Albert Gate,May 21, 1889.
I got back from Paris last night, rather sorry to come. The weather was enchanting, warm and bright, and, of course, quantities of people for the Exhibition. It isn't half ready yet, but is most interesting—so much to see. I dined and breakfasted there several times at the various restaurants—one evening with the Walter Burns and a party, and we went afterward to see the "fontaines lumineuses," which are really fairy-like; but such a crowd. I also heard the two American prima donnas—Miss Eames, who is very handsome, has a fresh, young voice, and is an ideal Juliette. She is a vision really in her bridal dress as Juliette. Miss Sanderson is also very handsome, but in quite a different style. Her voice is very high and true; she was singing "Esclarmonde" at the Opéra Comique. Massenet has taught her everything. I have found quantities of invitationshere, in fact was obliged to come over, as we have a big dinner the day after to-morrow, and the Court ball.
Tuesday, May 28, 1889.
We had our first encounter with Boulanger this morning. W. and I were walking our horses down the Row when we met three gentlemen cantering toward us. As they passed we heard they were speaking French, but didn't pay any particular attention. I merely said, "I wonder who those men are," one so rarely hears French spoken in the Row. A few minutes later we met Lord Charles Beresford, who took a little turn with us, and said to W., "The other distinguished Frenchman is also in the Row,"—then we divined. A few moments afterward (the Row is so small one crosses people all the time) we met them again, Boulanger in the middle riding his famous black horse—a man on each side riding good horses, chestnuts. They all wore top-hats, which no Englishmen do now in the morning. The men all wear low hats, the women also, and covert coats, the girls cotton blouses; not at all the correct style we used to admire as children inPunchwhen those beautiful women of Leech's riding in the Park filled our childish hearts with envy. I was rather curious as to what would happen, as W. knows Boulanger slightly, and went to him when he was Minister of War about something concerning the military attaché; however, there was no difficulty, as Boulanger was apparently too engrossed in conversation with his companions to notice anyone. I wonder if we shall meet him anywhere? They tell us that some of the society people mean to invite him, but I suppose they will scarcely ask us together.
Thursday, May 30th.
Yesterday was the last Drawing-room of this season. I rather feel as if it were my last in London, but one never knows. We (Corps Diplomatique) were still all in black, the English in colours. It was long and tiring. We dined at Lord Sudeley's—I rather wishing I had no engagement. I am always tired after those hours of standing, and the diadem is heavy, and the train, too, held over one's arm; however, I was quite repaid, as I had a charming neighbour. I didn't know at all who he was, as they rarely introduce in England, so we embarked on one of those banal, inane conversations one has with a stranger of whom one knows nothing, and were talking on smoothly about nothing at all, when he remarked, casually, "I suppose you never go to church." This I at once resented vehemently, so he explained that he didn't know, as I was a Frenchwoman, probably a Catholic (as if they didn't go to church), etc. He turned out to be Canon Rogers, a charming, intelligent, well-known man, most independent in his words and actions. He is rector of St. Botolph's, a church in Bishopsgate, the most disreputable part of London. We became great friends, and he asked me if I would go and lunch with him one Sunday, and he would show me Petticoat Lane. I agreed of course, and we decided for next Sunday. He said he had never had a French lady and an Ambassadress as a guest, and didn't quite know what to do. Should he ask the Prince of Wales and order champagne? I told him my tastes were very simple, and if I might bring my cousin Hilda, and one of the Secretaries, I should be quite happy—also I liked apple-pie, which he says his cook makes very well. I haven't had such a pleasant dinner for a long time.
Monday, June 3d.
We made our expedition to Bishopsgate yesterday, and most interesting it was. I went with Hilda and M. Lecomte, one of the secretaries, who knows English, and is very keen to see anything a little out of the way. We had a long drive to the church through the city, and arrived only to hear the end of Canon Rogers' sermon, which was strong and practical. As soon as the service was over we went down to the door and found him and his curate waiting for us. The first thing he did was to send away my carriage, which had already attracted much attention with the tall footman, velvet breeches, cockades, etc. He said he would never venture into Petticoat Lane in such an equipage, and would we please share his modest conveyance; so Hilda and I got into his victoria, and Lecomte and the curate walked close to the carriage behind. We had two policemen in front, two behind, and a detective. I rather demurred to such a display of municipal strength on my account, but he said it was necessary, he much preferred having them, he was afraid people would crowd around us and insist upon my buying something. The street was narrow, crowded with people, as there was also a fair going on and everything imaginable being sold (it is the one place in London where you can buyoneshoe oronestocking!). The people were almost all Jews, and I must say they were a bad-looking lot, frightfully rough specimens. Some of the women, girls too, with such sullen, scowling faces. We went at a foot's pace (the only carriage), and hadn't the slightest difficulty in making our way. Everyone knew Mr. Rogers and spoke to him—"Good morning, Governor," "God bless you, Sir." Two or three children ran up to him, one a pretty little dark-eyed girl breathless to tell him she was in church, though shecame late. He was so nice to them all, called them all by name, patted the children on the head, and exhorted some of the women to keep their husbands out of the drinking shops, and to wash their children's faces. They say he does an immense amount of good down there, but it must be uphill work. I have rarely seen such a forbidding looking set of people. Some of the women came up rather close to the low victoria and made comments on our garments. (We had dressed very simply at his request. I wore my blue foulard and a blue straw bonnet with iris on it. Hilda was in light grey with a black hat.) "You have got a beautiful bonnet, my lady. Oh, look at her umbrell!" The "umbrell" excited much attention. I couldn't think why at first, as it was also rather dark and plain; when I remembered that it had a watch in the handle upon which, of course, all eyes were fixed. I think the detective kept his eye upon it too, as he came up rather close on my side. The detective took Lecomte to a famous jeweller's shop near in Whitechapel, where there had been a murder some days ago. We drove all through the fair surrounded by these villainous faces (here and there a pretty, fair, innocent, childish face) and I wasn't sorry to get back to civilisation and the rectory, though I am very glad to have seen it. The rectory is a large old-fashioned house in Devonshire Square, shut in with high houses and high trees, and never, I should think, could a ray of sunshine get anywhere near it. One felt miles away from London and life of any kind. It was a curious contrast to the turbulent, noisy, seething crowd we had just left. We had a charming breakfast, Mr. Rogers talking all the time delightfully, so original and so earnest, convinced that everyone in their small circle could do so much to help, not only the poor but the really bad, if only by example and a little sympathy;he says no one ever helps the bad ones, only the deserving poor get looked after.
About 3.30 we started again to see the People's Palace, which he takes great interest in, and hopes he may succeed in keeping the men away from the drinking shops in the evening. It looked comfortable and practical, the reading-room particularly, which is large and airy, with all sorts of morning and evening papers (some foreign ones), illustrated papers, and good, standard books. The librarian told me that Walter Scott was always asked for, also some American books, particularly Indian stories, and travels of all kinds. I was rather interested in hearing that, as whenever W. gives books to a school library, or prizes in France, Walter Scott or Fenimore Cooper are still the favourites (translated, of course. I read the "Last of the Mohicans" in French, and it was very well done). There were not many people, but Mr. Rogers says on a fine, warm Sunday they all prefer to be in the open air. There is also a large swimming bath, given by Lord Rosebery. We parted from our host at the door, having had a delightful afternoon. It is a long time since I have heard anyone talk who interested me so much.
The drive home along the Embankment was nice—quantities of people out, quite like a Sunday in France. We dined quietly at home. W. was much interested in my day. I think if he had known exactly where I was going, and that an escort of police was necessary, he wouldn't have agreed to the expedition.
Thursday, June 4, 1889.
The Court Ball was brilliant last night. The Prince opened the ball with Princess Louise, and the Princesswith Lord Fife. The engagement of Princess Louise of Wales to Lord Fife is just announced, and has of course created quite a sensation. Of course there are two currents of opinion—the old-fashioned people are rather shocked at the idea of a Royal Princess marrying a subject; but I fancy the entourage of the Prince and Princess of Wales are pleased,—and Fife is a general favourite. It is not very easy for the English princesses to marry. Theymustmarry Protestants, and there are not many Protestant princes who are not near relations.
I talked a little to the Shah, but I didn't find that very amusing. He knows very little English or French, and has a most disagreeable way of looking hard at one. He planted himself directly in front of me, very close, and said "he thought he had seen me before," which of course he had, in Paris.
It seems that one of the Princesses pointed out to him, in the supper-room, a lady neither very young nor very beautiful, who was covered with splendid jewels, thinking they might interest him. He stopped short in front of her—then turned his back at once, saying "monstre." They say he finds no woman handsome who has passed twenty.
Tuesday, July 2d.
It was a splendid summer day yesterday, ideal, for the Shah's arrival by water. We drove down to the Speaker's to see him come. The streets were lined with troops, and there were quantities of people about. They let us drive through the Mall and to Westminster between the lines of soldiers (all the traffic was stopped). Almost all the houses and balconies on the way were draped with red, and crowded with women in their light, gay summer dresses. There were a good many people at the Speaker's, who gave us some tea and strawberries. TheRoyal Barge arrived very punctually. It was not very beautiful—an ordinary river steamer, painted light grey, with gold lines, and fitted up with palms, red cushions, and carpets, etc. The Thames was a pretty sight, such quantities of boats of all kinds. We saw everything quite well. There was a fair procession of state carriages, and an escort of Life Guards; but what a barbarian the Shah looks, with his embroidered coat and his big jewels, and his coarse, bad face—however he was smiling, and seemed pleased with his reception.
We waited to let the crowd disperse a little, and then came home the same way through Constitution Hill. We met the Prince and Princess coming back from Buckingham Palace. Both looked very well—he in uniform, and she in white, extraordinarily young in face and figure. The two princes, Eddy and George, were with them, and they were much applauded as they passed. In the evening we had a musical party at Blumenthal's. The garden was lighted and everyone sitting outside. The party was in honour of Princess Louise, and the music very good, as it always is there. Mdme. Grondal, a Swedish woman, played beautifully, and Plunkett Greene sang very well. He always brings down the house with "I'm Off to Philadelphy in the Morning." Lord Lorne took me to supper. I always like to talk to him. He was not much impressed with his Persian Majesty either—thought the days of Eastern potentates were over. I asked him what he had come for, and why the English were so civil to him; to which he replied, "Oh, I suppose some of the swells want concessions, or railways."
Monday, July 8, 1889.
We went to Hatfield this morning, where there was a luncheon party for the Shah. It was decidedly grey anduncertain, in fact, raining a little when we started, and I looked once or twice at my crème linon trimmed with Valenciennes—but as I had ordered it especially for that occasion, I decided to wear it. I put on a long cloak for the train. The Hatfield parties are always very well arranged—trains starting every ten minutes. It is hardly three-quarters of an hour from London. There were lots of people, and the short trajet passed quickly enough. All the women were looking at each other to see the dresses, as the weather was really bad. At Hatfield, one of Lord Salisbury's sons was at the station to receive the swells. I got separated in the crowd from W., so Lord Edward put me into a brougham, and asked me if I would take another Ambassador, as mine was missing for the moment. I agreed, of course, so Comte Hatzfeldt came with me. There was a large party staying in the house, including the Prince and Princess, the Shah, and various members of the family and Court. Lady Salisbury was standing at one of the big doors opening on the terrace. Lord Salisbury, she told me, was taking the Shah for a drive in the park. We all loitered about a little on the terrace. The rain had stopped and, though there was no sun, the house looked beautiful with its grey walls and splendid lines. The first person I saw was the Duc d'Aumale, and we had quite a talk while waiting for luncheon. The Prince also came out and talked. Luncheon was served at small, round tables in the great dining-room. As Doyens we were at the Royal table. The Prince took me, and I had next to me the Grand Vizier, who had taken in Lady Londonderry. She is very handsome, very well dressed, and the Grand Vizier enjoyed himself very much. It seems he is a very difficult gentleman, and at some man's house party, Ferdinand Rothschild's, I think, he was not pleased with his reception,or his place at the table, and declined to come downstairs. There were about 70 people at luncheon, and as many more, they told me, upstairs. Quantities of flowers, silver, servants, etc., and a band playing. After breakfast we all adjourned to the terrace and some photographic groups were taken. There was some wonderful shooting by some Americans which interested the Persians very much, and one of the Shah's suite was most anxious to try his hand at it, and forcibly took a rifle from the American, who protested vigorously, but the Persian kept hold of his gun and evidently meant to shoot, so the American appealed directly to the Prince, saying there would be an accident if he was allowed to go on; and the Prince interfered and persuaded the irate Oriental to give up his weapon.
They had asked a great many people to tea, but evidently the rain had kept many away. The toilettes were most varied—every description of costume, from the Duchess of Rutland in white satin and diamonds (large stones sewed all over the body of her dress) to the simplest description of blue serge, covert coat, and even a waterproof carried over one's arm. I was thinking of going to get a cup of tea, when I crossed again the Duc d'Aumale, who was also looking for the tea-table, so we went off together and had a pleasant "quart d'heure." He is always so nice to W. and me, and is so distinguished-looking wherever he is—such extraordinary charm of manner and so soldierly. He had been much amused by the stories he had heard of the eccentricities of the Persian suite. One of the ladies staying in the house found two gentlemen sitting on her bed when she went up to dress for dinner. I must say I think it was awfully good of Lady Salisbury to ask them all to stay.
Group at Hatfield House during the visit of the Shah of Persia, July, 8, 1889Group at Hatfield House during the visit of the Shah of Persia, July, 8, 1889The following are among those in the picture Prince of Wales Lord Salisbury Shah of Persia Princess of Wales Rustem Turkish Ambassador Hatzfeldt German Ambassador Lord Halsbury the Lord Chancellor M de Staal Russian Ambassador Duc d'Aumale Countess of Cadogan M Waddington French Ambassador Madame Waddington Countess of Galloway Duchess of DevonshireFrom a photograph by Russell & Sons London
Group at Hatfield House during the visit of the Shah of Persia, July, 8, 1889The following are among those in the picture Prince of Wales Lord Salisbury Shah of Persia Princess of Wales Rustem Turkish Ambassador Hatzfeldt German Ambassador Lord Halsbury the Lord Chancellor M de Staal Russian Ambassador Duc d'Aumale Countess of Cadogan M Waddington French Ambassador Madame Waddington Countess of Galloway Duchess of DevonshireFrom a photograph by Russell & Sons London
Saturday, July 27th.
Princess Louise of Wales and Fife were married this morning in the small chapel at Buckingham Palace. Very few people were asked, no diplomats except Falbe, Danish Minister, who is a great favourite at Court, and asked always. The streets, especially Piccadilly, were crowded with people. We had to go round by Belgrave Square and Buckingham Palace to get to Marlborough House. We were invited at 2 o'clock to see the bride and the presents. The wedding party drove up just as we arrived. Fife's coach, dark green with green and gold liveries, was very handsome. The Princess of Wales looked radiant, and the bride charming—beautifully dressed and just pale enough to be interesting. The King of Greece and Crown Prince of Denmark were both there. The presents were beautiful—every imaginable thing in diamonds and silver. The Prince and Princess's tiara very handsome—also Fife's. There was a buffet and tea in the garden, also in the drawing-rooms; and we waited to see the young couple start. They looked very happy and smiling. Their carriage was very handsome, with four black horses and an outrider. Everyone cheered and threw rice after them. They started with a Royal escort, but at the top of the park Fife sent it back, and they made their entry into Sheen in his carriage only. They said he made a condition that there should be no lady-in-waiting, that his wife should be Duchess of Fife only; but of course she can never lose her rank. None but Ambassadors were asked to the reception at Marlborough House—no other diplomats.
July 30th.
We had our last dinner this season—musical and all Italians, Tosti, Vinci, and Picolellis. Mme. de Floriancame in late with her dinner guests, among others the Duchesse de Richelieu, who is very fond of music. Tosti is delightful once he gets to the piano, sings (with no voice) and plays whatever one wants—his own music, anybody's, and always so simply. It was very warm. We all sat and stood on the balcony when we were not playing and singing.
Hatfield, January 8, 1891.
We came down last night for dinner. It was very cold, snow and ice in London, and skating everywhere. We are not a very large party—the family, some of Lord Salisbury's secretaries, Casa Laiglesia (just made Ambassador—very happy. Spain had only aMinisterhere till now), the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle, etc. After dinner the older members of the party played whist, and the young ones danced in the great hall. This time we have King James I.'s rooms, an enormous bed (with a Royal crown on the top) where he really slept. We have been out all day; the gentlemen went off early to shoot, and I got down about 12. I found some of the young women, Ladies Cranborne and Northcote, in the hall and we decided we would go and skate. It was bitterly cold, but no wind, and the pond is not far, just at the end of the terrace. There was a little wooden house on the edge where we put on our skates, and plenty of chairs and canes. Ladies Northcote and Gwendoline Cecil skate very well. Lady Salisbury came down to the pond, took a broom from one of the numerous sweepers, and swept hard to keep herself warm. After lunch I went for a sleigh ride with Lady Salisbury in a pretty little one-horse sleigh she had bought at the Exhibition.It was very good going in the park, but we bumped occasionally going across the fields. To-night we broke up rather early; we were all tired with the first day's skating, and the men with their shooting.
Lord SalisburyLord SalisburyFrom a photograph by Weston & Son Dover
Lord SalisburyFrom a photograph by Weston & Son Dover
Friday.
It has been again a beautiful winter's day, and we have skated all the afternoon until dark. Lady Salisbury came again with her broom and swept vigorously. It seems many doctors recommend sweeping now for women who need exercise and cannot ride or walk. We tried hard to make Casa Laiglesia come down to the pond, but he refused absolutely—that was not at all his idea of pleasure. We spent some time in the library looking over some of the old manuscripts of the time of Queen Elizabeth and King Philip of Spain, and we saw him taking a short, very short turn on the terrace in the sun, wrapped up so as to be almost "méconnaissable."
London, January 18th.
It is still very cold—the Serpentine is quite frozen, and quantities of people skating. The ice is very bad, rather like a ploughed field, but it is amusing to see all the people. We have been this afternoon to Wimbledon, and there it was delightful. There was quite a large part reserved and beautifully smooth, belonging to a club; so Comte de St. Genys (one of the secretaries), who was with us, sent in his card, saying he was there with the French Ambassadress; and they were most civil, brought us chairs, and begged us to come back whenever we liked. We saw some beautiful fancy skating, both men and women. We skated afterward a little on the big lake to see the people. It was a beautiful day, and a very pretty sight, quite like a Dutch picture.
I was interrupted by a visit from Mr. Bryce. Hecame really to ask about you and to know if you would stay on at Alassio. He spoke so warmly and admiringly of Schuyler that it was a pleasure to hear him. He said he was certainly the cleverest, most cultivated American he had ever seen, that he had never met anyone who knew so many things well. He couldn't conceive how any Government that had such a man to place could have let any party feeling prevent them from giving him a prominent place, in their own interest.
Albert Gate,Thursday, February 19th.
We have had a funny day. There was a sale of horses, hunters principally, at Cricklewood, a place just outside of London, where they have very good horses. We have been there several times with Deichmann, who has always fine horses, and have bought two or three ourselves. I am looking for a saddle horse, so W. and I drove out the other day, and I tried two which I liked very much (there is a riding-school where one can try). Then Newman, the head man, rode them over some hurdles to show me how well they jumped. They promised to let us know when the sale would be, and yesterday sent word we must come to-day. I drove out with Hilda in her pony carriage. We drew up close to the ring and the auctioneer's stand and saw everything well. Her horses were taken out and we made ourselves as comfortable as we could with furs and couvertures. It was bitterly cold, with a high wind that cut one in two. W. and Deichmann wandered about in the crowd. The collection of people was most amazing, horsey to a degree; horse dealers, trainers, jockeys, racing men and women—a few gentlemen here and there, not many. There was a champagne lunch going on at Newman's, but thatwe declined—so they brought us tea and excellent bread and butter to the carriage. The two horses I had tried were among the first and I hoped I should get one of them, but they brought much more than the dealers supposed they would. They looked extremely well when they were brought out first, galloped over the grass, and then jumping their hurdles beautifully, taking them easily in a long stride (of course they were beautifully handled, every point made the most of). W. made various bids, but when it got beyond a certain sum he wouldn't give any more, as it was a fancy price and could have gone up indefinitely. I was rather disappointed, as I had set my heart on the black horse. It was cold driving home in the teeth of the wind. We dined with the Deichmanns, with some of our colleagues, and everyone was discussing the Empress Frederick's visit to Versailles. Until then everything had gone most swimmingly, but of course all French people were "froissés" at that. I don't exactly understand her going. She is so intelligent, and had apparently realised quite well how difficult it would be for her ever to go to Paris. Years ago in Rome, where we met her almost every night, she told us she was so anxious to go to Paris, but she was afraid she could not manage it. She wanted very much to meet Renan—admired his books so much, and his great intelligence; and I think she would have been delighted with him. He was a charming talker on every subject, and so easy.
Albert Gate,Tuesday, March 10, 1891.
We had an awful storm yesterday, a regular blizzard, and a terrible night in the Channel. One of the goodboats, the Victoria, was out all night, not daring to land at either Dover or Calais. One of our young attachés was on board, bringing over despatches, and they say he looked green when he finally did arrive. The trains were snowed up everywhere, even between Folkestone and London, and the passengers nearly frozen and starved. It seems incredible in such a short distance. The young men are generally rather eager to bring over despatches, but I rather think this one won't try it again, in winter at any rate. I am extraordinarily lucky in my crossings, because probably I am a good sailor. I go backward and forward in all seasons and always have good weather. The Florians have had some wonderful crossings, nine hours between Calais and Dover, both of themtiedin their chairs, and the chairs tied to the mast.
Thursday, March 12, 1891.
Yesterday we were at Windsor to dine and sleep. The party was small—Staal, the Russian Ambassador, Lord Hartington, Sir Frederick Leighton, Lord and Lady Curzon, Countess Perponcher and Count Seckendorff in attendance on the Empress Frederick, and of course the regular members of the Queen's Household. Lady Antrim was in waiting. We assembled as usual in the long corridor close to the door by which the Royal party entered. We were all in black, as the Empress was there. The Queen and the Empress came in together. The Queen shook hands with me and the two Ambassadors—the Empress with me only, bowing to the others. She is still in deep mourning—her dress black (woollen stuff of some kind) covered with crêpe, and a crêpe veil arranged in a point, or sort of Mary Stuart cap, on the top of her head, and falling behind to the edge of her skirt. The corsage was a little open, and she had a splendidnecklace of pearls, also a miniature of the Emperor Frederick set in diamonds fastened on the front of her bodice. The dress was very becoming—she looked very stately and graceful as she walked through the corridor. She gave her arm to the Queen, and they walked in first to the dining-room, the Empress sitting next to the Queen on her right. W. followed with Princess Beatrice, sitting on the Queen's left; Staal with Princess Margaretta, and sat on the right of the Empress. Lord Hartington took me. The Queen talked a great deal to W.—the Empress joined in occasionally. They were both much interested in the Protestants in France, and wanted to know if the feeling was as strong as in the old days of Huguenots and Catholics. I think there is a very strong feeling, and it is rare when a French Protestant marries a Catholic—rarer still when they become Catholics.
The dinner is always quickly served, and the conversation nil. Nobody talks except those who are next the Princesses. The cercle was, as usual, in the corridor between the two doors. The Queen stood a little, but not all the time. She spoke to me about Johannes Wolff—admired his playing so much. The Empress talked a long time to W., and spoke immediately about her visit to Paris and Versailles, which was rather awkward for him, as he regretted very much that she had gone. All the first part of her stay went so well. She told W. she had had nothing but respect, and even sympathy wherever she had been, and that she was much astonished and distressed when she saw the papers and found what a storm was raging in the press. The Queen said a few words to me about the visit, and seemed to think it was a radical demonstration against the Government. I answered vaguely that allradicals made mischief—it wasn't a very easy subject to discuss. The cercle was not very long—about three-quarters of an hour—and then the Court retired, the two Sovereigns going out as they came in, together. We finished the evening in the drawing-room, but broke up early. W. went off to smoke, and I had a nice hour in the beautiful little yellow salon. I had a splendid fire, quantities of candles (always my mania—I hate lamps, particularly in these days of petroleum), and was quite happy. Adelaïde was very eloquent over the style of the housekeeper's room, and was funny over Charles, our French footman, and his indignation at being excluded from the society of the valets and ladies' maids. W.'s man was ill, so he took the French footman, who has often done his service. That gentleman being in livery was considered one of the lower servants (sat some way below the salt) and when the swells (Adelaïde, of course, included) retired to the housekeeper's room for dessert and coffee he remained with the under servants. All these domestic arrangements are quite unheard of in France—any distinctions of that kind would set the whole establishment in a storm.
It was a cold night, snow lying thick on the ground, clouds dark and low, and the great towers looked grim and formidable. W. came in about 12—said the talk in the fumoir was pleasant. He likes Count Seckendorff very much, finds him intelligent and moderate and sensible in his opinions—like all men who have knocked about a great deal and who know, not only other countries but thepeopleof the country. After all, churches, and palaces, and picture galleries have a certain "resemblance," but people are different, and sometimes very interesting. We came away this morning at 10.30. I did not see anyone except Lady Antrim, as I never go to the dining-roomfor breakfast. I was ready a little before the time, and wandered about the corridor a little, looking at all the pictures. I met Staal doing the same thing. There is so much to see.
It is a beautiful bright day, and Hyde Park looked very animated as we drove through. Everyone was waiting to see the Queen pass. She arrived about an hour after us, as there is a Drawing-room to-morrow. We had some music this afternoon—2 pianos, 8 hands—and we play rather well a splendid symphony of Brahms'—not at all easy. We dined with Mr. Henry Petre, one of the most soigné dinners in London. It is always pleasant at his house—they say it is because he is a bachelor, which is not very flattering tous, but I think it is true, I don't know why. As we were out wewent on, as they say here, to Lady Aberdeen, who had a small dance, but did not stay very long, as it was rather a young company. People always say there is nothing going on in London before the season, but we dine out every night and often have (I at least) something in the afternoon—a tea, or music. I don't believe anybody ever dines at home in London. The theatres are always crowded, quite as much as in Paris. Hilda and I went the other night with Count Seckendorff to see "Charlie's Aunt," a ridiculous farce which is having a great success. He protested at first at our choice—would have preferred something more classic, but he was perfectly amused (though protesting all the time). The piece is absolutely stupid, but so well played that the house was in roars of laughter, and that is always infectious. The man who played the part of the maiden aunt was extraordinarily well got up. His black silk dress and mittens were lovely—he looked really a prim old spinster and managed his skirts so well.
Saturday, April 4, 1891.
We lunched to-day with Ferdinand Rothschild to meet the Empress Frederick. We were a small party, principally Diplomatists. The Deyms, Hatzfeldt, Soveral, Harry Whites, etc. The Empress came (punctually) with Countess Perponcher and Seckendorff. The lunch was very handsome, quickly served and very animated, everybody talked. I had Hatzfeldt on the other side (I sat between him and Rothschild) so I was quite happy—there is nobody I like so much to talk to. He is very clever, very entrain, speaks French beautifully and talks about anything—just enough "moqueur" to keep one's wits sharpened. We had a discussion as to what was the origin of "Mrs. Grundy." None of us knew. I must ask Jusserand, who will I am sure be able to tell us.
We were all dressed in black velvet, one would have thought it was a "mot d'ordre." The Empress is very easy and likes to talk. She asked me if I knew Déroulède, said she heard some of his poetry was charming. I told her the "Chants du Soldat" were delightful, butIcouldn't send them to her (they are all about the Franco-German War). One of the ladies, Mrs. White I think, said she would.
Tuesday, April 21, 1891.
We had a pleasant little dinner Sunday night for Wormser, the composer of "L'Enfant Prodigue," which has had an enormous success here. Wolff came too, and they played all the evening. I haven't seen the piece yet, so I was delighted to hear the music. I promised him I would go on Wednesday, my first free night.
Last night I went with Lady Northcote to the Opera; it was "Lohengrin" with Miss Eames and the Reszkes. The girl looked beautiful, quite the patrician maiden, and sang very well; a little cold, but that was of lessimportance in that opera than in "Romeo and Juliet," which needs more passion. The house was very full and she was much applauded. Jean de Reszke looked magnificent and sang divinely. What a voice it is, and how well he knows how to use it. I fancy Covent Garden is a much better salle to sing in than our great Paris Opéra. The voices seem so far off there, and all the singers complain and get soon tired. W. came in late just as I did. He had had a delightful dinner at Mr. Murray's (the publisher) with Mr. Gladstone. He said Mr. G. was in great form, talking about everything: books, politics, theories, and always with a perfect knowledge of each subject expressed in beautiful English. He must have a marvellous memory.
French Embassy,June 6, 1891.
You will be amused, Dear, to hear that after all we have decided to have the children's comedy. The moment is not exactly propitious in the height of the London season when every instant is taken, but I think we can make something pretty, and Mdme. Thénard is very keen about it. We shall take the "Reine des Fées"—but very much changed, and parts added for every child—also a gavotte and a chorus. I saw some of the mammas, Countess Deym; Mdme. de Bille; Ladies Londonderry, Clanwilliam, etc., yesterday, and they will let me have their daughters. Thénard will direct the whole thing, with Count de St. Genys (Secretary of the French Embassy in London) as régisseur and also décorateur, as he has begun painting a charming décor (the interior of the bailiff's cottage). Mdme. de Langhe will undertakethe chœurs and leçons de diction, and I don't quite know yet whom we shall get for the gavotte, or how many children we must have. The dresses will be pretty—two sets—Marie Antoinette and all her ladies in powder—Trianon costumes—and peasants, market women, etc. Of course the boys are a difficulty. There are so few who are here of Francis's old friends—they are all at school. Thénard has a little friend (girl) whom she will dress as a Marquis—she says she will look the part very well. Francis is much excited—he is to be the cruel bailiff who takes all the money and everything else he can get from the poor peasants. St. Genys will see about his costume, and make a croquis from some picture of the period.
June 12, 1891.
We are all (except the Ambassador) perfectly taken up with the comédie—and to-day we had our first répétition of the gavotte in the drawing-room. I hadn't thought of saying anything about the dancing to the young men, and it seems the "chancellerie" went nearly mad; their rooms being directly under the salons, they heard everything—the music beginning the same thing over and over again—and the heavy little feet that couldn't stay long on the tips of their toes. I had some trouble in finding a dancing-mistress—I thought first of the American who had that dancing class here where all the children went, but she didn't seem to understand exactly what I wanted. Finally some one told me I had much better send for Mrs. Roffy—ballet-mistress at the Alhambra—who has sometimes arranged menuets and gavottes for "les femmes du monde"; so I wrote to her to come and see me. She knew exactly what I wanted, would undertake the whole thing—how many children—what sort of a dance—was most business-like—and wefixed the first répétition at once. There were about 20 children, of all ages and sizes, varying from 3 years to 14—Muriel White, Gay Edwardes and her brother, a little de Breunen, Elsa Deichmann, etc. Mrs. Roffy looked very nice. She is very tall, but rather graceful—she had a little black bag in which were her black silk stockings and pointed slippers, and asked if she might have a room to arrange herself—so Clarisse took charge of her. I took the piano—and most distracting it was—as no two of the children ever began their steps at the same time. It was amusing to see Mrs. Roffy. She moved extraordinarily gracefully for such a tall woman, and was so patient—holding up her dress, pointing her toes, and talking to them all the time—"Heads up, Dears—Heads up! Look at me—very proud, please." I should have given up in despair after a quarter of an hour. All the little arms and legs went at wrong times in wrong directions, and no one seemed to have the slightest idea of time. She will give one or two private lessons to some of the very small ones.
Madame de Langhe, too, has her hands full with the chorus, "Vive la Reine"—but I think she must have some one behind the scenes to sing the solo, and then the children will come out strong in the chorus. The rôles are all distributed—Bianca Deym—a tall handsome girl—is to be Marie Antoinette; and the various other Court ladies are Lady Helen Stewart (Lady Londonderry's daughter), Lady J. Meade (Lady Clanwilliam's daughter), Marguerite Phelps, Anna Lawrence, Elsa de Bille, etc. I think it will be pretty.
June 15, 1891.
Hilda and I have been half over London to-day for our stage scenes. We must have real ones representing a sort of wood where the market people have theirstands, and the Queen and the ladies come to buy flowers—also sufficient space for the gavotte. The man promises to send it all the day before, as the children must rehearse at least once with the real scenes—for their entrées—that is always a little difficulty. The bigger girls do all right, but the little ones rush in—speak very quickly—andalwaysto Thénard, who stands at one side—looking hard at her to see if they are doing right—and paying no attention whatever to Her Gracious Majesty Queen Marie Antoinette. Muriel White is very good, very deliberate, very careful, and taking all the French nuances and intonations very well. Gay Edwardes, too, is very good—her French is pretty and easy, she learnt it so young in Paris. One of the others (I forget which one) was having a private lesson in a corner with Francis, who was trying to make her roll her Rs in a proper French fashion. She had a complaint to make of her garden—all about "carottes" et "giroflées," and the sentences had a true British ring. Francis is very important, takes himself quite "au sérieux," and is most interested in the proper diction of all the young ladies. I sat some time in the drawing-room while St. Genys was painting his scenes. We had various visitors (even W., who was very complimentary over the décor), tea, and Thénard to settle about a rampe of flowers and tapestry curtain.
Saturday, June 20, 1891.
I am rather lazy this morning and feel as if I had suddenly nothing to do. The comédie went off very well yesterday and was a pretty sight. Until the last moment I was doubtful, as we had so many péripéties. At the dress rehearsal on Thursday, Bianca Deym (Marie Antoinette) was so hoarse she could hardly speak. Thegirl looked very handsome and distinguished in powder (trés bien coiffée) and one of her mother's handsome Court dresses, but Thénard wouldn't let her speak—said all her part herself, and told Bianca to pay great attention to her voice and gestures. Toupet (Francis), the cruel bailiff, had such a stiff neck and sore throat that he could hardly move—so he was rubbed hard with Elliman's Embrocation and sent to bed as soon as the répétition was over. His costume was very good—coat and long waistcoat of prune cloth—lace jabot—tricorne and gold-headed cane lent by one of his English cousins—a wig of course—which quite changed him. The girls looked charming—I don't know which was the most becoming—the powder and Court dress or the short skirts and high caps of the paysannes. The gavotte went very well. The small children in front and the bigger ones behind. I never could have believed that anyone could evolve anything like a gavotte from the whirling chaos of arms and legs that was my first impression. M. Lecomte (Secretary of the Embassy), who is a very good musician, was at the piano, and marked the time very exactly, which was absolutely necessary for such young performers.
Various friends and Mammas came to look on and criticise—which was what we wanted—and all were pleased. Thénard and St. Genys were quite delighted—and as they have seen it from the first and noted the improvement, that was reassuring. Henry Edwardes came, much amused and slightly astonished at his children's performance (the boy was so good). He told me he considered it quite remarkable. He offered to take charge of the green-room the day of the performance, and I accepted with pleasure, as I am sure the children will be rather excited and probably unruly.
I had a note from Miss Knollys while the répétition was going on saying that the Princess of Wales and her two daughters, Princesses Victoria and Maud, would be present on Friday at the performance. I announced this at once to my young troupe, and they were filled with pleasure and dismay at the appalling prospect of playing before Royalties. I went for a ride Friday morning with Pontavice and when I came in was given a wild note from the Countess Deym saying that Bianca had a complete "extinction de voix" and what could be done. If someone else could take the part (which was impossible at such short notice) she would send all her daughter's dress, which was very handsome, or Bianca would come and look the part and Thénard do the talking from the coulisses. Of course I chose the latter, and sent off Clarisse at once to the Austrian Embassy with a remedy that Mdme. Richard of the Opéra gave me. Francis was all right, his neck quite straight. After breakfast I had a last practice with him and Lecomte for the gavotte. I got in a small piano from Érard (my big one took up too much room behind the scenes) and then I dismissed the whole thing from my mind, and went to dress. I told the children to be there at 4.30 so as to begin the minute the Princess arrived. She said she would come at five.
The little blue salon was a pretty sight when it was filled with all the children in costume. Thénard's Marquis looked too sweet—she had dressed the girl so well in satin coat, ruffles, and silk stockings, and enormous paste buckles on her shoes. She did her part perfectly—so easy, and such pretty French. The Princess came punctually with her two daughters, and the play began at once. I think there were about 100 people—we couldn't seat any more as the stage took up a good deal ofroom. The prettiest scenes were the Trianon and the Market Place. In the Trianon, Marie Antoinette was seated surrounded by her ladies, and le Marquis telling them "les petites nouvelles de la cour." The child was killing when she took out her snuff-box and made flowery phrases. The Market was very well arranged with flowers and vegetables. Violet Freeman made a splendid old woman at one stall, and Hilda Deichmann did her boy's part very well. After the Queen had made her round (her voice came back, though she was rather hoarse still) she and her ladies retired a little to the background, where the Court made a brilliant group, while the peasants sang their chorus, "Vive la Reine." Then came the gavotte, which really went extremely well. Mrs. Roffy was breathless with recommendations until the last moment. Both chorus and gavotte were encored, and there was much applause when the curtain fell.