London,
June 14, 1887.
London is getting ready for the Jubilee and the streets are crowded. Various Royalties have arrived, and one meets Royal carriages, escorts, and strong squads of police at every turn. It is warm and lovely to-day—so was yesterday. W., Francis and I drove out to Sheen, where W. plays tennis in Lord F.'s private court. I wandered about under the trees, and Francis sailed his boat in the pond and was quite happy. It is such a rest to get a few hours in the country when one is going out all the time as we are here—and above all not to have to talk. We had a remarkable entertainment last night, given by the Hawaiian Secretary (who is a German-American) for his Queen, of the Sandwich Islands. We arrived in due time, I rather protesting.
There was a large reception after dinner and the mistress of the house asked us if we wouldn't stand by the Queen and make a sort of cercle, and a funny contrast we made—Mrs. P. beautifully dressed in white satin and lace, Lady R. with splendid jewels, I wore my pink brocade and old Venetian lace. It really was too absurd. I talked a little to the Princess, who is intelligent enough. The Queen is a great stickler for etiquette, and insisted upon the same honours as any other Royalties, an escort of Life Guards;—wouldn't accept any less distinguished escort.
London,
June 18, 1887.
We have had rather an amusing afternoon. I think I wrote you that we wanted to leave Westminster Abbey the minute the ceremony was over, get through the line of troops, and back to a friend's house in Piccadilly to see the cortége—we being Mrs. Phelps and I. Our respective husbands were most discouraging (as men always are), but we dined last night with Knowles to meet the Duke of Cambridge, and I told His Royal Highness what we wanted to do, and asked him if he could help us. After some little discussion he said he would advise us to go directly to Sir Charles Warren (Chief of Police) and see what he could arrange for us. Again our husbands remonstrated, "Warren was overrun with applications of all kinds, worked to death, and it was very unreasonable," but backed by the Duke we determined to try.
I told His Royal Highness I should put on my most becoming Paris bonnet and beard the lion in his den. He said, "Quite right, my dear, a man is always flattered when a woman tries to please him," so accordingly about 3 Mrs. Phelps and I started for Scotland Yard. George was rather surprised when I gave the order. We drove through one or two courts and were stopped once by a huge policeman, who let us go on when we said it was the French Ambassadress. We were shown at once into Sir Charles's room, and I must say he was charming, most kind and courteous. We had arranged beforehand that I was to be spokeswoman, and I went at once to the point. He was sitting at his table with letters and papers and telegrams, the telegraph ticking all the time, despatches and telegrams being brought in, and as busy a man as I ever saw. He immediately sent for maps of the route, distribution of the troops, etc., and said he thought he could manage it. We must have a light carriage (of course we must go to the Abbey in state in the gala coach) waiting at the Poets' Corner, as near the door as it can get; he will send us a pass to break through the lines, and will have three or four policemen waiting for us at the corner of Piccadilly and one of the smaller streets to pass us through the crowd. We really didn't derange him very much. The whole conversation lasted about ten minutes, and he was rather amused at this sudden appearance of the two "femmes du monde" in his "milieu" of clerks, policemen, telegraph boys, type-writers and a hurrying, bustling crowd of employés of all kinds. We returned triumphant to our respective houses.
We had a fine reception last night at the Austrian Embassy in honour of Prince Rudolph. We arrived late, having dined out. The Prince is very good-looking, slight, elegant figure, and charming manners and smile. All the world was there—quantities of pretty women, and pretty dresses—the Countess Karolyi always the handsomest.
London,
June 20, 1887.
London is really a sight to-day, the streets gay with flags, draperies, stands, illuminations, and quantities of people gaping all day long. I went for a drive with Mary Sheridan, daughter of Mr. Motley, late Minister from the United States to the Court of St. James. We didn't attempt going down Piccadilly, as we saw what a dense crowd and block there was, so we crossed to Constitution Hill. We went all round Westminster Abbey; I wanted to see the Poets' Corner where we are to go in to-morrow, and the House of Commons stand where she is to be with her sister. We were blocked for a quarter of an hour standing close to the Embankment. Some of the mottoes are very nice. I like the humble ones best, "God bless our Queen." We were a long time getting back to the Embassy, Piccadilly almost impassable. It was amusing, as everyone was arranging their balconies, and we recognised various friends standing at windows, and on balconies directing the arrangement of chairs, plants, flags, etc. After dinner W. took his cigar and we walked about a little in Piccadilly. Some of the illuminations had already begun and the crowd was dense, but no jostling or roughs, everyone good-humoured and wildly interested in the decorations. London is transformed for the moment and looks like a great continental city, all lights and flags and an "air de fête." We didn't stay out very late, as we have a long day before us to-morrow. They say the Queen is well, but rather "émue" and a little nervous, which must be expected. I shall wear white, the only objection to that being that jewels won't show out, as they would on a darker colour.