o it. In 1870 she gave one at the Grand Hotel, to which
half the town was invited. There arrived at the festal scene
about five hundred men and just thirty-two women. It was funny enough.
The thirty-two women besported themselves with thirty-two partners in
the centre of the hall to the sound of the cornet, flute, harp, sackbut,
psaltery, and all kinds of musical instruments, whilst the rest of the
men stood round the hall five deep, like a deep dark fringe on a Turkish
carpet. Madame Rattazzi, however, achieved a great triumph against all
odds. By dint of grace, charm of manners and tact she put all her guests
in the best humor. The "thirty-two" had a fine time of it, and danced to
their hearts' content. The five hundred men were introduced and grouped
and wined and punched until every man there swore that earth did not
hold a fairer or more genial hostess. Madame Rattazzi was "supported,"
as the phrase goes, on this memorable occasion by Madame la Princesse,
her mother, a rather formidable-looking dowager, a daughter of Lucian
Bonaparte, and widow of Sir Thomas Wyse, once British consul at Athens.
Her Imperial Highness Princess Letitia must have been a wonderful beauty
in her youth--a stately grand being who one could easily imagine might
have resembled the Roman Agrippina or empress Livia. Once the barrier of
her stately manners overcome, she proved to be a talkative, affable
woman of the world, with a huge experience thereof. I can see her now,
dressed in a scarlet satin robe and glittering with jewels. She wore a
headdress of diamonds with two long ostrich feathers in it, one of
which, a white one, got out of its place and stood bolt upright, as if
it was frightened, until some charitable hand laid it down. This was, I
fancy, the last ball Princess Letitia ever graced, for she died a very
little while afterward. Poor Rattazzi was there too. He was not a
striking-looking man, but agreeable and excessively polite. He rarely
talked politics--I rather suspect from the fear of compromising
himself--but his conversation was was pleasant and varied. After his
death Madame Rattazzi removed to Monaco, where she busied herself with
editing his letters and memoirs--a task which, it appears, the Italian
government would be delighted that she should spare herself, as his
papers are said to be very full of compromising matter relative to the
Mentana expedition. A large sum of money was offered her to relinquish
her hold on these d