There is a very pretty square called Amagertorv, where all the peasant women a.s.semble, looking very picturesque in their national dresses, with their little velvet caps embroidered in gold, and their Quaker-like bonnets with a fichu tied over them. They quite fill up the square with flowers, fruits, and vegetables, and stand in the open air by their wares in spite of wind, rain, and weather.

Around the corner, in front of Christiansborg Castle, by the ca.n.a.l, your nose will inform you that this is the fish-market, where the fish are brought every morning, wriggling and gasping in the nets in which they have been caught overnight. It is a very interesting sight to see all the hundreds of boats in the ca.n.a.l, which runs through the center of the town.

The other evening there was a large musical _soiree_ given at Amalienborg. I won't tell you the names of those who were present, as you would not know them, but they are the most prominent names here.

Their Majesties sat in two gilded arm-chairs, in front of which was a rug. There was a barytone from the Royal Theater who sang some Danish songs; then the Princess Thyra and an English lady and I sang the trio from "Elijah," and a quartette with the barytone. I sang several times alone. There was an English lady, whose name I do not remember, who played a solo on the _cornet a piston_. Her face was hidden by her music, which was on a stand in front of her. After I had sung the "_Caro Nome_" from "Rigoletto," and the English lady had played her solo, the deaf Princess Caroline--who, with her ears filled with cotton and encompa.s.sed by her flaxen braids, sat in front--said, in a loud and penetrating voice, "I like _that_ lady's singing better than the other one's"--meaning me. Every one laughed. I had never had a _cornet a piston_ as a rival before.

_March 1, 1878._

Dear Mother,--Our last day here. I lunched at Amalienborg, and was the only stranger present. The King, who sat next to me, said, "I feel quite hurt that you have never asked me for my photograph."

"But I have one," I answered, "which I bought. I dare not ask your Majesty to sign it."

"One must always dare," he answered, smilingly. "May I 'dare' to ask you to accept one from me?" He got up from the table and left the room, being absent for a few minutes. When the door opened again we saw the King standing outside, trying to carry a large picture. His Majesty had gone up to the room in which the picture hung, and the servant who had taken it from the wall brought it to the door of the dining-room, whence the King carried it in himself. The mark of the dusty cord still showed on his shoulder. It was a life-size portrait of himself painted in oil.

He said, "Will you accept this?"

I could not believe my ears. This for me! I hesitated.

The Queen said, "My dear, you must take it, since the King desires it."

"But," I replied, "how can I?"

Her Majesty answered, "Your husband would not like you to refuse. Take it!--_you must!_" and added, "The ribbon [the blue Order of the Elephant] is beautifully painted"--as if the rest were not!

The Princess Thyra said, "Papa has only had six portraits painted of himself. This one is painted by Mr. Shytte. I don't think that it is half handsome enough for papa. Do you?"

"Well," said the King, "I shall have it sent to your hotel." I could not thank his Majesty enough, and I am sure I looked as embarra.s.sed as I felt.

As we were going away the next day, this was my last visit to the Queen. On bidding me good-by she pressed something into my hand and said, "You leave me so many _souvenirs_! I have only one for you, and here it is."

It was a lovely locket of turquoises. On opening it I found the Queen's portrait on one side and the Princess Thyra's on the other.

She kissed me, and I kissed her hand, with tears in my eyes.

We return to Bjornemose to bid our parents good-by; then farewell to Denmark.

We leave in four days for New York.

WASHINGTON, _February, 1879_.

Dear Mother,--Monsieur de Schlozer is one of the colleagues whom we like best. I wish you knew him! I do not know anything more delightful than to see him and Carl Schurz together. They are not unlike in character; they are both witty, refined, always seeing the beautiful in everything, almost boyish in their enthusiasm, and clever, _cela va sans dire_, to their finger-tips. They bring each other out, and they both appear at their best, which is saying a great deal. We consider that we are fortunate to number them among our _intimes_.

Would it interest you to know how these _intimes_ amuse themselves?

Life is so simple in Washington, and there are so few distractions outside of society, that we only have our social pleasures to take the place of theaters and public entertainments. It is unlike Paris and other capitals in this respect.

We have organized a club which we call "The National Rational International Dining Club," to which belong Mrs. Bigelow Lawrence, her sister Miss Chapman, Mr. de Schlozer, Carl Schurz, Aristarchi Bey (the Turkish Minister), Count Donhoff (Secretary to the German Legation), and ourselves. So when we are free, and not invited elsewhere, we dine together at one another's houses. I am the president, Mrs. Lawrence the vice-president, Schurz the treasurer, Schlozer the sergeant-at-arms, and Johan has the most difficult--and (as Mr. Schurz calls it) the "onerous"--duty of recognizing and calling attention to the jokes, which in his conscientious attempts to seize he often loses entirely.

The "rational" part is the menu. We are allowed a soup, one roast, one vegetable and dessert, and _two_ wines, one of which, according to the regulations, _must be good_. We do not even need so much, for there is more laughing than eating. A stuffed goose from the Smithsonian Inst.i.tution serves as a _milieu de table_, and is sent, on the day of the dinner, to the person who gives it.

We always have music. Schurz and Schlozer play the piano alternately, and I do the singing. I must say that a more appreciative audience than our co-diners cannot be imagined.

We have laws and by-laws written on large foolscap paper, bearing a huge seal which looks very official. Mr. Schurz carries it in his inside pocket, and sometimes at large dinners he pulls it out and begins reading it with the greatest attention, and every one at the table believes that there is something very important going on in politics. But we, the initiated, know that the doc.u.ment is the law of the N.R.I. Dining Club. Then, when all eyes are fastened on him, he puts the paper deliberately back in his pocket, with a sly wink at the members.

Mr. Schurz is now Secretary of the Interior, and a great personage.

When one thinks that he hardly knew a word of our language when he came to this country (a young man of twenty), and that now he is one of our first orators, one cannot help but admire him. Because he has entirely identified himself with the politics of our country he has risen to the high position which he now holds. You said, when you heard him deliver that oration at Harvard College, that you were astonished that any foreigner could have such complete command of the language. He is integrity itself, with a great mind free from all guile, and is filled with the enthusiasm and vivacity of youth. During the revolutionary movement in Germany in 1848 he helped a political friend escape from the Schandau prison, and on account of that was himself condemned to death. However, he managed to evade pursuit and took refuge in America, where he has lived ever since.

_Le Chevalier_, as we call Senator Bayard, because he is so entirely _sans reproche_, sent his photograph to Mrs. T. and wrote on the back of it, "_Avec les regards de T. Bayard_." She showed it to her friends with the scathing remark, "People should not write French if they don't understand the language." Others, who understood the language, thought it very clever.

Schlozer has let it be known in the Foreign Office in Berlin that a secretary who has money to spend is more desirable in America than one who has not. He thinks that it is more advantageous for a young man to travel through the country and learn things than to sit copying despatches in the _chancellerie_ in Washington.

In this respect Count Donhoff, his new secretary, ought to satisfy him, for never was a person so determined to see everything, know everybody, and do all that is doing. He begged Mr. Schurz to give him permission to accompany General Adam, who, because he knew the Indians and their little ways and how to deal with them, was sent out to Montana to rescue the family of one of the commissioners who had been captured.

These two gentlemen (Adam and Donhoff) went to the place where the women and children were concealed, and remained there a week, trying to induce the Indians to give them up. They were finally successful, but it was known afterward that the Indians during the time they were there were holding council every night to decide whether or not they would hang the two "pale-faces" to the first tree in the morning.

Both Schurz and Schlozer were relieved to see Count Donhoff when he returned safe and sound. They reproached themselves for allowing him to start on such an expedition, as it was a very reckless adventure, and a great risk for him.

WASHINGTON, _March, 1879_.

My dear Mother,--We have taken the Fant House for this winter. People say it is haunted. As yet we have not seen any ghosts nor found any skeletons in the closets. The possible ghosts have no terrors for me.

On the contrary, I should love to meet one face to face! But the rats are plentiful and have probably played ghosts' parts and given the house its reputation. Those we have here are so bold and a.s.sertive that I have become quite accustomed to them. I meet them on the staircase, and they politely wait for me to pa.s.s. One old fellow--I call him Alcibiades, because he is so audacious--actually gnaws at our door, as if begging to be allowed to come in and join us. We put poison in every attractive way we can think of all about, but they seem to like it and thrive upon it. Johan, having had a Danish sailor recommended to him, allows him to live in a room up-stairs and to help a little in the house while waiting for a boat. He is very masterful in his movements, and handles the crockery as if it were buckets of water, and draws back the portieres as if he were hauling at the main-sheet.

Mr. Robeson (Secretary of the Navy), who ought to know _le dernier cri_ on the subject of the habits of rats, told us that the only way to get rid of them was to catch one and dress him up in a jacket and trousers--red preferable--tie a bell round his neck, and let him loose.

"Then," he said, "the rat would run about among his companions and indicate the pressure brought upon rats, and soon there would not be one left in the house."

This was an idyl for our sailor. He spent most of his days making a jacket with which to clothe the rat, and actually did catch one (I hoped he was not my friend of the staircase) and proceeded to put him into this sailor-made costume, which was not an easy thing to do, and had he not been accustomed to bracing up stays and other nautical work he never could have accomplished the thing. However, he _did_ accomplish it; he tied the bell on the rat's neck and let him loose.

The remedy (though uttered from an official mouth for which we have great respect) was worse than the evil. The rat refused to run about to warn his friends. On the contrary, he would not move, but looked imploringly into the eyes of his tormentor, as if begging to be allowed to die in his normal skin. Then, I believe, he went and sulked in a corner and committed suicide--he was so mortified. We said one rat in a corner was worse than twelve on the staircase.

The Outreys (the French Minister) had their diplomatic reception, and sent cards to every one they knew and many they did not know. The ladies who went expected Madame Outrey to be dressed in the latest fashion; being the wife of the French Minister, it was her duty to let society into the secrets of Parisian "modes," but she was dressed in a simple, might-have-been-made-at-home black gown. This exasperated the ladies (who had gone with an eye to copying) to such a degree that many went home with pent-up and wounded feelings, as if they had been defrauded of their rights and without supper--which, had they stayed, they would have found to be the latest thing in suppers.

WASHINGTON.

The gra.s.s on our small plot has reached the last limit of endurance and greenness, and is sprouting weeds at a great rate; also our one bush, though still full of chirpiness, is beginning to show signs of depression.

We were invited to a spiritualistic _seance_ at the L----'s _salon_.

The Empress Josephine has consented to materialize in America after having visited the Continent. We saw her, and a more unempress-looking empress I cannot imagine. To convince a skeptic she displayed her leg to show how well it had succeeded in taking on flesh. I have no patience with people who believe such nonsense. The famous spiritualist Poster is also here in Washington. He is clever in a way, and has made many converts simply by putting two and two together. We went, of course, to see him, and came away astounded, but not convinced. He produced a slate on which were written some wonderful things about a ring which had a history in J.'s family. J. could not imagine how any one could have known it. Foster said to me: "I had a premonition that you were coming to-day. See!" and he pulled up his sleeve and there stood "Lillie," written in what appeared to be my handwriting in gore, I suppose--it was red. I urged Baron Bildt to go and see him, knowing that he liked that sort of thing. The moment he appeared, Foster, smelling a diplo-rat, said, "Madame Hegermann sent you to me," upon which Baron Bildt succ.u.mbed instantly.

Teresa Carreno, the _Wunderkind_, now a _Wunder-madchen_, having arrived at the age when she wisely puts up her hair and lets down her dresses, is on a concert tour with Wilhelmj (the famous violinist). He is not as good as Wieniawski, and can't be named in the same breath with Ole Bull. They came here to lunch, together with Schlozer, who brought the violin. I invited a good many people to come in the afternoon--among others, Aristarchi, who looks very absorbed when music is going on, but with him it means absolutely nothing, because he is a little deaf, but looks eager in order to seize other people's impressions.

Wilhelmj played, and Teresa Carreno played, and I sang a song of Wilhelmj's from the ma.n.u.script. He said, "You sing it as if you had dreamed it." I thought if I had dreamed it I should have dreamed of a patchwork quilt, there were so many flats and sharps. My eyes and brain ached.

After a good deal of music Wilhelmj sank in a chair and said, "I can no more!" and fell to talking about his wines. He is not only a violinist, but is a wine merchant. Schlozer and J. naturally gave him some large orders.

Washington is very gay, humming like a top. Everything is going on at once.