Margot Asquith, an Autobiography Part 13

MARGOT: "Admired me! You must be cracked! I never remember his saying a civil word to me the whole time I was in Dresden. Poor mamma! If she were here now she would feel that her letter to you on the danger of my elopement was amply justified!"

Frau von Mach and I sat side by side at the opera; and on my left was a German officer. In front of us there was a lady with beautiful hair and diamond gra.s.shoppers in it; her two daughters sat on either side of her.

Everything was conducted in the dark and it was evident that the audience was strung up to a high pitch of expectant emotion, for, when I whispered to Frau von Mach, the officer on my left said, "Hus.h.!.+" which I thought extremely rude. Several men in the stalls, sitting on the nape of their necks, had covered their faces with pocket-handkerchiefs, which I thought infinitely ridiculous, bursting as they were with beef and beer. My musical left was only a little less good-looking than the white officer. He kept a rigid profile towards me and squashed up into a corner to avoid sharing an arm of the stall with me. As we had to sit next to each other for four nights running, I found this a little exaggerated.

I was angry with myself for dropping my fan and scent-bottle; the lady picked up the bottle and the officer the fan. The lady gave me back my bottle and, when the curtain fell, began talking to me.

She had turned round once or twice during the scene to look at me.

I found her most intelligent; she knew England and had heard Rubinstein and Joachim play at the Monday Pops. She had been to the Tower of London, Madame Tussaud's and Lord's.

The officer kept my fan in his hands and, instead of going out in the entr'acte, stayed and listened to our conversation. When the curtain went up and the people returned to their seats, he still held my fan. In the next interval the lady and the girls went out and my left-hand neighbour opened conversation with me. He said in perfect English:

"Are you really as fond of this music as you appear to be?"

To which I replied:

"You imply I am humbugging! I never pretend anything; why should you think I do? I don't lean back perspiring or cover my face with a handkerchief as your compatriots are doing, it is true, but..."

HE (interrupting): "I am very glad of that! Do you think you would recognise a motif if I wrote one for you?"

Feeling rather nettled, I said:

"You must think me a perfect gowk if you suppose I should not recognise any motif in any opera of Wagner!"

I said this with a commanding gesture, but I was far from confident that he would not catch me out. He opened his cigarette- case, took out a visiting card and wrote the Schlummermotif on the back before giving it to me. After telling him what the motif was, I looked at his very long name on the back of the card: Graf von-- .

Seeing me do this, he said with a slight twinkle:

"Won't you write me a motif now?"

MARGOT: "Alas! I can't write music and to save my life could not do what you have done; are you a composer?"

GRAF VON--: "I shan't tell you what I am--especially as I have given you my name--till you tell me who you are."

MARGOT: "I'm a young lady at large!"

At this, Frau von Mach nudged me; I thought she wanted to be introduced, so I looked at his name and said seriously:

"Graf von--, this is my friend Frau von Mach."

He instantly stood up, bent his head and, clicking his heels, said to her:

"Will you please introduce me to this young lady?"

FRAU VON MACH (with a smile): "Certainly. Miss Margot Tennant."

GRAF VON--: "I hope, mademoiselle, you will forgive me thinking your interest in Wagner might not be as great as it appeared, but it enabled me to introduce myself to you."

MARGOT: "Don't apologise, you have done me a good turn, for I shall lie back and cover my face with a handkerchief all through this next act to convince you."

GRAF VON--: "That would be a heavy punishment for me... and incidentally for this ugly audience."

On the last night of the Ring, I took infinite trouble with my toilette. When we arrived at the theatre neither the lady, her girls, nor the Graf were there. I found an immense bouquet on my seat, of yellow roses with thick cl.u.s.ters of violets round the stalk, the whole thing tied up with wide Parma violet ribbons. It was a wonderful bouquet. I buried my face in the roses, wondering why the Graf was so late, fervently hoping that the lady and her daughters would not turn up: no Englishman would have thought of giving one flowers in this way, said I to myself. The curtain! How very tiresome! The doors would all be shut now, as late-comers were not allowed to disturb the Gotterdammerung. The next day I was to travel home, which depressed me; my life would be different in London and all my lessons were over for ever! What could have happened to the Graf, the lady and her daughters? Before the curtain rose for the last act, he arrived and, flinging off his cloak, said breathlessly to me:

"You can't imagine how furious I am! To-night of all nights we had a regimental dinner! I asked my colonel to let me slip off early, or I should not be here now; I had to say good-bye to you. Is it true then? Are you really off to-morrow?"

MARGOT (pressing the bouquet to her face, leaning faintly towards him and looking into his eyes): "Alas, yes! I will send you something from England so that you mayn't quite forget me. I won't lean back and cover my head with a handkerchief to-night, but if I hide my face in these divine roses now and then, you will forgive me and understand."

He said nothing but looked a little perplexed. We had not observed the curtain rise but were rudely reminded of it by a lot of angry "Hush's" all round us. He clasped his hands together under his chin, bending his head down on them and taking up both arms of the stall with his elbows. When I whispered to him, he did not turn his head at all but just c.o.c.ked his ear down to me. Was he pretending to be more interested in Wagner than he really was?"

I buried my face in my roses, the curtain dropped. It was all over.

GRAF VON--(turning to me and looking straight into my eyes): "If it is true what you said, that you know no one in Berlin, what a wonderful compliment the lady with the diamond gra.s.shoppers has paid you!"

He took my bouquet, smelt the roses and, giving it back to me with a sigh, said:

"Good-bye."

CHAPTER VI

MARGOT RIDES A HORSE INTO LONDON HOME AND SMASHES FURNITURE-- SUITOR IS FORBIDDEN THE HOUSE--ADVISES GIRL FRIEND TO ELOPE; INTERVIEW WITH GIRL'S FATHER--TETE-A-TETE DINNER IN PARIS WITH BARON HIRSCH--WINNING TIP FROM FRED ARCHER, THE JOCKEY

When I first came out in London we had no friends of fas.h.i.+on to get me invitations to b.a.l.l.s and parties. The Walters, who were my mother's rich relations, in consequence of a family quarrel were not on speaking terms with us; and my prospects looked by no means rosy.

One day I was lunching with an American to whom I had been introduced in the hunting-field and found myself sitting next to a stranger. Hearing that he was Arthur Walter, I thought that it would be fun to find out his views upon my family and his own. He did not know who I was, so I determined I would enjoy what looked like being a long meal. We opened in this manner:

MARGOT: "I see you hate Gladstone!"

ARTHUR WALTER: "Not at all. I hate his politics."

MARGOT: "I didn't suppose you hated the man."

ARTHUR WALTER: "I am ashamed to say I have never even seen him or heard him speak, but I entirely agree that for the Duke of Westminster to have sold the Millais portrait of him merely because he does not approve of Home Rule shows great pettiness! I have of course never seen the picture as it was bought privately."

MARGOT: "The Tennants bought it, so I suppose you could easily see it."

ARTHUR WALTER: "I regret to say that I cannot ever see this picture."

MARGOT: "Why not?"

ARTHUR WALTER: "Because though the Tennants are relations of mine, our family quarrelled."

MARGOT: "What did they quarrel over?"