The Prince of Wales said: "That is a bewitching song. I never heard it before. Who composed it?"
I told him that it was written for me by my husband, and Longfellow had written the words.
The Princess, before leaving, said, "I cannot tell you how much pleasure
you have given us this evening; we hope to see you often while you are in
London." She is very beautiful, even handsomer than when I saw her last.
Baroness Rothschild kissed me, and thanked me for having sung for her.
Call me vain and conceited if you will, my head is turned, and there is nothing more to be said about it!
A luncheon at "Caroline, Duchess of Montrose's," at two o'clock upset me for the whole day. I am not accustomed to those big déjeuners- dinatoires. I was sleepy and felt good for nothing the rest of the day; and when we dined at Lady Molesworth's that evening, "to meet their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales," and wanted to be extra up-to-the-mark, I felt just the contrary. However, after dinner the Prince of Wales asked me to sing, and I did not refuse, and even sang most of the evening. There was a charming Baron Hochschild, the Swedish Minister, who sang delightfully. He is a thorough musician, and accompanied himself perfectly with all the aplomb of an artist. He has a deep, rich barytone, and his répertoire consisted of all the well-known old Italian songs. Lady Molesworth is a beautiful old lady, who must have been a great beauty in her youth. She wears curls just like yours, dear mama, which made me love her. I met here Arthur Sullivan; he was full of compliments.
The next day we were invited to a matinée musicale at Lady Dudley's, preceded by a luncheon, which Mr. Osbourne called "a snare," because, he said, I could not refuse to sing. I did not want to refuse, either. The piano was in the beautiful picture-gallery, all full of Greuze's pictures bought from the Vatican; it has the most wonderful acoustics, and the voice sounded splendidly in it. Lady Dudley is a celebrated beauty. Lord Dudley—before he succeeded to the title—was Lord Ward. The Duke and Duchess of Sutherland asked us to dine. This was a very imposing affair; the Duke of Cambridge was at the dinner as the grosse pièce, and there were many diplomats. After dinner several artists came from Covent Garden, and among them Madame Patti, who sang the "Cavatina" of "Lucia," with flute accompaniment, and how beautifully!
When I was introduced to her I said, "The first time I heard you sing was years ago when I was a little girl and you were in short dresses."
"In Rochester," I replied. "I shall never forget how exquisitely you sang
'Ah! non giunge' and 'Ernani.'"
"Yes, I remember quite well. I was singing in concerts with Ole Bull; but that was a long time ago."
"It was indeed," I said; "but I have never forgotten your voice, nor a lovely song you sang which I have never heard since, called 'Happy Birdling of the Forest.' And your trill! Just like the bird itself!"