Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900

To H. L. K

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 undertake the 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 we fixed 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 their stands, 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—and always to 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. The girl 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 of room. 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.

The Princess, who is always so gracious, asked me what I would like her to do, so I said if she would allow the whole troupe to defile before her I would name each one—and I knew it would give them great pleasure. She agreed at once, so the procession, headed by Marie Antoinette, passed, and the Princess shook hands with every one, talking a little to those she knew. They all applauded when Toupet, with his wig and cane, appeared. Then I named Mdmes. Thénard and Roffy—and I wish you could have seen those ladies' curtseys (Mdme. Roffy's particularly splendid), also St. Genys and Lecomte. The whole thing lasted a short hour, even with the répétition of chorus and gavotte. We had tea in the drawing-room—the children downstairs. The Princess told me she thought it charming—quite wonderful. The only two French children were Francis and the Marquis, but I must say I thought the others quite wonderful. When the Princess went away all the children assembled in the hall at the foot of the stairs, bowing and curtseying—and it was a pretty sight, such a mass of colour and flushed, eager little faces. The Princess told them all again how much she had enjoyed the performance, and it was quite a happy little crowd that dispersed soon afterward to their respective homes. W. complimented Thénard very much, who had given herself no end of trouble—also Mdme. de Langhe, who had undertaken the chorus. Some of the ladies were rather anxious we should repeat the performance for the benefit of some charity, but W. didn't like to have a paying thing at the Embassy; and at one of the public halls it would not have been very easy—some of the ladies objected.

I dined at home, but went to a concert in the evening, and had various compliments for my troupe. The Prince of Wales told me that the Princess had told him it was quite charming. I think on the whole W. was pleased. He was rather doubtful about inviting the Princess—thought it was a little informal, and would bore her, but I don't think it did.

Tuesday, June 23, 1891.

We have had various notices in the French papers of the comédie; generally "une bonne presse," but one or two of the very Republican papers expressed great surprise at such a Royalist Demonstration—couldn't imagine why we had chosen that particular chorus, "Vive la Reine," at an Embassy representing the French Republic!

I am sorry you couldn't come over—all the répétitions would have amused you so much. Nothing was funnier than to see Francis always in a corner with some of the girls. Madame Campan (Elsa de Bille) had a long thing to say, and was most anxious to have the correct accent.

To H. L. K

London,July 8, 1891.

I dined quietly with some of the personnel last night, and had Thekla Staal, as her mother and father had gone to Windsor for the State banquet for the German Emperor. Mdme. de Staal came in for a moment on her way home—she said it was very handsome, very well done, as it always is at Windsor, only they were all rather uncomfortable, as they went down from London by special train in full dress—diamonds and feathers—and when they arrived at the Castle they were asked to take off their wraps in the hall, no dressing-room of any kind provided. I don't know what my erratic hair would have looked like. Of course I couldn't go on account of my mourning.

All London was on the "qui vive" this morning, as the German Emperor was to make his formal entry into London. I thought I wouldn't go in the carriage and take up a position, so Mrs. Edwardes suggested that I should go with her to Constitution Hill, where she had places, and see the Emperor pass there; so we started off on foot quite cheerfully, but as soon as we got outside the Park and wanted to cross the Square, we were confronted by lines of soldiers and policemen, who refused to let us pass. I explained who I was and that I was merely going to cross to Constitution Hill, but they evidently thought nothing of an Ambassadress in a simple black dress with neither equipage nor servants, and we were getting rather discouraged when I saw a Park-keeper who knew me, so he instantly went after one of the heads of the mounted police, who appeared, made way for us and accompanied us (he riding) across the Square. Some of our friends, who were looking on from windows in the houses opposite, were rather anxious—thought we had been arrested. We waited a little while and very soon the head of the procession appeared. We made ourselves as small as we could and squeezed close up to the gate, but the Horse Guards on their big, black horses came unpleasantly near and the least plunge or kick would have been disastrous. The Royal carriage passed quite close to us at a quick trot. The Emperor looked very wide-awake and soldierly in blue dragoon uniform; the Empress, tall and fair, in white, was seated next to him; the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Edinburgh on the front seat. There was not much enthusiasm, a few hats (not all) lifted. The Emperor saluted all the time, mechanically. When he saw me he leaned forward, smiled and bowed in evident recognition. I can't think how he knew me, standing there in a crowd of nursery-maids and children. He had seen me but twice before, and then in the evening in full dress. I suppose it is that extraordinary memory, instinct almost, that all Princes have, and which does them such good service. Everyone is pleased and flattered at being recognised by a Royalty. I was, too, just like all the rest. I wasn't mistaken in thinking he knew me. He told one of our secretaries at the reception at the Palace that he had seen Mdme. Waddington standing in the crowd.

Hilda came to dinner with Countess Eulenbourg (wife of the Master of Ceremonies of the German Court) and her boy. They were very late, as the Countess had been to Buckingham Palace to see the Empress. She said the confusion was something awful. She had great difficulty in getting in, was sent from pillar to post and finally the carriage was allowed to enter through the stable-yard. She was glad to have a quiet evening. Her husband was at the gala performance at the Opera with the Emperor and Empress. She spoke a great deal about the Emperor, said it was impossible to be with him without feeling what a strong personality he is; that what he felt was right and best for Germany he would certainly do—also that he would never shirk a responsibility, or put the blame on others if he made a mistake. It seems curious to be suddenly out of everything. W. is still in France11 and of course our deep mourning makes all Court and gala things impossible for us. I think W. must come back before the Emperor goes and try to see him in a private audience, if nothing else can be arranged.

Thursday, 9th.

All the Corps Diplomatique were received this morning at Buckingham Palace—the men by the Emperor, the women by the Empress. Hatzfeldt presented the men. In W.'s absence, d'Estournelles represented the Embassy (with all the secretaries of course). As he was only Chargé d'Affaires, he could not take W.'s place as Doyen at the head of the row—on the contrary, was quite at the end; after all the Ministers of the small Powers—however they made a little group apart. The Emperor talked a little while to d'Estournelles—regretted very much not seeing W.—knew that he was still in France, and told him to tell me that he had recognised me at once in the Park. He said a few words to each member of the Embassy. The ladies were presented by Mdme. de Staal—my young women told me she did it very well, passing down the line with the Empress and naming every one. They also found the Empress very gracious, saying something to each one—of course there is never any real conversation on such occasions, people are usually in a hurry and anxious to get through their function.

This afternoon was the garden party at Marlborough House—Mdme. d'Estournelles and Florian came in afterward to tell me about it; also Mme. de Bille (wife of the Danish Minister), she is an American, née Zabriskie. They said there was a great crowd, and such a hedge of loyal subjects around the Royalties that it was almost impossible to see them even. Princess of Monaco (née Heine), who was with the Court (her husband being a "prince regnant," of a minute principality certainly), made a sign to Countess de Florian to come and speak to her, and she also had quite a talk with Princess Amélie of Schleswig Holstein, cousin of the German Emperor, whom she had known as a girl in Pau, when her father, Marquis de Nadaillac, was Préfet there. Staal came in late, and hopes that W. will come back (he is always such a good colleague). He thinks it will make a bad effect, the French Ambassador being the only one absent. He thinks he ought to come over for the breakfast at the Mansion House, which is strictly official, and where the Emperor will probably make a speech. I will write to him to-night and tell him what they all say.

Friday, July 10th.

I rode this morning with Pontavice, the Military Attaché, and just missed the Emperor, who was riding with six or seven officers, all in uniform, which seems strange, as the officers never wear uniform except when they are on duty. We sometimes see the officer of the day riding in the Row in uniform, but never any other. In Paris it is quite different; all the officers of the Paris garrison, which is a very large one, always ride in uniform in the Bois in the morning. I went to the War Office afterward to see the Emperor, Empress, and Prince and Princess pass on their way to the Lord Mayor's banquet. The display of troops was rather mesquin—the Grenadiers standing so far apart that there were groups of street boys in between. The Royalties were fairly applauded (the Prince and Princess are always whenever they appear). The Emperor was in a white uniform, but his helmet is so big and heavy and so low on his face that one could hardly see him. Francis and I dined quietly at the Russian Embassy, and the Staals told us all about the various fêtes. They said the getting away from the Mansion House was awful—when the gentlemen of the household were trying to make a passage for the Princess of Wales there was a general skirmish, one of the ladies of the Corps Diplomatique was struck on the shoulder by one of the gentlemen, and there was a fine row—the husband of the lady furious, the unfortunate equerry protesting, saying he was incapable of such an enormity, etc. However, excuses were made and peace restored.

Saturday, July 11th.

I rode this morning with Pontavice, and we met the Emperor, also riding, several times; but he did not recognise me this time in my habit. He had six or seven officers with him and two grooms. All the officers, the Emperor also, in uniform, and wearing those long German sabres that hang loose and make a great clatter. They all rode at a gallop and set all the horses in the Row by the ears. I really had some trouble with my quiet animal, who was jumping and kicking all over the place. I had several visits at tea-time. My windows and balconies giving on the Park are most attractive, as there are quantities of people about—a sort of general excitement in the air, and royal carriages and soldiers passing all the time. D'Estournelles came in and told me about the review. He said the troops looked splendid, but the arrangements were very bad—no seats reserved—he and his wife and many ladies standing all the time. Mme. d'Estournelles was dead tired and had gone home to bed. W. came back for dinner; he looks grave and sad. We sat on the balcony after dinner while he smoked. He said he must go to the luncheon at Hatfield for the Emperor and Empress. As long as he was Ambassador, he had no right to let any private grief prevent his taking part in a public function, particularly in this case, when his absence might be misconstrued.

Sunday, July 18th.

I went this afternoon to consult some of my colleagues about my dress for Hatfield. Of course I am in deep mourning, and I didn't know if I could meet Royalties in black. At some Courts, Russia for instance, black is not allowed—when people are in mourning they wear white. After various consultations, I decided that I would go in my black dress; so I have had some lace put on top of the flounce of "crépon de laine," which is really very deep mourning.

To H. L. K

Tuesday, July 19, 1891.

We had a most interesting day at Hatfield, and evidently we were right in going. We went down by a special, W. in deep mourning, I in my black crépon, my big pearls in my ears and around my neck, a little crêpe bonnet (with a soupçon of jet) and an ordinary dotted tulle veil. All our colleagues were most empressés and nice—said it had been so strange not to see either of us at any of the fêtes. There were, as usual, a certain number of young men, sons of the house, secretaries, etc., at the station at Hatfield; plenty of carriages, and in a few minutes we were at the house. We passed straight through the rooms to the terrace, where a very smart company was assembled. Some of the young women in white satin and lace, high bodices of course, all very much dressed, and all with necklaces and jewels on their corsages. No one in particular received us. Lady Salisbury was driving with the Empress, Lord Salisbury talking with the Prince of Wales, and the Emperor riding. (The Salisburys had an enormous house party, all arrived the night before for dinner—the Emperor and Empress with their suite, also the Prince and Princess and theirs.) I was strolling about the terrace with Countess Deym when we came suddenly upon the Princess of Wales, walking about with her "Kodak" and looking about 25 in her simple grey foulard and big black hat. As we went up to speak to her, she made us a sign to stop, saying "I want you in my picture." We talked to her a little while and then she said she must go and make herself "smart" for the lunch-party. There was still some time before there was any sign of Princes—or lunch. Mr. Barrington asked us to stand near the perron, as he had charge of the placing of the people. The Emperor and Empress appeared first, and immediately made a sort of cercle. Lady Salisbury presented me at once to the Empress, and she was most amiable, regretted not having seen me at the reception at Buckingham Palace, adding, "J'ai vu toutes vos jeunes femmes, plus jolies les unes que les autres." The Emperor, too, was easy and pleasant, but so many people were brought up to him all the time that he couldn't talk much. It was interesting to watch him. He was of course the central figure, and there is always a certain curiosity as to what he will do. He holds himself very straight, has a stern face and rather a stiff manner, not particularly gracious, speaks English of course perfectly well (in fact looks like an Englishman, particularly in ordinary dress—of course the uniform changes him a little). I think he knew about everybody who was presented to him; soldiers, statesmen, artists, and seemed to be interested in the very short talks he had with each one. He and W. had quite a talk, and he again expressed his regret at not having seen him before, and also for the cause which had kept him away. The Prince and Princess stood about on the terrace while all the presentations were going on, talking to their friends. After about half an hour there was a move to the great dining-hall. I think there were about 150 guests. The Royalties and swells lunched in the great hall at small tables of ten, and the others in the ordinary dining-room. I was at Lord Salisbury's table, who took in the Empress; the Prince took me; Hatzfeldt (German Ambassador) Mdme. de Staal; Rustem (Turkish Ambassador) Princess Maud; Soveral (Portuguese Minister) Countess Spencer. At Lady Salisbury's table were the Emperor, Princess, Staal, W., etc. The talk was fairly easy at our table—Hatzfeldt said to me rather pointedly, "Je suis très heureux de vous voir ici aujourd'hui, Madame Waddington." The Prince also said we were quite right to come. I said I thought my plain black dress was rather out of place at such a brilliant entertainment, but he assured me it was quite correct.