The cotillon lasted very late; the Duke of Saxe-Weimar talked a long time with me, mostly about music. He is very musical, and knows Liszt intimately, and told me a quantity of anecdotes about him. He was interested in what I told him about Liszt's going to the Conservatoire with Auber and me, and about the "Tannhäuser" overture incident. It was six o'clock when we drove back to London. We saw the milk-carts on their morning rounds and the street-sweepers at work. One felt ashamed of oneself at being in ball-dress and jewels at this early hour, galloping through the streets in a fine carriage, making such a dreadful contrast to the poor working-people.
I had great fun at Lady Harrington's musical soirée, where Arthur
Sullivan's "Prodigal Son" was to be sung.
We had been dining at Lady Londonderry's, and arrived rather late at Lady Harrington's. The whole staircase was crowded with people, and even down in the hall it was so full of ladies and gentlemen that there was no question of moving about. However, I made my way as far as the stairs, every one wondering at my audacity, and I murmured gently:
"May I pass?" There was a chorus of "Quite impossible!" "Perfectly useless!" and other such discouraging remarks. I said to a gentleman who sat stolidly on his step:
"Do you think I could send word to Mr. Sullivan that the Prodigal Son's mother cannot get to him?"
"What do you mean?" said he. "Are you—"
"Yes, I am; and if you don't let me pass you won't have any music."
You should have seen them jump up and make a pathway for me. I marched through it like the children of Israel through the Red Sea. I was enchanted to have my little fun. I joined the other performers, and the mother of the Prodigal Son was received with open arms. The Prodigal Son's father was pathos itself, and we rejoiced together over our weak tenor- boy. The only fatted calves that were to be seen belonged to the fat flunkeys.
We had a beautiful time at Ascot. Alfred Rothschild was an excellent host. Among the other guests were the Archibald Campbells, the Hochschilds, Mr. Osbourne, the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle, Hon. and Mrs. Stoner, one of the ladies of the Queen, Mr. Mitford, and others. Lady Campbell had only one dress with her (they must be very poor!); it was a black velvet (fancy, in the middle of summer!). She wore it high-necked for the races in the daytime and low-necked in the evening. We drove to Ascot every day at one o'clock. We had seats in the Queen's stand, and after seeing one race we went to lunch with Mr. Delane, who had open table for one hundred people every day. Mr. Delane belongs to the Times newspaper.
Baron Rothschild had carte-blanche to bring any guest, or as many as he liked. The Prince of Wales always lunched there, and any one that was of importance was sure to be present. I made many new acquaintances, and you may imagine how I enjoyed this glimpse of a world so entirely unknown to me. The races at Longchamps, Auteuil, and Chantilly I had seen many times; but I never saw anything like this exciting and bewildering scene.