_Letter from a Frenchwoman to an English Friend in Italy_
HOTEL RITZ, LONDON.
_Monday, June 1909_.
My very dear Mary,
Here is the second tome of my first impressions of your country and
your compatriots, which I promised to share with you. After the
town the country! After one day of the London season, the English
country life, the home, the Sunday at home! I have spent what you
call a Saturday week-end, or a Sunday over. I will relate you all my
adventures, and tell you in all frankness the good and the bad.
The sister of our dear Jackie invited me for the Saturday week-end to
her beautiful _chateau_. By misfortune our dear Jackie was prevented
from coming himself. He was kept all Sunday at the Foreign Office to
help to copy out telegrams! Is it not ignoble to spoil his holiday
like that? Jackie, who has so little holiday, and who works so hard in
Paris! His sister--perhaps you know her--is Lady Arlington, the wife of
Sir Arlington. Their _chateau_ is in Surrey. I had never been presented
to her, but she wrote me most amiably and proposed three trains I might
take. I chose the first, which arrived at half-past four, and found an
auto at the station. After five minutes we arrived at the _chateau_,
which is fine, but rather heavy: style, Louis XIV, outside. In the
interior, a mixture--Queen Elizabeth, Vandyke, Maple, Modern style,
Morris. _Je n’aime pas les mélanges._ But the English comfort always
seduces me. The chintzes, the flowers, the nick-nacks, the thousand
little nothings! Oh, it is charming! When I arrived I was shown into
a large hall, all panelled (the panelling repainted) with some fine
pictures (some Vandykes and a Sir Joshua) and some horrors. And a
picture of Lady Arlington by a modern French painter; a nightmare like
a coloured photograph! There was a large tea table and a buffet all
prepared, but neither the master nor the mistress of the house there
to receive me. In the corner of the room a pale young man was sitting
reading a book. He got up when I entered and looked embarrassed and
said nothing. I did not know whether it was Sir Arlington or not.
Then he said: “It has stopped raining; I think I will go out.” And he
abandoned me to my fate!
I waited five minutes, ten minutes, one quarter of an hour; then Lady
Arlington entered. She is not like Jackie at all, but a blonde, very
tall, handsome, and striking. She was dressed simply (but not well)
in white serge, and I was embarrassed, because they had told me the
English were all that is most elegant for Saturday week-ends, and I
was very dressed, with a big hat, with a lace veil, and ... (a page of
technical details omitted). Lady Arlington was most amiable, and did
not seem at all embarrassed at not having been there to receive me. She
gave me tea.
Presently other guests entered; they had all been at Ascot Races--some
of them staying in this house, others coming in their autos from
neighbouring _chateaux_. They were all simply dressed, the men in
_tennis_. I felt red with shame to be the only one dressed. Lady
Arlington did not present one single person to me. Two pretty young
women arrived (one a real Sir Joshua and the other a Greuze), and an
older lady--very handsome--who began to talk _politique_. Also a
great many men, most of them bald although young; they all sat down
and we drank tea. Then the master of the house arrived, a tall man
with a beard, _très, très bien_, like a Vandyke. He seemed timid. Lady
Arlington said to him: “You know Madame,” and then stopped, as though
she had forgotten my name.
We of course talked of dear Jackie at once, but when I said it was
a shame to disturb his holiday, Lady Arlington said, “Oh yes,” as
though she did not understand. Then a man who had not been presented
to me began to talk to me. He is no longer in his first youth, but
very beautiful and gentle like a seigneur in a Pinturicchio, and we
discussed Sargent’s pictures and art in general. I found him very
well-informed, intelligent, and even erudite; he has written a book
about _Villon_. Then more people arrived: an old man with a beard, who
my “Italian nobleman” whispered to me was Wreathall, the celebrated
novelist. He is, between us, a _raseur_, and told stories enough to
make one sleep about ghosts in a kitchen. There also arrived two
American ladies, one a real American, full of life; the other just like
an Englishwoman, and, to speak the truth, one would not have known she
was American except by her clothes; she was dressed well, just like a
Frenchwoman.
Then came some sportsmen, some clubmen, and a little man with a
_pince-nez_. They all talked together about their friends, calling
everybody by their little names; for example, Janie, and Letty,
and Tommy, and Bobbie, so all that was Greek to me. Soon everybody
disappeared into the garden by twos, and I was left alone with Lady
Arlington and my “Italian nobleman!” The pale young man who was there
when I arrived gave a glance into the hall and went out again. Lady
Arlington told me he was a celebrated M.P., and very remarkable. I
continued to discuss art and history, in which he was so strong, with
my “Italian nobleman,” until at last Lady Arlington said she was sure I
would like rest, and she conducted me to my bedroom, a ravishing room
furnished with all the English comfort, looking over the superb garden
with its admirable lawns.
I was glad to go to my room, so as to have plenty of time to make
my toilet, because they had told me the English are so exact. I
disembarrass myself of my things and put on a dressing-gown. I lie
down, and presently I hear cries from the garden; I look out of the
window and I see in the distance they are playing at croquet with great
gaiety. I am almost tempted to go downstairs once more, but as I am
already undressed I have not the energy; so I remain in my room and
read a book, and at half-past seven my maid comes, so that I was ready
almost before half-past eight, the dinner hour. When the dinner gong
rang, and I left my room to descend, some of the men were only just
coming in from the garden. I was the first downstairs.
There was no one in the salon except the little man with the
_pince-nez_. He said nothing at all at first, but after five minutes
he said he was glad it had stopped raining, and after that not a word.
We did not sit down at table until nine. Sir Arlington gave me the
arm, and on the other side was an oldish distinguished man with well
cut features, _très bien_, with good manners, but so devoted to his
neighbouress that he paid no attention to me. She was a beauty, but
dressed, it is inconceivable! _Fagotée, ma chère!_ If you could have
seen it! It was to cry about! Her dress was made in Paris too, but all
put on anyhow.
Sir Arlington is a delicious gentleman, but _distrait_; he cares only
for birds and animals, and often undertakes long expeditions for sport
in Africa. I asked him who all the people were, and imagine, he had
no idea who was the small man with the _pince-nez_, or several of the
others. He said: “Those are my wife’s literary friends; they are very
nice, but too clever for me.” He is modest, like all the Englishmen.
Lady Arlington has, it appears, the mania for _hommes de lettres_ as
well as for music, gardening, and a thousand other things, although,
between us, she is _une sotte--bête comme une oie et poseuse_! and
always making exaggerated exclamations, such as How thrilling! How
darling! and always in ecstasy about nothing. I talked with Sir
Arlington nearly all dinner, as my other neighbour was so occupied.
There was no general conversation, and we were twenty-two at table.
After dinner, according to the British custom, the ladies went into
the drawing-room; they broke up into groups, the young women sat on a
sofa and two or three others--the Americans also--grouped themselves
round them. The others talked _tête-à-tête_. Lady Arlington sat beside
me, with another lady who seemed to be very pleased that I was French,
and just as we had begun to talk Lady Arlington left us and joined the
group by the sofa. The lady who remained with me talked of nothing but
Paris and French things, and what a salad! Cafés chantants, Réjane,
De Bussy, Fursy, and Maeterlinck, and all _à côté_! The men stayed
very late, but came out at last, and then Lady Arlington arranged the
Bridge. There were four tables; everybody played except the M.P., who
sat down and began reading a book; the novelist, who went to bed; the
little man with the _pince-nez_, who I discovered was a celebrated
painter; my “Italian nobleman,” and the political lady. She took the
M.P. away from his book, and settled herself down in a corner with him
for the rest of the evening.
Lady Arlington took my “Italian nobleman” apart and said something
to him in a whisper, and I heard him answer: “I have been talking
to her the whole afternoon.” Then she went up to the painter and
said something to him, and he came and sat down beside me. We talked
French literature and theatres; he is intelligent, but twenty years in
behind about everything French, and though I was told he was an _homme
d’esprit_, I could not understand his allusions nor his pleasantries.
The Bridge went on late; it was already half-past twelve when we went
to bed. Lady Arlington asked me if I would have breakfast in my room,
but I, who wanted to see a real English breakfast, decided to descend.
I was resolved to make no mistake about my clothes, so I came down
the next morning at ten in a dress I had got for the _Mont Dore_, a
simple jacket and a short skirt. Imagine my astonishment! Everybody
was dressed in muslins, as elegant as possible, _grandes toilettes_.
Lady Arlington was dressed in white and silver and green and gold, half
_décolletée_, with a huge green hat. I am not wicked, you know, but she
looked like a great white parrot with her blonde coiffure! It is only
English complexions which can support such toilettes in the morning.
After breakfast Lady Arlington and the M.P. went to the church; she
said that afterwards she would show me her “Friendship’s Garden,” which
I suppose is a garden reserved for her intimate friends. The guests
went into the garden and sat under the trees in small groups; nearly
every one had a book, and I found that wherever I went I made a desert,
a _vide_, and everybody said they must go and write letters. After
a time I went in doors, also to write letters, and in every drawing
room I found a _tête-à-tête_! I waited for Lady Arlington, but Sir
Arlington found me and asked me to take a walk, and he took me to see
his stables and the park, which is a dream. I asked about the garden,
but he said that was his wife’s, and that he did not occupy himself
with it; but he showed me all that was practical and interesting. It
was admirable. I came in all out of breath before the lunch, and had
just time to go upstairs and change my dress.
This time I thought I would be right, and I put on my most elegant
Worth dress. But no! I come downstairs, I find everybody sitting at the
lunch, and they have once more changed into short skirts and flannels.
It was despairing! There was only one empty place left, between the
painter and the M.P. I talked French _politique_ with him; he was
amiable, but I could not see what they find remarkable in him.
After lunch the tennis; it was not very hot, and Lady Arlington and
some of the other guests went out, and one of the young women (she who
was so pretty) quarrelled with one of the other women, and although
everybody tried to calm her, she would not listen and went into the
house, crying, my dear, crying hot tears, and there she remained for
the rest of the afternoon! I did not know what the drama was about.
Then everybody disappeared; the “Italian nobleman” (always so well
meaning and so modest) proposed to me to look on at the tennis. We sat
down on chairs with the painter and the novelist until tea was brought.
At tea another man arrived from London, a lord, I forget his name,
middle-aged and very gay; he at once got himself presented to me; we
played a new game called croquet-golf until dinner. The others did
not seem to appreciate him so much, perhaps he shocked the English
reserve; he is full of _en-train_ and the English humour. At dinner Sir
Arlington again gave me the arm. After dinner everybody played Bridge
once more, but I had the joy to find my friend the new arrival, who
talked to me the whole evening and regaled me with his drollery, and
made a thousand farces, causing me to die of laughing, simply (imagine
how!) by drawing pigs with his eyes shut!
This morning I returned to London, on which I will write you further
impressions soon. I adore England, the men are so well informed and
full of humour, the women are beautiful, but why do not they learn to
put on clothes, and why are they so dressed and yet so untidy? Oh how
different you are from us!
Your friend,
JEANNE.