Let us ascend another flight, and cross the black gallery, where, on the right and left sides, are lodged, in narrow and inconvenient rooms, the great lord and the valet de chambre, the maître d'hotel and the physician, the aide-de-camp and the chaplain, the gentleman and the plebeian. Here all ranks, all grades, all dignities, are confounded. When we shall repair to the final judgment, I suppose we shall all pass through a black gallery, in which, like that of the Tuileries, will be mingled all social ranks. We will now descend a flight, and enter the apartment of the first gentleman of the chamber, one of the great officers of the household. Let us request of him tickets of admission to the ceremony of the Supper; and, when we shall have obtained them from his habitual complaisance, let us hope that there may not have been, the night before, between him, the captain of the guards, and the grand-master of ceremonies, any dispute regarding the rights, privileges, and attributes of their respective offices. In that case it is by no means certain that the life-guardsman would permit us to enter, the password being frequently regulated by some petty revenge of the chief. This time, however, all is harmonious; the life-guardsman has made no objection, the usher has taken our tickets, and the valet de chambre has indicated our places behind the ladies. What an interesting tableau is presented by this religious solemnity! The chapel of the château being too small for the occasion, the gallery of Diana has been arranged for the ceremony. I see you smile as you raise your eyes to gaze upon the rich paintings which decorate the ceiling of this gallery. Cupid and Psyche, Diana and Endymion, Hercules and Omphale—all these gods and goddesses of paganism appear, little in keeping with the scene of a Christian celebration. But lower your eyes; look at this simple altar, at this pulpit, from which the minister of God will shortly speak, and you will no longer be tempted to smile, for you will have realized the distance which separates truth from error.
At one of the extremities of the gallery is laid an immense table, on which thirteen dishes of different kinds are thirteen times repeated. Each one of them is decorated with fragrant flowers, which exhale a delicious perfume. Along the entire length of the gallery are placed, right and left, three rows of benches. On one side are seated the ladies, whose elegant costumes are, it is true, somewhat worldly; but the books they hold in their hands attest, at least, their pious intentions.
Facing the pews reserved for the royal family, and on more elevated benches, are ranged thirteen poor young children, representing the thirteen apostles; for, at the time of the Supper, Judas had not denied his Master. Behind these are placed the musicians of the king, at their head Cherubini and Lesueur, and directed by Plantade; this combination of talent exhibiting a taste and power of execution unrivalled at that period, and which will still be remembered by many who have had the privilege of listening to them.
But suddenly a voice is heard—"The king." All advance, lean forward, and endeavor to obtain a view of him. He salutes all with the grace so natural to him; and respect alone represses the demonstration which his kindness seems to encourage. The divine office begins; at its conclusion comes the sermon; and finally, carrying out the pious custom of the kings of France, he himself washes the feet of the thirteen apostles as a token of Christian humility. The impious may smile at these touching solemnities of the worship of their forefathers; had they once assisted at a ceremony like this, they would smile no more. Afterwards, the officers of the household advance in a procession, holding in their hands the insignia of their office and bouquets. After them marches the dauphin of France, followed by the high officers. Thirteen times in succession they approach the table to seek the bread, the wine, the different dishes intended for the representatives of the apostles. They carry them to the king, who deposits them in baskets at the feet of each child. To these gifts he adds a purse for each, containing thirteen five-franc pieces. Then the ceremony is over, and the king may say to himself, "I have not only fulfilled an act of devotion and humility; I have also made thirteen families happy."
Having beheld the Most Christian King stooping from his royal majesty to those whom Père Bridaine called the best friends of God, let us now view him in that ceremony which alone, until lately, recalled the ancient traditions of chivalry. Here he is not only King of France; he is Grand Master of the Order of the Holy Ghost. This order, founded by Henri III., and which all the sovereigns of Europe were proud and happy to wear; this order, which decorated the breast of Henri IV., of Louis XIV., and of all the great warriors and statesmen of the last two centuries; this order, the most glorious recompense, and the one most coveted by the celebrated personages of the beginning of the present epoch, is at an end—the late revolution did not choose that it should survive the monarchy.
The last ceremony of the Order of the Holy Ghost took place on May 30, 1830, at Whitsuntide. The most perfect taste and the greatest luxury were displayed in the hangings which decorated the great vestibule and the stone gallery that lead to the chapel; the ingenious and varied talents of Hittorf, Lecointe, and Ciceri being brought into requisition on this occasion. The chapter of the order was held at eleven o'clock in the grand cabinet. There were assembled, in their rich costumes of black velvet, embroidered with gold and faced with green silk, the knights already received into the number, wearing crosswise the collar of the order, and on their cloaks the silver plates—the brilliant insignia of their dignity. The king, the natural nobility of whose appearance was enhanced by this picturesque costume, opened the assembled chapter; then the cortége took up their march to the chapel, where the knights lately promoted were to be received. They marched in double-file through rows, on either hand, of ladies elegantly dressed; the bystanders gazed eagerly on the knights as they advanced, and many satirical remarks were made upon the singular junction of the new celebrities with the members of the old aristocracy.
There walked together the Duc la Tremouille and M. Lainè, M. Ravez and the Duc de Montmorency.
To show how ambition may attain its ends by different paths, the Duc de Décaze and the Comte de Villete, the Comte de Peyronnet and the Duc de Dalmatie; and as if to demonstrate how differently two gentlemen may comprehend the duties of their position, the Duc de Mortemart and the Vicomte de Châteaubriand.
An especial circumstance added the attraction of curiosity while it lent a more touching interest to this scene; the king received as Chevalier of the Order of the Holy Ghost the young Duc de Nemours, in the presence of all his family. All those who were present on this occasion cannot fail to remember the noble and gracious air of the young prince, and the deep emotion perceptible in the voice of the august old man as he defined the duties of a true knight. One might have supposed him a father, happy and proud to find in his son a heart in which the seeds of honor and loyalty must necessarily germinate. All the spectators were moved. A mother wept. Would that these had been the last tears she was destined to shed!
Let us now pass from this grave and imposing ceremonial to those animated and joyous fêtes which took place every year at Saint-Cloud on the day of S. Henri. Shall I show you the Trocadere, filled with games of every description, shops of all kinds, in which the most famous actors of the capital, transformed into foreign merchants, distributed to all comers songs, toys, bonbons, and flowers, all for the trifling remuneration of thanks? Will you assist with the whole court at that brilliant representation of the heroic drama of Bissen, in which Franconi and his actors, men and horses, give proofs of such rare intelligence and address? At the conclusion of this spectacle, the Duc de Bordeaux[135] assembles his little army of children, and before the eyes of the astonished crowd causes them to manœuvre with all the coolness and experience of a veteran captain; then he leads them to the gymnastic games, in which he surpasses them all in strength, daring, and skill. Then, mingling with the soldiers of a neighboring post, he plays at quoits with the latter as if with comrades; but he takes care to lose the game just as he is on the point of winning it, so as to be generous without the appearance of it. Perhaps you might be interested to know that this promising child likewise ardently devotes himself to his studies under the care of his admirable instructors, MM. de Barande and Colart, and more especially to the history of his country; he obstinately refuses to call the Constable of Bourbon anything but the bad Constable, asserting that he has forfeited his right even to his name, having borne arms against his sovereign.