STOCKHOLM, _October, 1890_.
Dear L.,--We arrived here (our new post) at an early hour in the
morning. We found the secretary and carriages waiting for us, and drove
to the hotel, where we stayed until our apartment was quite ready. Our
furniture from Rome has already arrived, so all we have to do now is,
like coffee, to settle.
We have taken the same house that has been the Danish Legation for the
last forty years, and where Johan used to live when he was secretary
here twenty years ago.
The apartment is very large. It has twenty-four rooms, ten windows on
Drottning Gatan, and thirteen on the side-street. The ballroom has five
windows (three on one street and two on another); a large _salon_, two
smaller _salons_, a library, and a spacious dining-room; and it has
(quite rare in Stockholm) a _porte-cochère_. The Chancellery is in the
courtyard, having its separate entrance and staircase.
The evening before we left Copenhagen we had the honor of dining with
the King and Queen of Denmark, at Amalienborg. It was a family dinner,
J. and I being the only guests. After dinner the Queen talked a long
time with me and handed me the letter she had written to the Queen of
Sweden.
"I told her," she said, "that I was very fond of you, and I knew that
she would be equally so. And how the Duke of Nassau [her brother]
admired you and your singing."
"If your Majesty hadn't said it, I never would have believed that the
Duke liked my singing. I was under the impression that he would have
liked me better without the singing."
"Yes," the Queen said, "I confess that he is not musical, and does not
like _all_ music, but he really did like to hear you sing. He told me
so."
"Of course he knows," I answered, "but he is the last person from whom
I expected to receive a compliment."
As their Majesties retired, the Queen held out her hand, and when I
stooped to kiss it she kissed me affectionately on both cheeks. The
King, on shaking hands with me, said, "_God Reise_" which is Danish for
_bon voyage_.
The first days in a new post are always very busy ones. My first visit
was to _the doyenne_ of the _Corps Diplomatique_, Baroness Ph. She gave
me a list of visits to be made, and a quantity of her own cards with
_pour présenter_ with mine.
Yesterday J. was received by the King, and presented his _lettres de
créance_.
Although J. had been Secretary of Legation, and had been groomsman at
the marriage in Stockholm of the Crown Prince of Denmark to Princess
Louise (niece of King Oscar), and was very well known to the King, all
the regular formalities had to be gone through with. J. made his
traditional official speech to the King, both standing; and the King
solemnly answered with an elaborate assurance that the relations
between Sweden and Denmark had always been of the best and that they
would remain so.
When the ceremonious utterances were ended, the King put his arm on
J.'s shoulder and said: "Now let us sit down and have a good talk
together of old times." The King "thee-and-thoued" Johan, and said,
"_Her, du. Naar kommer din husfru?_" which in English means, "Listen
thou. When is thy wife coming?" It is so strange that the Swedish
language has no word for _you_. One must either address people by their
title, which is sometimes very awkward, or else say _thou_.
I was dreadfully puzzled when I first came here. Right opposite my
window was a sign, "_Dam Bad Rum!_" I said: "How queer! People
generally cry up their wares, not down. Who ever heard of a seller
saying that his rum was as bad as that?" I found out afterward that the
sign was merely to let people know that a ladies' bath-room was to be
found there.
The next excitement was my audience with the Queen, and thereby hangs,
if not a tale, a teapot with a tempest in it. I must tell you all about
it. I hope you will appreciate the tremendously complicated position in
which I was placed.
It seems that in the time of Queen Christina of Sweden, one hundred and
fifty years ago, the ladies of her court wore black silk or satin
dresses and sleeves of a certain pattern. The court has seen no reason
to make any change of dress since that time. To-day it wears the same
style of dress and the same _sleeves_--the cause of the tempest!
In answer to my request for an audience I received a letter from the
_grande maîtresse_, saying that the Queen would receive me on Thursday
next; the _doyenne_ of the _Corps Diplomatique_ would present me. Then
followed instructions: my dress was to be a black satin ball-dress, a
train of four meters, lined with black silk, _décolleté_, white _glacé_
gloves, _et les manches de cour_. I had no idea what _les manches de
cour_ were, and, naturally, I went to the _doyenne_ to find out.
If I had announced that I intended to throw a bomb under the King's
nose the effect could not have been more startling than when I said
those fatal words, "_Les manches de cour_."
_Madame la doyenne_ was so overcome that for a moment speech left her.
She proceeded to tell me that in order to keep on the right side of the
colleagues it would be advisable _not_ to wear the sleeves.
"Why not?" I asked, perplexed. "My husband says it is only on this one
occasion that a foreign minister's wife is required to wear the
sleeves."
She acknowledged that this was true, but the diplomatic ladies had
refused to wear them, and it was as much as peace and happiness were
worth to displease the colleagues.
"How can they refuse?" I asked.
She explained that the idea of wearing the sleeves was disagreeable to
them; therefore the court had passed over the point and made a
compromise: the Queen received them at the summer palace,
Drottningholm, _en toilette de ville_. In this way the difficulty had
been temporarily overcome, but now it seemed they wished me to draw the
chestnuts out of the fire.
"What am I to do?" I asked. "The only thing I can see is to leave
Stockholm, my home, and my family, and come back in the summer when I
can wear a bonnet."
I meant this as a tremendous satire, but she took it quite seriously
and said, "That would be wiser."
I smiled and, handing her the letter I had in my hand, I said, "In this
letter from the _grande maîtresse_ she said you were to present me."
"Of course I am to present you, but I refuse to wear the sleeves."
"If such is the case," I said, "what would you advise me to do?"
She answered: "I would advise you to avoid wearing the sleeves. You
will make a precedent which all the _Corps Diplomatique_ will resent."
"Why should the ladies object to the sleeves?" I ventured to ask. "Are
they so unbecoming?"
"It is not that they are unbecoming, but the Ministers' wives dislike
being dictated to. They say that they represent their sovereigns, and
object to be told what they shall wear and what they shall _not_ wear."
I remarked that at the Court of St. James's no lady ever dreamt of
objecting to wear the three plumes and the long tulle veil prescribed
by _that_ court, and I could not see any difference so long as it was
their Majesties' wish.
To this she replied, "I think you will regret it if you offend the
whole _Corps Diplomatique_."
On this I took my leave and drove straight to the _grande maîtresse_.
My back was up, and even if the _Corps Diplomatique's_ back was up,
too, I was determined to do nothing to displease the Court of Sweden. I
explained the situation to the Baroness Axerhjelm, who already knew it,
of course, better than I did. I could see it was a sore point.
When I asked her to explain to me about the sleeves she offered to send
for them that I might see them, and to lend me her sleeves that I might
copy them.
When I looked at the offending sleeves I did not think they were so
appalling--only two white satin puffs held in with straps of narrow
black velvet ribbon. On a black corsage they could not be so dreadful,
especially as the fashion now is sleeves puffed to exaggeration. How
silly!
We received visit after visit and many letters from the now irate
Corps--so many that we were quite bewildered. J. looked through the
archives of the Legation to see if he could find anything bearing on
this subject, but in vain. The mighty question does not seem to have
troubled my predecessors. They seem to have worn the sleeves and gone
on living.
J. remembered that the wife of his former Minister, on the occasion of
the marriage of the Crown Prince, wore them. I decided to write to the
Queen of Denmark to ask her advice, telling her of the threatened
antagonism against me.
This is her letter in reply:
I advise you, dear Lillie, to do as their Majesties desire. The
Crown Princess always wears the sleeves when in Stockholm, and I
think it would be more polite and less awkward if you wore them
also.
Therefore I had them made. Thursday came: my dress was ready and the
obnoxious sleeves in their places, I quite admired them, and would not
have minded wearing them every day. Still, I could not but think how a
whole ballroom of ladies with them on must have appeared in Queen
Christina's time.
Although it was the duty of the Baroness to accompany me, I was not
surprised when I received a long letter explaining how a severe
headache had suddenly swooped down on her and would deprive her of that
pleasure.
That was her way of getting over this _impasse_.
The situation was awkward. This refusal at the eleventh hour was very
annoying. I was not expected alone, but alone I should have to go.
There was no alternative, and the absence of the _doyenne_ must explain
itself as best it could.
I arrived in solitary grandeur, and was conducted in state to the
_salon_, where the _grande maîtresse_--with the sleeves, of
course!--was ready to receive me. She did not seem in the least
surprised at seeing me alone; possibly the _doyenne_ had written her
own account of the headache. I could see that she applauded the stand I
had taken, so I felt that if I had lost favor with my colleagues I had
gained it at court.
We went together to the _salon_, where we found the Queen. She rose and
gave me her hand, and I bowed low over it. She was dressed all in
black, with the white satin sleeves conspicuous under a long lace veil
which hung from her head. She is very fine-looking, tall, and imposing,
with a quiet and serious manner. She looks the personification of
goodness.
I gave her the letter the Queen of Denmark had sent her. Then she
talked of her brother (Duke of Nassau), and said he had written about
me and my singing, when we were both guests at _Château Furstenberg_.
The Queen added, "My brother is not musical" (indeed he was not), "but
he said no singing had ever pleased him like yours." I bowed and tried
not to look incredulous. "The King," she said, "is looking forward with
great pleasure to seeing you again. He remembers a certain song you
sang. Was it not 'Beware,' or something like that?"
I did not think it unlikely. I had sung it often enough, goodness
knows.