FROM SATURDAY TO MONDAY
Hotel Ritz, London.Monday, June 1909.
My very dear Mary,
Here is the second tome of my first impressions of your country and your compatriots, which I promised to share with you. After the town the country! After one day of the London season, the English country life, the home, the Sunday at home! I have spent what you call a Saturday week-end, or a Sunday over. I will relate you all my adventures, and tell you in all frankness the good and the bad.
The sister of our dear Jackie invited me for the Saturday week-end to her beautifulchateau. By misfortune our dear Jackie was prevented from coming himself. He was kept all Sunday at the ForeignOffice to help to copy out telegrams! Is it not ignoble to spoil his holiday like that? Jackie, who has so little holiday, and who works so hard in Paris! His sister—perhaps you know her—is Lady Arlington, the wife of Sir Arlington. Theirchateauis in Surrey. I had never been presented to her, but she wrote me most amiably and proposed three trains I might take. I chose the first, which arrived at half-past four, and found an auto at the station. After five minutes we arrived at thechateau, which is fine, but rather heavy: style, Louis XIV, outside. In the interior, a mixture—Queen Elizabeth, Vandyke, Maple, Modern style, Morris.Je n’aime pas les mélanges.But the English comfort always seduces me. The chintzes, the flowers, the nick-nacks, the thousand little nothings! Oh, it is charming! When I arrived I was shown into a large hall, all panelled (the panelling repainted) with some fine pictures (some Vandykes and a Sir Joshua) and some horrors. And a picture of Lady Arlington by a modern French painter; a nightmare like a coloured photograph! There was a large tea table and a buffet all prepared, but neither the master nor the mistress of the house there to receive me. In the corner of the room a pale young man was sitting reading a book. He gotup when I entered and looked embarrassed and said nothing. I did not know whether it was Sir Arlington or not. Then he said: “It has stopped raining; I think I will go out.” And he abandoned me to my fate!
I waited five minutes, ten minutes, one quarter of an hour; then Lady Arlington entered. She is not like Jackie at all, but a blonde, very tall, handsome, and striking. She was dressed simply (but not well) in white serge, and I was embarrassed, because they had told me the English were all that is most elegant for Saturday week-ends, and I was very dressed, with a big hat, with a lace veil, and ... (a page of technical details omitted). Lady Arlington was most amiable, and did not seem at all embarrassed at not having been there to receive me. She gave me tea.
Presently other guests entered; they had all been at Ascot Races—some of them staying in this house, others coming in their autos from neighbouringchateaux. They were all simply dressed, the men intennis. I felt red with shame to be the only one dressed. Lady Arlington did not present one single person to me. Two pretty young women arrived (one a real Sir Joshua and the other a Greuze), and an older lady—veryhandsome—who began to talkpolitique. Also a great many men, most of them bald although young; they all sat down and we drank tea. Then the master of the house arrived, a tall man with a beard,très, très bien, like a Vandyke. He seemed timid. Lady Arlington said to him: “You know Madame,” and then stopped, as though she had forgotten my name.
We of course talked of dear Jackie at once, but when I said it was a shame to disturb his holiday, Lady Arlington said, “Oh yes,” as though she did not understand. Then a man who had not been presented to me began to talk to me. He is no longer in his first youth, but very beautiful and gentle like a seigneur in a Pinturicchio, and we discussed Sargent’s pictures and art in general. I found him very well-informed, intelligent, and even erudite; he has written a book aboutVillon. Then more people arrived: an old man with a beard, who my “Italian nobleman” whispered to me was Wreathall, the celebrated novelist. He is, between us, araseur, and told stories enough to make one sleep about ghosts in a kitchen. There also arrived two American ladies, one a real American, full of life; the other just like an Englishwoman, and, to speak the truth, onewould not have known she was American except by her clothes; she was dressed well, just like a Frenchwoman.
Then came some sportsmen, some clubmen, and a little man with apince-nez. They all talked together about their friends, calling everybody by their little names; for example, Janie, and Letty, and Tommy, and Bobbie, so all that was Greek to me. Soon everybody disappeared into the garden by twos, and I was left alone with Lady Arlington and my “Italian nobleman!” The pale young man who was there when I arrived gave a glance into the hall and went out again. Lady Arlington told me he was a celebrated M.P., and very remarkable. I continued to discuss art and history, in which he was so strong, with my “Italian nobleman,” until at last Lady Arlington said she was sure I would like rest, and she conducted me to my bedroom, a ravishing room furnished with all the English comfort, looking over the superb garden with its admirable lawns.
I was glad to go to my room, so as to have plenty of time to make my toilet, because they had told me the English are so exact. I disembarrass myself of my things and put on a dressing-gown. I lie down, and presently I hear cries from thegarden; I look out of the window and I see in the distance they are playing at croquet with great gaiety. I am almost tempted to go downstairs once more, but as I am already undressed I have not the energy; so I remain in my room and read a book, and at half-past seven my maid comes, so that I was ready almost before half-past eight, the dinner hour. When the dinner gong rang, and I left my room to descend, some of the men were only just coming in from the garden. I was the first downstairs.
There was no one in the salon except the little man with thepince-nez. He said nothing at all at first, but after five minutes he said he was glad it had stopped raining, and after that not a word. We did not sit down at table until nine. Sir Arlington gave me the arm, and on the other side was an oldish distinguished man with well cut features,très bien, with good manners, but so devoted to his neighbouress that he paid no attention to me. She was a beauty, but dressed, it is inconceivable!Fagotée, ma chère!If you could have seen it! It was to cry about! Her dress was made in Paris too, but all put on anyhow.
Sir Arlington is a delicious gentleman, butdistrait; he cares only for birds and animals,and often undertakes long expeditions for sport in Africa. I asked him who all the people were, and imagine, he had no idea who was the small man with thepince-nez, or several of the others. He said: “Those are my wife’s literary friends; they are very nice, but too clever for me.” He is modest, like all the Englishmen. Lady Arlington has, it appears, the mania forhommes de lettresas well as for music, gardening, and a thousand other things, although, between us, she isune sotte—bête comme une oie et poseuse! and always making exaggerated exclamations, such as How thrilling! How darling! and always in ecstasy about nothing. I talked with Sir Arlington nearly all dinner, as my other neighbour was so occupied. There was no general conversation, and we were twenty-two at table.
After dinner, according to the British custom, the ladies went into the drawing-room; they broke up into groups, the young women sat on a sofa and two or three others—the Americans also—grouped themselves round them. The others talkedtête-à-tête. Lady Arlington sat beside me, with another lady who seemed to be very pleased that I was French, and just as we had begun to talk Lady Arlington left us and joined the group bythe sofa. The lady who remained with me talked of nothing but Paris and French things, and what a salad! Cafés chantants, Réjane, De Bussy, Fursy, and Maeterlinck, and allà côté! The men stayed very late, but came out at last, and then Lady Arlington arranged the Bridge. There were four tables; everybody played except the M.P., who sat down and began reading a book; the novelist, who went to bed; the little man with thepince-nez, who I discovered was a celebrated painter; my “Italian nobleman,” and the political lady. She took the M.P. away from his book, and settled herself down in a corner with him for the rest of the evening.
Lady Arlington took my “Italian nobleman” apart and said something to him in a whisper, and I heard him answer: “I have been talking to her the whole afternoon.” Then she went up to the painter and said something to him, and he came and sat down beside me. We talked French literature and theatres; he is intelligent, but twenty years in behind about everything French, and though I was told he was anhomme d’esprit, I could not understand his allusions nor his pleasantries.
The Bridge went on late; it was already half-past twelve when we went to bed. Lady Arlingtonasked me if I would have breakfast in my room, but I, who wanted to see a real English breakfast, decided to descend. I was resolved to make no mistake about my clothes, so I came down the next morning at ten in a dress I had got for theMont Dore, a simple jacket and a short skirt. Imagine my astonishment! Everybody was dressed in muslins, as elegant as possible,grandes toilettes. Lady Arlington was dressed in white and silver and green and gold, halfdécolletée, with a huge green hat. I am not wicked, you know, but she looked like a great white parrot with her blonde coiffure! It is only English complexions which can support such toilettes in the morning.
After breakfast Lady Arlington and the M.P. went to the church; she said that afterwards she would show me her “Friendship’s Garden,” which I suppose is a garden reserved for her intimate friends. The guests went into the garden and sat under the trees in small groups; nearly every one had a book, and I found that wherever I went I made a desert, avide, and everybody said they must go and write letters. After a time I went in doors, also to write letters, and in every drawing room I found atête-à-tête! I waited for LadyArlington, but Sir Arlington found me and asked me to take a walk, and he took me to see his stables and the park, which is a dream. I asked about the garden, but he said that was his wife’s, and that he did not occupy himself with it; but he showed me all that was practical and interesting. It was admirable. I came in all out of breath before the lunch, and had just time to go upstairs and change my dress.
This time I thought I would be right, and I put on my most elegant Worth dress. But no! I come downstairs, I find everybody sitting at the lunch, and they have once more changed into short skirts and flannels. It was despairing! There was only one empty place left, between the painter and the M.P. I talked Frenchpolitiquewith him; he was amiable, but I could not see what they find remarkable in him.
After lunch the tennis; it was not very hot, and Lady Arlington and some of the other guests went out, and one of the young women (she who was so pretty) quarrelled with one of the other women, and although everybody tried to calm her, she would not listen and went into the house, crying, my dear, crying hot tears, and there sheremained for the rest of the afternoon! I did not know what the drama was about. Then everybody disappeared; the “Italian nobleman” (always so well meaning and so modest) proposed to me to look on at the tennis. We sat down on chairs with the painter and the novelist until tea was brought.
At tea another man arrived from London, a lord, I forget his name, middle-aged and very gay; he at once got himself presented to me; we played a new game called croquet-golf until dinner. The others did not seem to appreciate him so much, perhaps he shocked the English reserve; he is full ofen-trainand the English humour. At dinner Sir Arlington again gave me the arm. After dinner everybody played Bridge once more, but I had the joy to find my friend the new arrival, who talked to me the whole evening and regaled me with his drollery, and made a thousand farces, causing me to die of laughing, simply (imagine how!) by drawing pigs with his eyes shut!
This morning I returned to London, on which I will write you further impressions soon. I adore England, the men are so well informed and full of humour, the women are beautiful, but why donot they learn to put on clothes, and why are they so dressed and yet so untidy? Oh how different you are from us!
Your friend,Jeanne.