The Sunny Side of Diplomatic Life, 1875-1912 — A Reader’s Guide

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In Category - Historical Psychological Social Fiction

Authors: Hegermann-Lindencrone, L. de (Lillie de), 1844-1928 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2004 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Europe -- Social life and customs; Courts and courtiers Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 96,925

Reading time 422 min

Text sections 9

Before opening The Sunny Side of Diplomatic Life, 1875-1912 — A Reader’s Guide, the edition data offers a quick orientation: 96,925 words, 7 hr 2 min estimated reading time, and 9 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 16.5 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Europe -- Social life and customs,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #13955

A collection of letters from an American-born diplomat's wife, spanning posts in Washington, Rome, Stockholm, Paris, and Berlin (1875–1912), offering firsthand accounts of court life, notable figures, and social customs.

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File: pg13955

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Then another entertainment, a sort of _mardi-gras maigre_ feast, was a champagne tea given for us at the Capitol by Mr. Blaine. He had invited a great many of the Senators and the Ministers, his wife, and some other ladies. These mighty people talked politics and had prodigious appetites. Sandwiches and cake disappeared in a hazy mist, and they drank oceans of champagne. They took cocktails before, during, and after! I amused myself--as I can't talk politics, and would not if I could--by noticing the ingenuity and variety of the spittoons placed about in convenient spots. The spittoons that tried to be pretty were the most hideous. I liked best the simplicity of the large, open, ready-to-receive ones filled with clean, dainty sand. There was no humbug about them, no trying to be something else; whereas the others, that pretended to be Etruscan vases or umbrella-stands or flower-pots, were failures in my eyes. Why are they ashamed of themselves? Why do they call themselves by the graceful name of "cuspidor"--suggestive of castanets and Andalusian wiles? Why such foolish masquerading? Spittoons will be spittoons--they risk not being recognized. I said as much as this to Mr. Blaine. "You are right," he said, "to fight their battles. Did you ever hear the story about the Western man who was not accustomed to such artistic objects, and said in one of his spitting moods, 'If you don't take that darned thing away I'll spit in it'?"

I forgot to tell you that the Emperor and Empress of Brazil are here "doing" Washington--doing it so thoroughly that they have almost overdone it. The Brazilian Minister is worn out. Every day he has a dinner and an entertainment of some kind. The Emperor wants to see everything and to know everybody. No institution is neglected, and all the industries are looked into thoroughly. He goes to the Senate very often and sits through the whole _séance_, wishing to understand everything. He always tries to get hold of the people who can give him the most information on any subject. Dom Pedro is most popular; one sees him everywhere. At the ball at the English Minister's for their Majesties, a gentleman presented to the Empress said, "_Je suis le Sénateur qui parle frangais_." The Empress said to Johan, "I beg of you to keep near me and talk to me so that the '_Senateur qui parle français_' may be discouraged in his pursuit."

My dear Aunt,--Is your heart melted with pity, or does it burst with national pride, and do you disregard such trifles as heat and exhaustion? I told you in my last letter that the diplomats were invited _en bloc_ (at the country's expense) to be present at the opening of the Centennial Exposition. The country provided good rooms for us at this hotel, where we are invited to spend two days: one of those days was the day before yesterday, and I think that the other will be enough for me, for anything more awful than the heat at the present moment cannot well be conceived. It is as if Philadelphia had said to its friends, "You provide the exposition, and we'll provide the heat." There were carriages placed at our disposal for the opening, and we drove out to the grounds in great style. We were welcomed at the entrance by some officials and ushered to our seats on the red-hot platform draped with flags. President Grant then entered, accompanied by all his Ministers. After the opening speech by the President all the church-bells in the city began ringing, cannons were fired, the orchestra burst forth with national hymns--"Star-spangled Banner" and "Hail, Columbia." People waved handkerchiefs, and the display of patriotism was overpowering. In coming out, after the President had left the tribune, the crowd filled in after him, and we had to fight our way out as best we could.

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The letters collected here, written by Lillie de Hegermann-Lindencrone between 1875 and 1912, trace a path through five European capitals as the wife of a Danish diplomat. The excerpts show a writer who moves easily between intimate observations—a quiet audience with Verdi, a king’s dog-related motto scratched into a wall—and the formal rituals of court life. The catalog subjects, “Europe – Social life and customs” and “Courts and courtiers,” accurately describe the terrain, but the letters themselves often dwell on personal encounters with artists, musicians, and royalty rather than on diplomatic procedure. The author’s voice is conversational, anecdotal, and occasionally self-deprecating, as when she describes her attempt to flatter Verdi as “stretching a point.”

Anecdotes Over Protocol

The excerpts reveal a preference for the personal over the procedural. In the Milan hotel meeting with Verdi, the author recounts her nervous attempt to impress the composer, only to have him respond with dry humor about vocal ranges and key signatures. The exchange is recorded in direct dialogue, with Verdi’s quip about “G minor” being easier than “P sharp” preserved verbatim. Similarly, the visit to Aalholm Castle yields not a description of state rooms but a transcription of King Frederick II’s melancholy inscription about his dog. These choices suggest that the author’s interest lies in the human moments behind the formal facade of court life. The catalog subject “Courts and courtiers” is thus rendered not as a study of power structures but as a series of character sketches and chance encounters.

The Author’s Dual Role

As both an American-born socialite and a diplomat’s wife, the author occupies a liminal position. She is an insider by marriage but an outsider by nationality, a status that allows her to observe with a degree of detachment. In the Verdi anecdote, she mentions singing duets with the Queen of Italy—a sign of her integration—yet she also notes the Queen’s “mezzo-soprano” voice with the same matter-of-factness she applies to her own. The note at the beginning of the book, written by someone else, emphasizes her American origins and her earlier marriage to a Paris-based banker, framing her as a cosmopolitan figure. The letters themselves, however, rarely dwell on her own background; instead, they focus on the people she meets. This tension between the author’s personal history and her role as a chronicler of others is a recurring undercurrent.

Setting and Structure as Evidence

The book is organized by city and date, with each section introduced by a location heading (Washington, Rome, Stockholm, etc.). The excerpts from the Milan and Monza letters show that the author often writes from hotels or temporary residences, reinforcing the itinerant nature of diplomatic life. The physical book includes illustrations and facsimiles of letters and inscriptions, suggesting that the published volume aims to preserve not just the text but the material traces of these encounters. The inclusion of the “Alphabet of a Diplomat” at the start—a list of cynical definitions—sets a tone of wry humor that the letters occasionally match. The catalog’s secondary topics are not listed, but the excerpts themselves point to music, art, and royal personalities as central concerns, rather than political events or policy.

Readers should approach this work as a series of personal dispatches rather than a systematic memoir. The letters are selective, shaped by the author’s interests and her relationships with correspondents. The gaps—what is left out of the excerpts—are as telling as what is included. Pay attention to the dates and locations, which mark the rhythm of a peripatetic career, and to the small details: a composer’s joke, a king’s motto, a queen’s voice. These are the threads that give the book its particular texture.

Leafing through The Sunny Side of Diplomatic Life, I found myself slowing at passages about negotiating the unspoken rules of courts. It made me think of another kind of negotiation, gentler but just as fraught, between colonies and crown. There is a patience in those old speeches, a hope that words might mend what power has strained. Burke's Speech on Conciliation with America — Text and Context sits beside my chair now, a quiet echo of that same era's long, careful courtesy.