Chapter X: Part II: Ten Years in England (3)

We are all rather exhausted after the Christmas tree; however, the children were quite pleased, and the tree really very pretty. A gigantic pine, reaching to the top of the ceiling in the ballroom, a star on the top and very well lighted. We had 34 children of all ages and nationalities, from Nadine Karolyi, aged 18, daughter of Count Karolyi, Austrian Ambassador and Doyen of the Corps Diplomatique, to Florence Williams' baby girl of 16 months. The little ones were sweet, speechless at first, with round eyes fixed on the tree, and then little fat arms stretched out for something. The children's tea-table looked pretty, arranged with coloured candles and holly, and an enormous Christmas cake in the middle with a wreath of holly around it. Nadine Karolyi cut the first slice of cake, as daughter of the Doyen she sat on Francis's right hand, and Thekla Staal, daughter of the Russian Ambassador, on his left. W. was much amused at the correct placing of the young ladies. We start to-morrow for Knowsley and Luton Hoo, and the packing is quite an affair. I take 10 dresses, besides jackets, hats, etc. I must have short costumes to follow the battues for fine and bad weather--a swell day dress, as we are to lunch at Croxteth, Lord Sefton's place near Knowsley; and two ball dresses, as there is to be a county ball for all the neighbourhood at Luton, New Year's night, and a small dance with a cotillon (which is unusual in England) the next night. Adelaide is rather fatigued, as besides my trunk she has to finish off her toilettes, and she has just come in to ask me if she shall take the regulation black silk, or a blue silk, which is more dressy; as they tell her the _ladies_ in the housekeeper's room are very dressy at Luton. I said the blue silk by all means--she must be up to the mark. The fog has kept up pretty well all day. I hope it will clear to-morrow, we are going straight into the coal country. Knowsley is near Liverpool, and I fancy it is always dark there.

I was telling Nigra the other day about our first Roman Christmas and what an impression it made upon us. Such a splendid winter, always a bright blue sky, and roses straggling over all the old grey walls. The Pifferari singing to the Madonnas at all the street corners, the midnight Mass and mysterious Pastorale in St. Peter's at early dawn with the tapers trembling on the high altar so far away; and the grand Christmas ceremony at St. Peter's, with all the magnificent pomp of the Catholic Church in Rome. We talked on for some time about "Roma com' era," which of course he doesn't regret, and I told him of our last night in Rome, when we all went "en bande" to drink at the Fountain of Trevi (which is supposed to act as a charm and to bring people back to Rome). I remember quite well how tearful I was when we left. I didn't think then that life was worth living out of the shadow of St. Peter's, and think so a little still even now, though my lines have lain in very different places.

We leave Francis in the sisters' charge, with the joys of a pantomime before him.

_To H. L. K._

#Knowsley#,
December 29, 1885.

We arrived here late yesterday afternoon. It is a long, uninteresting journey (almost to Liverpool), was cold and foggy all the way down, and we found snow when we arrived in the Park--also a perfect gale of wind, the enormous bare, black winter trees swaying like poplars. The large house, with all the facade brightly lighted, gave us at once a cheerful welcome. Lady Derby was waiting for us in the long, low drawing-room with tea, and we went up almost immediately to dress for dinner. We had sent the servants by an earlier train, which was convenient, as they had time to unpack and have everything ready for us. We have a charming apartment--a very good-sized salon, with bedrooms large and comfortable on each side. The salon furnished in a bright chintz, and good pictures, mostly family portraits, on the walls. There were blazing fires everywhere--these enormous rocks of Liverpool coal one sees here. I instantly proceeded to demolish mine in my bedroom. Adelaide had already tried to make the housemaid understand that her lady didn't like warm rooms, but the other one pointed to the snow under the windows, and heaped on her pieces of coal.

Dinner was at 8 _punctually_ (which was a contrast to Hatfield, where we had been staying the other day. There dinner was easily half past eight, and after we had been at table some little time various friends and members of the family appeared, and slid quietly into their places at the end of the very long table). There is a large family party here and some other guests, including the two historians, Froude and Lecky, both most interesting.

The Earl of Derby's place at Prescot Lancashire]

We dined in a fine hall with family portraits of all the Derbys, from the first one at Bosworth down to the present Earl, who is the 16th Earl of Derby. There was beautiful plate on the table--fine racing cups--as the Stanleys were always quite as much racing men as statesmen. These are such curious things in England, the love of sport is so strong. Fancy any of our statesmen, Thiers, Guizot, Dufaure, etc., with racing stables. Lord Derby is very easy and rather inclined to chaff Americans a little, but I didn't mind. The evening was short after we adjourned to the drawing-room. Lady Derby is rather delicate, and is suffering just now from a bad eye. I sat some time in my comfortable room upstairs, but was glad to get to bed early after the cold journey. W. went off to the fumoir, and had a most interesting talk over Ireland and Irish questions with Mr. Lecky. This morning was awful; snow, sleet, and a cold rain--however, the sportsmen were not to be deterred by any such mild obstacle, and started at 9.30 in a big break with four horses. I watched the departure from my window, and was very glad I was not going to make any such expedition. I had my breakfast upstairs, and had an amusing explanation with the housemaid who appeared at 9.30 with an enormous tray and breakfast enough for a family--tea, beefsteaks, cold partridges, eggs, rolls, toast, potatoes, buns and fruit--you never saw such a meal. She couldn't believe that I only wanted tea and toast and an egg (which was an extra, but as I knew we should only lunch at two, and I am accustomed to have my dejeuner a la fourchette at 12, I was sure I should be hungry if I didn't take something), and asked me most respectfully if I was not well, and would like something else--"a little soup perhaps."

I went downstairs about 12 and found the ladies in the drawing-room all complaining of the cold. Lady Derby took me over the house--it has not the beautiful proportions of Hatfield--is long, low, and rambling, but most comfortable. The library is a fine room with deep window recesses, and most comfortable with a bright fire burning. The librarian was there and showed us some of his treasures, among them an old copy of the "Roman de la Rose," and various old manuscripts. We went on to the dining-room, and Lady Derby explained the family portraits to me. The long, unbroken line of Earls of Derby is most interesting, and the change in the portraits for the two or three generations where the French blood shows itself, most curious. The wife of the Earl of Derby who died on the scaffold, giving his life for his King, was the famous Charlotte de la Tremouille, who defended her castle--Lathom House--so gallantly against Fairfax and his Roundheads. Do you remember one of our school-room books in America, "Heroines of History," where there was a description of the siege of Lathom House, and a picture of the Countess of Derby standing on the ramparts in a riding habit and hat and feathers and apparently loading a cannon herself and showing a gunner how to point it?

The portraits are most interesting; first the regular Saxon type, then the French streak, pale oval faces, and dark eyes and hair (not unlike the Stuarts, who have always a foreign look); then the true British, more and more accentuated down to the present Earl. They have also in one of the halls the block on which the Lord Derby knelt who was beheaded in 1631.

The sportsmen arrived about tea-time, apparently neither cold nor tired, and having had a fine shoot.

New Year's Day, 1886.

We are leaving this afternoon for Luton, Mme. de Falbe's place, where there is a ball and cotillon to-night. We were to go and join the shooters yesterday, but it was rainy and cold, and the ladies didn't care to go out. The talk at luncheon was pleasant; Froude is brilliant and easy. His American experiences and stories were amusing, but I told him he mustn't take the very eccentric ladies and gentlemen whom he had encountered as specimens of Americans. I didn't know any such people, that really most of us were quite quiet and ordinary, and like everybody else. Lord Derby rather urged him on, and was amused at our perfectly amicable discussion. We drove over to Croxteth, Lord Sefton's place, after lunch. The park is fine and they have capital shooting. Our evening was quiet, and we broke up early, as they always have a midnight service in the chapel on New Year's eve for the family and servants and any of the guests who like to attend. We left the drawing-room at 10.30, so that the servants might put out the lights, finish their work, etc., and also to have time to get out of our low dresses and jewels. A little before 12 Lady Margaret Cecil (Lady Derby's daughter by her first husband, Lord Salisbury) came for us and we went to the chapel. I had put on a dark cloth dress and jacket, nothing on my head. The chapel was full, all the servants (including my French maid) and household. Lady Margaret, looking like a saint in her plain black dress, and beautiful earnest expression, sat at the little organ, and everybody, gardeners, keepers, coachmen, cooks, housemaids, joined in the singing. It was very solemn and impressive. At the end of the service we all went out first, and then Lady Margaret and her brother Lord Lionel stood at the head of the stairs and shook hands with all the guests, and all the servants, wishing all a "Happy New Year." It was a nice beginning of the New Year. Lord Derby hopes our next one will be also in England and at Knowsley, but everything is so uncertain, and of such short duration in our country (especially Cabinets) that we can hardly look forward a year.

#Luton#,
January 3, 1886.

Our journey yesterday from Knowsley was not very long, and some of the country all about Matlock, in Derbyshire, quite wild and lovely. Our host here is M. de Falbe, Danish Minister, who married Mrs. Leigh, owner of this charming place. We found the house party, mostly young, assembled in the morning-room with tea, the ladies all, as usual, in very dressy tea-gowns. I can't quite get used to that fashion, though I see it is very practical in the country at this season. Everyone goes out (in all weathers generally) from luncheon till tea-time, and of course one must get out of short skirts and muddy boots before coming down to the drawing-room. We went up early to dress, as Mme. de Falbe wanted to dine precisely at 8, on account of the ball afterwards. The house is large, with endless corners and corridors, fine drawing-rooms, library, and a large chapel with a fine organ. The dinner was handsome and very well arranged, five round tables, and quantities of silver, flowers, servants, etc. About 10.30 the company began to arrive, many county neighbours, Salisburys, Lyttons, Caledons, etc., bringing their house parties with them. We had a very pretty cotillon. At the end the children's pony came in carrying two big baskets filled with presents. The poor little thing was very gentle, but was evidently afraid of slipping on the parquet floor.

From a photograph by Franz Baum, London]

Sunday, 3d.

To-day has been charming; first the service in the house chapel, very good organ music--Mme. de Falbe is musical and arranges everything. After breakfast they organized a paper hunt for the "jeunesse" in the park, and the older people walked about. The rendezvous was the dairy--a model one, quite delightful with tiles, and creepers running along the walls and peeping everywhere in at the windows. One by one the young people assembled, flushed and exhausted with running, and all clamouring for tea. Comte Jacques de Pourtales (one of our Secretaries), a young officer of the Blues, and Forbes, Mme. de Falbe's son-in-law, were the hares and got in some time before the hounds. After tea Falbe took me over to the stables, where there were plenty of horses, and also to the "vacherie," which was perfect. They have 40 small Alderney cows, all the same breed and colour, pretty little beasts, and so wonderfully clean, kept like pet dogs.

The dinner and evening was most lively, choruses, banjos (which is a favourite instrument in English houses), and every kind of game, including musical chairs--M. de Falbe at the piano. I think everyone played except the Falbes and ourselves. W. and Falbe retired afterwards to the smoking-room, and were deep in foreign politics. Falbe is a perfect type of the diplomatist, tall, good-looking, and a charming, courteous manner. We ladies went off about 11, and an hour later we heard the most unearthly noises in the house. All the men parading the corridors with banjos, bells, gongs, etc., and singing (if singing it can be called) at the top of their voices. They stopped at every door to serenade. The party breaks up to-morrow, and we all go back to London.

_To G. K. S._

#London#,
Sunday, January 17, 1886.

We had a musical dinner last night for Miss Griswold and Albanesi, and they sang and played all the evening. Albanesi has a charming, delicate touch, and plays with all the Italian brio. He told me--what surprised me--that he was always frightfully nervous when playing in public, and much preoccupied with the "composition de la salle"--if he saw one or two unsympathetic faces he had at once a disagreeable sensation! Gertrude Griswold has always the same lovely voice with a beautiful clear ring in it, and sings most artistically.

This morning we have been to church at St. Paul's. It is a fine service, a splendid organ, and very good well-trained choir--but not at all solemn. I felt as if I was in one of the great Catholic cathedrals in Italy. People were coming and going all the time, and walking about the church. It is so enormous that it is quite a walk from the big doors to the small (comparatively) enclosed space where the congregation assembles.

I have been at home all the afternoon receiving--men only, which is a regular London custom. Adams came in at tea-time. He and W. always like to have a good talk over old times. They were at school and college together, and Adams, when he was Charge d'Affaires at the British Embassy, used to have all sorts of questions to treat with W., who was then Ministre des Affaires Etrangeres in Paris. They always began their conversations in French, and then fell into English, which of course they had always spoken together.

To-night we have a small dinner for Rustem Pacha, and I have asked one or two people in the evening. I should like to be at home always on Sunday night, as we did in the Champs Elysees, but they tell me no English will come. Many of them don't go out on Sunday night, and don't take their horses out, and give servants a rest. I asked Lady A., who is very mondaine, if she would come to dinner to meet a few colleagues, and she said--"Dear Mme. Waddington, let me come another night; I never take out my carriage and servants on Sunday."

Jean Gordon Gumming is very much exercised over what she calls my French ways, and constantly tells me people don't do such and such things in England; but I always tell her the French Embassy is _not_ England; however, she is rather worried over me, and finds me un-English (which is not surprising) and unconventional, which is also not surprising, considering my nationality.

_To H. L. K._

January 21, 1886.

We have had a great function to-day, the Queen opened Parliament. We all went in gala, Countess D'A. and P. with us, the men in uniform, I in red satin, low, with diamonds and feathers. The road was lined with policemen and mounted soldiers in lieu of infantry, as there would have been with us. As we passed through the Horse-Guards the trumpeters saluted. We went at once into the great hall of the Lords', which was a fine sight. All the peers were there in their scarlet robes trimmed with white fur, and the women in low dresses, diamonds, and feathers (feathers play a great part in all English toilettes). The Judges also were in full dress, with wigs and gowns. About 1.30 the Princes began to arrive, Prince of Wales, Dukes of Edinburgh, Connaught, and Cambridge all also in scarlet robes with bands of ermine and gold, and the collar of the Garter. We sat close to the Throne (Countess Karolyi didn't come, so I was Doyenne), then Madame de Staal and the Duchesses Bedford, Hamilton, Sutherland, and others. The Prince of Wales stood next to me some time, presenting the Duke of Connaught, whom I had not seen, and talked pleasantly enough, explaining various things to me; also said he was rather shy at taking his seat on the raised platform until the last moment. He had an arm-chair on the right of the Throne. I asked him for whom the other arm-chair was and he said it was his father's, had never been used since his death, and showed me the Saxon arms on it. The three brothers, Wales, Edinburgh, and Connaught, remained standing together. The other Princes, Christian, Duke of Teck, and Henry of Battenberg, were opposite to us; Battenberg, who has a slight, stylish figure, looking handsome in British Volunteer Uniform (dark green) with the collar of the Garter. Teck looks badly, older and thinner. He must have been a very handsome man (which, by the way, he tells one frequently). When Prince Alexander of Battenberg was at one of the Court balls everyone was talking about him and saying what a magnificent man he was. Teck, who was dancing a quadrille with me, was much put out, and said to me, "Do you really find Battenberg so very handsome? It is a pity you didn't know me when I was his age; I was much handsomer," and appealed to Count D., Austrian Ambassador, an old friend and "compagnon d'armes," to support his statement, which I must say he did most warmly, and one can quite see it.

All the Ambassadors and men of the Corps Diplomatique faced us--the English women were upstairs. About 2.30 (we had been there since 1.30) we heard a trumpet call, and all the company stood up. We women dropped our cloaks, and the Prince took his place standing on the dais. Presently appeared the Garter King-at-Arms and various officers of the household. The Duke of Portland stood on the right of the Throne holding a Royal crown on a cushion. Lord Salisbury (Premier) carried a large sword with a double handle, and then came the Queen followed by Princess Beatrice and Princes Eddie and George of Wales. The Queen was dressed in black satin with a long train, lined and trimmed with ermine, quantities of diamonds on her neck and corsage, the blue ribbon of the Garter, and a regular closed crown of diamonds, and white veil. As she came in the Prince of Wales advanced, touched the ground with one knee, kissed her hand, and led her to the Throne. He did his part most easily and gracefully, and didn't look at all shy. The Queen's train was carried by Sir Henry Ponsonby and two pages in red and gold. Princess Beatrice and the Duchess of Buccleuch (Mistress of the Robes) stood behind the Queen on her right, Princes Eddie and George on her left, Lord Salisbury, Halsbury, Lathom, and some others were also on the dais. As soon as the Queen was settled on her Throne she bowed to us all right and left. We made deep curtseys, and then she made a sign that we were to sit down. There was a few moments' silence while they went to summon the Commons. Then one heard a noise of scrambling and racing in the corridors--and they appeared; the Speaker, looking very well in his wig and gown, came first, fairly shot into the hall like a bomb by the impatient crowd behind him. Then the Lord Chancellor, asking the Queen's permission, read her speech in a clear, distinct voice, so that one heard every word. It was very short, and as soon as it was over the Queen went away with the same ceremony as when she came. When she got to the foot of the dais she made a very pretty half curtsey. The Princes left directly afterwards--we too. The crowd in the street was tremendous, everyone always is anxious to see the Queen, and much excited over the cream-coloured Hanoverian horses which she uses when she goes anywhere in semi-state. As they only go out very seldom it is rather a responsibility for the Master of the Horse to see that they are perfectly quiet.

#Windsor#, March 8, 1886.

We are at Windsor for the second time to dine and sleep, and we are "Doyens" now, so have a sweller apartment in one of the towers--the walls so thick that they make splendid deep window recesses (and a piano). We had asked an audience of Princess Beatrice, who received us before dinner about 7. I wore my brown velvet in which I had come down, and we found her in a small salon with a piano and pretty pictures and bibelots about. She was in an ordinary red costume, and was rather cold and shy at first, but thawed when Battenberg appeared. He has a delightful easy way, that sort of charm that so many Poles have. The party was a small one--no other diplomats but Mr. and Mrs. Phelps, both charming, and some English. The ceremony was quite the same as before. The Queen came about nine and went alone into the dining-room, and had her two sons-in-law, Christian and Battenberg, on each side. W. took in Princess Beatrice, and Mr. Phelps me, so I was quite happy. The Queen spoke little, in German, principally, to her neighbours, the English scarcely at all, and almost in whispers. I don't know what would happen to me if I dined often at court, I couldn't sit at table for an hour without talking to someone. Mr. P. says American women are not made for courts and convenances. They lose all their charm if they are not natural, and I think he is right. The cercle lasted about an hour. The Queen and I talked music. She regrets Muenster, who is going to Paris.

#London#, March 9.

We were asked this morning if we would like to drive to the Mausoleum before we went back to town, which we accepted of course. W. and I went in an open carriage, a pair of horses and postillion, and Lord Thurlow, Lord in Waiting, with us. In the next came Mr. and Mrs. Phelps with Mrs. F., Lady in Waiting. We drove down the "long walk" to the Mausoleum, which is not very far from the Castle. It is a handsome building with a fine marble floor like some of the old Italian chapels. The tomb of the Prince Consort is very fine, with a recumbent marble statue and a place beside it for the Queen when her turn comes. There is a pretty monument "In Memoriam" to Princess Alice (of Hesse) with her child in her arms, and a tablet to the memory of John Brown as "a grateful tribute from Queen Victoria to the faithful servant and friend of 34 years." We then drove to Frogmore and saw the farm, basse-cour, dairy, etc., and took the 12.30 train back to London. This evening we have had a handsome dinner and reception at the Russian Embassy; the whole house open, band playing, and all London there. The Duchess of Edinburgh dined. Corti made his first appearance in the "grand monde" as Ambassador. He is much pleased to be in London. I don't know if he and W. will be very cordial colleagues, as Corti decidedly resented W.'s attitude in the Berlin Congress.

_To J. K._

#Clieveden, Maidenhead#,
Sunday, March 29, 1886.

I will begin my letter this evening, Dear Jan, in this most lovely place of the Duke of Westminster's which Karolyi, the Austrian Ambassador, always hires, until after Easter, as his wife hates to spend the winter in town. We came down yesterday afternoon with one of their secretaries, a nice young fellow. We found the Karolyis alone in a charming library filled with books in all languages, and with the most enchanting view of the Thames--quite like the view from Richmond Terrace, if you remember it. They gave us tea--and about 7 we went up to our rooms. Mine is the one the Duchess always has, and W. has the dressing-room next, a large room, all hung with rose-coloured silk, faded into yellow now, an enormous bed with yellow silk curtains and counterpane, a bath-room with marble bath opening out of a little passage, quite complete, and always the same divine view. The rooms are filled with pictures, souvenirs of all the Sutherlands (whose place it was originally), Westminsters, and all the English Royal family of all ages. At 8 a gong sounded and we went down to the library (where they live entirely), and found them there with the addition of Count Victor Karolyi, a cousin. The dinner was good, 4 servants, their chasseurs, in Hungarian uniform, 2 in black and one in plain livery. After dinner the 2 Karolyi men sat down to cards, W. and the young man talked, also Mme. K. and I--and all the men smoked. It was easy enough, as everyone talked a great deal. We broke up at 11. This morning we had breakfast at 10, and afterwards Mme. K. showed me the house, which is very handsome, one large, beautiful drawing-room opening on the terrace and river view. They live only in the library, as the rest is so enormous to light and heat. At 12 M. and Mme. de Staal, the Russian Ambassador and his wife, arrived, and we went for a stroll in the grounds. Went out again after lunch for a long walk down by the river in short skirts and thick boots, as it was very damp--almost always is on the banks, generally low, of the Thames. It looked very pretty and gay, quite a number of boats and some people we all knew, staying in one of the houses near, got out of their boats and walked along with us. We came in for tea at 5.30, and after that adjourned to our respective rooms till dinner. The evening was pleasant, as we were more numerous and Staal talks a great deal. Now I am going to bed, as it is 11 o'clock, and we breakfast at a quarter to ten to-morrow, and get back to London at 11.30.

From a photograph by Walery London]

#London#, Monday, 30th.

We got back this morning at 1 for lunch, and have been in a wild state ever since with the bad news from Tonkin and the defeat of our troops. The Ministry is out, and Heaven knows what will happen. W. is as blue as indigo over the news, as he had been very cocky over Tonkin, as compared with the English blunders in the Soudan. Already there are despatches in the clubs here, saying W. has been asked to take the Foreign Office. Of course he hasn't been asked, and I hope he won't be, for I should hate to begin that official life in Paris again, and I am very happy here now--however, one never knows in political life. Do you know anything about Phelps? W. is very anxious to have your opinion. He says you ought to know about a Vermont man. He will have a difficult "succession." Mr. Lowell is much liked and admired.

#London#,
April 10, 1886.

We have had a pleasant morning luncheon at Roll's Court with Lord Esher, who showed us a quantity of most interesting old manuscripts. A letter from "Bloody Mary" to Cardinal Pole announcing her "grossesse" (the arrival of a Prince), also the confession and signature of Guy Fawkes after torture, such a wavering, faint signature, "Guido." It is extraordinary how all the papers and handwriting have lasted. All these old-world things are so interesting to me, I seem to realize history so much more. I hope to get over to Paris for a little this month. We had a nice party (music) at Louisa Lady Ashburton's this evening, and an interesting collection of people, fashionable, literary, and _Salvation Army_. The house is crowded with statues, pictures, and artistic treasures of all kinds.

_To J. K._

#Ambassade de France a Londres#,
Sunday, May 29, 1887.

We seem to have a gleam of sunshine this afternoon, Dear Jan, after weeks of bleak east winds and grey skies, and we are going to take advantage of it to drive out to White Lodge, Richmond Park, and see the Tecks. We are revelling in Whitsuntide recess, and no dinners or banquets until Friday, the second Court Concert. Last night I went to the Opera with the Staals. It was "Faust," very well given, with Albani, Scalchi, and Gayare. The house was fairly brilliant, but not full--the Prince and Princess of Wales, Rothschilds, and a certain number of people, who came to hear Albani (she is such a favourite here). I should think it would be a losing operation. Tell Janet Mlle. de Staal looks so nice, is so much more animated, really very pretty, so high bred and always well dressed. Lady Salisbury's reception at the F. O. on Tuesday for the Queen's Birthday was very brilliant; there were quantities of Princes; a Danish Prince, brother of the Princess of Wales; a young Russian Grand Duke, a son of the late Prince Frederick Charles, brother of the Duchess of Connaught, and any quantity of Maharajahs, covered with gold and silver embroidery and diamonds and emeralds as big as eggs. They always make a great fuss over the Indian Princes at Court--treat them like Royalty, and give them very good places. The Corps Diplomatique always protests. The lion of the evening was Herbert Bismarck. From the Prince of Wales down everyone, men and women, was overwhelming him with attentions. I didn't think the Danish Prince looked much pleased. He remarked that "Bismarck had a most disagreeable voice." Lizzie P. was wandering about looking very handsome. I didn't see Buffalo Bill, which rather surprised me. I suppose he is genuine, isn't he? He professed to remember Captain King perfectly when I said I had a brother who had been some time on the plains with his regiment. Certainly the "Wild West Show" is most original and entertaining. The Indians look savage enough to satisfy anyone, and Buffalo Bill and the King of the Cowboys are splendid specimens of frontiersmen.

Monday.

I will finish this morning; it is still dark and rainy. We went out yesterday to White Lodge and had a pleasant visit. It was much too cold to sit out, so we had tea in the gallery and enjoyed it very much. Princess Mary is always so easy. The young Princess May looked very nice in a light tweed with a white waistcoat. She asked after Janet, and wanted to know if she was to be here this season. I asked Princess Mary what she was going to wear at the Jubilee Te Deum at Westminster. She said she had no idea, but she had been told long dress, smart bonnet, decorations and diamonds. It seems the Queen is going to wear a white bonnet covered with diamonds. I have asked no questions and mean to wear a short dress--no one will see, as we do not join any cortege. We arrive quite simply and go straight to our places. I shall wear white lace with mousse velvet, and a mousse bonnet with pink roses. Tell Janet, I am convinced I shall never wear my moire apricot dress from Roulf, that I couldn't wear last year at any of the Court fetes. I am sure the German Prince will die. They say he may at any moment, as the excrescence in his throat may increase, and then he would suffocate. Wouldn't it be strange if that old Emperor outlived the son. Neither sled nor fans have yet arrived. I suppose they will appear soon. We have one or two things we mean to send out, as soon as we have an opportunity--gloves, etc. I should think some of the 75,000 Americans who are coming over would go back in the course of the summer. Princess Mary told me yesterday that a pretty American girl--an heiress--she couldn't remember the name--did I know?--is probably going to marry a Count Btetju, aide-de-camp to the Prince of Denmark. It seems he saw her here and fell in love with her at once. I must stop now. Have any quantity of notes to write.

_To G. K. S._

#London#,
June 14, 1887.

London is getting ready for the Jubilee and the streets are crowded. Various Royalties have arrived, and one meets Royal carriages, escorts, and strong squads of police at every turn. It is warm and lovely to-day--so was yesterday. W., Francis and I drove out to Sheen, where W. plays tennis in Lord F.'s private court. I wandered about under the trees, and Francis sailed his boat in the pond and was quite happy. It is such a rest to get a few hours in the country when one is going out all the time as we are here--and above all not to have to talk. We had a remarkable entertainment last night, given by the Hawaiian Secretary (who is a German-American) for his Queen, of the Sandwich Islands. We arrived in due time, I rather protesting.

There was a large reception after dinner and the mistress of the house asked us if we wouldn't stand by the Queen and make a sort of cercle, and a funny contrast we made--Mrs. P. beautifully dressed in white satin and lace, Lady R. with splendid jewels, I wore my pink brocade and old Venetian lace. It really was too absurd. I talked a little to the Princess, who is intelligent enough. The Queen is a great stickler for etiquette, and insisted upon the same honours as any other Royalties, an escort of _Life Guards_;--wouldn't accept any less distinguished escort.

#London#,
June 18, 1887.

We have had rather an amusing afternoon. I think I wrote you that we wanted to leave Westminster Abbey the minute the ceremony was over, get through the line of troops, and back to a friend's house in Piccadilly to see the cortege--we being Mrs. Phelps and I. Our respective husbands were most discouraging (as men always are), but we dined last night with Knowles to meet the Duke of Cambridge, and I told His Royal Highness what we wanted to do, and asked him if he could help us. After some little discussion he said he would advise us to go directly to Sir Charles Warren (Chief of Police) and see what he could arrange for us. Again our husbands remonstrated, "Warren was overrun with applications of all kinds, worked to death, and it was very unreasonable," but backed by the Duke we determined to try.

I told His Royal Highness I should put on my most becoming Paris bonnet and beard the lion in his den. He said, "Quite right, my dear, a man is always flattered when a woman tries to please him," so accordingly about 3 Mrs. Phelps and I started for Scotland Yard. George was rather surprised when I gave the order. We drove through one or two courts and were stopped once by a huge policeman, who let us go on when we said it was the French Ambassadress. We were shown at once into Sir Charles's room, and I must say he was charming, most kind and courteous. We had arranged beforehand that I was to be spokeswoman, and I went at once to the point. He was sitting at his table with letters and papers and telegrams, the telegraph ticking all the time, despatches and telegrams being brought in, and as busy a man as I ever saw. He immediately sent for maps of the route, distribution of the troops, etc., and said he thought he could manage it. We must have a light carriage (of course we must go to the Abbey in state in the gala coach) waiting at the Poets' Corner, as near the door as it can get; he will send us a pass to break through the lines, and will have three or four policemen waiting for us at the corner of Piccadilly and one of the smaller streets to pass us through the crowd. We really didn't derange him very much. The whole conversation lasted about ten minutes, and he was rather amused at this sudden appearance of the two "femmes du monde" in his "milieu" of clerks, policemen, telegraph boys, type-writers and a hurrying, bustling crowd of employes of all kinds. We returned triumphant to our respective houses.

We had a fine reception last night at the Austrian Embassy in honour of Prince Rudolph. We arrived late, having dined out. The Prince is very good-looking, slight, elegant figure, and charming manners and smile. All the world was there--quantities of pretty women, and pretty dresses--the Countess Karolyi always the handsomest.

#London#,
June 20, 1887.

London is really a sight to-day, the streets gay with flags, draperies, stands, illuminations, and quantities of people gaping all day long. I went for a drive with Mary Sheridan, daughter of Mr. Motley, late Minister from the United States to the Court of St. James. We didn't attempt going down Piccadilly, as we saw what a dense crowd and block there was, so we crossed to Constitution Hill. We went all round Westminster Abbey; I wanted to see the Poets' Corner where we are to go in to-morrow, and the House of Commons stand where she is to be with her sister. We were blocked for a quarter of an hour standing close to the Embankment. Some of the mottoes are very nice. I like the humble ones best, "God bless our Queen." We were a long time getting back to the Embassy, Piccadilly almost impassable. It was amusing, as everyone was arranging their balconies, and we recognised various friends standing at windows, and on balconies directing the arrangement of chairs, plants, flags, etc. After dinner W. took his cigar and we walked about a little in Piccadilly. Some of the illuminations had already begun and the crowd was dense, but no jostling or roughs, everyone good-humoured and wildly interested in the decorations. London is transformed for the moment and looks like a great continental city, all lights and flags and an "air de fete." We didn't stay out very late, as we have a long day before us to-morrow. They say the Queen is well, but rather "emue" and a little nervous, which must be expected. I shall wear white, the only objection to that being that jewels won't show out, as they would on a darker colour.

_To H. L. K._

#Albert Gate, London#,
June 22, 1887.

I am still exhausted, Dear, with the visions of a brilliant, motley, moving crowd, when I shut my eyes. Yesterday was beautiful, a glorious summer day. I was waked up at 6.30 by the dull rumble of carriages, and people already on the move. I thought they must have forgotten to call me, but the house was still wrapped in slumber, and though it was only 6.30 the Park was full of carriages, men in uniform and women in full dress. We started at 9.30 in the gala carriage, W. in uniform, and were followed by a second carriage, landau, the men equally in gala. We remained blocked for a long time in Piccadilly, it didn't seem possible to get on; distracted policemen, mounted and on foot, and officers did what they could, but there we remained, curiously enough all the Ambassadors' carriages together. Finally an order was given to let the Ambassadors' carriages pass, and we got on a little. Various Court carriages passed us--one so pretty with the three little daughters of the Duke of Edinburgh all in white with straw hats, and long white feathers, sitting on the back seat, and smiling and bowing, and looking quite charming with their fair hair streaming down their backs. They had an equerry in uniform with them on the front seat. Once past St. James's Street we went quickly enough thro' long lines of soldiers, and behind them quantities of people waiting patiently to see the great show. We went into the Abbey at the Poets' Corner, where an entrance was reserved for the Corps Diplomatique and Court functionaries. It was a fine sight; tier upon tier of seats covered with red cloth and filled with men in uniform, and women in handsome dresses. The Peers and Peeresses sat just below us and looked very well; as it was Collar Day, all the Garter men wore their white shoulder-knots, which were most effective. It was very difficult to distinguish people, the building is so enormous, but as we were close to the dais we saw all the Royalties perfectly. At last various members of the Royal Family came in, and the first Sovereign to enter was Her Majesty of the Sandwich Islands with her cortege; then came quickly the King of the Belgians, King of Denmark, various other Princes, and they all took their places on a platform facing the Queen's dais. We waited some time, and then came a flourish of trumpets which announced the Queen's arrival. It was most interesting to see her come up the aisle--quite alone in front--her three sons, Wales, Edinburgh, and Connaught, just behind her. She was dressed in black with silver embroidery, a white lace bonnet with feathers, and lace caught back by diamond pins. As she reached the dais she stepped on it quite alone, and advancing to the front made a pretty curtsey to the assembled Royalties. Then came a long procession of family Princes, headed by the Prince of Wales and the German Crown Prince, who looked magnificent in his white uniform, and the Princess of Wales and the German Crown Princess. They all passed before the Queen, and it was most striking to see her seated there, a quiet figure dressed in black, very composed and smiling, yet "emue" too, as the long line of children and grandchildren representing all Europe passed to do her homage. It was a gorgeous crowd of uniforms, orders, jewels, and really _glittering_ garments of all kinds; but every eye was fixed on the central figure. The service began at once and was impressive. The Prince Consort's "Te Deum" sounded magnificent with organ and full band. I must own to considerable distraction during the service, as I was quite taken up with looking at everything. When the ceremony was over--or nearly--we started at once, found our carriage (ordinary landau) at the Poets' Corner again, and drove quickly around by Belgravia and Albert Gate (breaking the lines of troops once or twice, but with no difficulty, as orders had been given), to the corner of Hamilton Place and Piccadilly. There we had to leave the carriage, but it was merely a few steps to my friend's house where we were to see the procession pass; however we should never have got there if we hadn't found the 4 gigantic policemen who were waiting for us, and who deposited us rather pulled about, but intact, at the door. We found the balcony prettily decorated and filled with people, and had an excellent view of the procession. The Queen's carriage was handsome, an open landau red and gold, with six cream-coloured horses with red and gold trappings, and running footmen. She was alone on the back seat; the Princesses of Wales and Germany on the front seat. The escort of Princes was very brilliant. The Prince of Wales looked well on a fine horse, and the German Crown Prince superb, towering over everyone else, and his helmet shining in the bright sunlight. The cheering was tremendous as the Queen passed, and one felt it was absolutely genuine (nothing commande), her people (I always like that phrase so much, "My people," when she uses it in a speech or proclamation) really delighted to have her still with them. Another who also was much cheered was Princess Mary of Teck. They love her, and she looked so happy and smiling as she acknowledged the salutation. She has such a gracious manner always to everyone--never seems bored. However I must say that for the Prince of Wales; no matter what the function is (and he must be bored very often) he never looks it, but always does graciously, and as if he liked it, whatever he undertakes. There was a very substantial lunch provided for us at Lady Borthwick's, and as soon as the cortege disappeared I clamoured for something to eat, as it was nearly 3.30, and I had had nothing to eat but my early cup of tea and piece of toast about 8.30. I went straight back to the Embassy after luncheon--even then, at 4 o'clock, we had to go at a foot's pace thro' the crowd--and I didn't stir again all the afternoon, but I had visitors at tea-time, as of course the windows and balconies giving on the Park were most attractive. There were thousands of people still in the Park, and Royal carriages and escorts coming and going; music, flags, and a general impression of movement and colour everywhere.

From a photograph copyright, by Hughes & Mullins, Ryde, England.]

In the evening we started at 10 for the Palace, and they thought there would be such a crowd that we had a mounted policeman, but we had no trouble. Everyone made way for the carriage, though, of course, the general traffic was stopped, and everybody (including our own secretaries, who weren't invited to the Palace, merely the "chefs de mission") in the middle of the streets, looking at the illuminations. There was great confusion at the Palace--dinners still going on and servants hurrying backward and forward with dishes, and piles of plates on the floor as we passed through the long corridor. We had to pass through the great hall where the numerous "suites" were dining--and we naturally hesitated a moment as they were still at table--but Colonel Byng came forward and ushered us upstairs, and into one of the large rooms. There were very few people--the "chefs de mission," the Nunzio who had come expressly, Lord and Lady Salisbury, and Lord C., Indian Secretary (as there were many Indian Princes). We waited nearly an hour and were then summoned to the ball-room, where the Queen and Court were assembled. The Queen was standing, dressed just as she always is for a Drawing-room, with her small diamond crown and veil, and again the background of Princes and uniforms made a striking contrast to the one black-robed figure. The Prince of Wales stood a little behind, on her right, also Lord Lathom (Lord Chamberlain). We all passed before her, two by two, with our husbands, and she said a few words to each one, but no real conversation; it was evidently an effort, and we felt we must not stay a moment longer than necessary. I talked to one or two people while the others were passing. The German Crown Princess came over and talked to us. I asked her if the Queen was very tired. She said not nearly as much as she expected, it was more the anticipation of the day that had made her nervous, that she was very agitated when she started, but that wore off, and she was not very tired this evening, and very happy, as were all her children, I said, "You might add her people, Madam, for I never saw such a splendid outburst of loyalty." The Crown Princess herself is perfectly delightful, so clever and cultivated, and so easy, with such beautiful, clear, smiling eyes. Do you remember how much I admired her in Rome the first time I met her? She is always so kind to us. W. loves to talk to her; they don't always agree, but she quite understands people having their own opinions, rather prefers it, I think, as she must necessarily be so often thrown with people who never venture to disagree with her. The Crown Prince of Sweden also came and recalled himself to me, and the Duc d'Aoste. The Queen remained about an hour; then the Royal party moved off in procession, and we got our carriages as quickly as we could. I have written you a volume (but you must say that doesn't happen often from my lazy pen, but I felt I must write at once, or I should never have the courage). Please send the letter to the family in America. I am dead tired, and my eyes shutting by themselves.

#London#, June 22, 1887