The Sunny Side of Diplomatic Life, 1875-1912 Part 5

"Yes, the one with the gray hairs and the bird."

I looked about for a canary perched on some one's nose.

"It is a pity," he went on to say, "that he has no s.h.i.+eld."

"How is that?" I asked. "I thought every one had a s.h.i.+eld of some sort?" To make it clearer to me, he said, uln Danish we call a s.h.i.+eld a _barn_."

"Is he a farmer?" said I, much puzzled.

"Oh dear, no! He is a lawyer like me."

"Then what does he want with a barn?"

"Every couple [p.r.o.nounced copol] wants _burn_," he replied.

"What is it they want?" I asked. "What do you call _burn_?"

"Burn," he explained, "is _pluriel_ for barn. _Eight_ barn, two _burn_."

"What?" I cried, "eight barns to burn! Why do they want to burn eight barns? They must be crazy!"

All this will sound to you as idiotic as it did to me, but you will get the explanation at the end of the chapter, as I did--on the drive home--the two hours of which were entirely taken up in laughing at the mistakes of the good lawyer, who did his best.

Our conversation languished after this. My brain could not bear such a strain. Suddenly he got up from his chair. I thought that he was going to take himself and his English away, but after he had quaffed a whole gla.s.s of wine, at one swallow, bowed over it, and pointed his empty gla.s.s at Johan, he resumed his seat, and conversation flowed again.

It seems that Johan had honored him with a friendly nod and an uplifted gla.s.s, which obliged him to arise and acknowledge the compliment.

In Denmark there is a great deal of _skaal_-drinking (_skaal_, in Danish, means drinking a toast). I think there must be an eleventh commandment--"Thou shalt not omit to _skaal_." The host drinks with every one, and every one drinks with every one else. It seems to me to be rather a cheap way of being amiable, but it looks very friendly and sociable. When a person of high rank drinks with one of lower the latter stands while emptying his gla.s.s.

When we left the table I did not feel that my Danish had gained much, and certainly my partner's English had not improved. However, we seemed to have conversed in a very spirited manner, which must have impressed the lookers-on with a sense of my partner's talent for languages.

On our return to the _salon_ we found more petroleum-lamps, and the candelabra lighted to exaggeration with wax candles. The lamp-shades, which I thought were quite ingenious, were of paper, and contained dried ferns and even flattened-out b.u.t.terflies between two sheets of s.h.i.+ny tissue-paper. The _salon_ had dark walls on which hung a collection of family portraits. Ladies with puckered mouths and wasp-like waists had necks adorned with gorgeous pearls, which had apparently gone to an early grave with their wearers. I saw no similar ones on the necks of the present generation. After the coffee was served and a certain time allowed for breathing, the daughter of the house sat down, without being begged, at an upright piano, and attacked the "Moonlight Sonata." This seemed to be the signal for the ladies to bring out their work-bags.

The knitting made a pleasing accompaniment to the moonlight of the sonata, as if pelicans were gnas.h.i.+ng their teeth in the dimness. The sterner s.e.x made a dash for the various alb.u.ms and literature on the round table in the center of the room, and turned the leaves with a gentle flutter. The sonata was finished in dead silence. As it was performed by one of the family, no applause was necessary. I was asked to sing; and, though I do not like to sing after dinner, I consented, not to be disobliging. Before taking my seat on the revolving piano-stool I looked with a severe eye at the knitting-needles. The ladies certainly did try to make less noise, but they went on knitting, all the same.

The flushed-with-success lawyer, wis.h.i.+ng to show his appreciation of my singing, leaned gracefully across the piano, and said, "_Kammerherrinde_ [that is my t.i.tle], you sing as if you had a beard in your throat."

"A what?" I gasped. "A beard?"

"Yes! a beautiful beard," and added, with a conscious smile, "I sing myself."

Good heavens! I thought, and asked, "Do you know what a beard is?"

"In Danish we call a beard a _fugle_" (p.r.o.nounced _fool_.)

"Then," I said, pretending to be offended, "I sing like a fool?"

"Exactly," he said with enthusiasm, his eyes beaming with joy through his spectacles.

This was hopeless. I moved gently away from the man who "talked English."

The candles had burned down almost to their _bobeches_, and we were beginning to forget that we had eaten a dinner of fifteen courses, when in came a procession of servants with piles of plates in their arms and trays of _smordrod_ (sandwiches), tea, beer (in bottles), and cakes, which are called here _kicks_. Everything seemed very tempting except the things handed about by the stable-boy, who was dressed for the occasion in a livery, much too large, and was preceded and followed by a mixed odor of stable and almond soap.

What struck me as unusual was that the host named the hour for his guests to go home. Therefore all the carriages were before the door at the same time.

Johan explained the mistakes on the way home.

"The man with the gray hairs and the _beard_" (p.r.o.nounced like _heard_) had been _watching_ me. _s.h.i.+eld_ meant _child! A child_ in Danish is _et barn_, which sounds the same as _eight barn_. _Two children_ (in Danish) are _to born_, p.r.o.nounced _toe burn. Bird_ he p.r.o.nounced like _beard_, because it was written so. A bird in Danish is _fugle_ (fool).

Do you wonder that I was somewhat bewildered?

_January, 1878._

Dear Mother,--After Christmas Johan and I went to Copenhagen, where I was presented to the King and the Queen. I was first received by the _Grande Maitresse_, Madame de Raben, and three _dames d'honneur_, who were all pleasant but ceremonious. When the Queen entered the room and I was presented to her she was most gracious and affable. She motioned me to sit down beside her on the sofa. She said that she had heard much about me. She spoke of my father-in-law, whom she _loved_, and Johan, whom she _liked_ so much. She was most interested to hear about you and the children. She had heard that Nina promised to be a beauty.

"If children would only grow up to their promises!" I said.

"Mine have," said the Queen; "they are all beautiful."

She showed me the photographs of the Princess of Wales and the Grand-d.u.c.h.ess Dagmar of Russia. If they resemble their pictures they must indeed be beautiful.

The _salon_ in which we sat was filled with drawings, pastels, and photographs, and was so crowded with furniture that one could hardly move about.

"I've been told," the Queen said, "that you have a splendid voice and sing wonderfully. You must come some day and sing for me; I love music." Then we talked music, the most delightful of subjects. The King came in. He was also perfectly charming, and as kind as possible. He is about sixty years old, but looks younger, having a wonderfully youthful figure and a very handsome face. The King preferred to speak French, but the Queen liked better to talk English, which she does to perfection.

"Have you learned Danish yet?" the King asked me.

"Alas! your Majesty," I answered, "though I try very hard to learn, I have not mastered it yet, and only dare to inflict it on my family."

"You will not find it difficult," he said. "You will learn it in time."

"I hope so, your Majesty--Time is a good teacher."

He told me an anecdote about Queen Desiree, of Sweden, wife of Bernadotte, who on her arrival in Stockholm did not know one word of Swedish.

She was taught certain phrases to use at her first reception when ladies were presented to her. She was to say, "Are you married, madame?" and then, "Have you any children?" Of course, she did not understand the answers. "She was very unlucky," the King laughed, "and got things mixed up, and once began her conversation with a lady by asking, 'Have you any children?'"

The lady hastened to answer, "Yes, your Majesty, I have seven?"

"Are you married?" asked the Queen, very graciously.

"You must not do anything like _that_," said the King, smilingly.

I promised that I would try not to.

The _Grande Maitresse_ came in, and I thought it was the signal for me to go--which apparently it was. There was a little pause; then the Queen held out her hand and said, "I hope to see you again very soon."

The King shook hands kindly with me, and I reached the antechamber, escorted by the ladies.