Albert Gate,
March 14, 1884.

To-day was our first Drawing-room, and we turned out in great force, I had three secretaries' wives. We had out our two carriages. W. and I in the gala carriage with Count de Florian, Secretary of Embassy, Hubert driving us, and two English giants behind; then came the landau with merely one footman on the box, all in full dress livery, blue breeches, silk stockings, and powdered wigs. There was a great display of troops, and a crowd waiting on the pavement outside the door at the Embassy to see us start. There are no porte-cochères in London, so you go straight out into the street to get your carriages, and a carpet is kept in the hall, which is rolled down the steps every time you go out. The streets were crowded as we came near Buckingham Palace.

We entered the Palace by a side entrance, leaving our wraps in one of the rooms, and went up the great staircase, which was a pretty sight. Quantities of plants and flowers and a long procession of women with handsome Court dresses, splendid tiaras, and a few men in uniform—of course women preponderate. We walked through various rooms all filled with Court functionaries, officers in uniform, and finally arrived in the large salon opening into the Throne-Room where all the Corps Diplomatique and English people who had the entrée were assembled. Countess Granville, wife of the Foreign Secretary, Earl Granville, looked most distinguished, tall and fair, in black with a handsome tiara. Countess Karolyi, Austrian Ambassadress, was beautiful in her Hungarian costume and splendid jewels. The Russians also most picturesque in their national court dress, red velvet trains heavily embroidered in gold, white veils spangled with gold, and the high head-dress (kakoshnik) in velvet studded with jewels.

When the doors were opened the Foreign Secretary and his wife passed first and took up their station close beside the Princess of Wales, to name the members of the Corps Diplomatique. Then the Master of Ceremonies gave his hand to the Doyenne—the Austrian Ambassadress—her train was spread out by two pages,—and they entered the Throne-Room, making low bows or curtseys on the threshold. One makes 3 curtseys; one on entering the room, one half way and a third as one gets close to the Princess. We followed quickly, I with my ladies coming directly behind the Russians. The Court was small—Princess of Wales, Princess Beatrice, Prince of Wales and Duke of Cambridge. The Princess, a charming graceful figure dressed in dark velvet with coloured embroideries and jewels and orders; Princess Beatrice in mauve, and the two Princes in uniform of English Field Marshal. The Princesses shook hands with us chefesses and bowed to the young ladies—the Princes the same. There was no sort of trouble about the train; they are down only for a moment, just as you pass the Queen or Princess—a chamberlain picks them up most adroitly, puts them in your arm, and one never gives them a thought. As soon as we had passed the group of Princes we turned into a deep window recess and stood there until the end. That was most amusing, as we faced the door and saw everyone come in. It amused and interested me extremely to see how differently people passed. Most of the women looked well, their fresh, fair skins standing the test—and a pretty severe one it is—of full dress, white feathers and veil at three in the afternoon of a cold March day. Many had been dressed since 12, first sitting a long time in their carriages, and then waiting a long time in the drawing-room at the Palace, until their turns came. They were generally timid and nervous when they passed—some bracing themselves as if they were facing a terrible ordeal, some racing past very quickly, forgetting to take their trains in their arms, and pursued down the room by an impatient chamberlain, and some, especially the débutantes, making carefully and conscientiously the low regulation curtsey to each Prince, and trembling with shyness. When the last person had passed the Court turned and made us bows and curtseys—the Princess' half curtsey is charming—and it was over. We all got away quickly.

The great hall was an interesting sight, filled with women and uniforms of every kind, and a band playing in the great square. We had the usual "Drawing-room tea" to show our dresses. I wore the blue embroidered Court dress I had made for Moscow, with blue feathers and diamond tiara. All the English women wear white feathers and veils, which naturally does not suit everyone, particularly if they are not well put on. Some of the coiffures were almost eccentric, one rather high feather, and a long one very low running down one's back. The young men were pleased, as they had many compliments for our carriages and liveries. We were the only Embassy that had out two carriages.

To G. K. S.

London,
May, 1884.

We went to the Derby this morning with Lord Cork. I had never been, and W. not for many years. We went down by train—(special, with the Prince and racing coterie) and I enjoyed the day. We were in the Jockey Club box, and it was a curiosity to see the crowd on the lawn, packed tight, and every description of person, all engrossed with the race, and wildly interested in the horses. There was almost a solemn silence just before the Derby was run. This time there was a tie, which is rare, I believe. It was rather amusing driving home from Victoria, as all the balconies along the road were decorated, and crowded with people, but I believe the great fashion of driving down had almost disappeared. Nearly everyone now goes down by train.

London,
June 28, 1884.

This morning H. and I went to the second meet of the Coaching Club on D.'s coach. It was a pretty sight; a bright beautiful morning and Hyde Park crowded with equipages, riders, and pedestrians—quantities of pretty women all much dressed, principally in white, with hats trimmed with flowers, and light parasols. The tops of the coaches looked like flower beds. Everyone engrossed with the teams, criticising and admiring with perfect frankness. The fly-drivers were killing, knew all the horses, and expressed themselves freely on the way they were handled.