CHAPTER X.

January 4.
M ERRILY speed the hours, said some of us a few evenings since, whilst assisting at two brilliant parties ; one hostess being a charming Princess of the “ blood,” and the other, an American, whose beautiful salons are not to be excelled in Paris. How shall we describe the two, rendering equal praise to each ? The foreign mode of entertaining has its advantages, no for- mal introductions being required, and the hostess not being obliged to go through the laborious duty of pro- viding partners for her guests. It is not an unusual thing to see a young American girl, uninitiated in the custom, receive the salute of a Frenchman with a hesi- tation she regrets the next day, if only on account of the awkward appearance she may have presented. But the cavalier does not mind such a rebuff, attributing it to a lack of savoirfaire. Last evening we heard one gener- ously exclaim, upon the refusal of his hand by one of our country-women: " EUc est bien belle ei gracieuse , quoiqu’ellc ne veut pas danset' avec moi and then lie pulled at his waxed moustache — whose length certainly needed no extension — and walked away to claim another partner, who did not wince behind her spangled fan and o
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say, “Non, monsieur” Who does not feel the gay in- spiration of Strauss’ waltzes, and find in a waxen floor more utility than beauty? In the parlors of the Amer- ican hostess hung many rare paintings, reflecting great credit upon her taste. How refreshing the buffet ; how sumptuous the supper; and how lovely our women, ren- dered doubly so by their Parisian toilettes — those odd yet beautiful styles of the time of Louis XIY, — those wonderful creations of Worth, the magic ruler of fash- ion — to say nothing of Pangard, Savarre, and Fanet et Beer. What an extravagant outlay of money ! Thou- sands of francs swept by in the numerous laces and other rich fabrics, whilst husbands and fathers looked on with pride, and did not seem to miss the gold that had van- ished from their pockets. Brightest of all the stars was Miss du Hamel. According to some, New Orleans claims the honor of her birth, but Cuba takes up arms against the assertion. Be it as it may, Princes, with all their prerogatives and wealth, might rejoice in such a prize.
January 7. — Already has memory woven out of the Christmas festivities a garland that wears a warm and fresh glow like the berried holly still decking our homes. Have not the pleasant events of the past week imparted a zest to the incoming year, and made us accept more resignedly the farewell of 1867 ? And although ’68 has received our greeting in a frosty, snapping humor, we should not make complaint when such glo- rious frolic is vouchsafed to us at the skating park.
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The sdow may fall to the fierce-sounding title of a storm; the ice-king may wave his sceptre, hanging every bough with glittering pendants, and leave not a vestige of green on the Champs Elysees; the current of the Seine may be converted into a rock strong as Gibralter ; but what care we for all this, when Janu- ary brings out the skates, and makes a gay carnival for the mirth-loving people of Paris? It is only the knowledge of the suffering poor that should make us denounce this month’s rightful claim in the “ circling seasons.” The Parisians rejoice in being suddenly Rus- sianized by this cold spell, and we believe they would willingly resign the greatest attractions of their beloved city for a few days of skating sport. Several days since the large lake at the Bois presented a grotesque sight, with representatives of every class engaged in the glls- sant motion. How animated was the scene, as we wit- nessed it from a little knoll overlooking the loeked-up stream that shone like a mirror, and how excitedly the crowd skimmed along, marking their love of the novel amusement ! Some one said, within my hearing, that this was Paris on a Toodles-drunk; and so it seemed, as round and round they went, — some on their knees, and others lying at length, wholly unable to keep their feet. Just beyond the rustic bridge that spans the narrow curve of the lake, a broken surface of ice revealed a number of ducks and swans, who were making the most of their imprisoned space, and seemed to be imitating the frolics of the people. How cheerful looked the pic- turesque Swiss restaurant on the opposite bank, so snugly
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embowered in shrubbery — still green — and how busily ran the garpons to and fro outside, distributing glasses of hot punch ! Le cercle des patineurs, a reserved rink in the Bois — under control of a club— collects together some of the choicest cullings of American society, and is frequently graced by the Imperial family and Court retinue. The Prince Imperial, on the 3d inst., glided courageously along, entirely enwrapped in the jovial sport, and totally unmindful of the cares which the future may unfold — in a word, the great responsibility which ever rests on the shoulders of royalty. Distinc- tion, however great, cannot evade the penalty of a wrong move, or an awkward tumble ; and even the most expe- rienced are not always exempt. Let this be proclaimed for the comfort of those who go tremblingly forward as beginners ! Victory cometh after a hard-fought battle ; so, with skating, is there, at first, a struggle to gain secure foothold with the polished steel, which cuts but never slays . Woe to us when the full-orbed sun shall come with its thawing power ! But hie to the crowning fea- ture, the night-carnival, held by a pageant of gaily-cos- tumed people, in innocent dissipation by the light of the moon, and amid the variegated lanterns that shed a crimson and golden lustre on the glossy ice ! The groves of the Bois on that night lost their usual stillness, re- echoing the tramping of horses’ feet, besides the tread of hundreds, nay, thousands of human beings. The air was cold and bracing, and furs might have sold at a pre- mium, at a midnight auction in the woods, with old Boreas as crier. The lovers of wintry pleasures came
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out in full force, courting perhaps abuse from the stay- away world ; but we, who appreciate the icy sport, and that hardy type of nature capable of a Siberian endur- ance, will not withhold our approbation.
We doubt not that last night a husband or two, after leaving the scene of fashion and beauty at the house of the popular American Embassador, became cross and peevish as the horses* heads were turned away from home and repose ; and that, on the other hand, some domestic angel — wives and mothers deserve the title — waited through the “wee sma* hours ayont the twal ” for the sound of footsteps that came not ; at last becoming drowsily convinced that a skating carnival has no bounds. If an unseen magician presided at this carnival and brought out enchantment after enchantment we are not aware ; or if the fairies tripped over the snow-covered paths to the scene of busy action, and shook the wand of beauty, we cannot say; but this we will assert, that noth- ing could excel the dexterous use of limb and the swift- ness of pedal motion there exhibited. The old man of sixty put the calendar of time behind him, and began a renewal of his school-boy days, and his companion of the gentler sex entered into the sport with equal enthusi- asm. Here and there, like stars shooting across the horizon, came young and lovely girls, with bright cos- tumes, short dresses and bewitching ankles ; and then followed their cavaliers who were roguishly inclined to pretty and rapid compliments when guardians were not by. Here a couutess brushed her velvet garment against a handsome marquis, attired quite comme il faut ; — there o*
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an English barrister, a graceful skater, was rudely sundered from his lady friend. And who was guilty of this breach of etiquette ? Why a mischievous little sprite who sped like an arrow through the crowd, up- setting all of lighter weight that lay in her path. A little further on, a Russian Count, in comfortable fur, was making love to a pretty little damsel in a tasteful cos- tume of Tartan plaid. But of what value are les modes , and what is dress? — a perishable fabric scarcely more enduring than the flower which yields its perfume for a day and is withered the next ? Is not its most import- ant use rendered subordinate by those dictators, fashion and vanity ? But, of the joy, happiness and content that- come of innocent amusements and jovial exercise we might grow eloquent, were it not for lack of time. These rouse the blood to healthful action, causing it to circu- late evenly and gratefully; whereas the cares and guilty dissipations of the world freeze the sensibilities, making the heart heavier and colder than a river turned to ice. If the goddess of this realm, the charming Empress, was not present on the occasion, we will assert it was for some reason not derogatory to the event. However, the glory was enough in the delight of hundreds whose glad- some shouts pealed through the wooded glens, making music, whilst the night breeze bore away exultantly the last lingering sound that told of the carnival. To-day the Emperor was on skates for a half hour ; also the Empress, who appeared in a Bismarck velvet costume, and if not skilled in the accomplishment, she at least displayed that perfection of grace which never deserts
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her. Our people cannot fail to notice the marked differ- ence between his Imperial Majesty and the President of the United States in regard to the indulgence in amuse- ments and active sports. It is evident that royalty siezes at pleasure, where Democracy stops to consider.
January 9. — O! merry world of Paris! how many altars and shrines of pleasure ye erect to lure the senses and win the heart, — how much valuable time ye demand from us worshipers who madly call the hours idle, and count them not as they pass forever from us ! The life we lead is surely one of felicity, if not of earnestness. It has the garnish or tinsel that sparkles on the surface even though it may lack the virtue of solidity. We go on in one giddy round, catching at sundry delights amid the swell of music, th^ hum of gay voices, the dance of pleasure, and the garlands of grace and beauty. The scenes we frequent are picture-worlds where lights and colors blend harmoniously; and if there be a dark spot, it escapes our dazzled eyes, like the serpent that lurks unseen in a bed of flowers. One kneels to the fragrance of the blossoms, yet the venomous breath is there! We do not stop to become artists of our own existence, but leave others to paint us in our butterfly flight ; and even memory, whose store-house begs to be filled with the aliment of our joys, is left hungry, because days and events bear no chronicle, and are confusedly slipping into the great abyss of oblivion. Worthy deeds and labors bring richest treasure to our minds — profitless pleasures wound our spirits even in their warmest em-
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brace. These crown the festival, but they poison the wine ! But all such philosophy in Paris shuts itself up in a remote hiding-place ; its teachings being hiero- glyphics that defy understanding and practice. The cry is “vive la bagatelle” and, with that shout, a thou- sand feet spring forward, and as many voices take up the key-note, locking us in the arena of exciting gaieties, and walling us around with fortifications stronger than granite, which we would not batter down if we could. And why? Because we are creatures passing away, whose poor unwise natures grasp at the most evanescent joys.
Several days preceding the 8th, a day memorable in our country’s annals for the great battle of New Orleans of 1815, there were rumors of a ball to take place at the Tuileries, and from twenty to .twenty-five Americans were preparing for presentation ; the gentlemen donning garments of fine cloth embroidered in gold ; the ladies costly and effective dresses of satin, silk, tulle and lace, each of which was pronounced a miracle of fashion. I had the honor of being escorted to the palace by Gen. Dix, who, in entering the presentation salon, turned with some pride to his country-women, so elegant, graceful and beautiful. The Rue de Rivoli from the early hour of eight o’clock was enlivened by an unusal number of carriages, many of them coroneted, and quite as attrac- tive with gorgeous livery as the fabled Cinderella coach manufactured by fairy genius. Princes, Dukes, Counts and titled dames occupied the seats, but their’s was no royalty transformed out of obscure poverty as in the in-
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stance of the persecuted child who left the chimney-corner in rags to become a princess by reason of her beauty, and not by inherited rank and fortune. If there was nothing outside the palace — as seen by other eyes than ours — to awaken the fairy story, there was within enough of splendor and enchantment to create a glowing tale which the world would stop to read and admire. The spacious court-yard which we entered through a beautiful arch from Place de Carousel was guarded by soldiers whose simple grade was but the stepping-stone, at the threshold, to the inner-court where military and civic titles dared approach a throne and salute an Emperor. The pre- sentation salon, notwithstanding its dingy ceiling and sombre aspect, was rendered bright by innumerable lights and gay costumes. A superb piano, recently presented to the Empress by the Emperor of Austria, engaged the attention of a few of us until the hour of ten, when there came the cry — UEmpereur! L 1 Empereur ! In along line England and America wore drawn up in brilliant array; and some military officers — their nationalities unknown to as — completed our comet-trail ; but this luminous body paled before two stars of regal magni- tude, the Emperor and Empress, who passed around the encircled space in dazzling glory. When America's turn came in the order of presentation, our Embassador called the names of his people with a readiness that drew forth from their Majesties, this compliment — “We would desire our memories always to serve us as well as yours has on this occason.” The Emperor in demeanor was cold, and lie wore the air of one heartily weary of
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etiquette, yet proudly true to all of its exactions. The Eqi press with unpretending charm of manner, and in- effable grace, glided before us like a lovely vision, her dress being simple, yet elegant. Alternate stripes of gold and silver ribbon upon a satin ground, shone through the soft tulle like vertical rays of sun and moon, and the drapery floating from the shoulders bore so striking a resemblance to wings that she well deserved the appellation of angel The collier of fringed dia- monds was of unexcelled magnificence. Butterflies of the same precious stone shimmered here and there through the tulle, whilst some brilliants of equal beauty glistened in her hair, — a fitting coronal for such a brow. After the presentation ceremony, which was simply a recog- nition of each person by a bow, an occasional word from the Empress, and a cramped courtesy from us who sighed impatiently for space, their Majesties repaired to the Salle des Marechaux, where they were joined on the dais by the Princess Mathilde, and became spectators of a scene truly radiant. Gas and candle-lights innumer- able beamed down on a variety of court-costumes and gorgeous regalia. The gold garniture created a blaze of dazzling light that quite oppressed the eye, and a pleasant relief was found in viewing the more subdued toilettes of lovely women, — pearls and dew’-drops amid the golden sheen. A simplicity of dress among some of our ladies, Miss du Hamel, Misses Beckwith, Miss Lip- pincott, Miss Dix, and a few others w T as remarked, but it was confined to those just unfolding their youth- ful beauty in budding warmth, and who have not yet
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reached that mature age when ornament is necessary to enrich nature. Mrs. Duncan, of New York, a regal beauty, in white satin dress with demi-jupe of black Chantilly lace, and a scarlet velvet ceinturc contested the palm with Mrs. Caldwell, of the same city, who wore a white silk covered with flounces of point applique lace, over which were clustered marguerites amid a profusion of wavy grass. The Princess Metternich was attired in pink, her toilette being the perfection of style, and the Princess Mathilde was robed in white, adorned with multicolored roses.
Delicious music with ravishing sound helped to keep up the magic spell of the hours, and from the varied scene we drank in continually draughts of pleasure. As we drifted here and there to new beauties, it seemed like sailing over a sunny sea, whose surface was of burnished gold, with melody in the air, and flowery odors in the gale. The Salle de la Paix, with its mirrors, gilded ceiling and superb crystal chandeliers, — the Salle du Trone, with its red velvet draperies, and canopied throne all studded with golden bees, — the Salon blanc , with its decorations of gilt and white, and furniture of green damask, were all open to the guests ; and at every door were visible the Cent Gardes — the handsomest specimens of men in France. They stood like statues in their imposing height, wearing glittering silver breast-plates, and helmets with long white plumes. The beautifully sculptured statue of the little Prince, with the greyhound at his side — Royalty and Fidelity matchlessly grouped — graced the long supper-room, where was spread out a
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“ feast for the gods.” Royal feasts must be showered with drops of nectar, else why were persons loth to leave, forgetting that others were to come after as beg- gars of the crumb ? At one end of this room — the Gal- erie de Diane — was a fine display of silver-plate sur- rounded by flowers.
The Imperial party left the Salle des Marechaux at one o’clock A. M., and passed through the long line of salons into the supper-room, after which no more was seen of them. Besides the diplomats , rich in decora- tions, there were present military chieftains and other celebrities ; a brother of the Tycoon, in his native cos- tume, and some members of the Japanese Embassy. A face black as midnight, and peering out from behind some jeweled coronets, indicated a fire-worshiper. If the precepts of Zoroaster had e’er been forgotten by this follower, he would have again returned to his idols amidst the myriads of lights that flashed everywhere in the Tuileries that night. A Spanish duchess wore a crown of diamonds whose.height could be measured by inches. A brigand might have become rich off a single jewel, whilst any banker entrusted with the treasure would feel compelled to guard it with Argus-eyed vigi- lance. Looking down from niches in the wall, in the Salle des Marechaux, upon this brilliant scene, were seven or eight superb figures — statues of gallant gener- als and brave naval commanders — and of the portraits of the Marshals of France, the mention of the intrepid Xcy will suffice, without intentional slight to others, for was not Cato’s image once left behind ? Upon leaving
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the ball no gloomy historical association came up to overshadow the rose-colored tints of what we had seen. We feel assured that France, in these days of glory and peace, would gladly blot from her record the stain of every ruby drop that flowed from her guillotine.
January 13. — The day after the ball at the Palace, the Empress honored with her presence the Cercle des patineurs, where she enjoyed several hours’ skating. Her attention was attracted by the extraordinary feats of a young American girl, upon whom she lavished many gracious compliments. This morning we were prevented from visiting the Cercle, on account of prep- arations that were making for a repetition of the night- carnival, and had to go to Longchamps instead ; but the skating rink there lacked the gaiety for which the former is noted, as well as the comfort of a heated saloon near by. However, the large bonfires proved most acceptable to the old folks who clustered there, like Macbeth’s witches around the seething caldron ; and claret punches, selling readily beneath a temporary shed, served to take away the numbness of many a skater. The traineau — a tin cliair with runners — is in frequent use with beginners on the ice. It being very light, the inexperienced skater with its aid moves rapidly along until, by some accident, it escapes his grasp, when suddenly down he tumbles, to the infinite amusement of the lookers-on. We saw a Marquis undertake the instruction of a fair young friend from one of our far Southern States. Her exclamation, “ 1 could abide by such fun all the year round,” proved p
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her willingness to give up the delights of her cheerful, sunny clime for winters sports in Paris. The Mar- quis, a cruel teacher, soon left her to her own resources, — sternly forbidding proffered help ; but the Southern spirit bravely met the challenge to come forward, and ere the hour was spent, fairly astonished the natives. The first trial of a pair of lovely little feet from Cali- fornia, that crept along like tiny mice, elicited the com- plimentary remark, “Regardez cette jeune Americaine — quels jolis pieds ! ”
A day at Vesinet succeeded the one spent at Long- champs. This pretty little village, only a few miles dis- tant from Paris, with its neat white cottages, forest and park, lake and rustic bridges, presents a most romantic picture. Its pride is an Asylum for sick working- women, the building having accommodations for three hundred. We found that Gen. Quincy, of Boston, and a few other Americans, had resorted thither, felicitating themselves on reaching a spot more quiet and retired than the Bois de Boulogne. The forest paths still re- tained traces of snow, soon to be dissipated by the bright sun, whose fervid rays were threatening like destruction to our delightful sport. To add to our fears, there came at dusk a provoking shower of rain; but it quickly passed over, and then the moon peeped slyly out, as if to tell all loiterers to betake themselves home. My English friends declared my triumph complete in the circuit I had made of the lake, and that was happiness enough to make me bestow a cheerful farewell upon Vesinet. Bundling up with our skates all regrets at
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departure, we hastened on to the station, where a large, bright fire animated the waiting-room. Twenty minutes were at our disposal, and then came the plunging, noisy engine, the last remembrance of the day. I doubt not that the new scenes and pleasurable exercise made my pillow seem the softer and dreams more light and airy.
January 15. — A love of flowers guides hundreds of feet to the Place de la Madelaine. On the eastern es- planade adjoining that grand and beautiful church, wreaths, garlands and bouquets are arranged oh booths and benches, and sweet odors mingle with the breeze. The spot bespeaks the bloom of summer, and yet it is frosty winter that has proved itself a glorious season for roses, jessamine and tender violets. “ In Eastern lands they talk in flowers” — so shall our language, in praise of France, be woven of the richest and most fragrant blos- soms, — the pink hyacinth, with its star-shaped clusters ; the snowy caraelia, making the rose at its side blush the deeper in crimson; the geranium, in scarlet blossom; the delicate fern ; the fuschia and the daisy ; the lilac and the pansy. *
“ Come gather a wreath from these garden bowers.
And tell the wish of thy heart in flowers.'*
12 p. m. — AVe have just returned from an amateur musical entertainment, at which two nieces of Hon. Horace Greeley assisted. A Shaksperian recitation was given by the host in a style that might have done credit to the stage. A piano composition, the Reverie de l 9 In -
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venteur, floats up now with all its exquisite softness and melody, obedient to my invocation :
Oh ! sweetest Rdverie! come to my soul,
And with dream-like music beguile the hour.
Steal from my life every sorrow and toil,
Make me to worship thy magical pow’r.
Come to me like the blest visions of night,
With peace and with joy enwrap me to rest.
Cease not thy melody, — bringing delight —
My heart to thee clings like a bird to its nest.
Thou hast entranc'd me ! soft floating murmur,
Whose musical cadence seems from above,
Leading my spirit to all that is pure,
Wooing my thoughts to the sunshine of love.
There are chimes in thy measure sweetly sad,
That ring thro' the heart like bells in the night ;
They banish rude passion, cheer, and make glad,
And still through the shadows point to the light.
If all the fond joys that now are so sweet Should perish and leave me a mourner here,
I 'd ask but one mem’ry ever to meet, —
That of thy music, its charm rare and dear.
And like some lov’d flower I gather always To lay on the heart, its perfume to keep,
So shall I cherish these vanishing days, —
Echoes that 'll ne'er let thy melody sleep.
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