DEAR M.,--The Metternichs' big ball last night was a splendid affair, the
finest of the many fine balls. We were invited for ten o'clock, and about
half-past ten every one was there.
The Emperor and Empress came at eleven o'clock. Waldteufel, with full
orchestra, was already playing in the ballroom of the embassy, which was
beautifully decorated. At twelve o'clock the doors, or rather all the
windows that had been made into doors, were opened into the new ballroom,
which the Princess Metternich, with her wonderful taste and the help of
Monsieur Alphand, had constructed in the garden, and which had transformed
the embassy into a thousand-and-one-nights' palace.
The ballroom was a marvel; the walls were hung with lilac and pink satin,
and the immense chandelier was one mass of candles and flowers; from each
panel in the room there were suspended baskets of flowers and plants, and
between the panels were mirrors which reflected the thousands of candles.
One would never have recognized the garden; it was transformed into a
green glade; all the paths were covered with fresh grass sod, making it
look like a vast lawn; clusters of plants and palms seemed to be growing
everywhere, as if native to the soil; flower-beds by the hundreds;
mysterious grottos loomed out of the background, and wonderful vistas with
a cleverly painted perspective. At the same moment that their Majesties
entered this wonderful ballroom, which no one had dreamed of, the famous
Johann Strauss, brought from Vienna especially for this occasion, stood
waiting with uplifted baton and struck up the "Blue Danube," heard for the
first time in Paris.
When their Majesties approached the huge plate-glass window opening into
the garden a full-fledged cascade fell over the stucco rocks, and powerful
Bengal lights, red and green, made a most magical effect: the water looked
like a torrent of fiery lava _en miniature_. It was thrilling.
No one thought of dancing; every one wanted to listen to the waltz. And
how Strauss played it!... With what fire and _entrain!_ We had thought
Waldteufel perfect; but when you heard Strauss you said to yourself you
had never heard a waltz before. The musicians were partly hidden by
gigantic palmettos, plants, and pots of flowers arranged in the most
attractive way. But he!--Johann Strauss!--stood well in front, looking
very handsome, very Austrian, and very pleased with himself.
Then came the _quadrille d'honneur_. The Emperor danced with the Queen of
Belgium, the Crown Prince of Prussia with the Empress, the King of Belgium
with the Princess Mathilde, the Prince Leuchtenberg with the Princess
Metternich.
The cotillon was led by Count Deym and Count Bergen, and they led it to
perfection; there was not a hitch anywhere. Every one was animated and
gay; certainly the music was inspiring enough to have made an Egyptian
mummy get out of his sarcophagus and caper about. I danced with a German
_Durchlaucht_, who, though far in the sear and yellow leaf, danced like a
school-boy, standing for hours with his arm around my waist before
venturing (he could only start when the tune commenced), counting one--
two--three under his breath, which made me, his partner, feel like a
perfect fool. When at last he made up his mind to start nothing short of
an earthquake could have stopped him. He hunched up his shoulders to his
ears, arched his leg like a prancing horse, and off we went on our wild
career, lurching into every couple on the floor, and bumping into all the
outsiders. When we were not careering together, he sat glued to his chair,
refusing to dance. If any lady came up with a favor he would say, "I am a
little out of breath; I will come and fetch you later." And then he would
put the favor in his pocket and never go near her. He seized everything in
the way of favors that came his way; some he gave to me, and the rest he
took home to his small children.
I was glad, all the same, to have him for a partner, as, being a
_Durchlaucht_, he was entitled to a seat in the front row, and I preferred
prancing about with my _hochgeboren_ high-stepper to having to take a back
seat in the third row with a minor _geboren_. After my partner and I had
bounded about and butted into every living thing on the floor I brought
him to anchor near his chair by clutching his Golden Fleece chain which
hung around his neck. I felt like singing Tennyson's "Home I brought my
warrior (half) dead." He was puffing and blowing, the perspiration glazing
his face, his yellow hair matted on his forehead, and his mustaches all
out of kilter.
I really felt sorry for him, and wondered why he exerted himself so much,
when he could have been quietly seated watching others, or, better still,
at home in bed.
The supper was served at one o'clock. Their Majesties the King and Queen
of Belgium, Prince Alfred, the Prince and Princess of Prussia, the Prince
of Saxe-Weimar, and all the other _gros bonnets_--too many to write about
--went up-stairs through an avenue of plants and palms to a salon arranged
especially for them where there were two large tables. The Emperor
presided at one and the Empress at the other. Besides the _salle à manger_
and some smaller salons, two enormous tents were put up in the garden,
which contained numerous tables, holding about ten people each, and
lighted by masses of candles and festooned with bright-colored Chinese
lanterns. Prince Metternich told me later that the candles were replaced
three times during the evening.
The favors for the cotillon were very pretty, most of them brought from
Vienna. One of the prettiest was fans of gray wood with "Ambassade
d'Autriche, 28th May, 1867," painted in blue forget-me-nots.
We danced "till morning did appear," and it appeared only too soon. The
cotillon finished at half-past five, and the daylight poured in, making us
all look ghastly, especially my sear and yellow leaf, whose children must
have wondered why papa _kam so spät nach hause_.