Italian Letters of a Diplomat's Life Part 5

This afternoon we have been again to the Chambre des Deputes--Cairoli was speaking. He has a good voice, we heard him much better than Visconti Venosta. _I_ didn't find his speech very interesting. There were all sorts of details and references to despatches and blue books which were Greek to me, but of course W. liked it and knew the question thoroughly so he said he would stay and I had much better go and get some fresh air. The heat was something awful and the box full, so I took myself off. One of the Austrian secretaries came down with me to look for the carriage and I started for a solitary turn in the Villa Borghese. I hadn't gone very far when I met Comtesse Wimpffen alone in her carriage. We drew up for a little talk, and she proposed I should send my carriage away and come into hers, which I was delighted to do.

We went for a little walk, and met various friends--Marchesa Theoduli[19]

looking lovely. She was very amusing over the divided state of society--says she is not allowed to bow to the Queen, and as they meet almost every day driving and neither of them can pa.s.s inapercue it is rather awkward. Mrs. Lorillard Spencer came up too, she was walking with her daughter, Princess Vicovaro, whose husband was "le beau Cenci" of our days. It was delicious lounging about on the gra.s.s under the trees, after the heat of the Chamber. We stopped at Nazzari's for tea, met Bibra at the door and invited him to come with us--also Cornelie Zuylen,[20] who had seen us from the street and rushed in to have a little talk. She is in Rome for a few days--sight-seeing hard. We had tea and very good cakes--and I was glad to have a few minutes before dressing for the Calabrini dinner.

[19] Nee Lily Conrad.

[20] Now Madame Scheidecker.

We started off again at 8, and had really a very pleasant evening at Calabrini's. Their house is not large--they can't dine easily more than 10 people. I was the only lady--the men were Vitelleschi, Sella (their rising political man) whom W. was delighted to see, a Ruspoli whom I had never seen before, a brother of the late Prince; and Alphonso Doria who looks like a tall English boy. Stella is clever enough, decidedly un homme serieux, and Calabrini was much pleased to have him for my homme serieux. He told us all sorts of stories about "Italia Unita" and Cavour, and his profound distrust of Louis Napoleon; how, until the very last moment when the French troops were really at the gates, he was afraid they wouldn't come. We stayed fairly late, as the talk was interesting. I don't think there is much real sympathy between the French and Italians. They are very unlike though they are of the same race. The Italians seem very excitable when they talk fast and gesticulate and their eyes flash, but au fond they are calmer than our people--at least the upper cla.s.ses; I don't know about the bas peuple.

They say knives play a part in their discussions. Certainly in France there are always rows when the Italian workmen arrive. They are generally terra.s.siers and come in bands when railroads or bridges are being made. One recognises them at once with their black eyes, white teeth, red sashes and slouched hats. There is usually a coup de couteau before the season ends. They work well enough, are light and active, but always stop to talk--don't keep up a sort of desultory talk over their work as our men do.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Queen Margherita and King Humbert.]

March 18, 1880.

Last night we went to the Wimpffens' grand official "ricevimento." All the street in front of the house was crowded just as it used to be in the old days--people coming close up to the carriages (going of course at a foot's pace) and peering in to see the diamonds. There was nothing like the display of carriages, diamonds, and liveries there used to be--many fiacres, and many uniforms. Countess Wimpffen looked very well in white satin, pearls, and diamond tiara, Wimpffen of course in uniform and his broad ribbon, Cenci (now Prince de Vicovaro) attached to the Court, was standing at one side of the Amba.s.sadress presenting all the Court people. The Princess, his wife, stood near by looking very well, beautifully dressed, with diamonds and large pearl pendants. She was wearing for the first time her decoration of dame de palais. All the "White" Roman ladies were there. I saw quant.i.ties of people whom I knew.

W. also begins to know the people. He thought the Roman women very distinguished looking, and the jewels splendid, particularly the pearls.

We stayed quite late, and decidedly amused ourselves. I was rather interested in seeing when Madame de Wimpffen shook hands and when she merely bowed. When W. was at the Foreign Office and we had big receptions I was puzzled sometimes. My impulse was not to shake hands with the men. W. and Richard thought I ought to shake hands with all the Deputies, but that seemed a great undertaking and would, I think, have surprised them, as Frenchmen as a rule are formal, don't shake hands usually with ladies, but make rather a stiff bow, so I compromised by shaking hands only with those I knew.

This afternoon W. and I went out together. We left several cards and wound up in the Villa Borghese, where we walked about for some time. It was lovely under the cypress trees, long dark avenues with a fountain at one end--large vases--bits of half-ruined gateways, columns, and unexpectedly a sort of rond or opening with fountains, statues, big stones, all in a heap, and then long stretches of lawn with anemones, violets, and a pretty little yellow flower I didn't know, all perfectly neglected and growing wild, but with a wonderful charm. Such a contrast when we emerged again into the regular promenade and the gay modern life of Rome of to-day. There were quant.i.ties of carriages, three or four four-in-hands with women in light dresses on the tops of the coaches; men, princ.i.p.ally officers, riding (in uniform, which always makes a gay note), lots of victorias and open carriages. The Prince of Naples (with the Royal red liveries) driving with one gentleman. He was dressed in sailor dress, looked smiling and interested, and bowed all the time.

Three or four carriages filled with pretty girls--English or American--looking hard at everything, and always bands of black-robed students, seminarists from the various colleges which abound in Rome. It is a curious motley crowd--I don't think one would see it anywhere else.

The clerical element is always well to the fore, and in spite of the changes the Monarchy established, with all the train of courtiers, deputies, soldiers, and endless functionaries that it brings, one feels that it is the great centre of Catholicism, and that the long arm of the Church still retains her hold on her children scattered all over the world.

I will finish now as we have come home fairly early from the Pallavicini reception. We dined at home and started off about 10. We went to get Gert, and on arriving about 10.30 found ourselves almost the first people. Felice Malatesta was there, also Del Monte. Both being "Gardes-n.o.bles" they can only come early and not run the risk of meeting any of the Court people nor diplomatists to the Quirinal. Princess Pallavicini is one of the Queen's ladies, but she is such an old friend of both gentlemen that they always go to her. Among the first arrivals was Ma.s.sari. He and W. and Prince Pallavicini had a nice talk, and it amused me to see the people come in. There were about 30 (I knew a good many of the Romans, but of course the Court people and Deputies were strangers to me), Wimpffens, Noailles, St. Asilea, Somaglias, and a sprinkling of young diplomatists. As soon as the White diplomatists began to appear Del Monte and Malatesta departed. I had a talk with Villamarina who is very musical, also with Vitelleschi. The party broke up early--there was no music nor dancing (not even the little informal "tour de valse" there used to be in our days) and we were home before 12 o'clock. W. enjoyed his evening--talked princ.i.p.ally to the men.

Sat.u.r.day, March 20, 1880.

W. is off this morning with Father Smith to San Clemente. I was lazy as I was out all day yesterday. In the morning W. and I walked to the Palazzo dei Cesari, and stayed there two hours walking about and sitting down in the nice sunny places. It was beautifully bright, a splendid blue sky, but cold, a sharp wind, very unusual they say for the end of March. One gets a very fair walk on the Palatine Hill. There is so much to see, and the little irregular paths running up and down from the various temples and ruined buildings of all kinds give one plenty of exercise. It needs a good deal of imagination to reconstruct all the temples, tribunes, porticoes, and palaces which existed in the days of Imperial Rome, but there are still bits of coloured marble, faded frescoes, mosaics, tops of columns and broken statues in every direction. W. was quite happy--he had already spent a morning there with Lanciani, and so could show me what was still well enough preserved for me to understand. The view from the terrace over Rome and the Campagna was beautiful--the mountains seemed so near. We didn't walk home as we found a botta which had just brought up a party of forestieri--French this time, with a young priest, who was evidently the guide.

Sunday, March 21, 1880.

We went to the American church this morning as Nevin was so anxious we should see it. There is no very interesting French church--a sort of Vaudois chapel--so we preferred the Capella Americana. It is a pretty little church, very full--I should think a good many English as well as Americans--very good singing and a good sermon, not too long. We had visitors after lunch, and about 4 started for a drive out to Ponte Nomentano. We got out and walked about the Campagna for some time. The view was divine--Frascati and Rocca di Papa on one side, Tivoli on the other. W. thought the old bridge most picturesque. He recognised it instantly from the aquarelle that is in the dining-room at home. As it was Sunday all the country people were out; carts filled with women and children, boys on donkeys, sitting well back, almost on the tails of the animals, and all the little courts in front of the various osterias quite full. There were not exactly costumes, but there was a general impression of colour. The men had bright coloured sashes and s.h.i.+rts--the women nearly all red and blue skirts striped, and a coloured handkerchief on their heads--almost all with long gold ear-rings (some of the men too had ear-rings--large gold hoops) and a string of coloured beads around their necks. Everybody talking, laughing, and enjoying themselves. We stopped at the British Emba.s.sy for tea. Lady Paget receives always Sunday afternoon. There were various carriages at the door, and the villa looked pretty. The tea-table was on a broad palier at the head of the stairs. It was very well arranged with screens "ca.s.soni," plants, arm-chairs--very original and attractive. I went in first to the drawing-room and had a talk with Lady Paget, then adjourned to the palier with Princess Sciarra and Countess Wimpffen, and we had a very pleasant hour. It was amusing to see all the people coming up the broad staircase. There were of course a great many I didn't know, as besides all the Court set and political people there were many English, all arriving for Holy Week. Mrs. Bruce, Madame Visconti Venosta, Gert, Marquise Chigi came and joined us. I was quite horrified when I found how late it was. We had just time to dress and go and dine with the Geoffroys at the Palazzo Farnese. The evening was very pleasant; decidedly archeological and scientific, but the men were all clever and talked so well that they would have made any subject interesting. We had Visconti, de Rossi, Lanciani, and some of the young men of the ecole Francaise. They all love Rome and know every stone. W. was quite in his element, talked a great deal himself, and was much interested in their excavations and all the curious things they are finding all the time. I meant to leave early and go to Gert who had a few people at dinner, but it was eleven o'clock before any one moved, and we went quietly home.

Good Friday, March 26, 1880.

I was too tired to-day to do anything, as yesterday we were out all day.

W. and I walked about in the morning, going into all sorts of churches whenever we saw one open. There were always people, and in the smaller churches they looked devout and absorbed, but the crowd of strangers in the large, better known basilicas took away any religious feeling. It all seemed a great show, which is practically what Holy Week is in Rome.

They say they have not had so many foreigners in years. Last night the "gerant" begged us not to come downstairs until 8 o'clock, or even a quarter past, as they needed all the small tables for the table-d'hote.

It was not so very crowded this morning as we breakfast at 12.30, much earlier than the foreigners, who are usually English and come in for luncheon at 1.30.

Yesterday afternoon we went to St. Peter's and found ourselves in a long file of carriages going the same way; also all kinds of pedestrians, priests, nuns, soldiers, artists, Cook's tourists, etc. W. was rather horrified at the crowd in the church, and the regular "bousculade" at the big doors. There was to be very good singing at one of the small chapels, but it was already so full that we couldn't get in, though we had cards from one of the Monsignori. We tried to make our way in but it was utterly impossible, and then stood outside, thinking we might hear; but the people all talked so much that we heard nothing except every now and then a few notes in that curious, high, unnatural voice of the Papal Choir. Two young German priests, with keen intelligent faces, were so put out--begged the people near not to talk--"in zehn Minuten ist alles voruber" (in ten minutes it will be all over). All Rome was walking about the church, talking and looking about as if they were in a great hall of some kind--a crowd of strangers pus.h.i.+ng, jostling, and trying to get up to the High Altar, or the statue of St. Peter where all the faithful were kissing the toe. It was certainly not solemn nor edifying, except when we came upon a quiet corner, with some old chapel filled with tombs of dead Romans, Popes or Princes, who had played a great part in their day. That took us back into the past, and we could realize that we were really in St. Peter's. I tried to show W. the part that was shut off for the great Ec.u.menical Council under Pio Nono, but I couldn't remember exactly. We shall come back another day with Father Smith who will know all about it. I did find the Stuart monument with the busts of Charles Edward and Cardinal York. People kept pouring into the church, but it is so enormous that, except at certain places, it was quite easy to circulate. All the women (except a few stray tourists) were in black, and every now and then one saw a long file of seminaristes, also in black, but with a coloured sash to mark their nationality. I think the Americans wear blue--the French are quite black--no colour. We talked to quant.i.ties of people--it was like an enormous reception. I was very tired when we finally came out, as of course we were walking and standing about all the time. There is no aisle with regular seats as in most churches--merely a few prie-Dieu inside the side chapels. The drive home was lovely--we went at a walk almost all the time, there were so many carriages.

I went out after all this afternoon with W. and Monsignor English to St.

John Lateran, where they were singing a Miserere of Cappoci's. It is most strange, weird music, and the voices of the men are so unlike anything one hears elsewhere. There was always the same crowd. I will say Cook does his business thoroughly--wherever there is anything to see or hear he pilots all his band. After the Miserere was over we stood some time at the foot of the Scala Santa. It was black with people going up on their knees, saying a prayer at each step (I think there are 30) and some of them did look serious and absorbed. They were princ.i.p.ally peasants--every now and then some well-dressed bourgeois. Monsignor English told us we would be surprised at the cla.s.s of people (society) who come early, before the great crowd of sight-seers.

We went back to the Palazzo Altemps, picking up Count Palfy on the way, where Gert had promised us tea and hot cross buns from Spillman's (very good they were).

We found a note from the Quirinal when we came home saying the Queen would receive us to-morrow at 2.30. Desprez came and sat some time. He told W. all that was going on in Paris--the Ministry as usual struggling against the Radicals who are always wanting to suppress the French Emba.s.sy at the Vatican. It doesn't make the position of the Amba.s.sador very pleasant, but Desprez is very wise, has had long training at the Foreign Office, and will certainly do all he can to conciliate and keep things straight.

_To H. L. K._

Sat.u.r.day, March 27, 1880.

It was raining this morning, and I was very glad. The dust was getting most disagreeable in one's eyes and throat, and covering everything. I am glad, too, that it is cool, decidedly, as I wanted to wear my blue velvet. If it had been a bright warm day it would have looked dark and heavy. It is four o'clock--we have just come in from our audience, and I will write at once while the impression is fresh. W. has a "rendezvous"

with some of the French Inst.i.tute people, and I shall not see him again until dinner time. We got to the palace (a great ugly yellow building, standing high) quickly enough, as there was no one in the streets at that hour, and drove into the court-yard to a handsome entrance and staircase. There were a few soldiers about, but not much movement. A carriage came in behind us, and just as we were going upstairs some one called my name. It was Bessie Brancaccio,[21] who had also an audience with the Queen. She had come to thank her for her appointment as dame de palais. I was glad to have just that glimpse of her, as they are not in Rome this winter. Their beautiful house is not ready for them, so they have been spending the winter in Nice. We walked through a large anteroom where there were three or four servants and an "ecuyer," and in the first salon we were received by the Comtesse Marcello, one of the Queen's ladies, a Venetian and a great friend of Mary's, and the gentleman-in-waiting, whose name I didn't master. We talked for a few minutes--she said a lady was with the Queen. The room was handsome, prettily furnished and opened into another--three or four, in fact, all communicating. After about ten minutes we saw a lady come out of the end room, the door of which was open, so Comtesse Marcello ushered us through the suite. We went to the corner room, quite at the end, where the Queen was waiting standing. We went through the usual ceremony. The Comtesse Marcello made a low curtsey on the threshold, saying, "I have the honour to present his Excellency, M. Waddington and Madame Waddington," and instantly retired. The Queen was standing quite at the end of the room (a lovely, bright corner room, with lots of windows and a magnificent view over Rome--even on a dull day it looked cheerful and s.p.a.cious). I had ample time for my three curtseys. She let us come quite close up to her, and then shook hands with us both and made us sit down--I next to her on the sofa, W. in an arm-chair in front. I found her rather changed since I had seen her. She has lost the girlish appearance she had so long, and her manner was nervous, particularly at first. When she began to talk and was interested and animated she was more like what I remembered her as Princess Marguerite. She was dressed in bronze satin, with a flowered brocade "casaque," and one string of splendid pearls. She told W. she was very pleased to see him, remembered that I had lived in Rome before my marriage, and asked if I still sang, Vera had talked so much about the music in Casa Pierret, and the trios we used to sing there with Lovatelli and Malatesta. The talk was most easy, about everything, generally in French, but occasionally breaking into English, which she speaks quite well. W. was delighted with her--found her most interesting and "tres instruite"--not at all the ba.n.a.l talk one expects to have with sovereigns--in fact, I quite forgot we were having a royal audience. It was a very pleasant visit to a charming woman, in a pretty room with all sorts of beautiful pictures and "bibelots" about. While we were still there the Prince of Naples[22]

came in. We both got up; she told him to shake hands with W. and to kiss me, and to ask me how old my little boy was, which he did quite simply and naturally. He told his mother he was going to ride. I asked him if he had a nice pony, to which he replied in English, "Oh, yes, jolly,"

and asked if my little boy rode. I said not yet; he was only two years old. The child looked intelligent, but delicate. They say his mother makes him work too much, is so ambitious for him; and he has rather that look. The Princes of Savoy have always been soldiers rather than scholars, but I suppose one could combine the two. The Queen also spoke about the Bunsens, and "little Beatrice";[23] said she was very fond of Mary. I was very sorry when the audience was over and she dismissed me, saying she had people waiting.

[21] Princess Brancaccio, born Field.

[22] The present King.

[23] Now Mrs. Charles Loftus Townshend, of Castle Townshend, Ireland.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Queen Margherita and the Prince of Naples (Present King of Italy) in 1880.]

We found Bessie and one or two other ladies in the first salon when we came out, waiting their turn. Comtesse Marcello was delighted with all W. said about the Queen. He was very enthusiastic, for him, as he is not generally gus.h.i.+ng. I told her she had remembered that I had lived some years in Rome as Mary King, and she said: "Oh, yes, she remembered you and all your family perfectly, and knew that you had married M.

Waddington."

Tuesday, March 30, 1880.

It is much pleasanter to-day--quite Spring-like, and the Piazza is full of people. I have drawn my little writing table close up to the window, and I am afraid my correspondence will suffer, as there is always so much to see. Almost all the little botte have departed, in fact W., who has just started off with Visconti for the Vatican to look at the coins, took the last one. Cook's two big omnibuses have also just started for Tivoli--crammed. Some of the people dashed into Nazzari's, and reappeared with little paper bags, filled evidently with goodies.

Yesterday W. and I breakfasted again at the Noailles', and they took us over the palace (Farnese) which is quite splendid, such enormous rooms and high ceilings. The great gallery with the famous Carracci frescoes looked beautiful in the daylight, and we saw them much better. The colours are still quite wonderful, hardly faded, some of the figures so graceful and life-like. Madame de Noailles' bed-room and dressing-room are huge. The enormous bedstead hardly took up any room at all. She said it took her some little time to accustom herself to such very s.p.a.cious apartments, she almost had the impression of sleeping in the streets.

We went for a drive afterward out of Porta Maggiore to look at the Baker's tomb--do you remember it, a great square tomb with rows of little cells? We wandered about on foot for some time, looked at the bits that remain of the old Roman road, and then drove out some distance toward the arches of the Claudian Viaduct. It is the road we shall take when we go to Tivoli. It was not quite clear, so the hills hadn't the beautiful colour they have when the sun is on them--but the grey atmosphere seems to suit the Campagna, which is after all a long stretch of barren, desolate country broken at intervals by the long lines of aqueducts--every now and then a square tower standing out straight and solitary against the sky, and hardly visible until one comes close upon it, and a few shepherds' huts, sometimes with a thatched roof, sometimes what remains of an old tomb, with a dried-up old woman apparently as old as the tomb spinning in the doorway. We met very few vehicles of any description.

We dined at the Palazzo della Consulta where Cairoli, Foreign Minister, lives. There were not many women--Madame de Noailles, Gert, Madame de Sant' Onofrio (wife of one of Cairoli's secretaries), and quant.i.ties of men. They divided the honours--Cairoli took in Madame de Noailles--Madame Cairoli, W. The Prefet of Rome, Gravina, took me and put me on Cairoli's left. We all talked Italian, and I rather enjoyed myself. I told Gravina how much I preferred "Roma com' era," that the new buildings and the boulevards and the bustle and the quant.i.ties of people had spoiled the dear, dead, old Rome of our days--to which he replied "but you, Madame, are an American born, you surely can't be against progress." Oh, no, I like progress in my own country, but certainly not here. Rome was never intended to be modern and go-ahead--it didn't go with the monuments and the ruins and the traditions of old Rome. However he answered me quite seriously that not only every country, but every individual, must "marcher," or else they would "deperir." Cairoli joined in the conversation, others too, and there was rather an interesting discussion as to how much could be left to sentiment, a.s.sociation of the past, etc., when an old historic city was being transformed into a busy, modern, political centre.

After dinner Madame Cairoli came and sat down by me, and was pleasant enough. She looked handsome--very wide awake--still continues to call me Madame la Comtesse, so I have given up correcting her. She is well up on all subjects, particularly art, music, pictures, etc. She was rather amusing over the state of society and all the great Roman ladies whom she didn't know (there is such a division between the Government people and the old Romans) but said she had a very pleasant entourage with all the diplomatists and the distinguished strangers (with a little bow to me) and really didn't notice the absence of the grandes dames. She asked me about my audience with the Queen--had we been able to talk to her at all. She had been so tired lately and nervous that any attempt at conversation was an effort. I told her that on the contrary she talked a great deal, and that I didn't find her changed.

Maffei came up and talked--asked me if I really liked Rome better as it used to be--I must surely prefer life to stagnation. He speaks English well, and likes to speak. They tell me that all the present generation of Romans speak English perfectly--much better than French. There was a small reception after dinner, some of the young diplomatists and political men. We came away early--10.30, and plunged into our Paris letters, of which we found quant.i.ties.

Friday, April 2, 1880.

It is raining quite hard this morning, so I will write and not go out until after breakfast. Yesterday was beautiful, and we had a charming day at the races. I drove out with Madame de Wimpffen in her victoria--W. and Wimpffen together. I wore my brown cloth with the coat trimmed with gold braid and a great bunch of yellow roses on my hat, but I was sorry I hadn't sent for something lighter, as almost all the women were in white. I had thought of having two dresses sent by the "valise"

(I hadn't time to have them sent by ordinary express). I consulted Noailles, who was very amiable, and said he would do what he could, but that the rules were very strict now for the "valise," as there had been such abuse. I rather protested, so he remarked with a twinkle in his eye that I had better speak to my husband, as he was the Minister who had insisted on a reform being made--he added that it was Princess Lise Troubetzkoi who made the final scandal--that when St. Vallier was French Amba.s.sador to Berlin she was always sending things to Petersburg, via Berlin, by the "valise." When the "pet.i.t paquet" she had spoken of turned out to be a grand piano there was a row, and W., who was then Foreign Minister, decreed that henceforth no "paquets" of any kind that were not on official business could be sent by the "valise." I suppose a pink tulle ball dress would hardly come under that head.

The Queen was there looking very well and bright, dressed in light grey with a big black hat--very becoming. There were a great many pretty women. We came away before the end and drew up a little distance from the gate where a long string of carriages was waiting to see the Queen pa.s.s. The cortege was simple--first two dragoons, then a "piqueur" and her carriage with four horses, postillion and two servants behind in the scarlet liveries. The Countess Marcello was seated alongside of the Queen--two gentlemen (I couldn't make out who they were) facing her; a second carriage with two horses with two gentlemen in it followed, all very well turned out. The scarlet liveries make a great effect, one sees them from such a distance. The crowd was very respectful--not particularly enthusiastic. The Queen bowed right and left very prettily.

I talked to lots of people at the races--among others to Madame Alphonse Rothschild who is here for a few days, and to Mesdames Somaglia, Rignano, Celleri, etc. I walked about a little with Sant' Asilea, but it was not easy to move--most of the ladies stayed quietly in the tribunes.

We stopped at Nazzari's coming back and W. treated us all to tea--then we sent our carriage away as we wanted it at night for the Teano ball, and we walked about in the Corso, looking at all the turn-outs. The Teano four-in-hand was very handsome, and there were one or two others we couldn't make out which were very well turned out--some of the victorias, too, very smart, with handsome stepping horses. The Corso was full of people waiting to see the "retour"--it looked so gay. About eleven we went off to the Teano ball, which was most brilliant--all the societe there. Again I was sorry I hadn't sent for another dress as my red satin looked heavy and wintry. Princess Teano in white, with a diamond tiara, looked charming. Of course all the young generation who were dancing were strangers to me, but I met many old friends. I had quite a talk with Doria who wanted to be introduced to W. whom he had not yet seen. We stayed until 1.30, and when we came away they were just beginning the cotillon. In the old days we used to arrive at the b.a.l.l.s about 12.30 or 1 o'clock just so as to have one waltz before the cotillon which was usually the best of the evening, as all the serious people had gone, and the mammas were at supper fortifying themselves for the long hours before them, so the ball-room was comparatively empty and one could get a good turn.