Dear L.,--Social life here is very confusing and fatiguing;
physically, because distances are so immense. People live
everywhere, from the Île St.-Louis to the gates of St.-Cloud.
Hardly a part of Paris where some one you know does not live. The
very act of leaving a few cards takes a whole afternoon.
In reality there are three societies which make life for a
diplomat, whose duty it is to be well with every one, very
complicated and unending. The official season for dinners,
receptions, and _soirées_ is in the winter; French society, just
returned from the Riviera and Italy, has its real season in
spring, when Longchamps and Auteuil have races and Puteaux has its
sports. The autumn is the time when strangers flock to Paris; then
commence the restaurant and theater parties. How can any lady have
a reception-day where people of all countries, all politics, and
all societies meet? Impossible! I have tried it, and I am sorry to
say that my receptions are dead failures. Still, I persevere, as I
am told it is my duty to receive.
When our first invitation to the ball of the Élysées came I was
most anxious to see what it would be like. Is it not strange that
the cards of invitation are the same used in the Empire. "_La
Présidence de la République Française_" stands instead of "_La
Maison de l'Empereur_." I have the two before me, the old and the
new, and they are exactly alike, color, paper, and engraving!
The Diplomatic Corps has a separate entrance at the Élysées. We
were met and conducted by a master of ceremonies to the room where
the President and Madame Faure were standing. M. Faure is called
_un Président décoratif_. He is tall, handsome, and has what you
might call princely manners. The privileged ones passed before
them and shook hands, quite _à l'Américaine_. I was named by M,
Crozier and got from M. Faure an extra squeeze by way of
emphasizing that I was a new-comer.
We then passed into the _salon_ where our colleagues were
assembled, and did not move from there until the presidential pair
came in at eleven o'clock. At these balls there are a great
many--too many--people invited. I have been told that there are
six thousand invitations sent out. To one gentleman is assigned
the duty to stay in the first _salon_ and pass in review the
toilets of the promiscuous guests and judge if they are suitable.
When he sees a lady (?) in a high woolen dress with thick and
soiled boots in which she has probably walked to the ball, he
politely tells her that there must be some mistake about her
invitation, and she walks meekly back to her _comptoir_.
When M, and Madame Faure had finished receiving, they came into
the room where the diplomats were; and the President, giving his
arm to the lady highest in rank (the _protocole_ arranged the
other couples) we marched through the crowd of gazers-on, through
the ballroom, where some youths and maidens were whirling in the
dance, through the palm-filled winter garden, where the people
were crowded around a buffet, and through all the _salons_ until
we reached the last one, quite at the end of the palace, where a
sumptuous buffet awaited us. At one o'clock we returned home. It
amused me to see old Waldteufel still wielding his _bâton_ and
playing his waltzes as of old. I wanted to speak to him, but,
being in the procession, I could not stop.
Yesterday I had a visit from Adelina Patti. I had not seen her for
a long time. It seemed only the other day that I had written a
letter condoling with her on the death of Nicolini, her second
husband. This time she was accompanied by her third husband, Baron
Cederstrom, a very fine-looking Swede whose family we knew well in
Sweden. The _diva_ looked wonderfully young, and handsomer than
ever. When they came into the _salon_ together one could not have
remarked very much difference in their ages, though he is many
years younger than she is.
Massenet comes often to see me. He is a great man now. He and
Saint-Saëns are the most famous musicians of France at the present
moment. Massenet has never forgotten old kindnesses; and, no
matter where he is, whether on a platform at a concert, or in a
drawing-room full of people, he always plays as a prelude or an
improvization the first bars of a favorite song of his I used to
sing. He sends me a copy of everything he composes, and always
writes the three bars of that song on the first page.
Among others we find our friend Marquise de Podesta. She is a sort
of lady in waiting to Ex-Queen Isabella of Spain. I went to see
her at the Queen's beautiful palace in the avenue Kléber. I was
delighted when she asked me if I would like to make the
acquaintance of the Queen. I went two days later to what she
called an "audience." The Queen received me in a beautiful room
lined with old Gobelin tapestry and furnished with great taste.
She is rather heavy and stout and wears a quantity of brown hair
plastered over her temples, which does not give her the height a
Queen ought to have. She was very amiable, asked many questions
about places and people I knew, and before I was aware of it I
found myself spinning out lengthy tales. I should have much
preferred she do the talking.
[Illustration:
JULES MASSENET AT THE HEIGHT OF HIS CAREER
From an autographed photograph taken in 1894.]
The Empress Eugénie is now here. And fancy! living at the Hôtel
Continental, right opposite the gardens of the Tuileries. I have
not seen her for six years (since Cap-Martin). Baron Petri, who
always accompanies her, answered my note asking if I might come to
see her, saying that the Empress would receive me with pleasure.
You may imagine my emotion at seeing her again. I found her seated
at the window facing the Tuileries. How could she bear to be so
near her old home? As if reading my thoughts, she said: "You
wonder that I came here to this hôtel. It is very sad. There are
so many memories. But it seems to bring me nearer _mon fils bien
aimé_. I have him always before me. My poor Louis! I can see him
as a little boy, when he used to drive out in his carriage, always
surrounded by the _cent gardes_." She told me of the terrible
journey she had made to South Africa. She had wished to go over
the same route that the Prince had taken on his way to Zululand.
How dreadful it must have been for her! Can one imagine anything
more tragic? Her only child, whom she loved beyond anything in the
world, whom she hoped to see on the throne! The future monarch of
France! a Napoleon! to be killed by a few Zulus, in a war not in
any way connected with France. The Empress appeared weighed down
with grief; nevertheless, she seemed to like to talk with me. I
wish I could have heard more, but the arrival of the Princess
Mathilde interrupted us, and I left.
The papal _nonce_ (Ambassador of the Pope) had his official
reception last week in his hotel, rue Legendre, which is far too
small to hold all the people who went there. All Paris, in fact.
No one is invited to these receptions, but every one thinks it a
duty and a politeness to attend; consequently, there are a great
number of people who walk in, are presented, and walk out.
The _nonce_ is a charming man, simple in his manner, kind and
gentle. I felt very proud the other evening to be on his arm after
the dinner at the Minister of Foreign Affair's, and walk about
with him. When we passed by some of the unclothed Dianas and
Venuses the dear old man held up his hand to cover his eyes: "_Non
devo guardare!_" Nevertheless I caught him peeping under his
eyelids. He came on my Thursday to see me, accompanied by
Monsignore Montagnini, his secretary, and sat a long time
lingering over his teacup, and made himself very agreeable to the
many ladies present.
The _nonce_ accepted our invitation to dine on the 26th (he fixed
the day himself). That evening I received a note from the
secretary to say that the _nonce_ had forgotten that the 26th was
Ash Wednesday, and, naturally, could not have the pleasure, etc.
Prince Valdemar, the youngest son of the King of Denmark, and
Princess Marie, his wife, were dining yesterday with us, with
Prince George of Greece, who is extremely agreeable and handsome.
She (the Princess Marie) when in Paris stays with her parents, the
Due and Duchesse de Chartres, in their beautiful palace, known In
Paris for its artistic architecture and its onyx staircase.
[Illustration:
A NOTE FROM MASSENET
This was a reply to a letter of introduction which Madame de
Hegermann-Lindencrone had written Miss Geraldine Farrar to
Massenet. He taught her subsequently _Manon_.]
The Princess desired to meet President Faure for some reason, and,
as she could not do that In her father's house, she desired us to
arrange a meeting on the neutral ground of the Legation. On the
day fixed they met here In the afternoon. I remained out of the
_salon_, and only returned when the tea-table was brought in. The
President partook of his tea with graceful nonchalance.