Chapter 15

I chose one I wanted to hear, but the King had already decided beforehand what he wanted to sing. (I might have spared myself the trouble.) He went toward the piano, but before he sang he took out of the mysterious basket an egg, which he broke and swallowed raw, to clear his voice. He began at the first song on the list, "Adeleide" (Beethoven), and sang that and one after another of those on the list. It seemed queer to have the _rôles_ reversed in this way. I generally sang for royalty, but here royalty was singing for me.

The King and I sang the duet from "Romeo and Juliet" and his brother's romance, "_I Rosens doft_," which I had sung with the King in Paris many years ago. I sang some of my songs--"Beware," of course. I wondered when the tenor, whom I was longing to hear, would come on the program. He only came once, and that was when he sang a duet with his Majesty, a duet which the King had had arranged from the Jacobite song called "Charlie is my Darling."

The tenor, whose English was not his strong point, sang with great pathos "Cha-r-r-r-r-r-r-lie es my tarling," as if a love-sick maiden were calling her lover. When the King sings he throws his whole soul into the music. If Providence had bestowed a beautiful voice on him he would have done wonders, but one cannot expect a sovereign to give much time to cultivating his talents.

Our music finished, tea was served, and his Majesty, apparently pleased with his visit, left at five o'clock.

Here is something the King wrote in my, album which is very characteristic of him: "If you do anything, do it without delay and with your whole heart and mind."

_January, 1891._

Dear L.,--I am going to give you a detailed account of the visit of the Crown Prince and Princess of Denmark, their annual visit for the King's birthday. Johan left the evening before to go to Kathrineholm, the last station before Stockholm, in order to meet their Highnesses, and from there to take the train and arrive here with them. Several of the King's household did the same.

I was at the station at eight o'clock. It is pitch-dark here at that hour. I pitied J. when I thought of his having to dress in full uniform in the little hotel at Kathrineholm.

The King and his four sons and gentlemen and ladies belonging to the court and society quite filled the room appropriated to royalty in Stockholm station.

The train steamed in, and steps were placed at the door of the car. The Crown Princess descended, followed by the Crown Prince, Prince Christian, Princess Louise (the eldest daughter), and Prince Hans (the King of Denmark's brother).

There was a great deal of kissing. The Princess was beaming with joy, and said a word to every one.

The dinner at court was at six. It was a family dinner, and as such the Queen was able to be present. As a rule, she is not present at large dinners, because of her health. The King gave his arm to our Princess, the Crown Prince took the Queen. Prince Carl gave me his arm and put me on the left of the King.

During the repast the King asked me if I had read his book of travels. I regretted to say that I had not. Then he called his _chasseur_, who always stands behind his chair, and told him to beg the adjutant to see that a copy of the book should be sent to me.

He talked a great deal of Paris, of his admiration for the Empress Eugénie, and how he had enjoyed his visit during the Exposition of 1867. He said, "Do you remember our excursion in my little boat when you, the Princess Mathilde, and Marquis Callifet did me the honor to come with me?"

"Yes, I remember very well, but I think the honor was on our side."

"Do you remember," he said, "the guitar, and those delightful songs you sang--'Beware?' Do you remember?"

I remembered, certainly, and wondered if I had ever sung anything else in my life.

"And our going to the Rothschilds' place near Boulogne," he continued, "where the porter refused to let us enter the park?"

"Yes," I replied. "But when he heard who you were all the doors were thrown wide open."

"Those were pleasant days," the King said with a sigh of recollection. "I was a good friend of yours, and never will I change."

"I hope you never will, your Majesty."

"Never," he said. "When once I am a friend, I am a friend for always, and I shall always be a good friend to you." And, taking up my hand from the table, he kissed it--a most embarrassing moment for me!

* * * * *

Our ball was a great success. Perhaps you don't know how festivities belonging to royal visits are managed. Entertainments are prearranged three or four weeks before the arrival of the royal guests.

I had never entertained royalty before, therefore I was naturally rather nervous. I sent to Nice for kilos of flowers, and to Rome for mosaic brooches and little _fiaschettis_, which I filled with perfume. I sent to Paris for canes and card-cases and silver pencils, and arranged a surprise for my guests. This was a fancy-dress quadrille, to be danced by sixteen young people at the beginning of the cotillon. Four couples were dressed as shepherds and shepherdesses in different-colored satins, with powdered hair and bright ribbons. The other four were dressed as _incroyables_.

The great problem was how to arrange the different suppers, of which there must be five or six. The royalties must have a room to themselves. There must be three separate suppers for the other guests, two for the dancers, and two buffets going on all the evening.

In the ballroom a dais was arranged with a red brocade for a background, on which were two red chairs for the King and the Crown Princess.

After giving the last orders J. and I stood at the doors to receive our guests, who soon began pouring in. People in Sweden are always very punctual, and arrive precisely at the time for which they are invited. Of course, when royalty is present one should be a little earlier.

Here the host always names the hour when the carriages are to be ordered. I think this is very wise, because if the poor horses had to stand out in the cold, waiting until their masters chose to go home, they would freeze to death. Fortunately, my dress, ordered from Paris, arrived just the day before.

At half past nine the servant announced the arrival of the royal carriages. J. and the secretaries flew downstairs, two servants raced after them, each carrying a candelabrum of six lighted candles. After J. had helped the King from the carriage he took the candelabra from the servants and preceded the King up the stairs to where I stood, according to custom, on the threshold of the door. I presented to the Crown Princess a large bouquet of red and white roses (the Danish colors), with long streaming ribbons to match, and a smaller bouquet to the Princess Louise.

The _tambour_, a curious name given to an antechamber in Sweden, seemed overflowing with dazzling uniforms and showy liveries. It was a very cold night, and all the guests were muffled up to the tips of their noses when they came in. The display of india-rubbers was stupendous. You can see how necessary were the twenty-two large porcelain stoves which, in Sweden, are built into the walls. For my ballroom I was obliged to add an American stove of the kind one fills once a day from the top.

The King gave me his arm, and as we entered the _salon_ every one courtesied to the ground. Then the Crown Princess came in with J.

Tea was passed, and when the usual ceremonies like presentations and greetings were finished, the _quadrille d'honneur_ commenced.

The King took his place on the dais and watched the dancing.

At eleven o'clock supper was announced. In entering the supper-room the King gave me his arm, the others following.

We were fifteen at our table, ten of whom were royalties.

J. did not sit down to supper with us, as it is not the custom in Sweden for the host to absent himself from the rest of his guests.

Now came the moment for the surprise!

When the royal guests were seated on the dais, sufficient space was made in front of them, the door opened from a side-room, and the dancers entered.

I think those sixteen young people showed much self-denial to be willing to forego the early pleasures of the ball, as they had to do, and give up the time when others were dancing to being dressed, wigged, powdered, and painted. I had to put four rooms at their disposal, two for the ladies with their maids, one for the gentlemen and their valets, and one for their refreshments and supper.

The shepherds and shepherdesses looked and danced their quadrille charmingly. The music for this was the mazurka from "Romeo and Juliet." When the _incroyables_ came in there was a murmur of admiration. They were beautifully dressed. They wore black satin costumes, and the ladies had white ruffs round their necks. The gentlemen wore high collars and lace jabots. Each had a long stick in his hand and a monocle in his eye. The shepherds stood back while the _incroyables_ danced their quadrille. The music of this was the "Gavotte Louis XIII." As I had chosen the eight prettiest girls in Stockholm, the effect was perfectly enchanting. After the second quadrille they joined forces and danced a _ronde_ to the music of "_Le Galop Infernal_" of "_Orphée aux Enfers_" (Offenbach). It was a great success, and the King desired them to dance it over again.

The King thought it must have been a tremendous undertaking, but I told him that it was no trouble to me, as the ballet-master from the theater had taught them.

These young people stayed in their pretty costumes for the cotillon, which commenced directly after their dance.

In Sweden people are not _blasé_ as to cotillon favors. They are not accustomed to receive anything more elaborate than flowers and little bows, so I think they all went home happy with their gifts.

There is such a queer custom here. During the cotillon, at the same time with the ices, beer is served, and something they call _mandel-melck_ (milk mixed with almond essence). The young ladies also have to be sustained every little while by huge glasses of the blackest of porter.

The royal guests left at two o'clock; then we had a sit-down supper for those remaining. At five o'clock I found myself in my bed, tired out but happy that everything had gone off so well.

The next day the Crown Prince of Sweden had arranged a tobogganing party at Dyrsholm. We were a very gay company of twenty-four, meeting at the station to take the little local train to Dyrsholm, and arriving about twelve o'clock.

Here we found an excellent luncheon which his Royal Highness had ordered, and which was, oh, so acceptable to us hungry mortals! On excursions of this kind in this cold latitude one is obliged to be very careful not to eat and especially not to drink too much, as there is always danger of congestion.

It was a glorious day, the sun shining brilliantly in a clear sky, but bitterly cold. The thermometer, I was told, was eighteen below zero; I would have said thirty. We ladies were muffled up to our ears in fur, our feet buried in _pomposhes_, which are long, india-rubber boots lined with fur, and when we stood in the snow we had great shoes lined with straw.

Everything about us was white; the trees, were loaded with icicles and snow. The hill down which we toboganned was very steep, ending in a long slide over the frozen lake. The snow on both sides of our path was piled up four feet high at least. The fun of toboganning is the bunker. The sudden rise gives you such an impetus, and on the other side you get such a tremendous bump that generally one, if not _both_, of you fall off head first in the snow.

One must be an adept to manage these sleds. The Crown Prince toboganned, as he did everything else, to perfection. Of course, each prince had his own sled and invited some lady to go with him. The lady generally sits in front, with her legs stretched out, and holds on to everything she can, her clothes in particular. The gentleman sits behind, steering with his feet.

The Crown Prince went often alone, and then he would lie flat on his stomach and steer with his long legs, as if he were sculling a boat. I did not feel the least nervous when I went with him, but I confess I did feel a little shy when I had to put my arms round his neck and clutch him for dear life when we jumped the bunker. He preferred having his companion behind him.

The _revers de la médaille_ was the toiling up the long slope in the intense cold. I wondered if the pleasure was worth the toil, but if one did not go down on the sleds one would have to stay on the top of the hill and freeze.

We enjoyed this sport till darkness put an end to it; then we returned, tired, cold, and hungry to town, to dine hurriedly and be ready for the theater at eight o'clock--a gala performance.

J. and I were invited to sit in the royal box. The opera was "Orphée," by Glück. The Crown Princess suffers agonies when she hears music (everything sounds false to her sensitive ears). Therefore, to spare her, they had chosen the shortest opera.

In the _entr'actes_ refreshments were served in the small _salon_ which is kept in reserve for the King. It is the same room where King Gustave III. retired when he attended the ball which proved so fatal to him on the night of his assassination. The libretto of "_Ballo in Maschera_" by Verdi, is made on this subject, and the scene laid in Boston.

STOCKHOLM, _1892_.

Dear L.,--The opening of the Rigsdag is a great event in Stockholm. The _Corps Diplomatique_ met in the room in the palace called Kronesal. The walls are covered with the three gold crowns of the Swedish coat of arms painted on a blue background. They passed on through the rooms of the Order of the Sword, which had just as many swords on its walls as the other had crowns. You can never make a mistake as to where you are! The ladies were told to wear _toilette de ville_, and the gentlemen to dress in gala uniform.

Just before the time the King was to come in we were ushered down a little narrow staircase which led into the Rigsdag, passed in front of the throne, and went up a still narrower staircase to the gallery reserved for the diplomats, which seemed very shaky. Some day when the Rigsdag is opening there will be a collapse of diplomats.

The body of the hall was filled with the gentlemen, all the members of the two Chambers in evening dress and the court officials in their uniforms.

When the Queen is present, which is not often, she sits opposite the _Corps Diplomatique_, surrounded by the ladies of the court, who wear little white fur capes over their shoulders.

The galleries on both sides were filled with the nobility and society. The throne on which King Oscar sat is on a raised platform filling the whole end of the hall. The throne is unique, made of silver, silver lions supporting it on both sides. Back of the throne was a long blue velvet curtain hanging from the canopy.

Everything was ready and every one in his place. A deep silence reigned throughout. There was a blast of trumpets; every one stood up, and the King came down the same little staircase we had. He looked very majestic in his splendid robes of ermine, over which hung the blue Order of the Seraphim, the highest order in Sweden, and of course all his other decorations. The crown he wears is magnificent, made of costly jewels, and, I should think, very heavy, causing the King to hold his head very straight and steady. He looked up at the _loge_ of the diplomats, made a slight inclination of the head, then mounted the few steps of the throne and sat in his silver chair.

The Crown Prince came next, followed by Prince Carl and Prince Eugen. The three are as tall as the King. They wore blue velvet mantles trimmed with ermine, their uniforms showing underneath, and as if they had been handed down, but not let down, from former and shorter Princes.

They wore crowns which seemed difficult to balance on their heads.

The King took the Proclamation from the hands of his _Rigskanzler_ and, standing up, read it in a loud and clear voice. He did not use his eye-glasses, because the letters were made so large that he could read without them. It was a fine and thrilling moment.

The Rigsdag being opened, the King left as he had come.

STOCKHOLM, _1892_.

Dear L.,--Prince Chira, one of the sons of the King of Siam, came to see us to-day. He has just returned from St. Petersburg. We were very glad to see him again. We knew him so well in Copenhagen, where he has been living for some years. He has been in the Danish army, and, although only nineteen years old, has passed the most difficult examinations, and is now an officer. He talks English, French, and Danish with equal facility. When at Aalholm he entered into all our games and charades with enthusiasm.

He did not mind at all being dressed up as a Sambo, and favored particularly a yellow wig. He has very yellowish skin, almond eyes, and beautiful white teeth. He came to see us straight from the castle, where he had been to see the King. He was very enthusiastic about his Majesty (who is not?). He told us how the King had taken the grand cordon of the Seraphim Order off his own shoulders and hung it on his. The King being a giant, and Prince Chira about the size of a boy of ten, you can imagine how the cordon fitted him. Chira said, "I reached up to about the King's waist, and when the King put the cordon on me it trailed on the ground, and I kept tripping over it when I left the room. It is most awkward," he added, laughing, "and I must wear it to-night at the big dinner at court which the King gives me."

"Leave it with me, and I will have a tuck made in it and send it to you before dinner." This he did. We measured off how much of a tuck should be made, and sent it to him in time. He came the next day to thank me and bid us good-by. He said, "I looked splendid last night _in my cordon_."

In June and July it is never really dark in these latitudes. The sun shines till eleven o'clock, the birds sing and bustle about during the so-called night, and the cocks begin to crow at absurd hours. They must be perplexed as to what they are doing all these months. The early bird has to be very early to get off with the worm.

BAYREUTH, _August, 1893_.

Dear L.,--At last my dream of dreams has become a reality--under what enchanting conditions! Mrs. L., my beloved friend, invited me to stay three weeks with her in the apartment which she has taken, 28 Opernstrasse, which was the habitation of Wagner's special doctor. Mrs. L.'s other guests were her sister, her niece, and Mr. and Mrs. Brimmer from Boston. Johan promised to join us later. Mrs. L, had her own cook and servants, and we lived like princes of the blood. A walk about the streets in the morning, then a sumptuous lunch, and then a little _siesta_ to fit us for the rest (or rather fatigue) of the day.

At a little before four the carriages were at the door and we drove up the hill to the Shrine, passing the foot-sore and weary pilgrims toiling on their way. The servant took our hats and coats, for no one must wear a hat in the audience, and no one needed a coat in this awful heat.

The signal to enter the auditorium is given by a blast of trumpets, generally the four bars of the most well-known melody in the to-be-given opera. The only boxes in the theater are in the rear, and Madame Wagner sits with her family in the middle one. After the people have taken their seats the house becomes pitch-dark, and from the depths of the unknown one hears the first notes of the overture. Then the curtains are noiselessly drawn up. After this no one dares to breathe--woe to the unlucky one who gets a fit of sneezing or a tickling in the throat; better die at once than be the recipient of all the inward curses that are hurled at you! The first act generally lasts an hour, and the people emerge from the stifling auditorium into the fresh air with a sigh of relief. The Germans make dashes of kangaroo leaps toward the casks of beer, and then rush for the tents where they get something to eat at the price of blood.

The _entr'acte_ lasts an hour; then we hear the blasts of the four heralds again, which is the signal for the second act to commence, and so on until ten o'clock at night. Then _home_, where we find a gorgeous _diner-soupertoire_ which triumphantly ends a day of emotion.

Wagner's operas, which lay about on our tables, all seem to have been given by him to _meinem lieben Freund_, the doctor. How I regret that dishonesty did not get the upper hand! How easy it would have been for me to have purloined a book and its signature, but I am proud to say that I resisted, and my collection of autographs is to this day devoid of anything from Richard Wagner, showing that virtue is not always its own reward, since I regret having been virtuous.

The off days were also delightful. We drove to the Hermitage, lingered in the grounds belonging to the gentle and clever Margräfin, and wondered if her tiny little court was not a trifle _ennuyenx_! One could fancy her sitting under the shady trees of the _charmille_, sewing beads on some bags, specimens of which were exhibited to us by an officious menial, and were of the most hideous description. I say hideous because I hate beads and all their works. I have just finished reading her memoirs, and I can only think how small their talk must have been--how narrow their visions!

We drove to the other pretty resort, Bellevue, and meandered about the rococco gardens, and sat on the stone benches surrounding the lake, and watched the graceful movements of the swans as they tried to avoid the spray from the fountains. We tried not to see the native music-lovers who clustered in crowds about the tables, which were covered with red checker-board table-covers and drinking-mugs. They sit under these lovely shady groves for hours, in their thick coats, which they wear in any season and in any climate, their ponderous field-glasses slung over their fat shoulders and their pockets bulging with guide-books and postal cards, swallowing by barrelfuls the cool and beloved beer and eating _Butterbrod_ by platefuls.

On Saturday evenings Madame Wagner--called familiarly Frau Cosima--opens her _salon_, and every one goes who can get an invitation. There is generally music, and the best-artists from the Opera-house are delighted to sing. Also the inevitable pianist who is "the finest interpreter of Chopin." (Did you ever know one who was not?)

Very interesting evenings, these, because one sees all the notabilities that flock to Bayreuth. Princes, plebeians, and artists meet here in the limitless brotherhood of music.