Kitabı oku: «Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900», sayfa 17

To J. K

Clieveden, Maidenhead,

Sunday, March 29, 1886.

I will begin my letter this evening, Dear Jan, in this most lovely place of the Duke of Westminster's which Karolyi, the Austrian Ambassador, always hires, until after Easter, as his wife hates to spend the winter in town. We came down yesterday afternoon with one of their secretaries, a nice young fellow. We found the Karolyis alone in a charming library filled with books in all languages, and with the most enchanting view of the Thames—quite like the view from Richmond Terrace, if you remember it. They gave us tea—and about 7 we went up to our rooms. Mine is the one the Duchess always has, and W. has the dressing-room next, a large room, all hung with rose-coloured silk, faded into yellow now, an enormous bed with yellow silk curtains and counterpane, a bath-room with marble bath opening out of a little passage, quite complete, and always the same divine view. The rooms are filled with pictures, souvenirs of all the Sutherlands (whose place it was originally), Westminsters, and all the English Royal family of all ages. At 8 a gong sounded and we went down to the library (where they live entirely), and found them there with the addition of Count Victor Karolyi, a cousin. The dinner was good, 4 servants, their chasseurs, in Hungarian uniform, 2 in black and one in plain livery. After dinner the 2 Karolyi men sat down to cards, W. and the young man talked, also Mme. K. and I—and all the men smoked. It was easy enough, as everyone talked a great deal. We broke up at 11. This morning we had breakfast at 10, and afterwards Mme. K. showed me the house, which is very handsome, one large, beautiful drawing-room opening on the terrace and river view. They live only in the library, as the rest is so enormous to light and heat. At 12 M. and Mme. de Staal, the Russian Ambassador and his wife, arrived, and we went for a stroll in the grounds. Went out again after lunch for a long walk down by the river in short skirts and thick boots, as it was very damp—almost always is on the banks, generally low, of the Thames. It looked very pretty and gay, quite a number of boats and some people we all knew, staying in one of the houses near, got out of their boats and walked along with us. We came in for tea at 5.30, and after that adjourned to our respective rooms till dinner. The evening was pleasant, as we were more numerous and Staal talks a great deal. Now I am going to bed, as it is 11 o'clock, and we breakfast at a quarter to ten to-morrow, and get back to London at 11.30.

London, Monday, 30th.

We got back this morning at 1 for lunch, and have been in a wild state ever since with the bad news from Tonkin and the defeat of our troops. The Ministry is out, and Heaven knows what will happen. W. is as blue as indigo over the news, as he had been very cocky over Tonkin, as compared with the English blunders in the Soudan. Already there are despatches in the clubs here, saying W. has been asked to take the Foreign Office. Of course he hasn't been asked, and I hope he won't be, for I should hate to begin that official life in Paris again, and I am very happy here now—however, one never knows in political life. Do you know anything about Phelps? W. is very anxious to have your opinion. He says you ought to know about a Vermont man. He will have a difficult "succession." Mr. Lowell is much liked and admired.

London, April 10, 1886.

We have had a pleasant morning luncheon at Roll's Court with Lord Esher, who showed us a quantity of most interesting old manuscripts. A letter from "Bloody Mary" to Cardinal Pole announcing her "grossesse" (the arrival of a Prince), also the confession and signature of Guy Fawkes after torture, such a wavering, faint signature, "Guido." It is extraordinary how all the papers and handwriting have lasted. All these old-world things are so interesting to me, I seem to realize history so much more. I hope to get over to Paris for a little this month. We had a nice party (music) at Louisa Lady Ashburton's this evening, and an interesting collection of people, fashionable, literary, and Salvation Army. The house is crowded with statues, pictures, and artistic treasures of all kinds.

To J. K

Ambassade de France à Londres,

Sunday, May 29, 1887.

We seem to have a gleam of sunshine this afternoon, Dear Jan, after weeks of bleak east winds and grey skies, and we are going to take advantage of it to drive out to White Lodge, Richmond Park, and see the Tecks. We are revelling in Whitsuntide recess, and no dinners or banquets until Friday, the second Court Concert. Last night I went to the Opéra with the Staals. It was "Faust," very well given, with Albani, Scalchi, and Gayare. The house was fairly brilliant, but not full—the Prince and Princess of Wales, Rothschilds, and a certain number of people, who came to hear Albani (she is such a favourite here). I should think it would be a losing operation. Tell Janet Mlle. de Staal looks so nice, is so much more animated, really very pretty, so high bred and always well dressed. Lady Salisbury's reception at the F. O. on Tuesday for the Queen's Birthday was very brilliant; there were quantities of Princes; a Danish Prince, brother of the Princess of Wales; a young Russian Grand Duke, a son of the late Prince Frederick Charles, brother of the Duchess of Connaught, and any quantity of Maharajahs, covered with gold and silver embroidery and diamonds and emeralds as big as eggs. They always make a great fuss over the Indian Princes at Court—treat them like Royalty, and give them very good places. The Corps Diplomatique always protests. The lion of the evening was Herbert Bismarck. From the Prince of Wales down everyone, men and women, was overwhelming him with attentions. I didn't think the Danish Prince looked much pleased. He remarked that "Bismarck had a most disagreeable voice." Lizzie P. was wandering about looking very handsome. I didn't see Buffalo Bill, which rather surprised me. I suppose he is genuine, isn't he? He professed to remember Captain King perfectly when I said I had a brother who had been some time on the plains with his regiment. Certainly the "Wild West Show" is most original and entertaining. The Indians look savage enough to satisfy anyone, and Buffalo Bill and the King of the Cowboys are splendid specimens of frontiersmen.

Monday.

I will finish this morning; it is still dark and rainy. We went out yesterday to White Lodge and had a pleasant visit. It was much too cold to sit out, so we had tea in the gallery and enjoyed it very much. Princess Mary is always so easy. The young Princess May looked very nice in a light tweed with a white waistcoat. She asked after Janet, and wanted to know if she was to be here this season. I asked Princess Mary what she was going to wear at the Jubilee Te Deum at Westminster. She said she had no idea, but she had been told long dress, smart bonnet, decorations and diamonds. It seems the Queen is going to wear a white bonnet covered with diamonds. I have asked no questions and mean to wear a short dress—no one will see, as we do not join any cortége. We arrive quite simply and go straight to our places. I shall wear white lace with mousse velvet, and a mousse bonnet with pink roses. Tell Janet, I am convinced I shall never wear my moiré apricot dress from Roulf, that I couldn't wear last year at any of the Court fêtes. I am sure the German Prince will die. They say he may at any moment, as the excrescence in his throat may increase, and then he would suffocate. Wouldn't it be strange if that old Emperor outlived the son. Neither sled nor fans have yet arrived. I suppose they will appear soon. We have one or two things we mean to send out, as soon as we have an opportunity—gloves, etc. I should think some of the 75,000 Americans who are coming over would go back in the course of the summer. Princess Mary told me yesterday that a pretty American girl—an heiress—she couldn't remember the name—did I know?—is probably going to marry a Count Btetju, aide-de-camp to the Prince of Denmark. It seems he saw her here and fell in love with her at once. I must stop now. Have any quantity of notes to write.

To G. K. S

London,

June 14, 1887.

London is getting ready for the Jubilee and the streets are crowded. Various Royalties have arrived, and one meets Royal carriages, escorts, and strong squads of police at every turn. It is warm and lovely to-day—so was yesterday. W., Francis and I drove out to Sheen, where W. plays tennis in Lord F.'s private court. I wandered about under the trees, and Francis sailed his boat in the pond and was quite happy. It is such a rest to get a few hours in the country when one is going out all the time as we are here—and above all not to have to talk. We had a remarkable entertainment last night, given by the Hawaiian Secretary (who is a German-American) for his Queen, of the Sandwich Islands. We arrived in due time, I rather protesting.

There was a large reception after dinner and the mistress of the house asked us if we wouldn't stand by the Queen and make a sort of cercle, and a funny contrast we made—Mrs. P. beautifully dressed in white satin and lace, Lady R. with splendid jewels, I wore my pink brocade and old Venetian lace. It really was too absurd. I talked a little to the Princess, who is intelligent enough. The Queen is a great stickler for etiquette, and insisted upon the same honours as any other Royalties, an escort of Life Guards;—wouldn't accept any less distinguished escort.

London,

June 18, 1887.

We have had rather an amusing afternoon. I think I wrote you that we wanted to leave Westminster Abbey the minute the ceremony was over, get through the line of troops, and back to a friend's house in Piccadilly to see the cortége—we being Mrs. Phelps and I. Our respective husbands were most discouraging (as men always are), but we dined last night with Knowles to meet the Duke of Cambridge, and I told His Royal Highness what we wanted to do, and asked him if he could help us. After some little discussion he said he would advise us to go directly to Sir Charles Warren (Chief of Police) and see what he could arrange for us. Again our husbands remonstrated, "Warren was overrun with applications of all kinds, worked to death, and it was very unreasonable," but backed by the Duke we determined to try.

I told His Royal Highness I should put on my most becoming Paris bonnet and beard the lion in his den. He said, "Quite right, my dear, a man is always flattered when a woman tries to please him," so accordingly about 3 Mrs. Phelps and I started for Scotland Yard. George was rather surprised when I gave the order. We drove through one or two courts and were stopped once by a huge policeman, who let us go on when we said it was the French Ambassadress. We were shown at once into Sir Charles's room, and I must say he was charming, most kind and courteous. We had arranged beforehand that I was to be spokeswoman, and I went at once to the point. He was sitting at his table with letters and papers and telegrams, the telegraph ticking all the time, despatches and telegrams being brought in, and as busy a man as I ever saw. He immediately sent for maps of the route, distribution of the troops, etc., and said he thought he could manage it. We must have a light carriage (of course we must go to the Abbey in state in the gala coach) waiting at the Poets' Corner, as near the door as it can get; he will send us a pass to break through the lines, and will have three or four policemen waiting for us at the corner of Piccadilly and one of the smaller streets to pass us through the crowd. We really didn't derange him very much. The whole conversation lasted about ten minutes, and he was rather amused at this sudden appearance of the two "femmes du monde" in his "milieu" of clerks, policemen, telegraph boys, type-writers and a hurrying, bustling crowd of employés of all kinds. We returned triumphant to our respective houses.

We had a fine reception last night at the Austrian Embassy in honour of Prince Rudolph. We arrived late, having dined out. The Prince is very good-looking, slight, elegant figure, and charming manners and smile. All the world was there—quantities of pretty women, and pretty dresses—the Countess Karolyi always the handsomest.

London,

June 20, 1887.

London is really a sight to-day, the streets gay with flags, draperies, stands, illuminations, and quantities of people gaping all day long. I went for a drive with Mary Sheridan, daughter of Mr. Motley, late Minister from the United States to the Court of St. James. We didn't attempt going down Piccadilly, as we saw what a dense crowd and block there was, so we crossed to Constitution Hill. We went all round Westminster Abbey; I wanted to see the Poets' Corner where we are to go in to-morrow, and the House of Commons stand where she is to be with her sister. We were blocked for a quarter of an hour standing close to the Embankment. Some of the mottoes are very nice. I like the humble ones best, "God bless our Queen." We were a long time getting back to the Embassy, Piccadilly almost impassable. It was amusing, as everyone was arranging their balconies, and we recognised various friends standing at windows, and on balconies directing the arrangement of chairs, plants, flags, etc. After dinner W. took his cigar and we walked about a little in Piccadilly. Some of the illuminations had already begun and the crowd was dense, but no jostling or roughs, everyone good-humoured and wildly interested in the decorations. London is transformed for the moment and looks like a great continental city, all lights and flags and an "air de fête." We didn't stay out very late, as we have a long day before us to-morrow. They say the Queen is well, but rather "émue" and a little nervous, which must be expected. I shall wear white, the only objection to that being that jewels won't show out, as they would on a darker colour.

To H. L. K

Albert Gate, London,

June 22, 1887.

I am still exhausted, Dear, with the visions of a brilliant, motley, moving crowd, when I shut my eyes. Yesterday was beautiful, a glorious summer day. I was waked up at 6.30 by the dull rumble of carriages, and people already on the move. I thought they must have forgotten to call me, but the house was still wrapped in slumber, and though it was only 6.30 the Park was full of carriages, men in uniform and women in full dress. We started at 9.30 in the gala carriage, W. in uniform, and were followed by a second carriage, landau, the men equally in gala. We remained blocked for a long time in Piccadilly, it didn't seem possible to get on; distracted policemen, mounted and on foot, and officers did what they could, but there we remained, curiously enough all the Ambassadors' carriages together. Finally an order was given to let the Ambassadors' carriages pass, and we got on a little. Various Court carriages passed us—one so pretty with the three little daughters of the Duke of Edinburgh all in white with straw hats, and long white feathers, sitting on the back seat, and smiling and bowing, and looking quite charming with their fair hair streaming down their backs. They had an equerry in uniform with them on the front seat. Once past St. James's Street we went quickly enough thro' long lines of soldiers, and behind them quantities of people waiting patiently to see the great show. We went into the Abbey at the Poets' Corner, where an entrance was reserved for the Corps Diplomatique and Court functionaries. It was a fine sight; tier upon tier of seats covered with red cloth and filled with men in uniform, and women in handsome dresses. The Peers and Peeresses sat just below us and looked very well; as it was Collar Day, all the Garter men wore their white shoulder-knots, which were most effective. It was very difficult to distinguish people, the building is so enormous, but as we were close to the dais we saw all the Royalties perfectly. At last various members of the Royal Family came in, and the first Sovereign to enter was Her Majesty of the Sandwich Islands with her cortége; then came quickly the King of the Belgians, King of Denmark, various other Princes, and they all took their places on a platform facing the Queen's dais. We waited some time, and then came a flourish of trumpets which announced the Queen's arrival. It was most interesting to see her come up the aisle—quite alone in front—her three sons, Wales, Edinburgh, and Connaught, just behind her. She was dressed in black with silver embroidery, a white lace bonnet with feathers, and lace caught back by diamond pins. As she reached the dais she stepped on it quite alone, and advancing to the front made a pretty curtsey to the assembled Royalties. Then came a long procession of family Princes, headed by the Prince of Wales and the German Crown Prince, who looked magnificent in his white uniform, and the Princess of Wales and the German Crown Princess. They all passed before the Queen, and it was most striking to see her seated there, a quiet figure dressed in black, very composed and smiling, yet "émue" too, as the long line of children and grandchildren representing all Europe passed to do her homage. It was a gorgeous crowd of uniforms, orders, jewels, and really glittering garments of all kinds; but every eye was fixed on the central figure. The service began at once and was impressive. The Prince Consort's "Te Deum" sounded magnificent with organ and full band. I must own to considerable distraction during the service, as I was quite taken up with looking at everything. When the ceremony was over—or nearly—we started at once, found our carriage (ordinary landau) at the Poets' Corner again, and drove quickly around by Belgravia and Albert Gate (breaking the lines of troops once or twice, but with no difficulty, as orders had been given), to the corner of Hamilton Place and Piccadilly. There we had to leave the carriage, but it was merely a few steps to my friend's house where we were to see the procession pass; however we should never have got there if we hadn't found the 4 gigantic policemen who were waiting for us, and who deposited us rather pulled about, but intact, at the door. We found the balcony prettily decorated and filled with people, and had an excellent view of the procession. The Queen's carriage was handsome, an open landau red and gold, with six cream-coloured horses with red and gold trappings, and running footmen. She was alone on the back seat; the Princesses of Wales and Germany on the front seat. The escort of Princes was very brilliant. The Prince of Wales looked well on a fine horse, and the German Crown Prince superb, towering over everyone else, and his helmet shining in the bright sunlight. The cheering was tremendous as the Queen passed, and one felt it was absolutely genuine (nothing commandé), her people (I always like that phrase so much, "My people," when she uses it in a speech or proclamation) really delighted to have her still with them. Another who also was much cheered was Princess Mary of Teck. They love her, and she looked so happy and smiling as she acknowledged the salutation. She has such a gracious manner always to everyone—never seems bored. However I must say that for the Prince of Wales; no matter what the function is (and he must be bored very often) he never looks it, but always does graciously, and as if he liked it, whatever he undertakes. There was a very substantial lunch provided for us at Lady Borthwick's, and as soon as the cortége disappeared I clamoured for something to eat, as it was nearly 3.30, and I had had nothing to eat but my early cup of tea and piece of toast about 8.30. I went straight back to the Embassy after luncheon—even then, at 4 o'clock, we had to go at a foot's pace thro' the crowd—and I didn't stir again all the afternoon, but I had visitors at tea-time, as of course the windows and balconies giving on the Park were most attractive. There were thousands of people still in the Park, and Royal carriages and escorts coming and going; music, flags, and a general impression of movement and colour everywhere.

In the evening we started at 10 for the Palace, and they thought there would be such a crowd that we had a mounted policeman, but we had no trouble. Everyone made way for the carriage, though, of course, the general traffic was stopped, and everybody (including our own secretaries, who weren't invited to the Palace, merely the "chefs de mission") in the middle of the streets, looking at the illuminations. There was great confusion at the Palace—dinners still going on and servants hurrying backward and forward with dishes, and piles of plates on the floor as we passed through the long corridor. We had to pass through the great hall where the numerous "suites" were dining—and we naturally hesitated a moment as they were still at table—but Colonel Byng came forward and ushered us upstairs, and into one of the large rooms. There were very few people—the "chefs de mission," the Nunzio who had come expressly, Lord and Lady Salisbury, and Lord C., Indian Secretary (as there were many Indian Princes). We waited nearly an hour and were then summoned to the ball-room, where the Queen and Court were assembled. The Queen was standing, dressed just as she always is for a Drawing-room, with her small diamond crown and veil, and again the background of Princes and uniforms made a striking contrast to the one black-robed figure. The Prince of Wales stood a little behind, on her right, also Lord Lathom (Lord Chamberlain). We all passed before her, two by two, with our husbands, and she said a few words to each one, but no real conversation; it was evidently an effort, and we felt we must not stay a moment longer than necessary. I talked to one or two people while the others were passing. The German Crown Princess came over and talked to us. I asked her if the Queen was very tired. She said not nearly as much as she expected, it was more the anticipation of the day that had made her nervous, that she was very agitated when she started, but that wore off, and she was not very tired this evening, and very happy, as were all her children, I said, "You might add her people, Madam, for I never saw such a splendid outburst of loyalty." The Crown Princess herself is perfectly delightful, so clever and cultivated, and so easy, with such beautiful, clear, smiling eyes. Do you remember how much I admired her in Rome the first time I met her? She is always so kind to us. W. loves to talk to her; they don't always agree, but she quite understands people having their own opinions, rather prefers it, I think, as she must necessarily be so often thrown with people who never venture to disagree with her. The Crown Prince of Sweden also came and recalled himself to me, and the Duc d'Aoste. The Queen remained about an hour; then the Royal party moved off in procession, and we got our carriages as quickly as we could. I have written you a volume (but you must say that doesn't happen often from my lazy pen, but I felt I must write at once, or I should never have the courage). Please send the letter to the family in America. I am dead tired, and my eyes shutting by themselves.

London, June 22, 1887.

We went this afternoon with the Florians, Comte de Florian, Secretary of the Embassy, and Comtesse de Florian, Francis, Baroness Hilda Deichmann and her children and some of the Embassy men, to the children's fête in Hyde Park. It was very pretty, and very well arranged; 30,000 children from all parts of London, and amusements, food, and jubilee mugs provided for all. We got there a little after 3, and it was warm and fatiguing standing and walking about. There were various refreshment tents for the "quality committee," etc., and the children got iced cream and cakes to their hearts' content, also each a jubilee mug with which they were much pleased. The Prince and Princess of Wales, with some of the foreign Princes, came about 4 (and horribly bored the foreigners looked—naturally). We stood and walked about until 6, when the Queen arrived. Her procession was rather pretty, just a troop of mounted police, then the Life Guards, the Indian contingent, and the Queen in an open carriage with 4 horses, the postilions in black, and two Highland servants in costume behind. The Crown Princess of Germany, Princess Christian, and Duke of Edinburgh in the carriage with her; and the Duke of Cambridge (Ranger of the Park) riding at the portière. Several Royal carriages followed, all the women in smart clothes, and the men in uniform, as the Queen was to make her formal Jubilee entrée into Windsor on leaving London after the fête. There was such a press and jostling when the Queen came—even the women pushing and struggling to get to the front, that I should have been nearly crushed with the two children (I had Hilda and Francis with me) if Prince Hermann of Saxe-Weimar hadn't recognised me and come to my rescue. He is very tall and broad, so he made way for me, put the children in front, and then stood behind me so that no one could get at me. I must say it was a fine struggle, the ladies used their arms valiantly. A small slight woman would have had no show at all. The Queen didn't get out of her carriage. The Prince stood bareheaded at the carriage door all the time the Queen was there, and various people were brought up and presented to her. I found plenty of people to talk to, among others the German Crown Prince, who they say is in a very bad way; he doesn't look changed, perhaps a little thinner, but the voice has gone. He spoke in a whisper. He noticed the children, said Francis was very like his father. I told him Hilda was a little compatriote, and named her to him. He knows her parents well. The Queen was much cheered as she drove off; then there were more cheers for the Prince, who acknowledged them most graciously, as he does always. We had again rather a struggle to get through the crowd and across to the Embassy, and then at 6.30 I had some tea, got into a tea-gown, and refused to move again. W. tried to entice me to the Foreign Office where there was a big reception, but I was utterly incapable of another word (the heat always tries me so); so he departed sadly, but didn't stay long—merely showed himself. He said the crowd was awful, and Lord Cranborne, the son of the house, in a wild state on the stairs, with his supper list, as he couldn't find half the people. W. told him not to worry about us, as he was going home, and I was in bed.