Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900

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.

To H. L. K

Thursday, June 4, 1889.

The Court Ball was brilliant last night. The Prince opened the ball with Princess Louise, and the Princess with 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. They must marry 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. The Royal 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 and uncertain, 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.

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 Florian came 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.

To G. K. S

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 a Minister here 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.

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. He came 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 that we 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.

To G.K.S

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 good boats, 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 them tied in 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 splendid necklace 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 all radicals 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 the people of 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-room for 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 to us, but I think it is true, I don't know why. As we were out we went 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, but I couldn'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 less importance 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.