Part 1 (1/2)
The Sunny Side of Diplomatic Life, 1875-1912.
by Lillie DeHegermann-Lindencrone.
NOTE
MADAME DE HEGERMANN-LINDENCRONE, the writer of these letters, is the wife of the recently retired Danish Minister to Germany. She was formerly Miss Lillie Greenough, of Cambridge, Ma.s.sachusetts, where she lived with her grandfather, Judge Fay, in the fine old Fay mansion, now the property of Radcliffe College.
As a child Miss Greenough developed the remarkable voice which later was to make her well known, and when only fifteen years of age her mother took her to London to study under Garcia. Two years later Miss Greenough became the wife of Charles Moulton, the son of a well-known American banker, who had been a resident in Paris since the days of Louis Philippe. As Madame Charles Moulton the charming American became an appreciated guest at the court of Napoleon III. Upon the fall of the Empire Mrs. Moulton returned to America, where Mr. Moulton died, and a few years afterward she married M. de Hegermann-Lindencrone, at that time Danish Minister to the United States, and later periods his country's representative at Stockholm, Rome, Paris, Was.h.i.+ngton and Berlin.
THE SUNNY SIDE OF DIPLOMATIC LIFE
WAs.h.i.+NGTON, 1875-1880
WAs.h.i.+NGTON, _November, 1875_.
Dear Mother,--After my hurriedly written letter of the 24th you will know that we have arrived here safely. My first introduction to my first post as diplomat's wife was made unwittingly by a gentleman walking with a friend just behind me. ”Who is that gentleman?” said he, indicating Johan. ”That? That is the Minister of Denmark.” I, struggling with an arm-load of flowers culled from well-intentioned friends at different stations on the road, my maid and Johan's valet bringing up the rear with the overflow of small baggage, pa.s.sed unnoticed. Now we are quite established here, and I have already commenced my diplomatic duties. There seems to be no end of card-leaving and card-receiving, and a list of rules on etiquette (the Ten Commandments of a Diplomat) as long as your arm. I never knew of anything so confusing. I try to remember the things that I must do and the things that I must not do. How many cold shower-baths of reproval have I already received; how many unruly things have I already done! We are invited to many dinners, luncheons, and entertainments of all kinds. I am knee-deep in engagements, actually wading in them. The engagement-book you gave me is already overfilled.
We were very much amused at the collection of newspaper cuttings you sent us. Johan thought the one describing him as ”a ma.s.sive blonde of magnificent proportions, whose pure heart and clean hands had won all hearts in Was.h.i.+ngton” [previous to winning mine], was much too personal. ”The medals [his prized decorations] were not his fault, and should not be laid up against him; and as for the gold key which he wears on his back, it is considered a great honor, as few Danes have had it conferred on them, being, as it is, the key of the king's own bedchamber, and giving the wearer the privilege of entering there when he likes.”
Another one which amused us says ”the bride is to be congratulated on having annexed as fine a specimen of a viking as any one could desire, and, although she has not secured a golden crown for her marble brow, she has secured a name that ought to be good for a '_three-bagger_' on any diamond, and that just to see it written on a hotel register makes any hotel clerk faint.” Johan asked me what a ”three-bagger” was, but I could not tell him. Then the worst one! ”Mr. de Hegermann is envoy extraordinary and parson to his Danish 'nibs.'” Johan was horrified at this _lese majeste_. We looked the word ”nibs” out in the dictionary, only to find that in cribbage ”nibs” means the knave of trumps. This made matters worse; to call his sovereign a knave--even of trumps--seemed too disrespectful.
It was very nice of Norris, your Cambridge grocer, to placard the fruit in his shop window in our honor. ”Lindencrone beauties” and ”the Danish pair” show a certain amount of humor which ought to be applauded. Such a pun goes to my heart. I hope you encouraged him by buying them all and can tell me what a ”Danish pair” looks like.
It would take more than one letter of mine written on foolscap paper to tell you of our colleagues and friends. I can do it in sections when I have time. But, oh, when can I get the time!
I have had my ”audience” (Johan calls it an ”audience”; I call it a ”call on Mrs. President Grant at the White House”). There was nothing formal or formidable about it. Mrs. Grant and I sat on the sofa together and talked generalities. Johan could not tell me what to expect. He said _his_ audience with the President had been a surprise, unprecedented by anything he had ever seen. As it was his first post as Minister, he had pictured to himself that it would be somewhat like the ceremonies abroad--very solemn and impressive. Of course he was in his red gala uniform, with all his decorations. A hired landau brought him to the steps of the White House, which he mounted with conscious dignity. His written speech, nicely folded, he carried in his hand. In Europe there would have been a crowd of gorgeous chamberlains to receive him, but here he found a negro, who, on seeing him, hurriedly donned a coat and, with an encouraging wave of the hand, said: ”Come right along in, sir. I'll let them know you're here, sir.” Johan was shown into a room and waited with patience until the President and Mr.
Hamilton Fish came in. Mr. Grant was dressed in a gray walking-suit and wore a colored tie; and Mr. Hamilton Fish (Secretary of State) had evidently just come in from a walk, as his turned-up trousers signified.
Johan read his speech, and the President answered by reading, with some difficulty, a paper which Mr. Fish handed to him at the last moment.
After this exchange of formalities Johan shook hands with the President, and without further ceremony he left the room, the door this time being opened by a white servant in black clothes. Mr. Fish at parting casually observed that the weather was fine.
I was officially presented on their reception days to the wives of all the Ministers, and made my visits to the members of the _Corps Diplomatique_. We were invited to dinner at the White House--a dinner given to the _Corps Diplomatique_. I was taken in by M. de Schlozer, the German Minister, and sat between him and Sir Edward Thornton (the English Minister), who sat on the right of Mrs. Grant. We were opposite to the President. I noticed that he turned his wine-gla.s.ses upside down, to indicate, I suppose, that he did not drink wine during dinner.
Afterward we amused ourselves by walking in the long Blue Room. The President disappeared with some of the gentlemen to smoke and was lost to view. The company also faded gradually away. Mrs. Grant did not seem inclined to gaze on us any longer, and appeared to be relieved when we shook her outstretched hand and said ”Good night.”
A dinner to which we went, given by the Schiskines (the Russian Minister) in honor of the Grand-Duke Constantine of Russia, was most delightful. The Grand Duke is very charming, natural, with a sly twinkle in his mild blue eye. He has a very handsome face, is extremely musical, and plays the piano with great _finesse_, having a most sympathetic touch.
[Ill.u.s.tration: MRS. U.S. GRANT From a photograph taken about 1876, when she was mistress of the White House.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: SARAH BERNHARDT From a photograph taken at the time of her visit to Boston.]
After dinner we darned stockings. This sounds queer, but nevertheless it is true. The Schiskines had just bought a darning-machine. They paid eighty-six dollars for it; but to darn, one must have holes, and no holes could be found in a single decent stocking, so they had to cut holes, and then we darned. The Grand Duke was so enchanted with this darning that he is going to take a machine home to the Grand d.u.c.h.ess, his august mother.
The darning done, we had some music. M. de Schlozer improvised on the piano, and after the Grand Duke had played some Chopin I sang. M. de Schlozer went through his little antics as advance-courier of my singing: he screwed the piano-stool to the proper height (he thinks it must be just so high when I accompany myself); he removed all alb.u.ms from sight for fear people might be tempted to glance in them; he almost s.n.a.t.c.hed fans from the hands of unoffending ladies, fearing they might use them; no dogs were to be within patting distance, _and no smoking_; he turned all the chairs to face the piano so that no one should turn his back to it. These are all heinous crimes in his eyes.
He would, if he could, have pulled down all the portieres and curtains, as he does in his own house when I sing there. What must people think of him?
You ask me, ”What kind of a cook have you?” Don't speak of it--it is a sore subject! We have the black cook from the White House (so her certificate says). She is not what our fancy painted her. Neither is the devil as black as he is painted (I don't know why I a.s.sociate them in my mind). We had painted this cook white. I shudder to think how the White House must have lived in those years when she did the cooking.