Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900

When the doors were opened the Foreign Secretary and his wife passed first and took up their station close beside the Princess of Wales, to name the members of the Corps Diplomatique. Then the Master of Ceremonies gave his hand to the Doyenne—the Austrian Ambassadress—her train was spread out by two pages,—and they entered the Throne-Room, making low bows or curtseys on the threshold. One makes 3 curtseys; one on entering the room, one half way and a third as one gets close to the Princess. We followed quickly, I with my ladies coming directly behind the Russians. The Court was small—Princess of Wales, Princess Beatrice, Prince of Wales and Duke of Cambridge. The Princess, a charming graceful figure dressed in dark velvet with coloured embroideries and jewels and orders; Princess Beatrice in mauve, and the two Princes in uniform of English Field Marshal. The Princesses shook hands with us chefesses and bowed to the young ladies—the Princes the same. There was no sort of trouble about the train; they are down only for a moment, just as you pass the Queen or Princess—a chamberlain picks them up most adroitly, puts them in your arm, and one never gives them a thought. As soon as we had passed the group of Princes we turned into a deep window recess and stood there until the end. That was most amusing, as we faced the door and saw everyone come in. It amused and interested me extremely to see how differently people passed. Most of the women looked well, their fresh, fair skins standing the test—and a pretty severe one it is—of full dress, white feathers and veil at three in the afternoon of a cold March day. Many had been dressed since 12, first sitting a long time in their carriages, and then waiting a long time in the drawing-room at the Palace, until their turns came. They were generally timid and nervous when they passed—some bracing themselves as if they were facing a terrible ordeal, some racing past very quickly, forgetting to take their trains in their arms, and pursued down the room by an impatient chamberlain, and some, especially the débutantes, making carefully and conscientiously the low regulation curtsey to each Prince, and trembling with shyness. When the last person had passed the Court turned and made us bows and curtseys—the Princess' half curtsey is charming—and it was over. We all got away quickly.

The great hall was an interesting sight, filled with women and uniforms of every kind, and a band playing in the great square. We had the usual "Drawing-room tea" to show our dresses. I wore the blue embroidered Court dress I had made for Moscow, with blue feathers and diamond tiara. All the English women wear white feathers and veils, which naturally does not suit everyone, particularly if they are not well put on. Some of the coiffures were almost eccentric, one rather high feather, and a long one very low running down one's back. The young men were pleased, as they had many compliments for our carriages and liveries. We were the only Embassy that had out two carriages.

To G. K. S

London,May, 1884.

We went to the Derby this morning with Lord Cork. I had never been, and W. not for many years. We went down by train—(special, with the Prince and racing coterie) and I enjoyed the day. We were in the Jockey Club box, and it was a curiosity to see the crowd on the lawn, packed tight, and every description of person, all engrossed with the race, and wildly interested in the horses. There was almost a solemn silence just before the Derby was run. This time there was a tie, which is rare, I believe. It was rather amusing driving home from Victoria, as all the balconies along the road were decorated, and crowded with people, but I believe the great fashion of driving down had almost disappeared. Nearly everyone now goes down by train.

London,June 28, 1884.

This morning H. and I went to the second meet of the Coaching Club on D.'s coach. It was a pretty sight; a bright beautiful morning and Hyde Park crowded with equipages, riders, and pedestrians—quantities of pretty women all much dressed, principally in white, with hats trimmed with flowers, and light parasols. The tops of the coaches looked like flower beds. Everyone engrossed with the teams, criticising and admiring with perfect frankness. The fly-drivers were killing, knew all the horses, and expressed themselves freely on the way they were handled.

We drove through the Park, and then on to Richmond (not all the coaches), where we breakfasted at the "Star and Garter." The breakfast was good, and at dessert we had "Maids of Honour," the famous cakes that one always gets there. We walked about the Park a little after breakfast; it was delightful under the big trees, and then mounted our coach again and went back by Hurlingham to see a polo match. The road was crowded and driving very difficult, but D. is a capital whip, and I wasn't in the least nervous, though sometimes it did seem as if the bit of road they left us was rather narrow. However D. drove straight on without slackening—and they do make way for a coach. I think it is a sort of national pride in a fine team.

Hurlingham is very pretty and there were quantities of people there. We saw very well from the top of the coach, and I must say the game was beautifully played. Of course the men all rode perfectly, but the ponies were so clever, quite as keen as the riders, and seemed to know all about it. We got back to the Embassy about 8, and happily had no one to dinner, but sat on the balcony all the evening, W. smoking, and talking about his conference, which is not going smoothly. The English are stiff, and the people at home unreasonable. I can't imagine how French and English can ever work together—they are so absolutely unlike.

London, July, 1884.

W. went to Paris this morning and H. and I are left to our own devices. I dined alone at the Speaker's and it was pleasant. After dinner we went down to the terrace and walked and sat about. It was so warm that we all sat there with bare arms and necks. It was so pretty; boats passing on the river, all the bridges lighted, and so cool and dark on the terrace that one could hardly recognise the people as they walked up and down. I went back to the Embassy to get H., and we went to Devonshire House, where there was a big reception—all the world there, and the house very handsome, a fine staircase; Lord Hartington receiving us, as the Duke is an old man and couldn't stand the fatigue.

To G. K. S

Albert Gate,February 9, 1885.

This morning we have the news of the fall of Khartoum and the murder of Gordon. W. is in the country trying horses, so I put on my hat and went out into the Row to hear what was going on. It was crowded with people talking and gesticulating. The Conservatives furious, "such a ministry a disgrace to the country," and a tall man on a handsome chestnut, talking to Admiral C. most energetically, "I am a moderate man myself, but I would willingly give a hand to hang Gladstone on this tree." They are much disgusted—and with reason.

Monday, February 23, 1885.

It seems to be my week, Dear Gertrude, so I will at any rate begin this morning. We are now in full tide of dinners and routs, which last is the most frightful species of entertainment that the human mind has ever devised. They consist of 400 or 500 people packed close in a house which holds about 150—so warm in the rooms that you almost stifle—and so cold on the staircase and halls where the door is always open wide that I always wonder how I can escape without a fluxion de poitrine. We had a banquet ourselves last Tuesday, Harcourts Münsters, Corks, etc., followed by a mild dance, which was however successful, as Pourtalès, who is a gay little fellow, led a spirited cotillon, and there were 22 couples. I performed 2 quadrilles, which, naturally, is the extent of my dancing now, unless I take a stray turn with an old partner.

Of course the great excitement has been the departure of the Guards for Egypt, as it takes the husbands, sons, and brothers of half London away. It does seem such a useless campaign and sacrifice of human life.

There was a child's party at Marlborough House on Friday afternoon which was very successful. Mimi and I were bidden, or commanded, as the correct phrase is, at 4 o'clock, so we took ourselves off, he in his white sailor suit, with blue collar, and I in blue velvet. Both Prince and Princess were very amiable, and the Duchess of Edinburgh was very good to Mimi, as she always is, making him sit by her daughters to see the conjuror, and at her table for tea. The children had their tea in the dining-room, with a great many little round tables, we had ours with the Princess. It is very informal, she always makes it herself, and everyone sits down. The Princess Louise was also there, looking very nice, and such a pretty figure. After the tea the children had a fine romp, ending with a most animated Sir Roger de Coverley, in which all the Princes—I mean the 2 younger ones, Prince Eddy and Prince George—joined, and all the Aides-de-Camp. We didn't leave till 7—and the afternoon was rather long, but still I must say I enjoyed myself.

Yesterday we had a pleasant dinner at Lady Hayter's—a Liberal political salon. She has big dinners—receptions every Saturday. It was pleasant at first, until many more people came than the house would hold, but that is what the "Maîtresse de Maison" particularly aims at.

Everyone here sympathises with Lowell on the death of his wife. She was so very peculiar. I wrote him a little note, as he was always very amiable to me and complimentary about Father and Grandpa. This evening we had a dinner at Julia, Lady Tweeddale's, who is chaperoning her niece, Sir Robert Peel's daughter.

Tuesday.

I couldn't finish last evening, so take up my letter now at 7 o'clock, while I am waiting to dress for dinner. It is a quiet dinner at the Miss Monks'—two cousins, maiden ladies—and I shall wear a high dress, which is much easier to get into. Our dinner last night was pleasant and swell—Duke and Duchess of Leeds, Lord and Lady Delawarr, Lord and Lady Claud Hamilton (she a beauty, with a fine figure; he an attractive Irishman, son of the Duke of Abercorn) and others. They danced afterwards, and we stayed till 12 o'clock. The pose of the fast young married set is not to dance. There is no one to dance with, the Guards are gone. The Row was lovely this morning, like a May day, everybody out. I hope to begin to ride again next week. I am in treaty for a very handsome chestnut, if the man will come down a little in his price.

Albert Gate, February 25, 1885.

We have been to-day to the House of Lords to hear Lord Salisbury speak and the vote of censure passed. The House was full—the Prince and Duke of Cambridge there. Lord Salisbury spoke well; very calm, very nasty for his adversaries, and as he had the beau rôle he was much applauded. The defence was weak, the orator feeling evidently that his cause was a bad one, and the temper of the House against him. I should think Lord Salisbury would be a most unpleasant adversary, though always perfectly courteous in manner.

To J. K

Ambassade de France à Londres,Monday, March 9, 1885.

This is my week again, Dear Jan, and I will begin to-day.

We are going on in a wildly dissipated manner. Last week was very full. We went to a very pretty ball given by the Artillery Company of London to the Prince and Princess. The Duke of Portland, a young fellow, is colonel of the regiment, and the thing was very well done. Both Prince and Princess danced several times. The supper was very pretty. When it was ready everybody made a line all down the ballroom, and then the procession, with the Princess first and the Duke of Portland, then the Prince with me and various other Princes and swells, walked down the long room, the band playing the "British Grenadiers," and all the people bowing and curtseying. The Royal party supped on a platform and there were 1,000 people seated at supper at long narrow tables, everyone looking hard at the Princess.

Thursday, 12th.

I never got any further and never have had time since, but I will begin this morning and finish my letter this evening. To-day is the first Drawing-room of the season. As Countess Karolyi doesn't come, I am the Doyenne, and shall have to go in first, led by Sir Francis Seymour. Mr. Lowell has asked me to take his presentation. However there is only Bessie V. R., Eugene's daughter, who is pleased at being presented by an Ambassadress. She will also see the Diplomatic Corps pass. I wish Jess were here, and so does Adelaïde, who would be so delighted to dress her. Last night we had a very pleasant dinner at Lady Jersey's. Such a handsome woman was there, the young Duchess of Montrose. After dinner we went to the Speaker's reception, which was crowded, but rather amusing—such funny looking people and such dresses.

I am overrun with artists. There are several French artists of all kinds here, and I must make them play once, so I have decided upon next Friday afternoon. It is my day and I shall invite all the musical and entertaining people I know, as of course they all wish to be heard. One girl really does play very well on the violin, and wants me very much to sing with her accompaniment, which, naturally, I shan't, and another sings, not very remarkably, and a third, Marie Dubois, plays really beautifully—premier prix du Conservatoire. I will write you all about it when it is over.

7 o'clock.

Well, we have performed the Drawing-room—it was short, not more than an hour and a quarter, and I must say very few pretty faces or pretty dresses—Bessie V. R. looked very well, very distinguished. She followed directly behind me—even in front of my secretaries' wives, and was the third lady in the room. There were quite a lot of Princes—Prince and Princess of Wales, Prince Waldemar of Denmark, Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh, Duke of Cambridge and Prince Edward of Saxe-Weimar. Mme. de Bylandt, wife of the Dutch Minister, presented Mme. and Mlle. de Brenen, Dutch ladies, both mother and daughter handsome and well dressed. The Princess looked charming in white and gold. The Duchess of Edinburgh had a dark green velvet train. We all came back here to tea and had various visitors to look at the dresses, including Baron Pawel-Rammingen, husband of Princess Frederica of Hanover, who also happened in and was much amused at finding such an étalage of trains—happily we have nothing this evening. Next week is the marriage of the Duke of B.'s daughter. It is to be at Westminster Abbey and very swell, the Prince and Princess going. There is to be a party Tuesday night, where all her jewels are to be shown, which they say are splendid. I am sorry not to go, but we have a dinner and a dance ourselves. I shall go to the wedding. She is small and quiet—rather shy. I don't know whether one of those mysterious changes will take place which one sees sometimes after marriage—coronets and trains do a great deal. I must finish, as I have of course several notes to answer. I hate it so, when people wait for answers. I suppose I shall have a fine account of the Inauguration from Gertrude. I hope the girls have enjoyed it.

To G. K. S

London, March 12, 1885.

I went yesterday to say good-bye to Lady R. They are leaving for Bombay, where he is named Governor. It is for five years; I think I should be unwilling to go so far, and to such a trying climate, but she seems plucky enough and will certainly do well.

Francis and I were driving up Constitution Hill yesterday just as the Queen arrived, so we had a very good look at her. She was in an open carriage with Princess Beatrice and her fiancé, Prince Henry of Battenberg (such a handsome man), and the usual escort of Life-Guards. She recognised me perfectly, and always has a gracious bow and smile. Just before she came one of our English friends who was walking about with her daughter (a young girl who had never seen the Queen) suddenly spied me (as mine was the only carriage that was allowed to stand) and asked me if she and her daughter could get into the carriage with me, as that would be such a good chance for the girl to see the Queen. I of course was delighted to have them, as Francis and I were alone, and the girl saw perfectly. So many English people, except those who go to Drawing-Rooms, never get a chance to see the Queen at all.

Sunday, March.

We have been to Church this morning at Westminster Abbey, such a magnificent service. The Dean always gives us seats, and I love the music, the boys sing very well, and the hymns are grand as they echo through the fine old church. In every direction there is some historical souvenir; tombs, old glass windows, tattered flags, crests,—all England's past. We walked home through Green Park, and it is curious to notice the absence of equipages—so many English people don't take out their carriages on Sunday (to rest the horses and let the servants go to church), again such a striking contrast to Paris, where every kind of conveyance is out on that day. I think of the little grocer near H. who goes out every Sunday as soon as it is at all warm with his whole family and 2 or 3 dogs in his little covered cart. All the "Société" is out also; at the big concerts, reviews, races, etc. Sunday is the great Parisian holiday.

This morning before starting I had my head out of the window on the other side of the Embassy, looking at the Guards pass on their way to the little church just behind the Embassy in Knightsbridge. They came down from the barracks at a swinging pace, a fine body of men, the sergeants with their canes, and several officers. The band, a very good one, plays all the time (to-day they marched to the French tune "Le Père Victoire"), and takes up its station, always playing, at the door of the church. They play until the last man files in, then suddenly the music stops, and the band goes in also. It always interests the French servants immensely, the two maids had their heads out too, and said to me just now, "C'est bien beau, Madame, quel dommage que cela ne se passe pas comme cela chez nous." The service in the Guards' Chapel at Wellington Barracks is also a fine one, the chapel filled with soldiers, a mass of red (as one sees only their tunics), and the singing very good—a little loud sometimes when it is a favourite hymn and all join in.

To H. L. K

Albert Gate,March 13, 1885.

We have had our second "Drawing-room" to-day, and were asked to come in "demi-deuil," as it was the first time the Queen had received any of the Corps Diplomatique since the Duke of Albany's death. There are always more people when the Queen holds the Drawing-room, as it is the only chance so many of her subjects ever have of seeing her. She rarely comes to London, and stays only two or three days. She was dressed with her little closed diamond crown, the blue ribbon of the Garter, and many diamonds. I thought the black becoming generally.

March 16th.

At our dinner to-day at Lord A.'s Mr. Campbell was next to me, and told me he was most anxious to be recalled to the French Ambassador, that he had been his fag at Rugby, and had never seen him since. Of course they made acquaintance again after dinner, and plunged into all sorts of recollections of their school days. The other men who were smoking with them said the talk was most interesting and curious, as their careers in after life had been so very different. At every turn W. finds someone who had been at Rugby or Cambridge with him.

To H. L. K

April 9, 1885.

This morning it is pouring, so I gave up the Oxford and Cambridge boat race. W. and Count de Florian started all with light blue rosettes (Cambridge). W. was on the umpire boat. Cambridge won easily, which was of course a great pleasure to him (having rowed himself so many years ago in the Cambridge crew), in the evening. He said he was so much cheered when he got up to speak—young men standing on chairs to see him—that he had to wait some time before he could begin. He is certainly the only foreign Ambassador that ever rowed in the Cambridge eight. He was quite pleased when he came home, so many old memories of happy boyish days had been brought back. We talked for some time after dinner, and recalled all sorts of Cambridge experiences—once when the Queen came with Prince Albert to Cambridge the students were all assembled in the court-yard as her carriage drove up. It had been raining, and the Queen hesitated a moment in getting out, as the ground was wet and there was mud. Instantly W. had his gown off and on the ground, the others followed his example, and she walked over a carpet of silk gowns the few steps she had to make. W. said he had never forgotten her smile as she bowed and thanked them.

To J. K

The Garth, Bicester,Sunday, April 19, 1885.

I believe this is my week, Dear Jan. I am staying here at a queer little hunting box in Oxfordshire with Hilda Deichmann (née de Bunsen). It is literally an enormous stable, with a cottage attached, but they have added a story and wings and it is the most wonderful-looking place, very low—but comfortable. W. went off to Paris Sunday, and I came down here last Saturday with Mimi. He is very fond of the children—a big boy of 11 and a girl of 7—and has enjoyed himself thoroughly. We feel awfully cut up at Pontécoulant's death. He has been such a good friend to us, and so completely associated with all our political life. It seems incredible that a strong man should be carried off like that in 4 days from a cold. Henrietta will miss him awfully, as, now that we are so much away he was always there and attending to anything she wanted done.

Of course everyone is talking and speculating about the Anglo-Russian question. W. thinks the English must fight, and that they will. I think this government, with Gladstone at its head, will never make up their minds to fight seriously or in time, judging from the way the Soudan campaign has been conducted.

We have been driving all over the country, which is charming, flat, but all grass (Oxfordshire is a regular hunting country), and since three days the weather has been enchanting. Yesterday we made a lovely excursion to Blenheim on Deichmann's coach. We picked up 2 neighbours, nice, pretty English girls, and had a beautiful drive over the downs. Mimi had never been on a coach before, and was in a wild state of delight when all four horses galloped up the hills, and they blew the horns at all the railway stations and passing thro' the villages. I had forgotten how magnificent Blenheim was. The house is rather dismantled, as the present Duke has sold all the books and some of the handsomest pictures, but there are plenty left—Van Dycks, Rubens, etc., and the rooms and halls are splendid. There were lots of portraits of the Dukes and Duchesses, from the great Duke down, some curiously like the present Churchills, particularly the women. When we had finished sauntering through the house, we drove about the park looking for a shady place to lunch, and then established ourselves; the horses were taken out, the lunch basket opened, and we had a very good lunch on the top of the coach. We drove back through Woodstock and stopped for tea at Dashwood Park, one of the great places of the country. They gave us tea, with every variety of toast, cake, and bread that can be imagined, in a beautiful room as large as a church, opening on a stone terrace, and the most lovely (English) views of grass meadows and trees, stretching miles away. There were quantities of family portraits there, too, but we hadn't time to see them. We got home at 7 o'clock, rather exhausted, but having had a lovely day.

I began my letter this morning before breakfast and will finish it now. The children are off to the woods with the German tutor after primroses, but it is too warm for us—so we shall take a walk after tea. I am very fond of Hilda Deichmann. She is very clever—knows a great many things—draws well, paints well, is a good musician, and is womanly and practical. We fraternised from the first moment. We are going back to London to-morrow afternoon. Mimi's school begins on Tuesday, and I think he has had a good outing for the present. I haven't an idea what we shall do this winter. Perhaps when W. comes back he will have some plans. With this new Ministry, it is difficult to make any. I am so afraid of their proposing some beastly measure, like the exile of the Orléans Princes, or something of that kind to be popular before the election. The Wales' visit to Ireland seems to be progressing most delightfully and much more quietly than people thought. He has such wonderful charm of manner. I should think personal contact with him would always work wonders. I must stop now or my letter will not go this afternoon.