An Englishman In Paris Part 22

The bourgeoisie itself was more disgusted still. Incredible as it may seem, they did resent Napoleon's slight of their daughters. "A defaut d'une princesse de sang royal, une de nos filles eut fait aussi bien qu'une etrangere, dont le grand pere, apres tout, etait negociant comme nous. Le premier empire a ete fait avec le sang de garcons d'ecurie, de tonnelliers; le second empire aurait pu prendre un pen de ce sang sans se mesallier." The bourgeois Voltairien was more biting in his sarcasm.

In his speech to the grand officers of State and corporations, Napoleon had alluded to Empress Josephine: "France has not forgotten that for the last seventy years foreign princesses have only ascended the steps of the throne to see their race scattered and proscribed, either by war or revolution. One woman alone appears to have brought the people better luck, and to have left a more lasting impression on their memory, and that woman, the modest and kindly wife of General Bonaparte, was not descended from royal blood." Then, speaking of the empress that was to be, he concluded, "A good and pious Catholic, she will, like myself, offer up the same prayers for the welfare and happiness of France; I cherish the firm hope that, gracious and kind as she is, she will, while occupying a similar position, revive once more the virtues of Josephine." All of which references to the undoubtedly skittish widow of General de Beauharnais made the satirically inclined bourgeois, who knew the chronique scandaleuse of the Directoire quite as well as Louis-Napoleon, sneer. Said one, "It is a strange present to put into a girl's trousseau, the virtues of Josephine; the Nessus-shirt given to Hercules was nothing to it."

The Faubourg St.-Germain made common cause for once with the Orleanists salons, which were avenging the confiscation of the princes' property; and both, if less brutal than the speaker just quoted, were not less cruel. The daughter had to bear the brunt of the mother's reputation.

Public securities went down two francs at the announcement of the marriage. There was but one man who stood steadfast by the Emperor and his bride, Dupin the elder; but his ironical defence of the choice was nearly as bad as his opposition to it could have been. "People care very little as to what I say and think, and perhaps they are right," he remarked; "but still, the Emperor acts more sensibly by marrying the woman he likes than by eating humble-pie and bargaining for some strait-laced, stuck-up German princess, with feet as large as mine. At any rate, when he kisses his wife, it will be because he feels inclined, and not because he feels compelled."[60]

[Footnote 60: Dupin's feet were enormous, and, furthermore, invariably shod in thick, hobnailed bluchers. He himself was always jestingly alluding to them; and one day, on the occasion of a funeral of a friend, which he could not possibly attend, he suggested sending his boots instead. "People send their empty conveyance: I'll send mine," he said.--EDITOR.]

Nevertheless, amidst all this flouting and jeering, the Emperor and his future consort felt very uncomfortable, but they showed a brave front.

He inferred, rather than said to one and all who advanced objections, that his love for Mdlle. de Montijo was not the sole motive for his contemplated union. He wished to induce them into the belief that political motives were not foreign to it--that he was, as it were, flinging the gauntlet to monarchical Europe, which, not content with refusing him a wife, was determined to throw a spoke in his matrimonial wheel.

Unfortunately, he and his bride felt that they could not altogether dispense with the pomp and circ.u.mstance of courts. Like his uncle, Napoleon III. was exceedingly fond of grand ceremonial display, and he set his heart upon his Empress having a brilliant escort of fair and ill.u.s.trious women on the day of her nuptials. To seek for such an escort among the grandes dames of the old n.o.blesse would, he knew, be so much waste of time; but he was justified in the hope that the descendants of those who owed some of their t.i.tles and most of their fortunes to his uncle would prove more amenable. In this he was mistaken: both the d.u.c.h.esse de Vicence and the d.u.c.h.esse des Lesparres, besides several others to whom the highest positions in the Empress's household were offered, declined the honour. The Duc de Ba.s.sano did worse. Much as the De Caulaincourts and the De Lesparres owed to the son of the Corsican lawyer, the Marets owed him infinitely more. Yet their descendant, but a few days before the marriage, went about repeating everywhere that he absolutely objected to see his wife figure in the suite of the daughter of the Comtesse de Montijo, "who" (the daughter) "was a little too much of a posthumous child." He not only relented with regard to the d.u.c.h.esse at the eleventh hour, but accepted the office of Grand Chambellan, which office he filled to the end of his life.

In fact, honours and t.i.tles went absolutely a-begging in those days. Let me not be misunderstood. There were plenty of men and women ready to accept both, and to deck out their besmirched, though very authentic, scutcheons with them; but of these the Empress, at any rate, would have none. She would have willingly thrown overboard the whole of her family with its doubtful antecedents, which naturally identified it with that brilliant and cosmopolitan society, "dans laquelle en fait d'hommes, il n'y a que des decla.s.ses, et en fait de femmes que des trop-bien cla.s.sees." The Bonapartes themselves had, after all, a by no means cleaner bill of health, but, as usual, the woman was made the scapegoat; for though a good many men of ancient lineage, such as the Prince Charles de Beauveau, the Duc de Crillon, the Duc de Beauveau-Craon, the Duc de Montmorency, the Marquis de Larochejaquelein, the Marquis de Gallifet, the Duc de Mouchy, etc., rallied to the new regime, most of them refused at first to bring their wives and daughters to the Tuileries, albeit that they went themselves. When a man neglects to introduce his womenkind to the mistress of the house at which he visits, one generally knows the opinion he and the world entertain--rightly or wrongly--of the status of the lady; and the rule is supposed to hold good everywhere throughout civilized society. Yet the Emperor tolerated this.

Knowing what I do of Napoleon's private character, I am inclined to think that, but for dynastic and political reasons, he would have willingly dispensed with the rigidly virtuous woman at the Tuileries, then and afterwards. But at that moment he was perforce obliged to make advances to her, and the rebuffs received in consequence were taken with a sang-froid which made those who administered them wince more than once. At each renewed refusal he was ready with an epigram: "Encore une dame qui n'est pas a.s.sez sure de son pa.s.se pour braver l'opinion publique;" "Celle-la, c'est la femme de Cesar, hors de tout soupcon, comme il y a des criminels qui sont hors la loi;" "Madame de ----; il n'y a pas de faux pas dans sa vie, il n'y a qu'un faux papa, le pere de ses enfants."

For Louis-Napoleon could be exceedingly witty when he liked, and his wit lost nothing by the manner in which he delivered his witticisms. Not a muscle of his face moved--he merely blinked his eyes.

"Si on avait voulu me donner une princesse allemande," he said to his most intimate friends, "je l'aurais epousee: si je ne l'avais pas autant aimee que j'aime Mademoiselle de Montijo, j'aurais au moins ete plus sur de sa betise; avec une Espagnole on n'est jamais sur."

Whether he meant the remark for his future consort or not, I am unable to say, but Mademoiselle de Montijo was not witty. There was a kittenish attempt at wit now and then, as when she said, "Ici, il n'y a que moi de legitimiste;" but intellectually she was in no way distinguished from the majority of her countrywomen.[61] On the other hand, she had an iron will, and was very handsome. A woman's beauty is rarely capable of being a.n.a.lyzed; he who undertakes such a task is surely doomed to the disappointment of the boy who cut the drum to find out where the noise came from.

[Footnote 61: Merimee, the author of "Carmen," who knew something of Spanish women, and of the female members of the Montijo family in particular, said that G.o.d had given them the choice between love and wit, and that they had chosen the former.--EDITOR.]

I cannot say wherein Mdlle. de Montijo's beauty lay, but she was beautiful indeed.

Her iron will ably seconded the Emperor's attempts at gaining aristocratic recruits round his standard, and when the Duc de Guiche joined their ranks--the Duc de Guiche whom the d.u.c.h.esse d'Angouleme had left close upon forty thousand pounds a year--Mdlle. de Montijo might well be elated with her success. Still, at the celebration of her nuptials, the gathering was not le dessus du panier. The old n.o.blesse had the right to stay away; they had not the right to do what they did.

I am perfectly certain of my facts, else I should not have committed them to paper.

As usual, on the day of the ceremony, portraits of the new Empress and her biography were hawked about. There was nothing offensive in either, because the risk of printing anything objectionable would have been too great. In reality, the account of her life was rather too laudatory. But there was one picture, better executed than the rest, which bore the words, "_The portrait and the virtues of the Empress_; _the whole for two sous_;" and that was decidedly the work of the Legitimists and Orleanists combined. I have ample proof of what I say. I heard afterwards that the lithograph had been executed in England.

For several months after the marriage nothing was spoken or thought of at the Tuileries but rules of precedence, court dresses, the revival of certain ceremonies, functions and entertainments that used to be the fashion under the ancien regime. The Empress was especially anxious to model her surroundings, her code of life, upon those of Marie-Antoinette,--"mon type," as she familiarly called the daughter of Marie-Therese. If, in fact, after a little while, some one had been ill-advised enough to tell her that she had not been born in the Imperial purple, she would have scarcely believed it. When a daughter of the House of Savoy had the misfortune to marry Napoleon's cousin, the Empress thought fit to give the young princess some hints as to her toilette and sundry other things. "You appear to forget, madame," was the answer, "that I was born at a court." Empress Eugenie was furious, and never forgave Princess Clotilde. Her anger reminds me of that of a French detective who, having been charged with a very important case, took up his quarters with a colleague in one of the best Paris hotels, exclusively frequented by foreigners of distinction. He a.s.sumed the role of a retired amba.s.sador, his comrade enacted the part of his valet, and both enacted them to perfection. For a fortnight or more they did not make a single mistake in their parts. The amba.s.sador was kind but distant to his servant, the latter never omitted to address him as "Your Excellency." When their mission was at an end, they returned to their ordinary duties; but the "amba.s.sador" had become so identified with his part that, on his colleague addressing him in the usual way, he turned round indignantly, and exclaimed, "You seem to forget yourself. What do you mean by such familiarity?"

Of all the entertainments of the ancien regime lending themselves to sumptuary and scenic display, "la cha.s.se" was undoubtedly the one most likely to appeal to the Imperial couple. Louis-Napoleon had, at any rate, the good sense not to attempt to rival Le Roi-Soleil in spectacular ballet, or to revive the Eglinton tournament on the Place du Carrousel. But--

"Il ne fallait au fier Romain Que des spectacles et du pain; Mais aux Francais, plus que Romain, Le spectacle suffit sans pain."

No one was better aware of this tendency of the Parisian to be dazzled by court pageants than the new Emperor, but he was also aware that, except at the risk of making himself and his new court ridiculous, some sort of raison d'etre would have to be found for such open-air displays in the capital; pending the invention of a plausible pretext, "les grandes cha.s.ses" at Compiegne were decided upon. They were to be different from what they had been on the occasion referred to above: special costumes were to be worn, splendid horses purchased; the most experienced kennel and huntsmen, imbued with all the grand traditions of "la Venerie," recruited from the former establishments of the Condes and Rohans;--in short, such eclat was to be given to them as to make them not only the talk of the whole of France, but of Europe besides. The experiment was worth trying. Compiegne was less than a hundred miles from Paris; thousands would flock, not only from the neighbouring towns, but from the capital also, and the glowing accounts they would be sure to bring back would produce their effect. There would be, moreover, less risk of incurring the remarks of an irreverent Paris mob, a mob which instinctively finds out the ridiculous side of every ceremonial inst.i.tuted by the court, except those calculated to gratify its love of military pomp and splendour. As yet, it was too early to belie the words, "L'empire, c'est la paix;" we had not got beyond the "tame eagle"

period, albeit that those behind the scenes, among others a near connection of mine, who was more than half a Frenchman himself, predicted that the predatory instincts would soon reveal themselves, against the Russian bear, probably, and in conjunction with the British lion,--if not in conjunction with the latter, perhaps against him.

At any rate, les grandes cha.s.ses et fetes de Compiegne formed the first item of that programme of "La France qui s'amuse,"--a programme and play which, for nearly eighteen years, drew from all parts of the civilized world would-be critics and spectators, few of whom perceived that the theatre was undermined, the piece running to a fatal denoument, and the bill itself the most fraudulent concoction that had ever issued from the sanctum of a bogus impressario. But had not Lamartine, only a few years previously, suggested, as it were, the tendency of the piece, when, in the Chamber of Deputies, he said, "Messieurs, j'ai l'honneur et le regret de vous avertir que la France s'ennuie"? Louis-Napoleon was determined that no such reproach should be made during his reign. He probably did not mean his fireworks to end in the conflagration of Bazeilles, and to read the criticism on his own drama at Wilhelmshohe, but he should have held a tighter hand over his stage-managers. Some of these were now getting their reward for having contributed to the efficient representation of the prologue, which one might ent.i.tle "the Coup d'etat." General Magnan was appointed grand veneur--let us say, master of the buckhounds,--with a stipend of a hundred thousand francs; Comte Edgar Ney, his chief coadjutor, with forty thousand francs.

History sees the last of the latter gentleman on a cold, dull, drizzly September morning, of the year 1870. He is seated in an open char-a-bancs, by the side of some Prussian officers, and the vehicle, in the rear of that of his Imperial master, is on its way to the Belgian frontier, en route for Ca.s.sel. He is pointing to some artillery which, notwithstanding its French model, is being driven by German gunners. "A qui ces canons-la?" "Ils ne sont pas des notres, monsieur," is the courteous and guarded reply. Verily, his father's exit, after all is said and done, was a more dignified one. Michel Ney, at any rate, fell pierced by bullets; the pity was that they were not the enemy's. In addition to the grand veneur and premier veneur, there were three lieutenants de venerie, a capitaine des cha.s.ses a tir,--whom we will call a sublimated head-gamekeeper;--and all these dignitaries had other emoluments and charges besides, because Louis-Napoleon, to his credit be it said, never forgot a friend.

The whole of the "working personnel" was, as I have already said, recruited from the former establishments of the Condes at Chantilly, of the late Duc d'Orleans, the Ducs de Nemours and d'Aumale; and such men as La Feuille, whose real name was Fergus, and La Trace could not have failed to make comparisons between their old masters and the new, not always to the advantage of the latter. For though the spectacle was magnificent enough, there was little or no hunting, as far as the majority of the guests were concerned. After a great deal of deliberation, dark green cloth, with crimson velvet collars, cuffs, and facings, and gold lace, had been adopted. In Louis XV.'s time, and in that of the latter Bourbons, the colour had been blue with silver lace; but for this difference the costume was virtually the same, even to the buckskins, jackboots, and the "lampion," also edged with gold instead of silver.[62] The Emperor's and Empress's had a tr.i.m.m.i.n.g of white ostrich-feathers. The dress could not be worn, however, by any but the members of the Imperial household, without special permission. The latter, of course, wore it by right; but even men like the Duc de Vicence, the Baron d'Offremont, the Marquis de Gallifet, the Marquis de Cadore, women like the Comtesse de Pourtales, the Comtesse de BriG.o.de, the Marquise de Contades, who held no special charge at court, had to receive "le bouton" before they could don it.[63]

[Footnote 62: The lampion was the three-cornered hat, c.o.c.ked on all sides alike in the shape of a spout, and stiffened with wire.--EDITOR.]

[Footnote 63: "Wearing the king's b.u.t.ton" is a very old French sporting term, signifying permission to wear the dress or the b.u.t.tons or both, similar to those of the monarch when following the hounds.--EDITOR.]

The locale of these gatherings differed according to the seasons.

Fontainebleau was chosen for the spring ones, but throughout the reign Compiegne always offered the most brilliant spectacle, especially after the Crimean war, when Napoleon III. was tacitly admitted to the family circle of the crowned heads of Europe. The shooting-parties were a tribute offered to the taste of the English visitors, who, after that period, became more numerous every succeeding autumn, and who, accustomed as they were to their own magnificent meets and lavish hospitality at the most renowned country seats, could not help expressing their surprise at the utterly reckless expenditure; and, if the truth must be told, enjoyed the freedom from all restraint, though it was cunningly hidden beneath an apparently very formidable code of courtly etiquette. As one of these distinguished Englishmen said, "They have done better than banish Mrs. Grundy; they have given her a special invitation, and drugged her the moment she came in."

The Court invariably arrived on the first of November, and generally stayed for three weeks or a month, according to the date fixed for the opening of the Chambers. From that moment the town, a very sleepy though exceedingly pretty one, became like a fair. Unless you had engaged your room beforehand at one of the hotels, the chances were a thousand to one in favour of your having to roam the streets; for there were hundreds and hundreds of sight-seers, French as well as foreign, desirous of following the hounds, which every one was free to do. In addition to these, many functionaries, not sufficiently important to be favoured with an invitation to the Chateau, but eager for an opportunity of attracting the notice of the sovereign--for Napoleon was a very impulsive monarch, who often took sudden fancies--had to be accommodated, not to mention flying columns of the demi-monde, "pas trop bien a.s.surees sur la fidelite de leurs protecteurs en-t.i.tre et voulant les sauvegarder contre les attaques de leurs rivales dans l'entourage imperial." What with these and others, a room, on the top story, was often quoted at sixty or seventy francs per day. I know a worthy lieutenant of the cavalry of the Garde who made a pretty sum, for two years running, by engaging three apartments at each of the five good hotels, for the whole of the Emperor's stay. His regiment was quartered at Compiegne, and, as a matter of course, his friends from Paris applied to him.

An amusing incident happened in connection with this scarcity of accommodation. The French railways in those days got a great many of their rails from England. The representative of one of these English makers found out, however, that the profits on his contracts were pretty well being swallowed up by the baksheesh he had to distribute among the various government officials and others. In his perplexity, he sought advice of an English n.o.bleman, who had his grandes et pet.i.tes entrees to the Tuileries, and the latter promised to get him an audience of the Emperor. It so happened that the Court was on the eve of its departure, but Napoleon wrote that he would see the agent at Compiegne. On the day appointed, the Englishman came. Having made up his mind to combine pleasure with business, he had brought his portmanteau in order to stay for a day or so. Previous to the interview he had applied at every hotel, at every private house where there was a chance of getting a room, but without success. His luggage was in a cab on the Place du Chateau. Napoleon was, as usual, very kind, promised him his aid, but asked him to let the matter rest until the next day, when he would have an opportunity of consulting a high authority on the subject who was coming down that very afternoon. "Give me your address, and I will let you know, the first thing in the morning, when I can see you," said the Emperor in English.

The Englishman looked very embarra.s.sed. "I have no address, sire. I have been unable to get a room anywhere," he replied.

"Oh, I dare say we can put you up somewhere here," laughed the Emperor, and called to one of his aides-de-camp, to whom he gave instructions.

The Englishman and the officer departed together, but the Chateau was quite as full as the rest of the town.

"I'll ask Baptiste," said the officer at last, having tried every possible means.

Baptiste was one of the Emperor's princ.i.p.al grooms, and very willing to help; but, alas! he had only a very small room himself, and that was shared by his wife.

"If monsieur don't mind," said Baptiste, "I will make him up a good bed in one of the fourgons"--one of the luggage-vans.

So said, so done. The Englishman slept like a top, being very tired,--too much like a top, for he never stirred until he found himself rudely awakened by a heavy bundle of rugs and other paraphernalia being flung on his chest. He was at the station. Baptiste had simply forgotten to mention the fact of his having transformed the fourgon into a bedroom; the doors that stood ajar during the night had been closed without the servant looking inside; and when the occupant was discovered he was, as Racine says--

"Dans le simple appareil D'une beaute qu'on vient d'arracher au sommeil."

When he told the Emperor, the latter laughed, "as he had never seen him laugh before," said the aide-de-camp, who had been the innocent cause of the mischief by appealing to Baptiste.

The victim of the misadventure did not mind it much. For many years afterwards, he averred that the sight of Compiegne in those days would have compensated for the inconvenience of sleeping on a garden seat.

What was more, he and his firm were never troubled any more with inexorable demands for baksheesh.

He was right; the sight of Compiegne in those days was very beautiful.

There was a good deal of the histrionic mixed up with it, but it was very beautiful. In addition to the bands of the garrison, a regimental band of the infantry of the Garde played in the courtyard of the Chateau; the streets were alive with crowds dressed in their best; almost every house was gay with bunting, the only exceptions being those of the Legitimists, who, unlike Achilles, did not even skulk in their tents, but shut up their establishments and flitted on the eve of the arrival of the Court, after having despatched an address of unswerving loyalty to the Comte de Chambord. After a little while, Napoleon did not trouble about these expressions of hostility to his dynasty, though he could not forbear to ask bitterly, now and then, whether the Comte de Chambord or the Comte de Paris under a regency could have made the country more prosperous than he had attempted to do, than he succeeded in doing. And truth compels one to admit that France's material prosperity was not a sham in those days, whatever else may have been; for in those days, as I have already remarked, the end was still distant, and there were probably not a thousand men in the whole of Europe who foresaw the nature of it, albeit that a thirtieth or a fortieth part of them may have been in Compiegne at the very time when the Emperor, in his elegantly appointed break, drove from the Place du Chateau amidst the acclamations of the serried crowds lining the roads.

On the day of the arrival of the Emperor--the train reached Compiegne about four--there was neither dinner-party nor reception at the Chateau.

The civil and military authorities of Compiegne went to the station to welcome the Imperial couple, the rangers of Compiegne and Laigue forests waited upon his Majesty to arrange the programme, and generally joined the Imperial party at dinner; but the fetes did not commence until the second day after the arrival, _i. e._ with the advent of the first batch of guests, who reached the Chateau exactly twenty-four hours after their hosts.

CHAPTER XV.

Society during the Empire -- The series of guests at Compiegne -- The amus.e.m.e.nts -- the absence of musical taste in the Bonapartes -- The programme on the first, second, third, and fourth days -- An anecdote of Lafontaine, the actor -- Theatrical performances and b.a.l.l.s -- The expenses of the same -- The theatre at Compiegne -- The guests, male and female -- "Neck or nothing" for the latter, uniform for the former -- The rest have to take "back seats" -- The selection of guests among the notabilities of Compiegne -- A mayor's troubles -- The Empress's and the Emperor's conflicting opinions with regard to female charms -- Ba.s.sano in "hot water" -- Tactics of the demi-mondaines -- Improvement from the heraldic point of view in the Empress's entourage -- The cocodettes -- Their dress -- Worth -- When every pretext for a change of toilette is exhausted, the court ladies turn themselves into ballerinas -- "Le Diable a Quatre" at Compiegne -- The ladies appear at the ball afterwards in their gauze skirts -- The Emperor's dictum with regard to ballet-dancers and men's infatuation for them -- The Emperor did not like stupid women -- The Emperor's "eye" for a handsome woman -- The Empress does not admire the instinct -- William I. of Prussia acts as comforter -- The hunt -- Actors, "supers," and spectators -- "La Comtesse d'Escarbagnas" -- The Imperial procession -- The Empress's and Emperor's unpunctuality -- Louis-Napoleon not a "well-dressed man" -- The Empress wished to get back before dark -- The reason of this wish -- Though unpunctual, punctual on hunt-days -- The police measures at those gatherings -- M. Hyrvoix and M. Boitelle -- The Empress did not like the truth, the Emperor did -- Her anxiety to go to St.

Lazare.

The guests were divided into five series, each of which stayed four days exclusive of the day of their arrival and that of their departure. Each series consisted of between eighty and ninety guests.

The amus.e.m.e.nts provided were invariably the same for each series of guests. On the day of their arrival there was the dinner, followed by charades, and a carpet dance to the accompaniment of the piano--or, to speak by the card, of the piano-organ. It was an instrument similar to that which nowadays causes so much delight to the children in the streets of London, and, as far as I can remember, the first of its kind I had ever seen. The male guests, and not always the youngest, relieved one another in turning the handle. Mechanical as was the task, it required a certain ear for time, and they were often found sadly wanting in that respect. It was rather comical to see a grave minister of State solemnly grinding out tunes, and being called to task every now and again for his incapacity. The worst offender, the most hopeless performer, was undoubtedly the Emperor himself. The Bonapartes are one and all devoid of the slightest taste for music. I think it is De Bourrienne--but I will not be certain--who speaks of the founder of the dynasty humming as he went along from one apartment to another. "Et Dieu sait comme il chantait faux," adds the chronicler in despair. That part of the great man's mantle had decidedly fallen upon his nephew. I remember the latter trying to distinguish himself on that piano-organ one evening. M. de Maupas, who was the prefect of police at the time of the Coup d'etat, and minister of police afterwards, was among the guests. The ambulant musician in Paris has to get a kind of licence from the prefecture of police, the outward sign of which is a bra.s.s badge, which he is bound to wear suspended from his b.u.t.ton-hole. While the Emperor was trying to make the company waltz, one of the ladies suddenly turned round to M. de Maupas: "Si jamais l'empereur vous demande la permission de jouer dans la rue, refusez lui, monsieur; refusez lui, pour l'amour du ciel et de la musique," she said aloud: and the Emperor himself could not help smiling at the well-deserved rebuke. "Madame," he replied, "if ever I am reduced to such a strait, I will take you into partnership: I will make you sing, and I will collect the pence." In spite of his musical deficiencies the Emperor was right; the lady was Madame Conneau, who had and has still one of the most beautiful voices ever heard on the professional or amateur stage.

On the first day following that of the arrival of the guests, there was a shooting-party, or, rather, there were two--one in the home park for the Emperor himself, who was not a bad shot, and a dozen of the more important personages; another in the forest. Those who did not care for sport were at liberty to remain with the ladies, who, under the direction of the Empress, proceeded to the lawn. Croquet, as far as I know, had not been invented then, but archery lent itself to posing and flirtation quite as well, and the costumes worn on such occasions were truly a sight for the G.o.ds.

On the evening of that day, there was a performance in the theatre, built for the express purpose by Louis-Philippe, but which had been considerably embellished since. The companies of the Comedie-Francaise, the Odeon, the Gymnase, the Vaudeville, and the Palais-Royal took it in turns. Only the members of the Comedie-Francaise had the privilege of paying their respects in the Imperial box. It was during one of the performances of the Gymnase company that the following amusing incident occurred. They were playing "Le Fils de Famille" of Bayard and De Bieville,[64] and the Emperor was strolling in the lobbies before the performance, when he noticed an old colonel of lancers, whom he did not remember to have seen among the guests during the daytime, but who seemed perfectly at home. He had not even donned his full regimentals.