"Certainly," I answered, curtly.
_January, 1891._
Dear L.,--King Oscar is a king after one's ideas of what a king ought
to be. He looks the king every inch of him, and that is saying a good
deal, because he is over six feet. He has a splendid physique, is
handsome and of much talent. He is a writer and a poet, and speaks all
languages. You must be told that some kings are kings; but King Oscar,
there is no doubt about what he is!
At a concert the other evening he came and sat by me, and began talking
of music, of _his_ singing, and _my_ singing, and so forth, and
finished by saying, "Would you like to have me come to you some day and
sing?"
"Of course, your Majesty," I said. "I should be delighted. When may we
have the honor of expecting you?"
"How would next Thursday be?" he asked. "And would half past two be
agreeable to you?"
I replied, "Any day or any hour will suit me," although it was in fact
the only day which did _not_ suit me, as it was my reception-day.
"I hope that we may be quite by ourselves," said the King. "Only you
and the members of your Legation."
This I could easily promise, as I should have, in any case, closed my
doors.
"Your Majesty will stay and have a cup of tea. I hope."
"With pleasure," he answered, "if that will not make my visit too
long."
"Too long, your Majesty! How could it be too long?"
"Well, then, you may expect me."
How prepare for _les détails_? Madame de Sevigny writes somewhere,
"_que les détails sont aussi chers à ceux que nous aimons, qu'ils sont
ennuyeux aux autres_."
The servants laid the traditional red carpet on the staircase. Palms
and plants were put in every possible place.
At two o'clock the servants were already on the watch. The
_porte-cochère_ was wide open and the _concierge_ all in a flutter. The
piano-tuner, who had just spent an hour tuning my Bechstein, had
departed when a cart drew up in front of the door. What do you think it
was? Nothing less than the King's own piano, an _upright_ one, though
it did connive at _deception_, as you will see. It was one of those
pianos with which one could, by turning a key, lower the whole keyboard
by half-tones, so that a barytone could masquerade as a tenor and spare
the pianist the trouble of transposing the music, and no one would be
the wiser.
This was emotion No. 1.
Emotion No. 2: a carriage which stood before the door brought Mr.
Halstrum, the pianist.
Emotion No. 3 was another carriage full of things--a music-stand, a
quantity of music-books, his Majesty's spectacles, and a mysterious
basket.
Emotion No. 4: the servants, with all their heads out of the window,
spied a carriage coming full tilt up the street. In it was M. Odman,
the best tenor from the Opera.
Finally the royal equipage, of which there could be no doubt this time,
was seen from way down the street. J. descended the stairs to receive
his Majesty as his carriage entered the _porte-cochère_. I stood at the
door of the apartment, and the King in his usual friendly manner said a
hearty, "_God dag, god dag, Fru Hegermann_!"
He was attended by only one chamberlain. We went into the _salon_.
After a little while the King said, "What shall I sing for you?" and
handed me a list of songs.
"Anything your Majesty sings will be delightful," I answered, eagerly.
"Yes, but you must choose," the King said.
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.
[Illustration:
KING OSCAR
From an autographed photograph taken in 1896.]
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.
[Illustration:
THE KING OF SWEDEN
From a photograph taken when he was Crown Prince Gustav. The crown and
robe were worn at the formal opening of the Riksdag by his father, King
Oscar.]
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.