In the Courts of Memory 1858-1875. | Page 8

here in
about an hour. Duke de Morny, the Duke de Persigny and the
Rothschild family, Prince de Sagan, and different diplomats, not to
speak of our numerous American friends who are thankful for a breath
of fresh air, are frequent guests. The nearest chateau to us is Montalon,
where Madame de Sévigné used to live, and from which she wrote
some of her letters. If she ever wrote a tiresome one, it must surely
have been from here, as the damp and moldy house, covered with
creeping vines and overgrown with ivy, surrounded by melancholy
cypress and poplar trees, which shut out the view, could scarcely have
inspired her with brilliant ideas.
Petit Val's potager is known far and wide for the best peaches and
pears in France, and the gardener takes all the prizes in the shows: if the
prizes are in money, he pockets them; if they are diplomas, he allows
us to keep them. He is a rare old scamp.
When Mr. Moulton bought the place he had the right to call himself

"De Petit Val," and he could have--if he had wished to--been "Moulton
de Petit Val." But he turned up his American nose at such cheap
nobility as this; still he was obliged, much against his will, to conform
to the obligations which belonged to the estate. For instance, he had to
give so many bushels of potatoes to the curé, so many bushels of grain
to the doctor, so many bushels of vegetables to the postmaster, and to
them all so many casks of the awful wine we produce on the estate,
known in the vernacular as "le petit bleu."
When this sour wine is in the golden period of effervescing, any sick
child in the village ticketed by the doctor can be brought to the wine-
presses and dipped in. If labeled "_très malade_," he is dipped in twice.
Don't you think that this is a dreadful custom? I think that it is awful to
put such an article as this on the market; but then we know that if a
person has tasted it once they never do it again. We try to grow green
corn here; but it degenerates unless the seed is brought every year from
America. This year, not having been renewed, the corn is a failure; but
the American melons ripen here in perfection, and rivalize successfully
with the big French melons. The other day an ambassador ate so many
of them that he begged us to let him stay all night. We were quite
anxious about him, as he had an audience with the Emperor the next
morning; but he managed it somehow.
An important member of the family I must not forget! the governess,
Mademoiselle Wissembourg, who is very much of a personage. After
she has given my sister-in-law and myself our French lessons (for I still
go on studying), she gives the cook his orders, gives out the linen,
writes the letters, smooths away all annoyances, pays the bills, and
keeps the accounts, which she does in an oriental sort of way, with such
fantastic summings-up that my poor father-in-law is often on the verge
of distraction.
Our stables are well garnished; there are eleven horses (my pair
included), fourteen carriages, three coachmen, and no end of
stable-boys. My coachman, who was one of the "anciens zouaves"--so
renowned for their bravery--generally has cramps when he is told that I
am going to drive myself to Paris. And when I drive those twelve miles
I do it in double- quick time with Medjé and Hilda, my two "limousin"
horses. No wonder Louis offers up a prayer to the saints before starting,
and sits, holding with both hands on to his little seat back of me, with

an expression on his face of "O Lord, what is going to happen?"
PARIS, _January, 1863._
DEAREST MAMA,--I have been expecting letters from you and home
for a long time, but nothing has come yet.
The coldest day that Paris has ever known, since goodness knows when,
has suddenly burst upon us, and skating is just dawning on the
Parisians.
The ice on the little lake of Suresnes has frozen _d'emblée_, and I was
crazy to go there and skate. We had stayed late in the country, having
spent Christmas en famille, and only returned to Paris a few days ago. I
had just received the skates you sent me for my Christmas present, and
I was wild to try them. What beauties they are! My old ones, with their
screws and their innumerable straps, seem horribly complicated and
clumsy. As you advised, I had very tight-fitting boots with low heels
made for them. I drove out to the Bois with baby and his nounou, and
to gain time put on