The Letters of her Mother to Elizabeth Part 4

Marie, vite, vite, descendez a la ville pour chercher une boite."

So we knew where the Marquise got her voice from.

In spite of the villa being so high up, the air seemed quite stuffy, for the hill is full of six-francs-a-day pensions, where there are enough Baedekers to start a library, and where they ring _ranz des vaches_ instead of dinner-gongs.

{_Lunch at the Gutsch_}

We intended to lunch at the National, but Sir Charles met us on the _quai_ and said he had been hunting all over the town for us, as he wanted us to lunch with him at the Gutsch, and go on to the Wertzelmanns' afterwards. In front of the Schweitzerhof we found the Vicomte, who had been automobiling all the morning, and Sir Charles asked him to join us.

The Gutsch is much higher than the De Pivarts' villa, and you reach it by a funicular which creeps straight up the side of the hill like a lift. The view was lovely and so was the cooking; we had a table in front of a huge window overlooking the _terra.s.se_. Afterwards we strolled in the glades of the pine forest where the light was like the pictures called "Studies in Colour," which one sees in the Academy and nowhere else.

{_Morale of Lucerne Society_}

Blanche and Sir Charles were in front, while the Vicomte and I, owing to the Vicomte's laziness, were considerably in the rear. For once he talked of something else than his automobile, but his conversation was not very edifying, save as giving me a pretty vivid idea of the _morale_ of Lucerne society. The Vicomte talked the most outrageous scandal, but in so witty a way that it was impossible to take offence. He knew the _histoire_ of everybody, which, if true, proves that Continental society, especially at a _ville d'eaux_, is very much the same as in English country houses where the people are smart. As he spoke in French he sailed straight into the wind, where an Englishman would have tacked a half-a-dozen times before reaching port. The voyage was quite exciting, and when I expected him every moment to be wrecked on the rocks of a Moulin Rouge episode he dexterously dropped anchor in calm water. When we got back to the Gutsch I felt as if I had been listening to one of Gyp's spiciest novels in which I knew all the characters.

They manage these things differently in England, and when Mrs. Smith looks purry-purry, puss-puss at Lord Valmond you may be sure that each sees the ghost of a conscience, and it has the face of Sir Francis Jeune.

{_Schloss Gessler_}

From the Gutsch we went straight to Schloss Gessler in the Vicomte's automobile. We tore through Lucerne at top speed; it was great fun, and the Vicomte said there was no danger, for the road was straight, and that n.o.body would dare get in the way. Going up the hill outside of the town somebody's Maltese terrier with bells round its neck came tearing after us and got under the wheels. But we didn't stop, and as we turned into the avenue leading to the Schloss one of Mr. Wertzelmann's geese committed suicide by throwing itself in front of the automobile.

Nothing could have been more hospitable than the welcome the Wertzelmanns gave us. Everybody we knew was there, and many more whom we didn't. Mr. Wertzelmann took me to see the ruins, but all that is left is a bit of stone wall, which looks as if it had begun with the intention of encircling a kitchen-garden, but had decided to visit the stables, and never got any further. Mr. Wertzelmann told me it had once sheltered Gessler, hence the name of the Schloss, but that the place had recently been restored by a Swiss engineer who had made a fortune out of funiculars. Certainly in its present state Schloss Gessler is very fine, and the view from the terrace, which Mr. Wertzelmann insisted were the old battlements, was lovely.

We saw Mrs. Wertzelmann's portrait by Constant and heard the price it cost; we also went down to the jetty, and as many as could got into the steam launch and went for a spin on the lake. Blanche was among the number, but I preferred to remain on the lawn where the Marquise was playing croquet. Her maid had evidently found the Geraudels, for her voice was more tabloid than ever. Some people who looked as if they lived in pensions, and were no doubt Americans, who had come to pay their respects to their Minister and his handsome wife, strolled about the grounds aimlessly and looked uncomfortable. One of them carried on a polite conversation with a lackey who spoke English, and whom he addressed as "Sir." But the Wertzelmanns devoted their whole attention to their personal friends, and left the representatives of their nation to amuse themselves in their own way.

Mr. Vanduzen brought the d.u.c.h.esse de Vaudricourt and Comte Belladonna in the cab with him, and I overheard him squabbling with the cabman over the fare, for, from what pa.s.sed between them, I judged that the d.u.c.h.esse had been a second thought with Mr. Vanduzen, who had only arranged with the cabman for himself and the Comte. The cabman evidently won, and Mr.

Vanduzen arrived on the lawn so perturbed that he forgot to kiss Mrs.

Wertzelmann's hand, a custom he has affected since taking up his residence abroad.

{_An Austrian n.o.bleman_}

Behind Mr. Vanduzen's cab there drove up a very smart landau belonging to Mrs. Solomon G. Isaacs of St. Louis, who is stopping at the National with her mother and daughter. The Austrian n.o.bleman, whose name heads the Schweitzerhof visitors' list, for which they give him his room and food when the latter article is not supplied to him by Mrs. Isaacs, with whose daughter he is _epris_, came with them. He is even _plus distingue_ than Comte Belladonna, for it is whispered he was a friend of Crown Prince Rudolph's, and knows so much about his death that the Emperor has requested him to live out of Austria. Mrs. Isaacs, who is a widow, well _conservee_, would, I think, sooner than let him slip out of the family, take him herself, but he prefers the daughter, who is an extremely beautiful and innocent girl of seventeen. The disposal of the dollars, of which they appear to possess millions, rests with Mrs.

Isaacs's mother, an impossible old woman, who looks as if she had acquired the etiquette of the salon after a very thorough knowledge of that of the kitchen. Her thirst for information is apparently unquenchable, and I heard her ask Count Albert if he was related to a _hofdame_ at Vienna, whose name I forget. He replied that his maternal grandmother was a Hohenzollern and his great-uncle had married a Hapsburg, which information so delighted Mrs. Johnson that she smacked her lips as if she were tasting some of the sauces she used to make in the good old days. I believe, old as she is, that she would marry Count Albert herself if he asked her; and I am sure that _he_ would not hesitate to do so, if he were certain the fortune was entirely hers.

{_Madame Colorado_}

Mrs. Wertzelmann has a very pretty French woman stopping at Schloss Gessler, a Madame Colorado; she is really lovely, and has the dearest little girl in the world. Madame Colorado knows all the people you have met at Croixmare. On the way back to the National the Vicomte told me she was angelic, as I can well believe; she was married to a brute of a Chilian, who happily killed himself and left her free; she at one time thought of taking the veil, and the Vicomte says her charities in Paris are enormous and that the breath of scandal has never touched her name.

I feel quite drawn to her, and shall try to know her better.

{_The Schweitzerhof_}

To-night after dinner several of us went down to the Schweitzerhof to see the fireworks and hear the music. As everybody was in the salon waiting to see Don Carlos and his d.u.c.h.esse pa.s.s through on their way to dinner, we got splendid seats on the balcony. The night was superb.--Your dearest Mamma.

LETTER XII

HOTEL NATIONAL, LUCERNE 28th August

DARLING ELIZABETH:

{_New People_}

The season is in full swing, and yesterday a number of new people "descended," as the French say, at the National. First in importance were the Prince and Princesse di Spezzia from Florence; the Marechale de Vichy-Pontoise; Mademoiselle Liane de Pougy of the Folies Bergere; and Professor Chzweiczy, who has discovered the bacillus of paralysis, and whose great scientific work "The Blot on the Brain" has been translated into all the European languages. This morning there was an enormous crowd on the _quai_ in front of the hotel; Blanche said she was sure a crowned head had arrived, but I thought it was more likely that someone had had a fit, for we could see a circle had been formed round something or someone, people were tiptoeing and crushing one another, and I expected a _sergent de ville_ to cry every moment, "Air! air!" as they did in Regent Street that morning when we were coming out of Fuller's and found the d.u.c.h.esse of Rougemont's footman foaming on the pavement.

But Blanche insisted it was an emperor, and she was backed up by Therese, who said it was just like the crowds she had seen in Paris when the Czar came. We found everybody we knew sitting in the hall of the hotel and in very bad humour, because it was awfully hot and stuffy, and the waiters had brought all the chairs inside lest they should be broken by the crowd. I asked the Marquise what had happened, and she said, with a shrug, it was only Liane de Pougy taking the air under the chestnuts.

Professor Chzweiczy sat in the same spot all the afternoon reading "The Blot on the Brain," and the letters on the cover were so big that the Vicomte said you could distinguish them across the _quai_, but n.o.body paid any attention to him.

{_Signor Stefano Crestfallen_}

The Princesse di Spezzia held quite a court in the hall, and stared at everybody through her lorgnettes; they say she is at the head of Florentine society and a young Italian, who has a _magasin_ on the _quai_ Schweitzerhof, and comes to the dances at the National because men are scarce, has begged Mr. Vanduzen to present him. But Mr. Vanduzen refused, and Signor Stefano went off crestfallen, finding it, I daresay, quite impossible to reconcile the selling of precious stones behind a counter with his social ambitions.

Blanche spent the morning yesterday automobiling with the Vicomte and the Marquise, while I remained in the verandah to rest, as we were to drive after lunch with Sir Charles to a Schloss twenty miles away to a garden party. Mrs. Johnson kept me company, and told me that Count Albert had gone to the Rigi for the day with Mrs. Isaacs and Rosalie.

She said they had been presented at Berlin and Brussels, and had intended to enjoy the same experience at Dresden last winter, as they had letters to the Minister there, but he made some paltry objection and she had not pressed the matter, though she added that she had written to the Senator, to whom the Minister owed his place, and that he would make it hot for him.

{_Shopping and Sightseeing_}

I asked her if they had been to London, and she said only for a week, and had never had such a dull time, as they knew n.o.body, and her room at the Carlton was so cold it gave her rheumatism. They did some shopping and sight-seeing, and had gone from the Bank to Shepherd's Bush in the Tu'penny Tube, but she preferred the Elevated in New York, because of the scenery. However, Mrs. Johnson told me quite in confidence, that if Count Albert didn't propose to Rosalie, they thought of going to London next year for the season, and she asked me if I could recommend a Countess who would run them, and she wanted to know if there was any inst.i.tution to which she could write and engage one, for she had heard in St. Louis that poor Countesses did quite a business that way. I told her we were not so progressive in England as in the States, and that I did not think there was as yet any a.s.sociation of distressed gentlewomen where one could hire a Countess for the London season, but that perhaps if she wrote to the editor of one of the Society papers, I daresay he could provide a suitable person who would get her access to the best houses. Mrs. Johnson at once pulled a note-book out of her pocket, and jotted down the names of two or three papers I gave her, then she looked at me rather shrewdly, and asked what I thought would be the fee. I said I didn't think she could do the London season the way she would want to much under ten thousand pounds all told.

"Well," she said, "Count Albert won't cost us as much as that, and if we secure him we shan't go to London. From what I can find out Continental society is less expensive than English and just as good."

{_Automobile Accident_}

Blanche returned just before lunch in a great state of excitement: it seems that in going up the hill to the De Pivarts, something went wrong with the automobile, and it began to descend backwards at a frightful pace; the Marquise screamed so loud that a number of people, not knowing what was the matter, rushed into the middle of the road, and the automobile knocked down one who happened to be the croupier at the Kursaal, and he was so badly hurt he had to be taken to the hospital.

Just as they expected to batter down a wall at the foot of the hill, and perish horribly, the automobile suddenly stopped; they jumped out instantly, and it was just in time, for it at once blew up with such a noise, that the porter at the Pension Thorvaldsen took it for the one o'clock gun and began sounding the dinner-gong.

Blanche says that the Vicomte took it quite coolly; he declared he always knew the automobile would end like that, and he should compel the company in Paris to give him another, as they had guaranteed it to run without accident for a year. The Marquise fainted, and when Blanche left her she was in hysterics in the Pension Thorvaldsen; it all happened so quickly, that Blanche said it was all over before she could realise the danger. She was not even shaken.

{_Marechale de Vichy-Pontoise_}

At lunch the _maitre d'hotel_ made a mistake and put some Germans at the table occupied by the Marechale de Vichy-Pontoise, and when she hobbled in, leaning on her cane, and followed by Bijou, her pug, there was no place for her to sit. She was in a towering rage, and shook her stick at the _maitre d'hotel_, and Bijou looked as if he contemplated making his lunch off the waiter's leg. A seat was eventually found for her at our table, and another for Bijou, who finished his chop in the Marechale's lap. She glared at us several times as if she thought it was an impertinence for us to sit at the same table with her, and she frightened the waiters out of their wits and found fault with everything. I am sure she is horribly old, for Sir Charles says she was no chicken in the last year of the Empire, when her salon was the most _suivi_ in Paris. Her _coiffure_ is jet black, and her eyebrows are bald and pencilled in arches. She is awfully badly made up, but, as Blanche says, it would take tons of rouge to hide the gutters on her face which is lined like a railway-map. All her clothes are made in the fashion of 1870; she is covered at all times with jewels and wears a daguerreotype brooch of the late Marechal.

But, of course, she is _tres grande dame_, and everyone tries to mollify her, and they wait on her and Bijou hand and foot, and the d.u.c.h.esse de Vaudricourt, who hates her because the Marechale asked her before the Vicomte and Mr. Vanduzen if she remembered a certain ball at the Tuileries in '68, calls her "Ma chere marechale."

{_Time to Retire_}

Therese has rapped twice to ask if I am ready to retire, so unless she should pull my hair out by the roots to spite me for keeping her up so late I must say good-night.--Your dearest Mamma.

LETTER XIII

HOTEL NATIONAL, LUCERNE 30th August

DARLING ELIZABETH:

{_The Sonnenburgs_}