I could not resist an invitation from these two delightful people, therefore we drove into Paris and reached the emba.s.sy at half-past six, the hour named for dinner.

Prince Metternich told us that he had had a visit in the afternoon from Monsieur Due, the Swedish secretary, who had been on the verge of desperation on account of his not having been able to secure a suitable box for King Charles XIV. of Sweden, who arrived last night to spend a few days here. He wished to see Schneider in "La Belle Helene." Monsieur Due had gone to the Minister of Foreign Affairs and suggested that the Minister offer his box; but that had already been given to the Metternichs. When Prince Metternich was informed of this he did not hesitate to place the box in question at the King's disposal; but, not to disappoint the Princess and me, he had taken an ordinary box opposite. The King was already in his _loge_ when we arrived. He is a large, handsome man with a full, black beard, and has a very pleasant face.

Between the first and second acts Monsieur Due came to Prince Metternich and told him that the King desired to see him. Of course the Prince went directly, and returned delighted with the King's affability, and to our great surprise brought us a message from the King, asking us all to come to his box and join him, and proposing to send Monsieur Due and his gentleman-in-waiting to take our places in our box.

We accepted with pleasure, and pa.s.sed the rest of the evening in the charming society of the most amiable of kings. He said to me that "Oscar,"

as he called his brother (Prince Oscar, the hereditary Prince), had spoken about me and our singing the duet written by his brother, Prince Gustave, and asked how I managed about the Swedish words. I replied that Prince Oscar had taught them to me during the dinner preceding the singing.

"Could you understand the words?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "I only know that it was something about London and Emma."

The King laughed most heartily, and said, "I shall tell that to Oscar when I go home, and he will see how well you profited by his lessons."

We were all immensely amused at Cora Pearl's appearance; it was her debut as an actress. I never saw any one look so sheepish as she did, in spite of her paint and powder and beautiful legs. She wore high-heeled slippers, so high that she could hardly walk, which made her even more awkward than she naturally was. She only had a few lines to sing, and this she did so badly that people nearly hissed her.

She was evidently engaged as a drawing-card; but the only thing she drew was ridicule on herself.

During the second act Lord Lyons came into the box. He had known the King before, and, having heard from the Minister of Foreign Affairs that the King was at the theater, went there to pay his respects. The King, noticing that he had a decoration on, said in French: "Please take that off; I am here incognito. To-morrow I shall be official; then you can put it on." So Lord Lyons took off his star and put it in his pocket. He wanted to go after the second act, but the King said: "Monsieur Due has arranged a supper for us at _La Maison d'Or_. You must come also." Of course Lord Lyons did not refuse.

Monsieur Due left the box in advance of the rest of us, in order to arrange everything before the King's arrival. The King called to him, as he opened the door, "Don't forget the _ecrevisses a la Bordelaise_; I have been looking forward to them for a long time."

After the performance, with which the King was delighted (especially with Hortense Schneider's song, "Dis-moi, Venus, pourquoi," etc.), we drove to the _Maison d'Or_, where we found Monsieur Due awaiting us. We asked at what time the carriages should come back. He said: "Not before two o'clock. His Majesty never retires before." We were then shown into a salon, where the Princess Metternich and I were asked by the King to take off our hats. "It is so much more cozy," he said. So off our hats came. We had not been seated ten minutes when we heard some very loud talking and much discussion in the corridor outside. Lord Lyons, who was nearest the door, jumped up to see what the matter was, opened the door, and peeped out.

"Oh!" said he. "It is the Duke of Brunswick making a row; he is half-seas over!" The King turned to Monsieur Due (the King does not speak English) and said, "What did Lord Lyons say?" Monsieur Due's English did not go very far, but he translated into Swedish what he had understood Lord Lyons to say.

The King seemed very puzzled and, addressing Lord Lyons, said:

"Was not the Duke of Brunswick obliged to leave England for fear of being arrested?" Lord Lyons coughed discreetly, and the King went on: "If I remember rightly, the Duke, who was in the royal box, shot at and killed a _danseuse_ who was on the stage! And did he not leave England in a balloon? It always seemed such an extraordinary thing. Was it true?" Lord Lyons cautiously answered that people had said all that; but it was some time ago, and added, diplomatically, that he had forgotten all the details.

"And I understood," said his Majesty, "that he can never go back there again."

"You are right. He cannot go back to England, your Majesty."

"Oh! don't Majesty me. To-night I am a simple bourgeois," the King interrupted, smilingly shaking his finger. "But tell me, how can the Duke dare return there now?"

"He does not dare," repeated Lord Lyons. "He can _never_ go back."

"But," insisted the King, "my good Monsieur Due says that he is on his way there at this moment."

Lord Lyons replied, "I think Monsieur Due must be mistaken, for the Duke is out there in the corridor making all this [I am sure it was on his lips to say "devil of a row," but he politely said] _noise_."

Monsieur Due then remarked, "Did I not hear you say that he was half way across the channel?"

"I certainly did not say _that_. What I did say was that he was 'half-seas over' which is a slang expression we use in England instead of saying tipsy, or _dans les vignes du Seigneur_, so prettily put by the French."

The King laughed very much at this _quid pro quo_ and, looking at Monsieur Due, said, "I thought your English more up to the mark."

The King was immediately fired with a desire to see the famous Duke who had dared to cross the channel in a balloon rather than run the risk of being shut up in prison, and we all waited with impatience to see whether Lord Lyons's persuasive powers went so far as getting the Duke to show himself. Well, they did, and both the gentlemen came into the salon. The Duke bowed low and did not lose his balance. In fact, for a man half-seas over, I thought he looked as if he could get to the end of his journey without disgrace. He said, very politely, "I am afraid I have disturbed you, but this is the salon which has always been put aside for me every night, and I was surprised to learn that it was occupied."

The Duke is, or rather would have been, a very handsome man if he had not such watery eyes and such a weak mouth; and then he wore the funniest- looking wig I ever saw. It was made out of black (the blackest) sewing- silk and plastered down over his ears. I wonder if it was a disguise, or if he thought any one would ever really take it for his own hair.

The King was very nice to him, and did not seem in the least to mind his being _dans les vignes_. I fancy, from what Monsieur Due said, that in Sweden people are used to see their friends _always_ in _Seigneurial_ vineyards--they never see them anywhere else! But he exaggerates, no doubt.

The King said to the Duke of Brunswick, "Will you not sup with us to- night?"

"I thank your Majesty, but I must crave permission to return, for I have some ladies supping with me, including the Cupidon of to-night."

"Tell her," said the King, "if she wears such high heels she will come to grief."

"It will not be the first time," answered the Duke, with a laugh. "But don't ask me to say anything like that to her; she would box my ears!"

Seeing the waiter making signs to him, the Duke then made a profound bow and, stroking his sewing-silk locks left us.

The universal verdict on him was _Quel cretin!_

We had a very pleasant supper, and a most unceremonious one, as much so as is possible where there is royalty.

The King said that he was going to be official all the next day, but that he would like to go to the Exposition. Prince Metternich proposed a cup of tea and the delicious hot rolls they turn out at the Vienna restaurant.

The King was delighted to accept, and named the hour of half past four in the afternoon. We were also bidden, for which I was much pleased. King Carl is the most delightful and fascinating of monarchs, and quite worthy to be his brother's brother. To-morrow he is going to be still more official, for he dines at the Tuileries, and there is a gala performance at the opera; Christine Nilsson is going to sing "Faust" with Nicolini and Faure.

To-morrow we leave for Dinard, where there will be no majesties nor Exposition; just plain bread and b.u.t.ter and Brittany cider, which is as hard as a relentless parent.

COMPIeGNE, _November 27, 1868._

When the inclosed invitation came my father-in-law wet-blanketed the whole thing, and I was brokenhearted. The Duke de Persigny, who happened to be in Pet.i.t Val at that moment, sympathized with me and tried to change the paternal mind; but the paternal mind was obdurate, and all pleadings were, alas! in vain.

MAISON DE L'EMPEREUR

_Palais des Tuileries, le 2 9'bre 1868._

_Premier Chambellan_

Monsieur,

Par ordre de l'Empereur, j'ai l'honneur de vous prevenir que vous etes invite, ainsi que Madame Ch. Moulton, a pa.s.ser 9 jours au Palais de Compiegne, du 27 9'bre au 5 decembre.

Des voitures de la Cour vous attendront le 27, a l'arrivee a Compiegne du train partant de Paris a 2 heures 1/2 pour vous conduire au Palais.

Agreez, Monsieur, l'a.s.surance de ma consideration tres distinguee.

_Le Premier Chambellan_, V'te de Laferriere.

Monsieur Ch. Moulton.

My father-in-law thought it cost too much--my toilettes, the necessary outlay, and especially the _pourboires_. He said that it was a lot of money, and added, in his most choice French, "Le jeu [he p.r.o.nounced it 'jew'] ne valait pas la chandelle." He was right from his point of view, for he had none of the _jeu_ and all of the _chandelle_. I pined and pouted the whole day, and considered myself the most down-trodden mortal in existence.

Imagine my delight, a few days later, to receive a second doc.u.ment, informing us that our names had been re-entered on the list, and that we were expected, all the same, on the 27th to stay nine days. At the same time there came a note from the Duke de Persigny, in which he said, "Their Majesties desired us particularly to come." And he added: "Tell your father-in-law that the question of pourboires has been settled now and forever. No more pourboires to be given nor taken at Compiegne."