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?