There must have been some misunderstanding between the marshal’s household and the officials at Versailles, as but one staircase (and there are several) was opened to the public, which was of course absolutely insufficient.  Why others were not opened and lighted will always be a mystery.  Every one got jammed in the one narrow stairway—­people jostled and tumbled over each other—­some of the women fainted and were carried out, borne high aloft over the heads of the struggling multitudes, and many people never saw their cloaks again.  The vestiaire was taken by storm—­satin and lace cloaks lying on the ground, trampled upon by everybody, and at the end, various men not having been able to find their coats were disporting themselves in pink satin cloaks lined with swan’s-down—­over their shoulders.  Quantities of people never got into the palace—­not even on the staircase.  The landing was directly opposite the room where the princes had their buffet—­and if they had succeeded in forcing the door, it would have been a catastrophe.  While we were standing in the window, looking into the park, which looked an enchanted garden, with the lights and flowers—­we wondered if we could jump or climb down if the crowd pressed too much upon us, but it was too high and there were no projecting balconies to serve as stepping-stones.  It was a very unpleasant experience.

We were giving a ball at the Quai d’Orsay a few nights afterward, and had also asked a great many people—­all the ambassadors sent in very large lists of invitations they wanted for their compatriots, but much the largest was that sent in by the American minister.  The invitations sent to the United States Legation (as it was then) were something fabulous.  It seemed to me the whole of the United States were in Paris and expecting to be entertained.  It is a very difficult position for the American representative on these occasions.  Everybody can’t be invited to the various entertainments and distinctions are very hard to make.  We had some amusing experiences.  W. had a letter from one of his English friends, Lord H., saying he was coming to Paris for the fetes, with his two daughters, and he would like very much to be invited to some of the parties at the Elysee and the ministries.  W. replied, saying he would do what he could, and added that we were to have two large dinners and receptions,—­one with the Comedie Francaise afterward and one with music—­which one would they come to.  Lord H. promptly replied, “to both.”  It was funny, but really didn’t make any difference.  When you have a hundred people to dinner you can quite easily have a hundred and three, and in such large parties, arranged weeks beforehand, some one always gives out at the last moment.