Part 43

At half past nine the servant announced the arrival of the royal carriages. J. and the secretaries flew downstairs, two servants raced after them, each carrying a candelabrum of six lighted candles. After J. had helped the King from the carriage he took the candelabra from the servants and preceded the King up the stairs to where I stood, according to custom, on the threshold of the door. I presented to the Crown Princess a large bouquet of red and white roses (the Danish colors), with long streaming ribbons to match, and a smaller bouquet to the Princess Louise.

The tambour, a curious name given to an antechamber in Sweden, seemed overflowing with dazzling uniforms and showy liveries. It was a very cold night, and all the guests were muffled up to the tips of their noses when they came in. The display of india-rubbers was stupendous. You can see how necessary were the twenty-two large porcelain stoves which, in Sweden, are built into the walls. For my ballroom I was obliged to add an American stove of the kind one fills once a day from the top.

The King gave me his arm, and as we entered the salon every one courtesied to the ground. Then the Crown Princess came in with J.

Tea was passed, and when the usual ceremonies like presentations and greetings were finished, the quadrille d'honneur commenced.

The King took his place on the dais and watched the dancing.

At eleven o'clock supper was announced. In entering the supper-room the King gave me his arm, the others following.

We were fifteen at our table, ten of whom were royalties.

J. did not sit down to supper with us, as it is not the custom in Sweden for the host to absent himself from the rest of his guests.

Now came the moment for the surprise!

When the royal guests were seated on the dais, sufficient space was made in front of them, the door opened from a side-room, and the dancers entered.

I think those sixteen young people showed much self-denial to be willing to forego the early pleasures of the ball, as they had to do, and give up the time when others were dancing to being dressed, wigged, powdered, and painted. I had to put four rooms at their disposal, two for the ladies with their maids, one for the gentlemen and their valets, and one for their refreshments and supper.

The shepherds and shepherdesses looked and danced their quadrille charmingly. The music for this was the mazurka from "Romeo and Juliet." When the incroyables came in there was a murmur of admiration. They were beautifully dressed. They wore black satin costumes, and the ladies had white ruffs round their necks. The gentlemen wore high collars and lace jabots. Each had a long stick in his hand and a monocle in his eye. The shepherds stood back while the incroyables danced their quadrille. The music of this was the "Gavotte Louis XIII." As I had chosen the eight prettiest girls in Stockholm, the effect was perfectly enchanting. After the second quadrille they joined forces and danced a ronde to the music of "Le Galop Infernal" of "Orphée aux Enfers" (Offenbach). It was a great success, and the King desired them to dance it over again.

The King thought it must have been a tremendous undertaking, but I told him that it was no trouble to me, as the ballet-master from the theater had taught them.

These young people stayed in their pretty costumes for the cotillon, which commenced directly after their dance.

In Sweden people are not blasé as to cotillon favors. They are not accustomed to receive anything more elaborate than flowers and little bows, so I think they all went home happy with their gifts.

There is such a queer custom here. During the cotillon, at the same time with the ices, beer is served, and something they call mandel-melck (milk mixed with almond essence). The young ladies also have to be sustained every little while by huge glasses of the blackest of porter.

The royal guests left at two o'clock; then we had a sit-down supper for those remaining. At five o'clock I found myself in my bed, tired out but happy that everything had gone off so well.

The next day the Crown Prince of Sweden had arranged a tobogganing party at Dyrsholm. We were a very gay company of twenty-four, meeting at the station to take the little local train to Dyrsholm, and arriving about twelve o'clock.

Here we found an excellent luncheon which his Royal Highness had ordered, and which was, oh, so acceptable to us hungry mortals! On excursions of this kind in this cold latitude one is obliged to be very careful not to eat and especially not to drink too much, as there is always danger of congestion.

It was a glorious day, the sun shining brilliantly in a clear sky, but bitterly cold. The thermometer, I was told, was eighteen below zero; I would have said thirty. We ladies were muffled up to our ears in fur, our feet buried in pomposhes, which are long, india-rubber boots lined with fur, and when we stood in the snow we had great shoes lined with straw.

Everything about us was white; the trees, were loaded with icicles and snow. The hill down which we toboganned was very steep, ending in a long slide over the frozen lake. The snow on both sides of our path was piled up four feet high at least. The fun of toboganning is the bunker. The sudden rise gives you such an impetus, and on the other side you get such a tremendous bump that generally one, if not both, of you fall off head first in the snow.

One must be an adept to manage these sleds. The Crown Prince toboganned, as he did everything else, to perfection. Of course, each prince had his own sled and invited some lady to go with him. The lady generally sits in front, with her legs stretched out, and holds on to everything she can, her clothes in particular. The gentleman sits behind, steering with his feet.

The Crown Prince went often alone, and then he would lie flat on his stomach and steer with his long legs, as if he were sculling a boat. I did not feel the least nervous when I went with him, but I confess I did feel a little shy when I had to put my arms round his neck and clutch him for dear life when we jumped the bunker. He preferred having his companion behind him.

The revers de la médaille was the toiling up the long slope in the intense cold. I wondered if the pleasure was worth the toil, but if one did not go down on the sleds one would have to stay on the top of the hill and freeze.

We enjoyed this sport till darkness put an end to it; then we returned, tired, cold, and hungry to town, to dine hurriedly and be ready for the theater at eight o'clock--a gala performance.

J. and I were invited to sit in the royal box. The opera was "Orphée," by Glück. The Crown Princess suffers agonies when she hears music (everything sounds false to her sensitive ears). Therefore, to spare her, they had chosen the shortest opera.

In the entr'actes refreshments were served in the small salon which is kept in reserve for the King. It is the same room where King Gustave III. retired when he attended the ball which proved so fatal to him on the night of his assassination. The libretto of "Ballo in Maschera" by Verdi, is made on this subject, and the scene laid in Boston.

STOCKHOLM, 1892.