Chapter IX: Part 9

The King brought several photographs, which he distributed to his friends, and, wishing to write his name on them, desired me to give him "a nice pen with a broad point." Oh dear! Not a "nice" pen could be found in the house! And one with a broad point did not exist. As for the ink, it was thick at the bottom and thin on the top. He had to stir it about each time he put the pen in.

I was more than mortified.

PARIS, _1899_.

Dear L.,--Ambassador Eustis has been replaced by General Porter. It is fortunate for America that we have so clever and tactful a gentleman for our representative, especially in this moment of the Spanish-American War. The French sympathies are (or were) with the Spaniards, and the articles in the newspapers are, to say the least, satirical of the "Yankees."

When the reporters interviewed the Ambassador they got such a clear, straight, and concise view of the situation that they changed entirely their attitude, and _now_ at last the papers tell the truth.

General Porter and his wife have taken the beautiful Spitzer Hôtel and are the personifications of hospitality. The marble staircase is draped with the American flag. They receive in the ancestral hall filled with knights in armor, and the guests sit in medieval chairs. The picture-gallery, which is famous, is lighted at _al giorno_. I fancy that most of the pictures have been taken away; however, there are a few in each of the small rooms, through which the guests wander with their heads at an angle giving an impression of subtle criticism.

General Porter always has a story _à propos_, no matter what you are talking about. I wish I could remember some of the best. This one I _do_ remember. He said: "I never believe but half of what is told me, but," he added, laughing and pointing to a lady, who recently had twins, "this does not apply to _her_." He borrowed from Coquelin the following, "All American women are like pins--they go just as far as their heads allow them." Is this original? I think it good if it is.

Do you remember Countess de Trobriand?

Well, she is still flourishing at the ripe age of eighty, and gives _soirées_ in her apartments in the Champs Elysées. Some one said of these entertainments that they were not _assez brilliant_ to be called _trop brilliant_, but might be called _de trop_....

Zola is mixing himself up with _l'affaire_ (that is what one calls the Dreyfus tragedy; there is no other "affair" that counts), and is making himself very unpopular. He does not mind what he writes, and his attacks reach far and wide and spare no one. If he stirs up mud at the bottom of the well he does it in order to find the truth. At any rate, he is honest, though he has had to pay dear for the best policy. I do not read his books, but I have a great admiration for him. The public feeling is so strong against him that crowds of the populace rush about the streets pushing, howling, and screaming at the top of their lungs, "_Conspuez Zola!_" which I cannot translate in other words than, "Spit on Zola!" Mrs. Lawrence and I met a mob while driving through the Place de la Concorde, and a more absurd exhibition of vindictiveness cannot be imagined.

Poor Zola has been condemned to pay a fine of--how much do you think? Twenty-five thousand francs! He would not or could not pay. The authorities put all his worldly goods, which they valued at twenty thousand francs, up at auction, and went, on the day of the sale, belted with their official scarfes and armed with pretentions, and commenced the farce of the auction. An old kitchen table was the first thing to be sold. Two francs were offered. "Going, going, go--!" when a voice struck in, "_Twenty-five thousand francs._" This sudden turn nonplussed the authorities. The auction was called off and came to an untimely end because no one knew exactly what to do.

_May, 1900._

Dear ----,--The opening of the Exposition was a grand affair. I never saw so many people under one roof as there were yesterday at the Salle des Fêtes. The order in the streets was something wonderful. The police managed the enormous crowd as if it had been composed of so many tin soldiers.

The ladies of the Diplomatic Corps and the wives of the foreign commissioners sat with Madame Loubet in a tribune, on very hard benches. The President stood on a raised platform overlooking the multitude, surrounded by his Ministers, his official suite, and the Ambassadors and Foreign Ministers in full uniform. It was a most brilliant sight.

M. Loubet made his speech in as loud a voice as he could command, but I doubt if it was very audible. Several orchestras played before and after the speeches.

Since then I have been many times to the Exposition, and the only fault I can find with it so far is that it is too enormous; but I admire the cleverness of the architects, who have brought Paris into the middle of it and made it a part of it. Both sides of the Seine are utilized in the most practical manner.

Every country has its own superb building in the rue des Nations. Frederick is the _commisaire_ from Denmark. The Danish Pavilion is the first to be finished and is called a success. We baptized it with great _éclat_. There were speeches and champagne, and the Dane-brog was hoisted amid hurrahs of our compatriots.

The _tapis roulant_ (moving sidewalk) is a very good scheme, as it takes you to every point. As yet people are a little shy about it and will stand and stare a long time before venturing to put their feet on it.

The _fêtes_ at this time of the Exposition are overpowering. All the Ministers are outdoing themselves. They think nothing of inviting five hundred people to dinner and serving twenty courses. I sat next to M. L'Epine, _prefet de police_, and a more restless companion I never had, although when quietly seated in his place he is a most charming one. We had not been five minutes at the table before several telegrams were brought to him. A riot in Montmartre, a fire in the rue St. Honoré, or a duel at the Île de Puteaux, and he was up and down, telephoning and telegraphing, until finally before the end of the dinner he disappeared entirely. There were two concerts in different _salons_ during the evening, one vocal and the other orchestral, each guest choosing that which he liked best.

I go every day to the Exposition. There is always something new and interesting. Yesterday it was a lunch with Prince Carl and Princess Ingeborg (our Crown Prince's daughter, who married her handsome cousin of Sweden) at a restaurant called _Restaurant bleu_, under the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. The Prince wished to make the acquaintance of Mr. Eiffel, and the Swedish Minister, who was present, secured the distinguished architect's company.

He went with us to the very top of his modern tower of Babel, even to his own particular den, which is the highest point, where he alone has the right to go. The sensation of being up in the clouds is not pleasant, and as you change from one elevator to the other and cast your eyes down the giddy space you tremble. The view of Paris spread out under you is stupendous, but I would not go up there again for worlds.

The princely pair dined with us the same evening _en toilette de ville_, and we went to the rue de Paris to see Sadi-Jako. The Japanese Minister, who sat in the box next to us, introduced her when she came in during the _entr'actes_ to pay her respects to him. She is very small, and has the high, shrill voice which the Japanese women cultivate. She is the first woman who has ever acted in a Japanese theater. Otherwise the acting has always been done by men. Sadi's husband performs also, and in a dreadfully realistic manner. He stabbed himself with a sword, and with such vigor that real blood, so It looked, ran down in bucketfuls over the stage, and he groaned and writhed in his death-throes.

* * * * *

Paris would not be Paris if it did not keep us on the _qui-vive_. Every kind of celebrity from everywhere is duly lionized. Paris, never Republican at heart, still loves royalty in any shape, and at the merest specimen of it the Parisians are down on their knees.

* * * * *

We have had the heavy-eyed Krueger straight from the Transvaal. Paris made a great fuss over him, but he took his lionization very calmly. At the Opéra people cheered and waved their handkerchiefs. He came forward to the edge of the _ioge_, bowed stiffly, and looked intensely bored. The _protocole_ furnishes the same program for each lion. A dinner at the Elysées, a promenade, a gala opera, _et voilà_.

Fritjof Nansen, the blond and gentle Norwegian explorer, has just finished his visit here. As a Scandinavian friend he came for a cup of tea and made himself most agreeable, and was, unlike other celebrities, willing to be drawn out. He told us of some of his most exciting adventures. Starvation and exposure of all sorts belong to explorers.

No one would think, to look at the mild and blue-eyed Nansen, that he had gone through so many harrowing experiences.

"The worst were," he said, "losing my dogs. I loved them all. To see them die from want of food and other sufferings broke my heart."

I am sure that what he said was true, he looked so kind and good.

Among other personages of distinction Paris greets is the Shah of Persia. The Elysées gave him the traditional gala dinner, to which the diplomats were invited. The ballroom was arranged as a winter-garden, with a stage put at the end of it. The ballet from the Opera danced and played an exquisite pantomime, but the august guest sat sullen and morose, hardly lifting his Oriental eyes. People were brought up to him to be introduced, but he did not condescend to favor them with more than a guttural muttering--probably his private opinion, meant only for his suite. He merely glanced at us and looked away, as if too much bored for words. M. Loubet stood on one side, and Madame Loubet sat in a _fauteuil_ next to him, but he had nothing to say to either of them. The government had put Dr. Evans's beautiful and perfect villa in the Bois at his disposition. The persons belonging to the house say that it is swimming in dirt, and they never expect to get it clean again. The suite appear to have no other amusements than driving about the streets from morning to night. The Elysées must have a hundred carriages in use for them. Last evening there was a gala performance at the Grand Opéra for the _blasé_ Shah. They gave "Copelia," with the lovely Mauri as _prima ballerina_. The audience made no demonstration, although it ought to have shown a certain amount of Te Deumness, on account of the Shah's escape from an attempt on his life. He was miraculously saved, and will go on living his emotionless life for ever and ever. May Allah protect him ... from us!

Speaking of Orientals, the Chinese Minister has taken a very large apartment in the Avenue Hoche. Evidently they expect to entertain on a large scale. The wife is called lady, but _he_ is not called lord; the two pretty daughters look more European than Chinese, having pink-and-white complexions.

His Excellency was frightened out of his wits when M. Loubet, desiring a private interview, sent for him. He, not knowing European ways, thought his last hours had come, and, expecting speedy extermination, hid himself.

Milady, though half American, did not know exactly what Ascension day meant and asked her Chinese servant. He replied, "Great Churchman gone topside to-day."

Mr. Peck is the American commissioner to the Exposition, and Mr. Thomas Walsh is one of the members of the commission. He gave a colossal dinner at the restaurant at d'Armenonville, and begged Mr. Martin, who knows every one in Paris, to select the guests. It was only on the evening of the dinner he made the acquaintance of the one hundred people to whom he was host.

Nordica sang after dinner, and sang charmingly, as is her wont.

Mr. Walsh invited us to the American section. We sat on the tarred roof of a restaurant, where lunch was served _a l'Américaine_. My heart gladdened at the thought of hot griddle-cakes and corn fritters; but although everything was delicious, sitting on a tarred roof and being served by a loquacious black tyro was not appreciated by the foreign element.

A lady--I won't tell you her name, though you know it--showed the greatest interest in the house Mr. Walsh is building in Washington, and desired greatly to advise him and help him choose furniture for it. She thought Louis XVI. style very suitable for one _salon_, and proposed Renaissance style for the library, and Empire for the gallery, and so forth. Mr. Walsh said, in his dry way, "You must really not bother so much, madame; plain Tommy Walsh is good enough for me." After which she lost interest in him and gave him up.

We were horrified to hear of King Humbert's assassination at Monza. He was such a good man and loved his country so devotedly. To be struck down by one of his own people seems too cruel. How dreadful for Queen Margherita!

Court mourning is ordered for three weeks.

PARIS, _1900_.

Dear L.,--Just a few lines from me to-day to answer your question, O merciless and adorable friend! Dreyfus has been brought back from the dreadful island where he has been confined these last five years. Five years of torture! He was taken to Rennes to be tried. His lawyer, Labori, has driven the judges almost out of their senses.

The sensational attacks of Zola and his sudden "_J'accuse_," the suicide of Henry, the repeated demissions of the Ministers and Générals, _la femme Voilée_, the disappearance of Esterhazy (stamped as a first-class scamp), the attempt to get Labori's papers by shooting him--the ludicrous and tragic episodes have at last come to an end. Dreyfus is declared innocent, and people are beginning to realize what has happened.

Björnstjerne Björnson, the famous Norwegian poet, has, from the beginning, taken Dreyfus's defense and written article after article in the papers and proclaimed in every manner his belief in his innocence. He hurried to Paris when he heard that Dreyfus had returned. We were very glad when an invitation came from the Swedish Minister (Mr. Ackermann) to lunch with the great author. I wish that you could see him, for to see him is to know him. He has the kindest and noblest face in the world. I wept over his account of the interview between him and Dreyfus. The day and hour were fixed for his visit. He found Madame Dreyfus alone. She begged him to wait a moment, because her husband was so agitated at the thought of seeing him that he could not trust himself to appear. When at last Dreyfus came into the room Björnson opened his arms. Dreyfus fell weeping into them and sobbed, "_Merci! Merci! Vous avez crû en moi_"--Björnson replied: "_Mon ami, j'ai souffert pour vous, mon pauvre ami_." Of course, this is only a very little part of what he told me, but it was all in this strain. He said that during the interview, which lasted an hour, Dreyfus did not utter a word of reproach against his tormentors.

Björnson gave a tea-party at his daughter's house in Passy, and invited us. I hoped that possibly Dreyfus might be there, but he was not. However, I had the pleasure of seeing Colonel Picquard again, and we had a long talk together. Afterward, when I bade Björnson good-by, he stooped down and kissed me on my forehead before the roomful of people. Imagine my embarrassment at this unexpected and gratuitous token of friendship, but, the kisser being Björnson, every one knew that the accolade was merely the outpouring of a kind and good heart.

PARIS, _August 15, 1900_.

The hottest day we have had! The thermometer was way up in the clouds. My maid, in doing my hair this morning, informed me of this fact. We conferred about my toilet for the afternoon _fête_ in the Elysées Gardens. We heard that twelve thousand people were invited. Certainly I should be lost in a crowd like that and need not be dressed in my best. My maid thought a rather flimsy gown of about year before last would be good enough. Johan thought that he would be so entirely out of sight that he was on the point of not going at all. Well, we had a queer awakening. I was very much astonished when the master of ceremonies met me at the entrance and led me into the garden, where the vast lawn was one mass of humanity. He bade me take the first seat. I said to myself, "It is only for the moment; I shall have to move farther on later, when a higher-ranked lady arrives." Not at all! I remained in the place of honor, to the right of Madame Loubet, to the very end.

In the middle of the lawn were placed a dozen large red arm-chairs before which a strip of carpet was stretched, where we sat.

Three performances were arranged for the afternoon. To the right was a Japanese theater where Sadi-Jako and her troupe played their _répertoire_. In the center was a Grecian temple, before which a ballet of pretty girls danced on the grass in Grecian dresses. The effect was charming. To the left was a little Renaissance theater where people of different nationalities danced and sang in their national costumes. I never saw anything so wonderfully complete. Only the French can do things like that. When the moment arrived for the official promenade, you may imagine how I felt when I saw Monsieur Loubet approach me and offer me his arm. After all, I was the first lady! Why was I not dressed in my best?

Monsieur and I walked at the head of the procession. We made the tour of the gardens and through the whole palace, gazed on and stared at by the entire crowd of the twelve thousand spectators, until at last we reached the _salon_ where the buffet was established.

PARIS, _1902_.

Dear L.,--You might think that we are nearly exhausted, but health and energy seem to assert themselves, and we bob up like those weighted playthings children have. We have turned heads-up from our journey to Denmark. We celebrated our silver wedding at Aalholm. I won't bother you with the usual phrase, "How the time has flown!" Twenty-five years! You have seen what an ordinary wedding in Denmark is like. You can coat this one with silver, and then you will but know half the excitement. The setting being Aalholm, the chief actors J. and I, the chorus being family and friends, you may imagine that this _fête_ left nothing to be desired. Guests came from everywhere to the number of forty. Even our best man came from Norway. Deputations and telegrams dropped on us by the hundreds; presents of silver in every form and shape. My dress was silver, and silver sprays in my hair, and J. wore them in his buttonhole. The dinner arranged by Frederick on viking lines was splendid. Speeches at every change of plates. I wept tears of pathos. An address of five hundred names, adorned with water-color sketches of our different Legations, bearing a silver cover and a coat of arms, was presented by the Danish colony in Paris. It was all very touching and gratifying.

The famous beauty, Countess Castiglione, departed this world a few days ago. She was the woman most talked of in the sixties.

When I first saw her she was already _passée_. There is nothing that has not been said about her, but of this I know absolutely very little. She used to live in Passy, and was called "_La recluse du passé_." She was so extraordinarily dressed and always created a sensation.

For the last thirty years no notice had been taken of her. I quote the _Figaro_:

"Countess Castiglione in her day was considered the most beautiful woman living. A classical beauty, but entirely without charm. For the last years she has lived, after having arrived at the age of eighty, in a dismal apartment in the Place Vendôme, friendless, forgotten, and neglected."

All her mirrors were covered with black stuff of some kind; she did not wish to see the sad relics of her beauty.

At eleven o'clock every evening she took a walk with her maid around the Place Vendôme. She stayed in bed all day, never rising till twilight, and receiving no one but one or two old admirers who were faithful to the end.

Her things (_haillons_ they were called in official language) were sold at auction--piles of old ball-shoes, head-gear, gloves stiffened with moisture and age. Apparently, she never gave anything away, but hoarded her treasures, which after her death were swept in corners and smelled of mold and damp.

We are named to Berlin. I am very sorry to leave Paris; I was getting quite accustomed to its little ways. Johan went to the Elysées to present his _lettres de rappel_. It seems only yesterday he went to present his _lettres de créance_. The President gave him the Grand Cordon of the _Légion d'honneur_, and to me the beautiful _service de Sevres_ called "_La Chasse_," a _surtout de table_ of five pieces. This is only given to royalty or Ambassadors. One cannot buy it, as it belongs to the French government. I heard that they hesitated between giving me that or a piece of Gobelin tapestry. I was glad they chose the _surtout de table_. It will be useful in two ways--as a subject of conversation and as a beautiful souvenir of our stay in Paris.

BERLIN, 1902-1912

BERLIN, _January 22, 1903_.

Dear L.,--J.'s presentation of his _lettres de créance_ to the Emperor was a small affair compared with former functions, which were combined with gala coaches, powdered coachmen, and _pourboires_. It was simply taking a train to Potsdam, in which there was a section called _Kaiserlich_. The Minister of Foreign Affairs accompanied him, as was his duty. In a royal carriage from the court they were driven to the Neues Palais. J. was met by the _Introducteur des Ambassadeurs_ (Herr von Knesebeck) and conducted into the presence of the Emperor, where J. made his speech. The Emperor was very official and ceremonious when he responded, but in the conversation afterward was affability itself. J.'s audience with the Empress was very hurried, because of the Crown Prince of Denmark, who had arrived the night before in Berlin. He stayed two days at Neues Palais.

I arrived two weeks after this. The custom here is for a Minister's wife to be presented by the _doyenne_ (Madame Sjögeny) to the _grande maîtresse_ (Countess Brockdorf) on one of her reception-days _before_ the _Schleppenkur_. I found her very charming. My audience with the Empress was fixed for a date a week later, and the Swedish and the Peruvian Ministers' wives were to be received at the same time.

We met in the _salon_ of Countess Brockdorf on the day appointed, and, preceded by her, went together to the _salon_ of the Empress, where we found Her Highness already waiting. We sat about in a circle. The Empress talked French with us and was most gracious. She has a wonderful figure; her white hair and youthful face and her lovely, kind smile make her very beautiful. She said that the Emperor remembered me from Rome and Prince Henry (her brother-in-law) recollected having met me at Monza.

I went in company with these same two ladies at an audience to the Princess Henry, who lives in the pretty pavilion on the left of the palace, overlooking the canal. She only comes to Berlin when there are _fêtes_ at court, otherwise she and the Prince live at Kiel.

Our next visit was to Princess Friedric-Leopold, the Empress's sister. She lives in a palace in Wilhelm-strasse when in Berlin. She is very lively, talkative, and extremely natural in conversation. She has a beautiful country place near Potsdam.

The _Schleppenkur_ is a great event in Berlin. It takes place before the birthday of the Emperor. I had never seen anything like this ceremony, and it interested me very much. Perhaps it will you. It takes place at a very early hour in the evening--eight o'clock. This makes it necessary for one to begin to dress at six. Naturally, you go without any dinner--a cup of bouillon is considered sufficient to keep you alive.

It is the custom for diplomats to engage for the evening a _Schutzmann_--a heavy mounted policeman. Our particular one was waiting for us before our house and rode by the side of our carriage until we arrived at the entrance of the _Schloss_. He looked very important, but I do not think he was of much use. However, it seems that a _Schutzmann_ comes under the chapter of _Noblesse oblige_, and we took him. He did a great deal of horsemanship, but never dared to disobey the chief policeman's orders, and when we arrived at Portal 4 we had to wait for the file like other people. He did not call up our carriage at the end, but had to be called up himself by the police force; then he appeared, bristling with energy, and galloped at our horses' heads to our door, where we laid our offering in his hand and bade him good night. The _Schutzmann_ is one of our privileges and nuisances. I felt sorry for people who had been standing in the cold street for hours to watch the procession of carriages and the gala coaches (which the Ambassadors use on this occasion), because they only get a glimpse through the frost-covered windows of glittering uniforms and dazzling diamonds. Your dress (instructions as to which are printed even to the smallest detail on the back of your invitation) must be a ball-dress, with a train four meters long, short sleeves, and a _décolletage_ of the Victorian period, and white kid (_glacé_) gloves.

We arrived at the Wendel entrance and mounted the long and fatiguing staircase before we reached the second story where the state apartments are. In the hall of the _corps de garde_ were several masters of ceremony, who received us with deep bows. I wondered what certain large baskets which looked like clothes-baskets were, and was told that ladies wearing boas or lace wraps around their shoulders were expected to drop them into these baskets. They would then be conveyed to the other staircase, where, after the ceremony, we would find our servants and carriages--and, we hoped, our boas! We passed through different rooms where groups of ladies were assembled. The _Corps Diplomatique_ filled two rooms. The ladies were in the first one, which leads to the Throne Room.

The Hungarian and Russian ladies wear their national costumes, which are very striking and make them all look like exotic queens. The English ladies wear the three feathers and the long tulle white veil, which make them look like brides. We others wear what we like, ball-dresses of every hue, and all our jewels. No one can find fault with us if our trains, our _décolletage_, our sleeves and gloves, are not according to regulations.

The chamberlains arranged us, consulting papers which they had in their hands, after the order of our rank. Being the latest member, I was at the very end, only the wives of two _charges d'affaires_ being behind me. The one directly behind me held up my train, just as I held the train of the Peruvian Minister's wife in front of me. I hope that I have made this clear to you. The _doyenne_ stood by the door which led into the Throne Room through which she was to enter. Four meters behind her was her daughter holding her train, and behind her were the ladies who had not already been presented at court.

The room not being long enough, we formed a serpentine curve, reminding one of the game called "Follow the leader." It must look funny to any one not knowing why we were so carefully tending the clothes of other people. I never let go the train of the colleague in front until she reached the door of the Throne Room, where I spread it out on the floor. Then, as the lady passed into the room, two lackeys, one on each side of the door, poked the train with long sticks until it lay peacock-like on the parquet.

This is rather a critical moment. One has a great many things to think of. In the first place, you must keep at the proper distance from your predecessor. Of this you can be pretty sure, because if you walk too fast there is the restraining hand of the chamberlain to prevent you. Still, there is always the fear of dropping your fan or tripping over the front of your gown or of your tiara falling off.

When I came in I saw His Majesty standing on the throne, stately and solemn. For two hours he stands thus. With a mass of officers on my right and a few chamberlains at intervals on my left I advanced very slowly and, I hope, with a certain dignity. I saw the train of my colleague turn the corner around the officers. Two other lackeys darted forth and pronged my train in place. I made my courtesy first to the Emperor and then to the Empress, who stood at his left.

Next to her Majesty stood the _grande maîtresse_. I put myself by her side and presented Frederikke and our secretary's wife, and the _grande maîtresse_ said their names to the Empress. Then as we passed out a servant picked up our trains and threw them over our arms, disappearing through the door of the immensely long gallery which is filled with pictures commemorating the numerous battles and events of the last forty years. I wondered, when I looked at the stretch of carpet, how any one carpet could be made so long.

As I am the latest arrived Minister's wife, I and my two acolytes were the last persons to enter the _Weissesaal_ where the buffet stood. This buffet extended almost the whole length of the vast room. We refreshed ourselves. My little self was in sad need of being refreshed, and I devoured the sandwiches spread out temptingly under my eyes, and drank some reviving champagne, and waited for my better half, who, with the other better halves, was making his bow to the sovereigns. The ladies of the _Corps Diplomatique_ pass before the throne first and are followed by the gentlemen; then come the highest-ranked princesses, and so forth. It is very fatiguing moving about with one's court train dragging on one's arm, and I for one know that I was glad when we went down the marble staircase and found the servant who had sorted our boas from the baskets. There is no antechamber at the foot of the staircase, so one must stay exposed to the wintry blasts when the door is opened to let people out. It is extraordinary how long it takes ladies to disappear after their carriages are announced. They say a few last words, linger over the picking up of their skirts, and go out leisurely; also the servant seems unnecessarily long mounting his box, settling himself before the coachman drives away.

BERLIN, _January, 1903_.

Dear ----,--The 21st was the Emperor's birthday.

The whole city is beflagged, and there are all sorts of illumination preparations. "W's" in every dimension and color, the Emperor's bust surrounded by laurel leaves, and flags in every window. Johan went in gala uniform to the chapel in the _Schloss_, where a religious service is always held, after which every one goes to congratulate his Majesty and see the _défilé cour_ afterward.

In the evening was the gala opera. Johan dined at Count Billow's (the _Reichskanzler_) at five o'clock, while I dressed for the theater. We were obliged to be there at eight o'clock sharp. "Sharp" is the word here. There is no loitering where the Emperor is concerned. Everything is on time, and his Majesty is sometimes _before_ the hour mentioned, but never _after_.

The Opera-house is rather small, but was beautifully decorated with garlands of artificial flowers hanging from the center of the dome down to the balconies, and from the proscenium boxes to the orchestra. In the center of the house is the royal box, the balustrade of which is covered with real flowers. From all the balconies are hung beautiful carpets covered with festoons. The whole interior was a mass of color.

The Emperor and Empress sat, of course, in the front of the box, while the other chairs were filled by royal guests who had come to Berlin to congratulate the Emperor. The King of Saxony, the King of Würtemberg, and the other German royalties, all sat in the royal box. The Emperor's sons had their seats in the balcony.

The Ambassadors occupied the four proscenium boxes. The highest princesses of the German nobility sat in the next balconies. The _Corps Diplomatique_ occupied the boxes and balconies adjoining the royal box. All the officers and secretaries of the Embassies sat in the parquet.

When the audience was seated the _directeur générale des théâtres_ entered the royal box, came forward, and rapped with his stick three times, a signal that their Majesties were about to enter. The royal party came in very quietly and took their places. Every one in the house, of course, stood up and bowed. It was a pretty sight from our balcony to see all the men's heads in the parquet bend down while they saluted their Majesties. It looked like the swaying of wheat by the wind.

Gradually all the lights were turned out and the overture commenced. The opera was "Carmen" and Madame Destinn sang.

In the _entr'acte_ the diplomats and the ladies and gentlemen in the first balcony were begged to go in the foyer, where they were presented to the different royalties assembled there.

The Empress was covered with magnificent diamonds and pearls, and the jewels displayed by all these royal ladies, and all the glittering uniforms of the princes and officers made a splendid sight.

The Emperor came toward me with a gleam of recognition, and commenced in an entirely unceremonious way, shaking me heartily by the hand:

"How do you do? It's a long time since I saw you."

"Not since Rome, when your Majesty was there in 1889," I answered.

"So long ago? I remember it so well! As if it was yesterday!"

"I, too," I said. "I remember your Majesty being in the Statue Gallery of the Capitol, where you looked like one of the statues itself, in your white uniform."

"I remember," he said. "It was a dreadful glare."

"It was the first time they ever put electricity in the Capitol."

"They put too much in," he said, "and such a lot of people! Dear me! I shall never forget it. Didn't I look bored?"

"No, your Majesty looked very serious and as handsome as a Lohengrin" I answered.

"Lohengrin, really! I did not see any Elsa I wanted to save."

"Oh, I meant only a Lohengrin _de passage_," I replied.

The Emperor laughed. "That is good."

"I recollect what your Majesty wrote on the photograph you gave Monsieur Crispi."

"Really? What was it? I don't remember."

"You wrote: '_Gentilhomme, gentilhomme; corsaire, corsaire et demi_'."

"What a good memory you have!" he said, and added, very kindly, "I am very glad to have you and your husband here, and I hope you will like Berlin. But"--holding a finger warningly--"don't look for many Lohengrins."

In case, my dear, you don't understand this, I will tell you what it means: If you are nice to me I will be equally nice to you, _but_ if you are horrid I will (pokerly speaking) see you and go you one better.

BERLIN, _January, 1903_.

Dear ----,--Every diplomatic lady has a reception-day. Mine is Thursday. Last Thursday there were one hundred and sixty people.

My first receptions in January were very perplexing, because so many people came whom I did not know and who did not know me. Our two secretaries, Frederikke and I have a code of signals which help me over many a rough place. Visitors leave their cards in the antechamber. The secretary stands in the first _salon_ and waves them into the large _salon_ where I am. If I raise my eyebrows the secretary knows that I depend upon him to find out who the person is, and the name, if possible. He, therefore, gets the card and shows it to me by some magical twist. Sometimes he manages to whisper the name. Often I fail to grasp either the whisper or the card; then I am lost, and flounder hopelessly about without bearings of any kind, asking leading-questions, cautiously feeling my way, not knowing whether I am talking to a person of great importance or the contrary. When at last my extreme wariness and diplomacy get hold of a clue, then I swim along beautifully on the top of the wave.

Frederikke helps me by taking odds and ends off my hands and sorting them out behind her teacups. All the young people flock about her, and with their laughter and flutterings add a gay note to the official element around me.

The Emperor desires that all his officers should be accustomed to society, and they receive orders to make afternoon visits, which they do--poor things--I suppose, much to their distaste. As no one knows them and they do not know any one, it must be very awkward for them. They come six at a time, leave a package of cards in the antechamber, present themselves, and each other. They click their heels, kiss the hand of the hostess, give a hopeless glance about them, move in a body toward the tea-table, return, and go through the same ceremony, and leave together, making a great clinking of swords and leaving an odor of perfumed pomade.

BERLIN, _January, 1903_.

Dear L.,--I have been to my first court ball here, I will describe this one to you, and never again.

The invitation we received was very large. It told us that we were invited by order of his Majesty, King and Emperor, to appear at the Königlicheschloss, Thursday, at eight. We were accompanied, as usual, by the policeman on horseback. It amused me, while we were waiting in the carriage, to see standing before one of the entrances to the palace a whole line of soldiers with _serviettes_ hung over their shoulders. They were there for the purpose of washing the dishes after the supper.

As I have said before, the _Wendel treppe_ is very high and tiresome to mount. We found the hall of the _corps de garde_ filled with youthful pages whose ages are anywhere from fifteen to twenty. They were dressed in red coats, with large frills of lace, held in place by their mothers' best diamond brooch, and neat little low shoes with buckles and neat little white silk legs.

I glided along the polished floor through the different rooms, which were empty, save for the numerous chamberlains. All had papers and diagrams in their hands, and they told the gentlemen as they passed who they were to take in to supper, and the name of the supper-room. Each room has a name, like "Marine Room," "Black Eagle Room," and so forth.

The long gallery was filled with officers, whose uniforms were of every imaginable color and description, and gentlemen who looked as if they had just stepped out of a picture-frame. They wear their calling on their sleeves, as it were. The Academician has a different costume from the judge. I noticed a clergyman in his priestly robes, his Elizabethan ruff around his neck, his breast covered with decorations. He was sipping a glass of hot punch and smiling benignly about him. He had a most kind and sympathetic face. I would like to confess my sins to him, but just now I don't happen to have any to confess.

Tea was passed about while we were waiting to enter the ballroom. In the _Weissesaal_ the _Corps Diplomatique_ has a raised platform reserved for it on the right of the throne where we ladies, beginning with the ambassadress, stand, following precedence. On the other side are all the princesses of the German nobility. I was shown to my place on the platform.

When the two thousand people collected in this room raised their voices a little more than was seemly, the master of ceremonies pounded his stick on the floor--_there was to be no loud talking_--silence reigned a moment, and then the unruly guests burst out again, and were again reduced to silence by another and more ominous thump. The orchestra began the march of "Tannhaüser." This was the signal for the entrance of the sovereigns. No one dared to breathe. People straightened themselves up, the ladies stepped down from their platform. From the middle arcades the young pages--twenty-four in number--entered in pairs. Then came the Oberhof Marshal alone, followed by the four greatest personages in Berlin, the Duke Trachenberg, Prince Fürstenberg, Prince Hohenlohe, and Prince Solms-Baruth. After them came the Emperor with the Empress on his arm. Every one bowed. They were followed by the five sons of the Emperor--the Crown Prince, Prince Adalbert, Prince Eitel Fritz, Prince August Wilhelm, and Prince Joachim; then all the princes and princesses of the house of Prussia.

It was a very imposing sight as they all marched in. When the Emperor and the Empress reached the throne they made a stately bow to each other and separated, the Empress turning to the _doyenne_ (the first ambassadress) and the Emperor crossing to the Ambassadors. Each _chef de mission_ stood in front of his secretaries and presented them.

My place was between the wives of the Swedish and the Brazilian Ministers. My neighbor was very unhappy because she was not able to use her eyeglasses. Eye-glasses are one of the things that are not allowed, nor are such things as boas or lace wraps.

The Empress spoke to all the ladies in either German, French, or English. She was accompanied by the _grande maîtresse_, who stood near.

Right behind the Emperor are two gentlemen who are always within speaking distance. The first is the tallest young man to be found. He wears a red uniform, white knee-breeches, very high boots, a breastplate representing a brilliant rising sun, and a high blazing helmet surmounted by a silver eagle. This makes him the most conspicuous person in the room, so that you may always know where the Emperor is by seeing the young officer's towering helmet above the crowd. The other is General Scholl, a dear, kind old gentleman, who is dressed in the costume of Frederick the Great's time, with a white wig, the pigtail of which is tied with black ribbon, a huge jabot of lace with a diamond pin on his breast.

All the other court persons wear dark blue dress-coats, with gold buttons, and carry in one hand the awe-inspiring stick, and in the other the list for the suppers. Some of them are rather vain about their legs, and stand profile-wise so that they can be admired. They do look very well turned out, I must say, with their silk stockings and low buckled shoes.

The ladies of the _Corps Diplomatique_ are not always as observant of court rules as they ought to be, and their _décolletage_ is not always impeccable. If Worth sends a corsage with the fashionable cut--what do they do? They manage, when they stand on their platform _en vue_, to slip their shoulders out, thereby leaving a tell-tale red mark, only to slip the shoulders in place when royalty has its back turned.

The Empress was followed by a second tall young officer. He wore a red uniform and a hat with a high red feather, easily seen from a distance. Countess Brockdorf, to distinguish her from other ladies, wears a long black mantilla on her head and looks like a _duègne à l'Espagnole_. The other ladies of honor stand near the Empress in the background. I forgot to say that the wives of foreign Ministers have _fauteuils_ on their platform, behind which stand their secretaries' wives.

The ball was opened by the Crown Prince, who danced with the youngest _demoiselle d'honneur_, then the other princely couples joined. None but the princes have the privilege of dancing at first. The _valse a deux temps_ only is permitted. The court likes better the old-fashioned method of revolving in circles round and round the room, but occasionally it permits the lancers.

The young ladies and gentlemen, who had been practising their dancing for weeks, began their gavotte. The ancient _ballet-danseuse_ sat up under an arch in the ceiling, and held up a warning finger if any mistake happened. The dances they learn are gavottes and minuets, which are very ingeniously arranged. Some of the officers looked rather awkward when they had to point their toes or gaze in the eyes of their partners. During one of these dances the Empress went off into the gallery, next to the ballroom, and ladies new to the court were brought up and presented to her.

Princess Henry and Princess Leopold then made the tour of the guests. Each time a royal person came to speak to us we were obliged to descend from our platform, in order to be on the same level. The Emperor talked with all the ladies. To me he spoke in English, which, of course, he speaks perfectly. He was dressed in a Hussar uniform, and held his casque in his left hand, and offered his right. He showed me a new decoration he had just received from the Sultan. He pointed out the splendid diamonds, and seemed very pleased with it.

A _Vortänzer_ (the leader of the dance) is chosen in the beginning of the season. His duty is to arrange all balls and lead all cotillions that are given by society during the winter. He gives advice, indicates the officers who dance well--in fact, arranges everything. The young people pass three delightful flirtatious weeks learning these gavottes and minuets. Many a happy couple date their bliss from those dancing-lessons.

As I knew who was to take me in to supper, I waited in my place until my partner, the Minister of Justice, came to fetch me. I was very happy to be portioned off to such a charming gentleman. We were told to go in the Marine Room, where were the Emperor and the Empress. Each Prince had a table for twelve, over which he presided. At ours was Prince Adalbert, the Emperor's naval son. A supper for two thousand guests sounds rather formidable, does it not? With a slight difference in favor of the first three rooms, the same supper is served to all. A supper here is just like a dinner, beginning with soup, two warm dishes, an entrée, dessert, fruit, and coffee.

On our return to the ballroom there was some more dancing. The last dance was the prettiest of them all. Their Majesties took their places on the throne, stood watching with a pleased smile the procession of dancers who came in, four pairs at a time, from the last door of the ballroom. In each group the four officers belonged to the same regiment. First they danced a gavotte, and then twirled off in a waltz. Then the other four couples came in. There were forty or fifty couples altogether. When they had all entered they formed a fan-shaped line and advanced toward their Majesties, making the deepest of courtesies. Then they spread out and made a large circle. The Emperor and the Empress bowed their thanks, and the dancers retired, and the orchestra sounded a fanfare. The ball was over. The Emperor offered his arm to the Empress, and all the Princes followed in the same order in which they had entered. As we went through the long gallery servants handed glasses of hot punch about, which were very acceptable before going out in the cold air. I happened to glance in the open door of a room we passed and saw a Mont Blanc of _serviettes_ piled up to the ceiling, and next to that room was a regiment of soldiers wiping plates.

After the _Schleppenkur_ and before the Kaiser's birthday comes the _Ordens Fest_. It is a yearly entertainment the Emperor gives to those who have received the Prussian Order of the Red Eagle, the highest in rank of the elder members, and all the newly made. Johan has just received the decoration.

Here every one sees all sorts of people, from cab-drivers to princes. There is a luncheon for two thousand guests. The Emperor and the Empress walk about and talk to as many as they can. The other evening we went to the Winter Garden, and the head waiter said to Johan, "I have not seen you for a long time, your Excellency--not since we lunched together at the _Schloss_ at the _Or dens Fest_."

BERLIN, _1903_.

Dear L.,--The dear old King of Denmark came to Berlin to pay a visit to the Emperor. He arrived the night before last. We went to fetch him at the station. Johan was instructed to take rooms at the hotel for the suite, but the Emperor begged the King to stay at the _Schloss_, which he consented to do. The next morning the Emperor came to Berlin and drove the King out to the Neues Palais at Potsdam, where there was a luncheon. Johan said it was quite touching to see how tender and affectionate the Emperor is toward the King. Johan and his secretary were the only persons present outside the family. It was very amusing (Johan said) after luncheon to see the young Princess Victoria Louise and Prince Oscar, who went about with their fingers on their lips. J. wondered why. The Crown Prince told him that his young brother and sister talked so much that he had bribed them to keep silent for ten minutes and had promised them a mark each. They got the two marks! The Kaiser has great affection for the King. His speech of welcome when he drank the King's health at lunch was very touching.

This afternoon the King came to take tea with us. I had not seen him since the death of the Queen. It was a great pleasure to have him in my house. He and I sat in the large _salon_, while Johan, the King's adjutant, and a German gentleman attached to the King during his stay here remained in the next room. The King only talked about the Queen. I, who loved her so much, was all tears. His Majesty once in a while would put his hand on mine and say, "You loved her." We had our tea alone. He told me that the Queen's room in Amalienborg remains just as she had left it. My photograph was on the mantelpiece in her boudoir, and the cushion that I had embroidered for her was still on her _chaise-longue_. Nothing there was to be disturbed.

As the King left I pointed to the portrait of himself he had given me, which was hanging on the wall. I said:

"I prize this, your Majesty, more than anything I own, because you gave it to me yourself."

"I was better-looking then than I am now. Is that not true?"

"Your Majesty is always handsome in _my_ eyes," I answered.

"Dear madame, you make me vain." And he took my hand, and the kind King kissed it like a _preux chevalier_ of the old school.

As I followed him to the door he said, "Do not come any farther; you will take cold. I will bid you good-by here." He is about eighty-five years old, and as youthful in his movements as a young man.

J. said, "I am sorry we have no lift."

"I do not need a lift; I can still run down the stairs." Which he did in a surprising manner.

The King left that evening; and as he begged me not to come to the station, J. went without me.

_February, 1903._