Chapter 5

Do you wonder that I was somewhat bewildered?

_January, 1878._

Dear Mother,--After Christmas Johan and I went to Copenhagen, where I was presented to the King and the Queen. I was first received by the _Grande Maîtresse_, Madame de Raben, and three _dames d'honneur_, who were all pleasant but ceremonious. When the Queen entered the room and I was presented to her she was most gracious and affable. She motioned me to sit down beside her on the sofa. She said that she had heard much about me. She spoke of my father-in-law, whom she _loved_, and Johan, whom she _liked_ so much. She was most interested to hear about you and the children. She had heard that Nina promised to be a beauty.

"If children would only grow up to their promises!" I said.

"Mine have," said the Queen; "they are all beautiful."

She showed me the photographs of the Princess of Wales and the Grand-Duchess Dagmar of Russia. If they resemble their pictures they must indeed be beautiful.

The _salon_ in which we sat was filled with drawings, pastels, and photographs, and was so crowded with furniture that one could hardly move about.

"I've been told," the Queen said, "that you have a splendid voice and sing wonderfully. You must come some day and sing for me; I love music." Then we talked music, the most delightful of subjects. The King came in. He was also perfectly charming, and as kind as possible. He is about sixty years old, but looks younger, having a wonderfully youthful figure and a very handsome face. The King preferred to speak French, but the Queen liked better to talk English, which she does to perfection.

"Have you learned Danish yet?" the King asked me.

"Alas! your Majesty," I answered, "though I try very hard to learn, I have not mastered it yet, and only dare to inflict it on my family."

"You will not find it difficult," he said. "You will learn it in time."

"I hope so, your Majesty--Time is a good teacher."

He told me an anecdote about Queen Desiree, of Sweden, wife of Bernadotte, who on her arrival in Stockholm did not know one word of Swedish.

She was taught certain phrases to use at her first reception when ladies were presented to her. She was to say, "Are you married, madame?" and then, "Have you any children?" Of course, she did not understand the answers. "She was very unlucky," the King laughed, "and got things mixed up, and once began her conversation with a lady by asking, 'Have you any children?'"

The lady hastened to answer, "Yes, your Majesty, I have seven?"

"Are you married?" asked the Queen, very graciously.

"You must not do anything like _that_," said the King, smilingly.

I promised that I would try not to.

The _Grande Maîtresse_ came in, and I thought it was the signal for me to go--which apparently it was. There was a little pause; then the Queen held out her hand and said, "I hope to see you again very soon." The King shook hands kindly with me, and I reached the antechamber, escorted by the ladies.

My next audience was with the Crown Princess. She is the daughter of the late King of Sweden (Carl XV.) and niece of the present King Oscar, whom I used to know in Paris. This audience was not so ceremonious as the one I had had with the Queen. There was only one lady-in-waiting, who received me in the _salon_ adjoining that of the Princess. She accompanied me to the door, presented me, and withdrew, leaving us together. In the beginning the conversation palled somewhat. I had been warned that it was not etiquette for me to start any subject of conversation, though I might enlarge on it once it had been broached. The Crown Princess was so kind as to speak of something which she thought would interest me, and the conventional half-hour passed pleasantly and quickly.

I had other audiences. The Queen Dowager, the widow of King Christian VIII., lives in one of the four palaces in the square of Amalienborg. She is very stately, and received me with great etiquette. She was dressed in a stiff black brocade dress, with a white lace head-dress over her bandeaux; she wore short, white, tight kid gloves. She spoke French, and was most kind, telling me a great deal about Denmark and its history, which interested me very much.

As Mademoiselle de Rosen, her first _dame d'honneur_, re-entered the room I made my courtesy, kissed the Queen's hand, and the audience was over.

Johan accompanied me to the fourth audience, which for me was the most difficult one. It was with the Princess Caroline, widow of Prince Ferdinand, brother of King Christian VIII., who died when he was heir-apparent to the throne. She spoke only Danish to us, so I sat and gazed about, not understanding a word she said to Johan.

She wore flaxen braids wound above her ears, through which the cotton showed like the petal of a flower. She had a lace cap on her head with long lace ends, and these caught in everything she wore--her eye-glasses, her neck-chain, her rings and bracelets, and she seemed to do nothing but try to extricate herself while talking. This she did steadily, in order (I suppose) to prevent any one else from talking. She is so deaf that she cannot hear a word. She had once been burned, and the effects of that, with the mark of former smallpox, makes her face look far from handsome. But all these things have not prevented her from reaching the ripe old age of eighty.

Johan supplied what little there was of conversation on our side. She asked him, "How did you come to Denmark?" He, enchanted to be asked something he could answer, replied that he had come on one of the big German boats, and, to accentuate the fact that it was something _big_ he came in, he made a wide circular movement with his arms and became quite eloquent, flattering himself that he was very interesting. The Princess fixed a pair of earnest eyes on him, and said, in hushed tones, "And what became of the child?"

We took our leave. In stooping to kiss her Royal Highness's hand her cap caught in an ornament I had on my bonnet, and there we stood tied together. Johan tried in vain to undo us, but was obliged to call in the lady-in-waiting, who finally disentangled us.

DENMARK, _January, 1878_.

Dear Mother,--The Queen of Denmark is an adorable and lovely queen. I am happy to call her _my_ Queen.

A few days after my audience we were invited to a dinner at Amalienborg. We met in the _salon_, before their Majesties came in. When they had made a little _cercle_ and said a word to every one, dinner was announced. The King gave one arm to the Queen and the other to the Princess Anne of Hesse--the Queen's sister-in-law. The King and the Queen sat next to each other. There were about forty people at table. Admiral Bille took me in; he talked English perfectly, and was--like all naval officers!--very charming.

The Queen said to me: "I should so like to hear you sing. Will you come to-morrow? I will send my carriage for you, and please don't forget to bring some music."

As if I should forget! I was only too delighted.

The next morning the Queen sent her own coupé for me at eleven o'clock. I felt very grand; all the people in the street bowed and courtesied, thinking I was one of the royal family. I let down the glasses on both sides of the coupé so that every one could have a chance to bow.

I was at once ushered into the Queen's _salon_ by an old red-liveried majordomo who had many decorations on his breast. The Queen was alone with the _Grande Maîtresse_, and after having talked a little she said, "Now we'll have some music," and led the way into the ballroom, where there were two pianos. The Queen sat on the sofa, wearing an expression that was half pre-indulgent and half expectant. The _Grande Maîtresse_, who was there, _not_ in her official character, but as a musician, accompanied me when I sang "_Voi che sapete_." When I came to the phrase, "_Non trovo pace notte ne di_," the Queen raised her hand to her eyes, which were filled with tears, and after I had finished, said, "Please sing another."

I spread out the music of "Biondina" in front of the eye-glasses of the _Grande Maîtresse_, but the first bars convinced me that if I were to sing _that_ song, _she_ was not to play it, and, against all etiquette, I placed my hands over hers and gently pushed her off the seat, saying, "May I?"

I confess I deserved the daggers she looked at me, but the Queen only laughed and said, "You are quite right; you must play _that_ for yourself."

The Queen seemed to be delighted, and after some more music I returned to the hotel in the same regal manner I had come.

COPENHAGEN, _February, 1878_.

Dear Mother,--Some days have passed between this and my last letter, but I have been very busy. I have tried to do some sight-seeing--there are many interesting and enchanting things to see here. Then I have had a great many visits to pay, and I go often to sing with the Queen.

Yesterday I lunched at the palace. The Queen had said to me before: "When you come to me, come straight to my room. Don't bother about going first to the _dames d'honneur_. The servant has orders."

So yesterday, when I arrived, the old decorated servant who sits in the antechamber simply opened the door of the Queen's private apartments, where I found her and the Princess Thyra alone.

The Queen said, "You will stay to luncheon, will you not?" I hesitated, as we had invited some friends to lunch with us, but that was evidently no obstacle. She said: "Never mind that. I will send word to your husband that I have kept you." Of course I stayed. We had a great deal of music. I sang "Beware" for the first time. The Queen said, "Oh, the King must hear that," and rang the bell, sending the servant to beg Prince Valdemar to come in.

On his appearing, the Queen said, "Valdemar, you must tell papa that he must come." Prince Valdemar soon returned, saying, "Papa has lumbago, and says he cannot come." The Queen shook her head, evidently not believing in the lumbago, and said, "Lumbago or not, papa _must_ come, even if we have to _bring_ him."

The King came without being "brought," and I sang "Beware" for him, and then "_Ma mère était bohémienne_," the Queen accompanying me in both.

"Now," said the Queen, "please sing that song which you play for yourself--the one with such a dash." She meant "Biondina."

"Please, madame," said the King, when I had finished, "sing 'Beware' again."

Then we went down a little side-staircase for luncheon. The dining-room is quite small and looks out upon the square. The table could not have seated more than twelve people. Besides the King and Queen, there were Prince Hans and Prince Wilhelm (brothers of the King), Prince Valdemar, Princess Thyra, and myself. There were no ladies or gentlemen in waiting, except the King's adjutant.

On a side-table were the warm meats, vegetables, and several cold dishes. No servants were allowed in the room. It is the only meal when the family are quite alone together; the serving was all done by the royalties themselves. I felt quite shy when the King proposed to shell my shrimps for me! "Oh, your Majesty," I said, "I can do that myself!"

"No," said he, "I am sure you cannot. At any rate, not as it ought to be done."

He was quite right. I never could have done it so dexterously as he did. He took the shells off and put the shrimps on some bread--they looked like little pink worms. I did not dare to get up and serve myself at the side-table, and rather than be waited on by royalty I preferred eating little and going away hungry.

The King was very gay. He asked me how I was getting on with my Danish. I told him some of my mistakes, at which they all laughed.

COPENHAGEN, _February, 1878_.

Dear Mother,--After our music and luncheon the other day at the palace the Queen asked me if I would like to drive with her to see Bernstorff Castle, where they spend their summers. I accepted the invitation with delight. To drive with her was bliss indeed.

Bernstorff is about an hour's drive from Copenhagen. When the open landau appeared in the _porte-cochère_ the Queen got in; I sat on her left and the lady of honor sat opposite. The Danish royal livery is a bright red covered with braid. The coachman's coat has many red capes, one on top of the other, looking like huge pen-wipers. J. had told me it was not etiquette for any one driving with the Queen to bow. We happened to pass J. walking with a friend of his, and it seemed odd that I was obliged to cut him dead.

When people see the Queen's carriage coming they stop their own, and the ladies get out on the sidewalk and make deep courtesies. Gentlemen bow very low and stand holding their hats in their hands until the royal carriage has passed.

The castle of Bernstorff is neither large nor imposing, but looks home-like and comfortable. The Queen showed me all over it--her private rooms, and even upstairs where her _atelier_ is; she paints charmingly--as well as she plays the piano.

She pointed out on the window-panes of a room over the principal _salon_ different things that her daughters had written with their diamond rings on the glass: "Farewell, my beautiful clouds!--Alexandra." "Till the next time.--Dagmar." "_A bientôt_--Willie" (the young King of Greece).[1]

[1] King George of Greece who was assassinated in 1913.

She told me that Bernstorff was the first home she and the King had lived in after their marriage, when he was Prince, and they love it so much that they prefer it to the larger castles. They go to Fredensborg in the autumn. The Grand-Duchess Dagmar and the Princess of Wales, when they come to Bernstorff in the summer, sleep in the room which they shared as children.

I cannot tell you how nice the royal family are to me.

We were present at a state ball at Christiansborg. On arriving we passed up a magnificent staircase and went through many large _salons_, the walls of which were covered with fine tapestries and old Spanish leather, and a long gallery of beautiful pictures, before we reached the _salon_ where I belonged according to my rank (every one is placed according to the rules of the protocol).

Their Majesties entered. The Queen looked dazzlingly brilliant. She wore all the crown jewels and had some splendid pearls on her neck. The King looked superb in his uniform. They were followed by the Princess Thyra (the young and sympathetic Princess with eyes like a gazelle), and the youngest son, Prince Valdemar.

The Crown Prince and Princess were already there. She also had some wonderful jewels, inherited, they said, from her mother, who was of the royal family of Holland.

Their Majesties were very gracious to me. The King even did me the honor to waltz with me. He dances like a young man of twenty. He went from one lady to another and gave them each a turn. I was taken to supper by a person whose duty it was to attend to me--I forget his name. The King danced the cotillon. You will hardly see that anywhere else--a gentleman of sixty dancing a cotillon.

The principal street in Copenhagen is Ostergade, where all the best shops are. It is very narrow. People sometimes stop and hold conversations across the street, and perambulating nurses, lingering at the shop windows, hold up the traffic.

There is a very pretty square called Amagertorv, where all the peasant women assemble, looking very picturesque in their national dresses, with their little velvet caps embroidered in gold, and their Quaker-like bonnets with a fichu tied over them. They quite fill up the square with flowers, fruits, and vegetables, and stand in the open air by their wares in spite of wind, rain, and weather.

Around the corner, in front of Christiansborg Castle, by the canal, your nose will inform you that this is the fish-market, where the fish are brought every morning, wriggling and gasping in the nets in which they have been caught overnight. It is a very interesting sight to see all the hundreds of boats in the canal, which runs through the center of the town.

The other evening there was a large musical _soirée_ given at Amalienborg. I won't tell you the names of those who were present, as you would not know them, but they are the most prominent names here.

Their Majesties sat in two gilded arm-chairs, in front of which was a rug. There was a barytone from the Royal Theater who sang some Danish songs; then the Princess Thyra and an English lady and I sang the trio from "Elijah," and a quartette with the barytone. I sang several times alone. There was an English lady, whose name I do not remember, who played a solo on the _cornet à piston_. Her face was hidden by her music, which was on a stand in front of her. After I had sung the "_Caro Nome_" from "Rigoletto," and the English lady had played her solo, the deaf Princess Caroline--who, with her ears filled with cotton and encompassed by her flaxen braids, sat in front--said, in a loud and penetrating voice, "I like _that_ lady's singing better than the other one's"--meaning me. Every one laughed. I had never had a _cornet à piston_ as a rival before.

_March 1, 1878._

Dear Mother,--Our last day here. I lunched at Amalienborg, and was the only stranger present. The King, who sat next to me, said, "I feel quite hurt that you have never asked me for my photograph."

"But I have one," I answered, "which I bought. I dare not ask your Majesty to sign it."

"One must always dare," he answered, smilingly. "May I 'dare' to ask you to accept one from me?" He got up from the table and left the room, being absent for a few minutes. When the door opened again we saw the King standing outside, trying to carry a large picture. His Majesty had gone up to the room in which the picture hung, and the servant who had taken it from the wall brought it to the door of the dining-room, whence the King carried it in himself. The mark of the dusty cord still showed on his shoulder. It was a life-size portrait of himself painted in oil.

He said, "Will you accept this?"

I could not believe my ears. This for me! I hesitated.

The Queen said, "My dear, you must take it, since the King desires it."

"But," I replied, "how can I?"

Her Majesty answered, "Your husband would not like you to refuse. Take it!--_you must!_" and added, "The ribbon [the blue Order of the Elephant] is beautifully painted"--as if the rest were not!

The Princess Thyra said, "Papa has only had six portraits painted of himself. This one is painted by Mr. Shytte. I don't think that it is half handsome enough for papa. Do you?"

"Well," said the King, "I shall have it sent to your hotel." I could not thank his Majesty enough, and I am sure I looked as embarrassed as I felt.

As we were going away the next day, this was my last visit to the Queen. On bidding me good-by she pressed something into my hand and said, "You leave me so many _souvenirs_! I have only one for you, and here it is."

It was a lovely locket of turquoises. On opening it I found the Queen's portrait on one side and the Princess Thyra's on the other.

She kissed me, and I kissed her hand, with tears in my eyes.

We return to Björnemose to bid our parents good-by; then farewell to Denmark.

We leave in four days for New York.

WASHINGTON, _February, 1879_.

Dear Mother,--Monsieur de Schlözer is one of the colleagues whom we like best. I wish you knew him! I do not know anything more delightful than to see him and Carl Schurz together. They are not unlike in character; they are both witty, refined, always seeing the beautiful in everything, almost boyish in their enthusiasm, and clever, _cela va sans dire_, to their finger-tips. They bring each other out, and they both appear at their best, which is saying a great deal. We consider that we are fortunate to number them among our _intimes_.

Would it interest you to know how these _intimes_ amuse themselves? Life is so simple in Washington, and there are so few distractions outside of society, that we only have our social pleasures to take the place of theaters and public entertainments. It is unlike Paris and other capitals in this respect.

We have organized a club which we call "The National Rational International Dining Club," to which belong Mrs. Bigelow Lawrence, her sister Miss Chapman, Mr. de Schlözer, Carl Schurz, Aristarchi Bey (the Turkish Minister), Count Dönhoff (Secretary to the German Legation), and ourselves. So when we are free, and not invited elsewhere, we dine together at one another's houses. I am the president, Mrs. Lawrence the vice-president, Schurz the treasurer, Schlözer the sergeant-at-arms, and Johan has the most difficult--and (as Mr. Schurz calls it) the "onerous"--duty of recognizing and calling attention to the jokes, which in his conscientious attempts to seize he often loses entirely.

The "rational" part is the menu. We are allowed a soup, one roast, one vegetable and dessert, and _two_ wines, one of which, according to the regulations, _must be good_. We do not even need so much, for there is more laughing than eating. A stuffed goose from the Smithsonian Institution serves as a _milieu de table_, and is sent, on the day of the dinner, to the person who gives it.

We always have music. Schurz and Schlözer play the piano alternately, and I do the singing. I must say that a more appreciative audience than our co-diners cannot be imagined.

We have laws and by-laws written on large foolscap paper, bearing a huge seal which looks very official. Mr. Schurz carries it in his inside pocket, and sometimes at large dinners he pulls it out and begins reading it with the greatest attention, and every one at the table believes that there is something very important going on in politics. But we, the initiated, know that the document is the law of the N.R.I. Dining Club. Then, when all eyes are fastened on him, he puts the paper deliberately back in his pocket, with a sly wink at the members.

Mr. Schurz is now Secretary of the Interior, and a great personage. When one thinks that he hardly knew a word of our language when he came to this country (a young man of twenty), and that now he is one of our first orators, one cannot help but admire him. Because he has entirely identified himself with the politics of our country he has risen to the high position which he now holds. You said, when you heard him deliver that oration at Harvard College, that you were astonished that any foreigner could have such complete command of the language. He is integrity itself, with a great mind free from all guile, and is filled with the enthusiasm and vivacity of youth. During the revolutionary movement in Germany in 1848 he helped a political friend escape from the Schandau prison, and on account of that was himself condemned to death. However, he managed to evade pursuit and took refuge in America, where he has lived ever since.

_Le Chevalier_, as we call Senator Bayard, because he is so entirely _sans reproche_, sent his photograph to Mrs. T. and wrote on the back of it, "_Avec les regards de T. Bayard_." She showed it to her friends with the scathing remark, "People should not write French if they don't understand the language." Others, who understood the language, thought it very clever.

Schlözer has let it be known in the Foreign Office in Berlin that a secretary who has money to spend is more desirable in America than one who has not. He thinks that it is more advantageous for a young man to travel through the country and learn things than to sit copying despatches in the _chancellerie_ in Washington.

In this respect Count Dönhoff, his new secretary, ought to satisfy him, for never was a person so determined to see everything, know everybody, and do all that is doing. He begged Mr. Schurz to give him permission to accompany General Adam, who, because he knew the Indians and their little ways and how to deal with them, was sent out to Montana to rescue the family of one of the commissioners who had been captured.