had frightened the birds and animals into a sort
of circle, where they could not escape; the butchery was awful. The
victims numbered close on four thousand. Prince Metternich alone shot
twelve hundred.
How happy I was when it all was over and I could get away from these
horrors and this miserable sport! We were invited to the tea in the
Empress's salon. I had time to change my dress and put on the high silk
gown prescribed for this function.
Such beautiful rooms! First an antechamber, with cabinets of Italian
carving and vitrines and inlaid tables; then the Empress's salon, a very
large room filled with low arm-chairs, tables covered with knickknacks,
books with paper-cutters still in them, as if they were just being read,
screens with engravings _à la Louis Seize_, and beautiful fans on the
walls, also splendid tapestries. It had a lovely ceiling, painted by some
celebrated artist, mostly angels and smiling cherubs, who seemed to
possess more than their share of legs and arms, floating about in the
clouds.
The Empress generally has a distinguished person, or some kind of
celebrity, either a traveler or an inventor, even a prestidigitateur (ugh,
what a word!), always some one who is _en vue_ for the moment. To-day
it was a man who had invented a machine to count the pulse. He strapped a
little band on your wrist and told you to concentrate your thought on one
subject, then a little pencil attached to the leather handcuff began
muffing up and down slowly or quickly, as your pulse indicated.
The Empress seemed much interested, and called those in the room whose
pulse she wished to have tested. She said, "Now let us have an American
pulse." My pulse seemed to be very normal, and the exhibitor did not make
any comments, neither did any one else.
"Shall we now have a Germanic pulse?" the Empress risked, and called Comte
Solms. "Think of something pleasant," said the inventor. "A ballet is a
nice thing to think of," said the Princess Metternich, in her shrill
voice.
"Regarde, comme il va vite," the inventor cried, and he showed the paper
with the most extraordinary wavy lines. Every one laughed, and no one more
than Comte Solms himself.
Six o'clock came very quickly, and the Empress, rising, gave the signal
for our departure.
The Marquis de Caux took me in to dinner. He is the most popular and
sought-after gentleman in all Paris. No ball is complete without him, and
his presence at any dinner is sufficient to assure its success. He leads
all the cotillons worth speaking of, and is a universal favorite. He
allowed his secret to leak out (_un secret de Polichinelle_), which all
Paris is talking about.
I swore secrecy; but I can tell you that it can be contained in one word,
and that word is SIMPATICO, which is Italian for his rendezvous with HER
at the American Doctor Sim's house, for it is there he meets her. _Devine
qui peut!_ (Guess who can!) I have not said anything.
At nine o'clock we all adjourned to the theater in the Palace, to reach
which we passed through many rooms we had never seen before, and through a
long gallery. The theater is very handsome, and as large as most of the
theaters in Paris. There is always one theatrical performance during each
week while their Majesties are in Compiègne. The company of the Théâtre
Français had been commanded to play this evening. The piece chosen was the
latest one of Émile Augier, which has had a great success in Paris, called
"Le fils Giboyer." Émile Augier, who was invited specially, was present.
Madeleine Brohan, Coquelin, Breton, and Madame Favard had the principal
rôles. Such distinguished artistes as those could not but give the
greatest enjoyment. The theater is very handsome; there are only boxes and
the parquet; the Imperial Loge reaches from the first tier of boxes to the
last seats of the parquet in the shape of a shell. Any one standing up
there could touch, on raising the arm, the velvet draperies of the
Imperial box.
The theater is entirely lighted by wax candles, of which there must have
been thousands, and all the scenery belonging to the play was sent
especially from Paris.
Their Majesties sat in the center of the Imperial Loge, and the lady
guests and the most important gentlemen, according to their rank, were
placed beside and behind them.
The other gentlemen sat in the parquet, and circulated about between the
acts.
In the boxes were places for the Court ladies, also the ladies invited
from the neighboring château and from Compiègne.
The whole assemblage certainly presented the most dazzling and magnificent
sight. The ladies in their beautiful toilettes and superb jewels showed to
the greatest advantage in this brilliantly lighted theater. The Empress
was gorgeous in yellow tulle covered with lace and jewels. She wore the
famous Regent diamond, which belongs to the French Crown, in her corsage,
and a superb diamond tiara and necklace. Princess Metternich, who is known
to be the best dressed lady in Paris, had a black tulle dress embroidered
in gold; she wore a tiara of diamonds and emeralds and a necklace of the
same.
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.