Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900 Part 16

#Hatfield#, May 30th.

We came down yesterday to this most beautiful old place. A large Elizabethan castle, standing rather high, with courts and terraces in every direction. We found Lady Salisbury at her tea-table on the terrace with a lovely view of park and woods on all sides. Various members of the family and house-party sauntered up, some of the young ladies in their habits, having been riding; and some guests having walked up from the station, which is quite near at the end of the Park. After an hour's talk Lady Salisbury took me to my room (miles away through the long hall and up a great staircase), and told me dinner was "easy 8." The room is large, all panelled in oak which has become almost black with age, an enormous bed (they have always had their sheets made especially for these beds for more than 200 years, in Germany I think, as no ordinary sheets could cover more than half). The beds are very long and almost square. They would easily hold Brigham Young and all his wives. Do you remember the picture in Mark Twain? Mine was so high I had to take a footstool to clamber into it. W.'s room, next, about the same. We went downstairs at 8.10 and certainly didn't dine until after 8-1/2. We were about 30 in the great dining-room, a splendid hall with portraits of Queen Elizabeth (one in fancy dress, most curious with bright red hair), Henry VIII, Mary Queen of Scots, etc. We played cards in the evening and broke up rather early. This morning Lady Salisbury showed me the house--most interesting, full of treasures and memories, a great library with all sorts of letters from the time of Elizabeth, and in the drawing-room a vitrine filled with relics of the "Virgin Queen." It was curious to see her gloves, shoes, hat. I think Lady Salisbury was somewhat surprised at my interest in these last things, but I told her she must make allowances for the American, who was not accustomed to old family traditions and souvenirs of that kind. When I think of our Revolution, then it seems ages ago to me. We enjoyed our visit extremely, they are all so nice and simple.

We got back to London this morning and of course dined out somewhere. I was amused by one of the ladies saying to me after dinner, "Did you really enjoy your visit to Hatfield? Aren't they all _dreadfully_ clever?" I don't think I should have applied the same adverb, but clever they certainly are. Lord Salisbury has such a fine, thoughtful face.

_To H. L. K._

June, 1885.

We went to Ascot this morning, a beautiful day, and the lawn like a flower garden with all the women in their light dresses dotted about. We lunched with the Prince and Princess of Wales. The Maharajah of Joh.o.r.e was there, and had brought down his own cook, attired in yellow satin with a large flat hat on his head. He made a sort of curry for his master, which everybody tasted--except me--I don't like culinary experiments, and I think the yellow satin garments didn't inspire me with confidence. I told Juteau when he came up for orders just now how far below the mark he was as to costume.

June 29th.

I went this afternoon with Francis to Lord Aberdeen's, where they had a hay-making party. They have a pretty little cottage, or rather a small farm about an hour's drive from London. There were plenty of people, and all sorts of amus.e.m.e.nts for the children; Punch and Judy, lawn-tennis, and two tea-tables on the lawn. After tea they all rushed down a steep hill to a field where there were quant.i.ties of little heaps of hay, and harmless wooden pitchforks. They had a fine time rolling and tumbling about in the hay and making hay-stacks. Then a cow appeared on the scene, dressed with flowers and ribbons, and the maids made syllabub on the spot, which the children enjoyed immensely.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Lady Salisbury]

June 30th, 1885.

We dined at Lady Molesworth's with the Duc d'Aumale, who is always charming, and makes everything easy, as there are always bothering little questions of official etiquette with non-reigning Princes. He is a fine type of the soldier-prince. It seems hard that a man of his intelligence and education shouldn't play a great part in his own country.

#Albert Gate#, July, 1885.

We had the Court concert this evening. The Duc d'Aumale was there, looking so well and so royal. He is always charming to us, and we were very proud of our French Prince. H. came with us and enjoyed herself extremely. The entrance of the Court amused her very much, the two tall Chamberlains with their wands walking backwards. She says she never saw anything so pretty as the curtsey the Princess of Wales made to the a.s.sembled company as soon as she got into the room. What always appeals in some sort of way to our _irreverent_ American minds is the singing of the "G.o.d Save the Queen," all the company, including Prince and Princess, rising and standing.

_To J. K._

#Chevening, Sevenoaks#, Sunday, July 27, 1885.

I will begin my letter here to-day, Dear Jan, from the Stanhopes' place, where we came last evening to spend Sunday. It was awfully hot yesterday. I almost died on the way from London down, fortunately it was only an hour. We are a party of 14--Lord and Lady John Manners, Lord Derby and his step-daughter, Lady Margaret Cecil, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Stanhope, Mr. and Mrs. Jeune, Lord Boston, a nice young fellow, and a Mr. Praed, a riding man, who has travelled everywhere. We had tea on the terrace overlooking a lovely garden and lake, and dined at 8. After dinner we sat on the terrace, and it was charming, a beautiful full moon, and not a breath of air. Friday we had the closing festivity of the season at Marlborough House. A beautiful ball it was, about 600 people, all the creme de la societe and beautiful dresses and jewels. I wore my pink and green Moscow dress (my Russian garments have done me good service this year), and it was much admired. All the Battenberg family were there in great force, and I renewed acquaintance with the Prince of Bulgaria, whom I used to know. They had covered in a great part of the garden, and the room was beautifully arranged with the Prince's Indian carpets and arms. The supper room, also built out in the garden, was so pretty--a collection of small round tables for 8 or 10 persons, with flowers and handsome silver. Prince Albert Victor took me in, and I had a young Battenberg next. Neither Phelps nor Harry White was there, on account of Grant's death, which I thought very nice of them. I danced once or twice after supper, and we came away at 2. I hear they kept it up until 5, having begun at 11. There is a reception at Lady Salisbury's on Tuesday, which will be really the end of all things, and purely political, as all the swells go off to Goodwood Monday.

11.30.

We have just come upstairs after a very hot day. I didn't go to church, as I knew I could not stand the heat, and talked a little and read very happily in the big drawing-room till luncheon. Lady Stanhope took me over the house, which is not very large, but interesting. There is a charming library full of books and ma.n.u.scripts and letters, some from Lord Chesterfield to his son, written in French, and beginning "Mon cher ami, comment vont les graces et les manieres." After luncheon, we sat out under the lime trees, and after tea I made a little tournee with Lord Stanhope and prowled about the park, and went also to the church, where there are several interesting monuments. This evening we have been sitting again on the terrace, quite delicious. I in my white dress, with nothing on my shoulders.

#London#, Tuesday, 28th.

We got back yesterday at 2 o'clock and the weather has changed to-day.

It was very hot all day yesterday. I spent the afternoon on my sofa until 6.30, when we went for a ride and met the few last people who are still here. Last night we discussed our summer plans, and I shall go over to France on Sat.u.r.day with Francis, stay three or four days in Paris, and then go down to St. Leger. It is curious how London is suddenly empty. There were not 5 carriages in the park yesterday. This morning I have been careering about the stable-yard trying a new habit.

They are so difficult to make in these days, so tight that the least change of saddle makes them go every way but the right one. I don't know if I wrote after the Harwoods lunched with us. W. was much pleased with them and found them a most attractive family. The girls are charming, so pretty and simple. I must stop, as Holmes (the English butler) is waiting for me to tell him all sorts of final arrangements before we start.

_To G. K. S._

#Albert Gate#, November 9, 1885.

The young King of Spain is dead. The Amba.s.sador, M. de Casa La Iglesia, was to have dined with us. He sent a note at 5.30 saying that he must give up the pleasure of dining with us for a "bien penible raison," but without saying what it was--so one of the secretaries went off "aux informations" and came back with the news that the King was dead. Poor young fellow, his reign was short.

December 5th.

We had a service at the Spanish chapel in Manchester Square for the King of Spain. All the Diplomats and official world there. It was very long--all the ladies were in black--Comtesse Karolyi (Austrian Amba.s.sadress) and Comtesse de Bylandt (wife of the Dutch Minister) in crepe, long veils. They told me I was not at all correct, that a crepe veil was "de rigueur" for crowned heads. I thought I was all right in black velvet, a tulle veil, and black gloves (in fact was rather pleased with my get-up), but the ladies were very stern.

#London#, December 15, 1885.

I wish you were here this morning, Dear, as the Emba.s.sy is a curiosity--might just as well be in Kamtchatka as far as the outside world is concerned--for nothing exists beyond the walls of the house.

When they drew back my curtains this morning I couldn't really think for a moment where I was. Adelade had a lighted candle in her hand (it was 8.30 o'clock in the morning) and I thought my window panes had been painted a dirty yellow in the night. However it was only a yellow London fog; I could literally see nothing when I went to the window. It has lightened now a little, but we have had lamps for breakfast, and I am writing with my candles! The big shops opposite are all lighted, and one sees little glimmers of light through the fog. I can't see across the street. The fog gets into everything--was quite thick and perceptible in the hall when we went down to breakfast. The coachman has been in and said he couldn't take out his horses, not even with a link-boy running alongside, so let us hope it will brighten up a little in the course of the afternoon.

December 16th.

The fog did lift about 4; but the day was trying and the traces most evident the next day, as everything in the house was filthy--all the silver candlesticks and little silver ornaments that are on the tables; the white curtains--in fact everything one touched. I should think laundresses would make their fortune in London. My maid came to my room about 3 o'clock, just as I was going out, with her ap.r.o.n really black with s.m.u.ts. I said, "What in the world have you been doing, cleaning the chimneys?" "Non, Madame, je n'ai fait que travailler chez Madame et dans la lingerie; j'ai voulu montrer mon tablier a Madame, c'est le troisieme que je mets depuis ce matin...!"

December 17, 1885.

Yesterday I made an excursion to the city with Hilda Deichmann and her husband to buy things for our Christmas trees. It was most amusing ransacking in all the big wholesale houses, and reminded me of my childish days and similar expeditions to Maiden Lane. There is so much always in England that recalls early days. I think it is not only the language, but the education and way of living are the same. We have read the same books and sung the same hymns, and understand things in the same way. Our shopping was most successful. All the prettiest things come from the German shops. The ginger-bread animals were wonderful,--some horses and dogs with gilt tails and ears most effective. The decorations were really very pretty--the stars and angels quite charming. When we had finished our shopping Deichmann took us to Pym's, a celebrated oyster cellar, to lunch. A funny little place well known to all City people. We had a capital lunch--all oysters.

This afternoon we have been playing, 8 hands, two pianos, which was interesting. Two of our colleagues, Princess Ghika, Roumanian Legation, and Countess de Bylandt, Dutch, are excellent musicians. They lead, and Hilda and I follow as well as we can. I am the least good, but I manage to get along, and of course whenever I know the music my ear helps me.

We have two fine erard grand pianos in the drawing-room, which is large, and fairly light for London. I was much tempted by a beautiful Steinway piano, but thought it right at the French Emba.s.sy to have erards, which are of course fine instruments. I fancy Steinway is more brilliant, but I think we make noise enough, particularly when we are playing Wagner--the _Kaiser March_ for instance.

December 23d.

It was not very cold this morning, so I tried the new horse, and he went very well. I have had a thick hunting habit made, and was quite comfortable, except the hands, which were cold at starting. I fussed all day over the Christmas tree which we are to have on the 26th, and this evening we had a small farewell dinner for Nigra, the Italian Amba.s.sador, who is going away to Vienna. I am very sorry, as he is a good colleague and an easy and charming talker. He sat a long time with me the other day talking over his Paris experiences and the brilliant days of the Empire--Tuileries, Compiegne, etc. It was most interesting and new to me, as I only know Paris since the war (1870) and have never seen either Emperor or Empress. I suppose I never shall see her, as she never comes to London, and lives a very secluded life at Farnborough with a small household, and some Paris friends who come sometimes, not very often, to see her. What a tragic "fin de vie" hers is, having had everything and lost everything. We had also the Russian and Spanish Amba.s.sadors--Staal charming, clever, easy, simple--"simpatico," the only word I know in any language which expresses exactly that combination of qualities. Casa La Iglesia, the Spaniard, is a tall, handsome, attractive-looking man. He made havoc in the various posts he has occupied, and when we want to tease him we ask him about his departure from Berlin, and all the "femmes affolees" who were at the station to see the last of him. Henrietta and Anne have arrived for Christmas, laden of course with presents and souvenirs for everybody, and Francis is quite happy with his aunts.

_To G. K. S._

#Albert Gate, London#, December 24, 1885.

The sisters and I have been shopping all day getting the last things for the tree, which is to be on the 26th. The streets are most animated, full of people, all carrying parcels, and all with smiling faces. The big toy-shops and confectioners crowded. "Buzzard," the great shop in Oxford Street, most amusing; hundreds of Christmas cakes of all sizes.

There are plum cakes frosted with sugar icing, the date generally in red letters and a sprig of ivy or evergreen stuck in at the top. We had ordered a large one, and they were much pleased to do it for the French Emba.s.sy, and wanted to make the letters in "tri-color," red, white, and blue. We wound up at the Army and Navy Stores, and really had some difficulty in getting in. They had quant.i.ties of Christmas trees already decorated, which were being sold as fast as they were brought in.

There were splendid turkeys, enormous; and curiously enough they told us many of them came from France, from a well-known turkey farm in the Loiret. I must ask the Segurs, who live in that part of the country, if they know the place. There were quant.i.ties of plum-puddings of all sizes and prices, and it must be a very poor household that doesn't have its plum-pudding to-morrow. We were glad to get back to tea and hot b.u.t.tered toast--a thoroughly English inst.i.tution. I would like some of my French servants to learn how to make it, but I don't suppose they will. In fact I don't know exactly who makes it here--I am quite sure neither Juteau nor his "garcon de cuisine" would condescend to do anything so simple. I suppose it isn't the "odd man" who seems to do all the things that no one else will, but I sha'n't inquire as long as it appears.

We had a quiet evening--talked a little politics while W. was smoking.

Henrietta always sees a great many people of all kinds, and tells him various little things that don't come to him in his official despatches.

The house is comfortable enough, though there is no calorifere, and it is a corner house. There are enormous coal fires everywhere, except in my bedroom and dressing-room, where I always burn wood--and such wood--little square pieces like children's blocks.

Christmas Day.

It was dark and foggy this morning, we could hardly see the trees opposite, and the lamps are lighted in the house and the streets.

Francis was enchanted with his presents. I think the billiard-table from Paris and the big boat ("aussi grand que Monsieur Toutain"--one of our Secretaries) were what pleased him most. There is a sort of sailing match every Sunday morning on the Serpentine. Some really beautiful boats (models) full-rigged, and it is a pretty sight to see them all start a miniature yacht race across the river. Francis always goes with Clarisse, and Yves, his own little Breton footman, carries his boat, which is much bigger than he is, also Boniface, a wise little fox-terrier who knows all about it, and gallops around the top of the lake to meet his master's boat on the other side. They have also one of the Park keepers and a gigantic policeman, who is always on duty at Albert Gate, to look after them. Not a useless precaution, as the boat often gets entangled in the reeds, and _has_ been known to go to the bottom of the lake, and Boniface always gets lost and is brought back by a policeman or a soldier, or a friend--Hilda Deichmann brought him back one day.

We had a cheerful Christmas dinner--all our personnel--M. Blanchard de Forges, Consul General, and Villiers, the correspondent of the "Debats"

in London. We did a little music after dinner. I tried for some Christmas carols "We Three Kings of Orient Are" (do you remember that at Oyster Bay? how long ago it seems), but the English-speaking element was not strong enough. We danced a little, winding up with a sort of Scotch reel--Henrietta, Waru (our Military Attache), and Pet.i.teville being the chief performers.

December 26th.