After living many years in France, the author of these letters, an American by birth, returned to this country and in 1875 married the newly appointed Danish Minister to Washington. The picture which she gives of social life at the Capital during President Grant's administration is both vivid and amusing. And these letters and others which are to follow, written from various courts, giving as they do the writer's personal impressions of many men and women, both American and European, who have already taken their places in history, will be found of even more fascinatingly intimate interest than her earlier letters from Paris during the Commune and those describing her visits to the Court of Napoleon III. WASHINGTON, November, 1875. @first post as diplomat's wife was made unwittingly by a gentleman walking with a friend just behind me. "Who is that gentleman?" said he, indicating Johan. "That? That is the Minister of Denmark." I, struggling with an arm-load of flowers culled from well-intentioned friends at different stations on the road, my maid and Johan's valet bringing up the rear with the overflow of small baggage, passed unnoticed. Now we are quite established here, and I have already commenced my diplomatic duties. There seems to be no end of card-leaving and card-receiving, and a list of rules on etiquette (the Ten Commandments of a Diplomat) as long as your arm. I never knew of anything so confusing. I try to remember the things that I must do and the things that I must not do. How many cold shower-baths of reproval have I already received; how many unruly things have I already done! We are invited to many dinners, lunches, and entertainments of all kinds. I am knee-deep in engagements, actually wading in them. The engagement-book you gave me is already overfilled. We were very much amused at the collection of newspaper cuttings you sent us. Johan thought the one describing him as "a massive blonde of magnificent proportions, whose pure heart and clean hands had won all hearts in Washington" (previous to winning mine), was much too personal. "The medals (his Copyright, 1913, by Harper & Brothers. All rights reserved prized decorations) were not his fault, and should not be laid up against him, and as for the gold key which he wears on his back, it is considered a great honor, as few Danes have had it conferred on them, being, as it is, the key of the king's own bedchamber, and giving the wearer the privilege of entering there when he likes.' 66 Another one which amused us says 'the bride is to be congratulated on having annexed as fine a specimen of a Viking as any one could desire, and, although she has not secured a golden crown for her marble brow, she has secured a name that ought to be good for a three-bagger' on any diamond, and that just to see it written on a hotel register makes any hotel clerk faint." Johan asked me what a "three-bagger" was, but I could not tell him. Then the worst one! "Mr. de Hegermann is envoy extraordinary and parson to his Danish 'nibs. Johan was horrified at this lèse Majesté. We looked the word "nibs" out in the dictionary, only to find that in cribbage "nibs" meant the knave of trumps. This made matters worse; to call his sovereign a knave-even of trumps-seemed too disrespectful. It was very nice of Norris, your Cambridge grocer, to placard the fruit in his shop-window in our honor. "Lindencrone beauties" and "the Danish pair" show a certain amount of humor which ought to be applauded. Such a pun goes to my heart. I hope you encouraged him by buying them all and can tell me what a "Danish pair" looks like. The first thing we unpacked was the bridal carpet we were married on. You do not know how precious it is. It seems that it is absolutely indispensable to every bride in Denmark! It was embroidered by the different female members of J.'s family, each embroidering a square; when all the squares are sewed together it makes a very effective carpet. When old and moth-eaten, it will go down to posterity-otherwise it will stay with us and smell of camphor. In Denmark it appears to belong as much to a wedding as Mendelssohn's march with all the stops pulled out. It would take more than one letter of mine written on foolscap paper to tell you of our colleagues and friends. I can do it in sections when I have time. But, oh, when can I get the time! First I will tell you of the great scandal. The scandal of scandals. The Belknap affair. He is Secretary of War and lives right opposite us. We feel unpleasantly near, though it is interesting to see the policemen patrolling the street and delightful to feel safe from burglars. We go every day to the Capitol, and one day we saw Mr. Belknap brought in to the House between two policemen. He sat there facing all his colleagues, quietly stroking his long beard and sometimes actually smiling behind it. I suppose that he has been waiting so long for the bomb to burst that he has become callous. To me it does not seem such an awful thing that he has done. It is something like this: You give Mrs. Belknap some furs and I will give you some contracts. The stories you hear of his trying to commit suicide and kill other people are not true. He looks very blooming and satisfied with himself. I have had my "audience" (Johan calls it an "audience"; I call it a "call on Mrs. President Grant at the White House"). There was nothing formal or formidable about it. Mrs. Grant and I sat on the sofa together and talked generalities. Johan could not tell me what to expect. He said his audience with the President had been a surprise, unprecedented by anything he had ever seen. As it was his first post as Minister, he had pictured to himself that it would be somewhat like the ceremonies abroad -very solemn and impressive. Of course he was in his red gala uniform, with all his decorations. A hired landau brought him to the steps of the White House, which he mounted with conscious dignity. His written speech, nicely folded, he carried in his hand. In Europe there would have been a crowd of gorgeous chamberlains to receive him, but here he found a negro, who, on seeing him, hurriedly donned a coat, and, with an encouraging wave of the hand, said: "Come right along in, sir. I'll let them know you're here, sir." Johan was shown into a room and waited with patience until the President and Mr. Hamilton Fish came in. Mr. Grant was dressed in a gray walking-suit and wore a colored tie; and Mr. Hamilton Fish (Secretary of State) had evidently just come in from a walk, as his turned-up trousers signified. Johan read his speech, and the President answered by reading, with some difficulty, a paper which Mr. Fish handed to him at the last moment. After this exchange of formalities Johan shook hands with the President, and without further ceremony he left the room, the door this time being opened by a white servant in black clothes. Mr. Fish at parting casually observed that the weather was fine. I was officially presented on their reception days to the wives of all the Ministers, and made my visits to the members of the Corps Diplomatique. We were invited to dinner The Russia, was most delightful. Grand-Duke is very charming, natural, with a sly twinkle in his mild blue eye. He has a very handsome face, is extremely musical, and plays the piano with great finesse, having a most sympathetic touch. MRS. U. S. GRANT From a photograph taken about 1876 at the White House-a dinner given to the Corps Diplomatique. I was taken in by M. de Schlozer, the German Minister, and sat between him and Sir Edward Thornton (the English Minister), who sat on the right of Mrs. Grant. We were opposite to the President. I noticed that he turned his wine-glasses upside down, to indicate, I suppose, that he did not drink wine during dinner. Afterward we amused ourselves by walking in the long Blue Room. The President disappeared with some of the gentlemen to smoke, and was lost to view. The company also faded gradually away. Mrs. Grant did not seem inclined to gaze on us any longer, and appeared to be relieved when we shook her outstretched hand and said, "Good night." A dinner to which we went, given by the Schiskines (the Russian Minister) in honor of the Grand-Duke Constantine of After dinner we darned stockings. This sounds queer, but nevertheless it is true. The Schiskines had just bought a darningmachine. They paid eighty-six dollars for it; but to darn, one must have holes, and no holes could be found in a single decent stocking,so they had to cut holes, and then we darned. The Grand-Duke was so enchanted with this darning that he is going to take a machine home to the GrandDuchess, his august mother. The darning done, we had some music. M. de Schlozer improvised on the piano, and after the Grand-Duke had played some Chopin, I sang. M. de Schlozer went through his little antics as advance - courier of my singing: he screwed the piano-stool to the proper height (he thinks it must be just so high when I accompany myself); he removed all albums from sight for fear people might be tempted to glance in them; he almost snatched fans from the hands of unoffending ladies, fearing they might use them; no dogs were to be within patting distance, and no smoking; he turned all the chairs to face the piano so that no one should turn their backs to it. These are all heinous crimes in his eyes. He would, if he could, have pulled down all the portières and curtains, as he does in his own house when I sing there! What must people think of him? You ask me, "What kind of a cook have you?" Don't speak of it-it is a should be plenty of room, but even then there was not sufficient space to contain the crowd of miscellaneous guests. There were two orchestras, but no one wanted to dance. Every one wandered about through the rooms or lolled in the grottoes, which were lighted with different-colored lamps. In every corner were fountains of cologne, around which the gentler sex stood in crowds saturating their handkerchiefs some of which had crossstitch initials in red thread. Mirrors were placed at the end of each room to prolong the vista. "Mexico," in enormous letters formed by gas-jets, stood over the enAnd as JAMES G. BLAINE When Speaker of the House of Representatives do with all the delicious things they have here-all these wonderful birds and meats and vegetables, and only the one sauce!" trances. no for the supper, it was in a room out of all proportion to the gathering! There was question of getting into it; only prize-fighters and professional athletes could elbow their way through the crowd. The waiters had long since disappeared, frightened at their formidable task. The chairs intended for the guests were utilized as tables on which to put unfinished plates of food and half-empty glasses. Everything that was not spilled on the floor was spilled on the table. Such things as bonbons, cakes, etc., that could be stowed away in pockets, vanished like magic. Gentlemen (?) broke the champagne-bottles by knocking them on the table, sending the contents flying across the room. It the room. The lady guests drew out the silver skewers which ornamented the plats montés and stuck them in their hair as mementoes of this memorable evening. The charity concert, of which I was "dame patroness, went off with success. We made a great deal of money. M. de Schlozer paid twenty dollars for his ticket. My chorus covered itself with glory and was encored. As the concert finished at ten, we adjourned to the Zamaconas' (Minister of Mexico) first ball, and I hope, for them, their only one. It was one of those soirées where people appropriate the forks and spoons. It cost, they say, ten thousand dollars. The assemblage was promiscuous, to say the least. Every one who asked for an invitation got one, and went. The Minister had hired the house next the Legation, and cut doors into it so that there DEAR AUNT,-The best way I can spend this Ash-ful Wednesday is to write a penitent letter to you and beg you to forgive my long silence, but if you could imagine what a life we have been leading, I think that, being the being you are, you would make excuses for a niece who gets up with the sun and goes to bed with the morning star. When that morning star appears, I am so tired I can think of nothing but bed and the bliss of laying my diplomatic body down to rest. My dear, beloved aunt, you have a dreadful little vice (which is all vice and no versa), and that is of sending my letters-written only to you and for your indulgent eye-"Mein besseres Ich"scouring the country. I never know where they are going to bring up. Sometimes (not later than yesterday) one brought up here like a naughty little hen that had come home to roost. It was covered with sarcastic remarks on the margin, certainly not meant for me, but for the next reader. For instance: "If you can make head or tail out of this, I cannot. Lillie seems to be in a social whirl which has evidently turned her brain upside down," and similar remarks which have wounded me to the quick. I read the letter in question, and it did, I confess, seem very incoherent and awfully conceited. How in future shall I ever allow myself to indulge in my habitual epistolary style? Dear old Mr. Corcoran (almost blind now) gave a unique banquet in honor of Johan and me. We went first to the theater to see "Rip Van Winkle" played by Jefferson. It was delightful, though I cried my eyes out. From the theater we went to Mr. Corcoran's house for a roasted-in-theshell oyster supper. Johan, who had never before assisted at such a feast, thought he had got loose among a lot of milkmaids and firemen, each with his bucket and pail, and when he saw the enormous pile of oysters brought in on platters, he wondered how many r's March had in her. However, like a lamb he sat next to his pail, and, after having consumed about a bushel himself, he became quite expert at opening the oysters and throwing the shells in his pail. It was a most amusing and original evening, and the amount of oyster-shells we left behind us would have paved the way to the Capitol. Another original entertainment I must tell you about. We received a note from General Burnside (Senator from Rhode Island): "Will you come to my codfish dinner on Thursday next?" We of course accepted and went. General Burnside and Senator Anthony are great friends and live together. I never could understand, and never dared to ask, why such a little State as Rhode Island needed DOM PEDRO, EMPEROR OF BRAZIL |