Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900 Part 19

One day he had 42 telegrams from her. We told him we thought everything was well managed (except the ball, where all the young officers crowded in front of us, and stepped on our toes, and on our trains). He quite admitted that that might have been better done, but also remarked that he thought the Corps Diplomatique a little exacting; so, as usual, there are two sides to every question.

_To H. L. K._

#London#, July 25, 1887.

We have had a nice outing, Dear, thanks to the Naval Review; two such beautiful interesting days. I am burned brown as a berry, but, as the season is over, that is of no consequence, and I shall have plenty of time at Bourneville to bleach. We started Sat.u.r.day at 9.30 for Portsmouth with the Florians, Waru, and R., Naval Attache, in a special train. The harbour looked so pretty as we came in sight of it. Every description of vessel (even the "Victory," Nelson's old ship, now a training ship), and all sorts of ironclads, big steamers, yachts, and the smallest sort of pleasure-boat, dressed with flags. We went at once on board the "Helicon," a small despatch boat, especially destined to the Corps Diplomatique and distinguished strangers. There were about 150 people on board, all colleagues, also the Arch Duke Regnier of Austria, and the two young sons of the Duc d'Aoste with their suites. Directly after us came two great English transports painted white, one for the Lords, and one for the Commons, and all around us a fleet of ordinary rowing-boats and barges filled with people--quant.i.ties of women and children. We steamed slowly across the Solent to Osborne to meet the Queen, and pa.s.sed close to the great ironclads, which looked monsters, and formidable ones. We had a handsome substantial lunch on board, to which we all did honour. There were not many foreign ships. Our two looked very well and were much admired, an old frigate, the "Iphigenie,"

now a training ship, with the midshipmen on board, and the "elan," a pretty little despatch boat. There were only two other foreign boats: a German and a Dutchman. The Italian ships put into Spithead, and then went off to Dartmouth, no one knows why exactly. Some say they were not satisfied with their place (they arrived after the French ships, and would have been decidedly farther off, and behind ours), others that they were not in good condition, not smart enough; however, they were not there and the Italian Princesses who had expected to sleep on board, and meet their brother who is on one of the ships, were much disgusted.

As soon as the "Osborne," with the Queen, the Prince of Wales, and the King of Greece (we didn't understand the Greek flag at first, as we didn't know the King was on board), had pa.s.sed, we followed and went down the line. It was a beautiful sight, and England could certainly be proud of her great ironclads filling the harbour, and showing her strength as a naval power. We went slowly, and it was amusing to hear the criticisms and appreciations of all the a.s.sembled foreigners on the show--however, I suppose all ironclads now are pretty much alike, only England happens to have three times as many as any of the rest of us.

About 6 o'clock there was a halt. We of course had tea on deck, and suddenly we saw quant.i.ties of steam launches coming across the water in all directions. They looked like enormous white birds in the distance.

They were almost all white, low in the water, and going very fast. The captains of all the ships had been called on board the Queen's yacht to be received by her. This made a long delay, and our colleagues were getting impatient, as they foresaw that they would be very late in getting back to London. We took that opportunity to ask the Captain of the "Helicon" to bear down toward the "Iphigenie," as we were to dine and sleep on board. We changed our course a little, and in about 10 minutes two very smart French boats ran alongside, coming up in grand style. The three English officers stood on the bridge and helped us off, and I must say it was all done admirably--not the slightest confusion, and we were a big party. Our fellow-pa.s.sengers decidedly envied us. The Bylandts (Dutch Minister) were much put out. They had asked the Captain of their ship to let them dine and sleep on board, but he refused absolutely; said he had just arrived from a long cruise, and was not prepared to receive anyone. We got to the "Iphigenie" in about 15 minutes. The Commandant, Noccomore, was standing on the bridge. W. got out first, then T., and as soon as W. put his foot on the deck, where all the sailors, officers, and midshipmen were drawn up, there was a salute of drums and clarions (they couldn't give the regular salute of guns to the Amba.s.sador, as, when the Queen is in the harbour, no one else can be saluted). The Commandant gave me his arm, and we went at once to his quarters (or rather "carre," as they say on board ship). We pa.s.sed through a fine room or hall, the entire width of the frigate, where a good-sized dinner-table was ready. The Commandant asked when we would dine; we said in a "quart d'heure," just the time to wash our faces, which were black with smoke and red with sun, and he showed W.

and me our quarters (his of course), and most comfortable. The cabin large, with a wardrobe, and a large "cabinet de toilette," with English wash-stand, bath-room, etc. For one person it was perfectly roomy. Of course when a second bed was put in the "cabinet de toilette" it was a little small. Mmes. de Florian and Heurtel had the second officer's cabin, and the men hammocks in some part of the ship.

The dinner was good and handsome. I had the "Aumonier" on the other side of me. He was intelligent, ready to talk about anything, and the dinner was very agreeable. Plenty of talk. W. talked a great deal, and the naval officers were interesting, as they always are. They have seen so much, and had such varied experiences. After dinner we had coffee in the Commandant's salon, and then went on deck, where we spent a delightful evening. The sea was perfectly calm, not a ripple, and lights everywhere--all the ships illuminated and sending off fireworks at intervals. We could hardly see our own, but the little "elan" looked very smart and natty. We broke up about 11, and I don't know when I have enjoyed anything so much as that perfectly quiet summer night on the water; such a rest after the long day, and early start from London. We promised to be ready at a quarter to 10 for Ma.s.s, and the visit of the ship. You would have been amused to see how well Drejet did my service (they asked me if I could do without my maid for one night, as they really didn't know what to do with her). He told Adelade he could do everything for me except my hair, and tying my sash, which seemed to be a serious performance to him, and really all my dressing things were put out and a "saut de lit" disposed gracefully over the back of a chair just as A. always did. I supposed she coached him. I was stirring early enough the next morning, but I couldn't tie my sash either, so I wandered out on the deck to have my early tea, and Countess de Florian helped me to finish my toilette. We went all over the ship before Ma.s.s.

The midshipmen's quarters are small, but of course beautifully kept, and the young men all looked as smiling and prosperous as possible, and were much pleased at the Amba.s.sador's visit. At 10 o'clock we a.s.sembled on deck for Ma.s.s. Part of the deck was covered in with flags, and as a compliment to my nationality they had put the "Stars and Stripes"

immediately over my head. I was much pleased, as it is a good many years since I have sat under the old flag. I suppose I can't say _my flag_ any more, but I feel it all the same. There were three armchairs directly in front of the altar--two big ones for W. and me and a smaller one between for the Commandant. As soon as we were seated the Abbe came, made a bow to W. and me, and began his Ma.s.s. It was very impressive--so still, not a sound except the little waves beating against the side of the ship, and the word of command for the marines at the raising of the Host, when there was a fine salute of drums and bugles. We had a very gay breakfast, the Captain of the "elan" coming to join us, and at 1 o'clock we left our hospitable frigate for the "elan" which was going to cruise about with us all the afternoon. They certainly received us most hospitably and charmingly; I shall often think of those quiet hours on the deck, and the Ma.s.s this morning, which impressed me very much. We had a lovely afternoon on the "elan," practically doing the Review over again, and going close up to the big ironclads, such ugly, heavy ma.s.ses as they seem when one is near them. We crossed over to Cowes, went alongside of the Prince of Wales' yacht, but didn't stop. The captain gave us an interesting account of their reception on the "Osborne." It seems there was some mistake in the orders brought by the Aide-de-Camp of the Admiral of the Fleet. The Commandant of the "Iphigenie" thought he could take several officers with him, and when he appeared on the "Osborne" with 5 or 6 officers, the Admiral was much embarra.s.sed, and didn't know what to do, as the Queen intended to receive only the Commandants. However the Prince of Wales, with his never-failing tact, said he would put it all right, and in a few moments they were told that the Queen would be very pleased to receive _all_ the French officers.

They told us they saw a lady in deep mourning, with perfectly white hair, standing behind the Queen, who looked so earnestly at the French uniforms, and was agitated when they pa.s.sed; they only realised afterward that it was the Empress.[9] I wonder if I shall ever see her, I would like to so much. We dined on board, anch.o.r.ed just off Portsmouth, and got back to London about 11 o'clock, having enjoyed our two days immensely. It was a beautiful ending to the Jubilee, and a beautiful sight. The "cadre" was so lovely for all those big ships. All the line of the Isle of Wight is so pretty, beautifully green, and the Solent covered with boats of all descriptions, and plenty of room for all. Some of the small row-boats seemed dangerously near the big steamers, but nothing ever happened. When I get back to Bourneville and take up my quiet life in the woods, these last days will seem a sort of fairy-tale.

[9] Empress Eugenie, widow of Napoleon III., who has lived in England for many years.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Comtesse de Florian From a photograph by Walery, London.]

#London#, July 29, 1887.

We are starting to-morrow. I had a farewell ride this morning, hardly anyone in the Row, Dandy going beautifully (you know he is the chestnut I called after the famous horse in one of Charlie's stories), except a good kick from time to time, which is a bore, not only for me (I lost my hat the other day), but for the neighbours. We dined at Lord A.'s last night, and he gave us a funny account of his experience on the House of Lords boat. To begin with he had much difficulty in getting tickets, and could get none for his daughters, only himself and Lady A. (and he is Hereditary Lord Chamberlain), and when he finally did get on the boat he found it crowded with all sorts of unknown people, very few peers, and very little food. They were faint with hunger before the end of the day, so I told him about our handsome dinner and hospitable reception on our frigate. Bylandt then told us how badly they fared. They cruised about for some time in the "Helicon" after we got off, then finally the pa.s.sengers begged to be landed. They were at last deposited at Portsmouth, and then made a rush for the buffet in the railway station, but that had been completely "devalise," there wasn't a crumb, not even a dry biscuit. Then they were conducted with much pomp to reserved carriages which were _locked_, and there they remained for over an hour, seeing various trains start, and at last arrived in London at one o'clock in the morning. Poor Bylandt was much disgusted. We thought a little of asking to keep the "elan" for a week, and of doing the Cowes week, but W. thought on the whole it would be close quarters, and was not very keen about it. I should have liked it. We had all the staff who remain to dine to-night. London is curiously empty--all the chairs being taken away from the Park, which gives it a decided air of "fin de saison."

_To G. K. S._

#Albert Gate House#, March 2, 1888.

I have been back about two weeks and am quite settled again. I have always two or three disagreeable days when I first come back from France. The coal fires try me very much and I think regretfully of the enormous chimneys at Bourneville and the _trees_ that we burned there.

We have a fog and it is very cold. Francis and I went to skate yesterday at the Botanical Gardens. The ice was very bad, there was very little room, and swarms of children struggling along on their little skates, but the outing was pleasant. I also went one day with a friend to Wimbledon, and that was better. We drove down and had a pleasant afternoon, but the ice was soft, and it was the end. Really though, in March in England, one could hardly expect to skate.

March 8th.

Hilda came in this morning with very bad news of the German Emperor. The Crown Prince was to start from the Riviera, and I am afraid he is in a bad way too. He looked such a magnificent man at the Jubilee Fetes. Of course even then his voice and colour showed that something was wrong, but it was difficult to believe that a mortal disease was mining his strength. We have had telegrams all the afternoon, and at 5 they told us the Emperor was dead. We sent immediately to Mrs. Jeune, where we were engaged to dine to meet Prince and Princess Christian of Schleswig-Holstein, to know if her dinner was put off; but the answer came back that the dinner was to take place. We went of course, and found Princess Christian and Lady Salisbury. Prince Christian, as a German Prince and a relation of the German Royal Family, did not come; neither did Lord Salisbury, who had received a telegram from Berlin announcing the Emperor's death. The Princess looked anxious and was evidently very much worried at the journey of the Crown Prince in such weather, in his delicate state. She left almost instantly after dinner.

The Drawing-room is postponed. The Crown Prince starts to-morrow morning. All eyes are upon him, and will follow his journey with hopes and fears.

Sunday, March 18th.

We all went to the funeral service for the German Emperor this morning in the German Lutheran Chapel close to Marlborough House. I was quite correct this time, and was swathed in crepe; Mrs. Lecky has lent me her long crepe veil, which will serve again probably, as everyone seems to think the Emperor Frederick is doomed. All the men were in uniform with crepe on their sleeves and sword hilts (the Germans with their helmets covered with crepe) and the women in woollen dresses with crepe veils.

Almost all the Princesses were there (not the Princess of Wales), but the Princes were in Berlin. The service was long, and curiously enough was _not_ the Lutheran service, but the regular Church of England service translated into German. It was done, it seems, for George II, who was obliged to follow the Church of England service, and who didn't understand a _word_ of English. There was much chanting, two addresses, and a sermon.

Everyone of course is talking and speculating over what will happen in Germany. All the doctors say the Emperor Frederick is near his end. No one seems to know exactly what will be the att.i.tude of the present Crown Prince. He is young, intelligent, with an iron will; all good qualities in a sovereign, but he has little experience and an absolute confidence in his own judgment.

_To H. L. K._

#London#, April 25, 1888.

We hear a great deal now here about Boulanger, and there seems to be the most extraordinary "engouement" for him here as well as in France.

Roustan, the Naval Attache, has just come back from Paris and says the state of things is very serious, people have lost their heads over Boulanger. He (R.) thinks it is the most serious crisis France has pa.s.sed through since the Commune. W. is less blue--he knows the famous General very little, but doesn't think there is much character or backbone there.

We had a big dinner the other night at Lord Rothschild's, and Lord Hartington, a well-known political and social figure, sat between me and the Princesse de Wagram. He naturally asked us, the only two Frenchwomen at table, what we thought of Boulanger. The Princess spoke most enthusiastically of him. The one man in France who could regenerate the country, and who would be supported by all parties. I said exactly the contrary, and that I thought his popularity and power very much exaggerated. Lord Hartington was rather amused at the two opinions so absolutely at variance.

The Deichmanns came to see us the other day, just back from Berlin, and in despair over the Emperor. Deichmann said he came into the room with the same straight, soldierly bearing he had always had, and except that he was thinner, looked unchanged; but he couldn't speak, and his friends fear the worst. He is worried too over the friction between the Empress and Bismarck--too such strong wills in conflict.

#London#, April 26, 1888.

I wonder if you are as cold as I am to-day. I have been driving about shivering in the open carriage and my seal-skin felt like a foulard. I think I got cold last night. We had a pleasant dinner at Lord Knutsford's. I had Count Kufstein next to me. He was for years in Paris at the Austrian Emba.s.sy just when I was first married and making my debut in the official world. He is here now for the sugar conference, and we were delighted to go back to old times, as he knows everybody in Paris of all kinds: Imperialists, Royalists, and Republicans. It wasn't always easy for a foreigner to get along and not offend somebody. On our way home W. suggested that we should go in for a moment to the W. H.

Smiths' who had a big political reception. In a weak moment I agreed. It is not really necessary to go to those big parties--one can be written down in the book by one of the secretaries, or give the names to the lady of the _Morning Post_ who sits with her hat and coat behind the door, and puts down as many names as she can manage. I should think she would have perpetual rheumatism, as the hall door is open and the draught something awful. The moment I set my foot in the hall my heart sank, such a crowd on the stairs, I should think all the House of Commons and all their female relations. There was a double current going and coming, and I was thankful not to have my dress torn to bits. We met Tom Leigh coming down. He said he had been 15 minutes on the same step.

However we did manage to get upstairs--tried to find either host or hostess, but they had evidently left the door--so after struggling through one or two rooms packed tight with people I discovered a high wooden stool behind one of the doors which had evidently been used for lighting the candles and been forgotten, so I seated myself on that and told W. I would wait for him there, as he thought he would try and find some one of the family. I sat there some little time rather interested in the stream of perfectly unknown faces which pa.s.sed until I was rescued by Correa, the Brazilian Minister, who couldn't believe that it was really the French Amba.s.sadress sitting alone on a three-legged stool behind the door. W. came back in about a quarter of an hour not having seen any one he knew, and then we started down the staircase where we had the same struggle, and the cold air blowing in upon my bare shoulders. I was cross when I got home--however I suppose exactly the same thing happens when we have a big reception, as the Emba.s.sy is not nearly large enough. The other night when the Duke of Cambridge dined with us we had a party afterward. W. went down to the door with him and never got up again, there was such a crowd on the stairs.

_To H. L. K._

#London#, May 19, 1888.

The season is animated enough and we are out every night (not all day, as so many people are, as we refuse all lunches and teas). Our music the other evening with Wolff, the young Dutch violinist, and Mdme. Kleeberg, was nice. We had invited only about 50 people, all musical. Everyone could sit down (which the men appreciated, as they usually _stand_ in the doorway all through the concert), and also we were not obliged to have those rows of gilt chairs which grate so on my nerves. I know the women hate it so when they are all seated in rows very close to each other and not a man anywhere near. Wolff played divinely, with so much tone and sentiment. He had a great success. Mdme. Kleeberg always plays beautifully. She is well known here and much liked. It was the first time Wolff had played in London, and he was a little nervous.

Last night we dined with Lady Delawarr to meet Princess Louise and Lord Lorne. The Princess is charming; a pretty, graceful figure and attractive manner, absolutely what the Italians would call "simpatica."

Lord Lorne took me to dinner, and I found him most entertaining and original. He talked a great deal about Canada and America, and certainly knows and appreciates "the States." He said if he hadn't been born the eldest son of an English Duke he would certainly emigrate to the West of America and pitch his tent there.

There was a reception and music in the evening, Wolff playing beautifully, but, alas! no one listening. Lady Borthwick (who is a good musician) and I moved into the large drawing-room at his request when he began to play, and I really don't think anyone else scarcely listened, and certainly no one realised when, after playing a few moments under great difficulty (people coming and going and talking all the time), he calmly laid his violin on the piano and stopped. He came up to me to explain, what I quite understood, that he could hear neither his own violin nor the accompaniment, and I could not urge him to continue. It is very hard on the artists, an evening like that. If they don't play well, everyone criticises; and if they stop altogether, people think it is high-handed, and criticise equally. I have learnt now by experience and never invite _many_ people when I have music.

May 22, 1888.

We had a pleasant evening last night at Sir Arthur Sullivan's who had a dinner for the Prince of Wales and the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess Paul of Mecklenburg. There were all kinds of artists--singing, reciting, and dancing. An American girl, with a very pretty voice, sang very well, and Letty Lind was charming. The d.u.c.h.ess Paul looked very pretty and chic, and was most amiable. The Prince is so nice to artists--always a gracious word and smile. Sullivan is an excellent host, and keeps everything going. Just as we arrived the electric light went out. I couldn't imagine why the house looked so dark as we drove up, for I knew the Prince was dining, and there was the red carpet which always indicates Royalty, so there could be no mistake, but the hall-door was open and lamps and candles being brought in from all quarters. We took off our cloaks in the dark, but in a very few minutes things were put right, and the rooms brilliantly illuminated. W. never remains long on these occasions, but I stayed until the end, even for supper, which was very gay.

#London#, May 24, 1888.

My small musical tea for the d.u.c.h.ess Paul was very successful I think yesterday. I could not have Johannes Wolff, the violinist, which I regretted extremely. He plays quite beautifully, with so much "entrain"

and sentiment. I think I have already written to you about him, he is a Dutchman who was sent to me by Mdme. de Zuylen (you remember Zuylen who was so long Dutch Minister in Paris). It was a little discouraging at first, there is such a tremendous concurrence in London, and English people like to hear the same artists, whom they know well; Joachim, Sarasate, and Mdme. Neruda have it all their own way. However, I made a small party for him, all musical people, Lady Borthwick, Mrs. Ronalds, Tosti, Lord Lathom, etc., and he conquered his public at once. It was splendid playing and a style quite his own. We replaced him by Mdme. Le Valloit, who plays very well; and had besides Picolellis (from Florence), who plays well (cello), and Carpe, the Italian baritone who has a big voice and sings in the Italian style. The audience listened pretty well at first, then came tea and the clatter of tea-cups in the blue room where all the jeunesse had congregated, talking and laughing and having their tea with a fine unconsciousness of the music going on in the next room. They are really very tiresome. That reminds me of Grieg who was very "difficile," and who couldn't stand a sound when he was playing. He and his wife came to the Emba.s.sy one night and played and sang quite charmingly, and everybody was delighted. Quite at the last moment one of the Royalties talked a little while he was playing, and I saw the moment when he would get up from the piano. However, Wolff and I between us managed to calm him. When it was over I told him what a success he had had--that the Prince had enjoyed his playing so much, to which he replied--"Ja, der hat es laut gesagt."

d.u.c.h.ess Paul was very amiable, stayed until after 7 and seemed to enjoy it; at least she listened and spoke very nicely to the artists afterward. I had just time to dress for a dinner at the Austrian Emba.s.sy.

May 26, 1888.

We dined to-night with our cousins the Ivor Herberts, a dinner for the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess Paul of Mecklenburg. We were asked for 8.15, and they never came until 9, looking quite unconcerned. I can't imagine how the cooks manage. Juteau tears his hair when we are so late, but he is getting accustomed to English hours now, and doesn't get ready himself until a quarter of an hour after the time fixed. We were a perfect bore to all our friends at first with our French punctuality, and arrived once or twice before the master of the house. W. consulted Lord Granville, who told him his rule was to leave his house _at the hour named for the dinner_; but as we dine sometimes around the corner, and sometimes at Kensington that is not always practical. People in Paris are very punctual and never wait more than a quarter of an hour for anyone. I remember quite well when I was first married, and my husband was a Cabinet Minister, being late for dinner at Comte Paul de Segur's.

When we arrived they were at table. Among the guests was the Duc d'Audifret-Pasquier, President of the Senate--he had arrived in time and they wouldn't keep him waiting more than the "quart d'heure de grace." I was very much surprised, as after all my husband was a personage, but I must say I think the rule is a good one. I was next to the Duke and found him very pleasant. He is a brother of the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Wladimir, and he talked about the Coronation, and some of the curious, half barbaric ceremonies. He had been lunching at Sheen with the Comte de Paris, and was much impressed with the dull, sad look of the place. It does look gloomy, enclosed in high walls, such a contrast to Eu and the beautiful, bright sunny homes where the Orleans Princes spent their childish years.

#Albert Gate#, May 30th.

To-night we have a quiet evening, and are glad to have a chance to talk over Boulanger (who is coming here) and various troublesome questions.

We dined last night with the d.u.c.h.ess of Westminster to meet Princess Mary and the Duke of Teck. The dinner was handsome and pleasant, and there was a small ball afterward. They danced in the picture gallery, a beautiful, large room, where the dresses and jewels showed to great advantage. We didn't stay very late as W. never dances, not even the regulation "Quadrille d'Honneur" at Court. He and Karolyi are the only diplomatists who never dance.

_To H. L. K._