The Prince and Princess of Wales came up to Paris in the beginning of
May, from Italy, Egypt, and alongshore, stayed at a hotel on the Place
Vendome, where they can get beef that is not horse, and is rare, and
beer brewed in the royal dominions, and have been entertained with
cordiality by the Emperor. Among the spectacles which he has shown them
is one calculated to give them an idea of his peaceful intentions,-a
grand review of cavalry and artillery at the Bois de Boulogne. It always
seems to me a curious comment upon the state of our modern civilization,
when one prince visits another here in Europe, the first thing that the
visited does, by way of hospitality is to get out his troops, and show
his rival how easily he could “lick” him, if it came to that.
It is a little puerile. At any rate, it is an advance upon the old
fashion of getting up a joust at arms, and inviting the guest to come
out and have his head cracked in a friendly way.
The review, which had been a good deal talked about, came off in the
afternoon; and all the world went to it. The avenues of the Bois
were crowded with carriages, and the walks with footpads. Such a
constellation of royal personages met on one field must be seen; for,
besides the imperial family and Albert Edward and his Danish beauty,
there was to be the Archduke of Austria and no end of titled personages
besides. At three o'clock the royal company, in the Emperor's carriages,
drove upon the training-ground of the Bois, where the troops awaited
them. All the party, except the Princess of Wales, then mounted horses,
and rode along the lines, and afterwards retired to a wood-covered knoll
at one end to witness the evolutions. The training-ground is a noble,
slightly undulating piece of greensward, perhaps three quarters of a
mile long and half that in breadth, hedged about with graceful trees,
and bounded on one side by the Seine. Its borders were rimmed that day
with thousands of people on foot and in carriages,--a gay sight, in
itself, of color and fashion. A more brilliant spectacle than the field
presented cannot well be imagined. Attention was divided between the
gentle eminence where the imperial party stood,--a throng of noble
persons backed by the gay and glittering Guard of the Emperor, as brave
a show as chivalry ever made,--and the field of green, with its long
lines in martial array; every variety of splendid uniforms, the colors
and combinations that most dazzle and attract, with shining brass and
gleaming steel, and magnificent horses of war, regiments of black, gray,
and bay.
The evolutions were such as to stir the blood of the most sluggish. A
regiment, full front, would charge down upon a dead run from the far
field, men shouting, sabers flashing, horses thundering along, so that
the ground shook, towards the imperial party, and, when near, stop
suddenly, wheel to right and left, and gallop back. Others would succeed
them rapidly, coming up the center while their predecessors filed down
the sides; so that the whole field was a moving mass of splendid color
and glancing steel. Now and then a rider was unhorsed in the furious
rush, and went scrambling out of harm, while the steed galloped off with
free rein. This display was followed by that of the flying artillery,
battalion after battalion, which came clattering and roaring along,
in double lines stretching half across the field, stopped and rapidly
discharged its pieces, waking up all the region with echoes, filling the
plain with the smoke of gunpowder, and starting into rearing activity
all the carriage-horses in the Bois. How long this continued I do not
know, nor how many men participated in the review, but they seemed to
pour up from the far end in unending columns. I think the regiments must
have charged over and over again. It gave some people the impression
that there were a hundred thousand troops on the ground. I set it at
fifteen to twenty thousand. Gallignani next morning said there were only
six thousand! After the charging was over, the reviewing party rode to
the center of the field, and the troops galloped round them; and the
Emperor distributed decorations. We could recognize the Emperor and
Empress; Prince Albert in huzzar uniform, with a green plume in his
cap; and the Prince Imperial, in cap and the uniform of a lieutenant, on
horseback in front; while the Princess occupied a carriage behind them.
There was a crush of people at the entrance to see the royals make their
exit. Gendarmes were busy, and mounted guards went smashing through
the crowd to clear a space. Everybody was on the tiptoe of expectation.
There is a portion of the Emperor's guard; there is an officer of the
household; there is an emblazoned carriage; and, quick, there! with a
rush they come, driving as if there was no crowd, with imperial
haste, postilions and outriders and the imperial carriage. There is a
sensation, a cordial and not loud greeting, but no Yankee-like cheers.
That heavy gentleman in citizen's dress, who looks neither to right nor
left, is Napoleon III.; that handsome woman, grown full in the face of
late, but yet with the bloom of beauty and the sweet grace of command,
in hat and dark riding-habit, bowing constantly to right and left,
and smiling, is the Empress Eugenie. And they are gone. As we look for
something more, there is a rout in the side avenue; something is coming,
unexpected, from another quarter: dragoons dash through the dense mass,
shouting and gesticulating, and a dozen horses go by, turning the corner
like a small whirlwind, urged on by whip and spur, a handsome boy riding
in the midst,--a boy in cap and simple uniform, riding gracefully and
easily and jauntily, and out of sight in a minute. It is the boy Prince
Imperial and his guard. It was like him to dash in unexpectedly, as he
has broken into the line of European princes. He rides gallantly, and
Fortune smiles on him to-day; but he rides into a troubled future. There
was one more show,--a carriage of the Emperor, with officers, in English
colors and side-whiskers, riding in advance and behind: in it the future
King of England, the heavy, selfish-faced young man, and beside him his
princess, popular wherever she shows her winning face,--a fair, sweet
woman, in light and flowing silken stuffs of spring, a vision of lovely
youth and rank, also gone in a minute.
These English visitors are enjoying the pleasures of the French capital.
On Sunday, as I passed the Hotel Bristol, a crowd, principally English,
was waiting in front of it to see the Prince and Princess come out,
and enter one of the Emperor's carriages in waiting. I heard an
Englishwoman, who was looking on with admiration “sticking out” all
over, remark to a friend in a very loud whisper, “I tell you, the Prince
lives every day of his life.” The princely pair came out at length, and
drove away, going to visit Versailles. I don't know what the Queen would
think of this way of spending Sunday; but if Albert Edward never does
anything worse, he does n't need half the praying for that he gets every
Sunday in all the English churches and chapels.