French Embassy,February 1, 1893.
We came over last night; a very good crossing, the shortest I ever made; we were just one hour on the boat. Lady Salisbury was on board, coming from the Riviera. We talked all the way over. She is very sorry we are going—says the Queen will regret M. Waddington very much; that she had great confidence in him, and now, at her age, rather dreads seeing strange faces around her. W. is very glad to get back to France—I too. After all, ten years is a long time to be away from one's country.
Sunday, 5th.
W. and I drove out this afternoon to White Lodge to say good-bye to Princess Mary. As we came quite near to the house we crossed very quickly two gentlemen in a hansom and just recognised the Prince of Wales and Prince George. Everyone is saying that that marriage will be arranged. Princess Mary and Princess May were alone, and decidedly more cheerful. Princess May still in black, but with no crêpe and a little jet. Princess Mary was charming and friendly as she always is, and seemed really sorry we were going, also wanted to know who was coming in our place; but that I couldn't tell her. She promised to come to tea one afternoon at the Embassy before we went away. Various people came in to tea, as they always do here on Sunday afternoon, and someone said the marriage was certainly decided and would be announced after the 27th, which was to have been the wedding-day last year. They certainly looked much brighter and happier than I expected to see them.
French Embassy,February 13, 1893.
I went this afternoon to the House of Commons to hear Mr. Gladstone make his great Irish speech. I had an excellent place in the front row of the ladies' gallery, and heard and saw everything. The House was packed, chairs all along the gangway—the Prince, Dukes of York and Teck in their places, quantities of peers and some diplomats—no Ambassadors, which surprised me. I know that W. always prefers reading a speech the next day, but I thought some of the others would be there. Mr. Gladstone was much cheered by both sides when he came in (a tribute to his age and intelligence rather than to his politics). He rose to speak at a quarter to 4, finishing at 5 minutes past six (two hours and 20 minutes). He was much quieter and less passionate than I had expected. There was no vehement appeal for the wrongs of Ireland. It was more an "exposé de motifs" than a real speech, but it was an extraordinary effort for a man of his age (83). His voice was so clear and strong, never faltering: a little weaker and lower perhaps toward the end. I suppose it is the last great political speech he will ever make.
French Embassy,March 3, 1893.
We are beginning our tournée of farewell visits, and to-day we have been to take leave of the Prince and Princess of Wales at Marlborough House. I had not seen the Princess since Prince Eddie's death. I wore blue velvet and my Jubilee medal. We were received at the door by all the household—Probyn, Lord Suffield, Stanley Clark, Lady Suffield, and Miss Knollys. PrinceGeorge was in the first drawing-room. The Prince and Princess with two daughters in the big long room. I can't say I found the Princess changed or grown older. She looked sad, but it was the same slight, youthful figure. She was still in deep plain black (woollen stuff) with no ornaments. She was charming, with the sweet, simple manner she always has. Tears came into her eyes when she said she hadn't seen me for so long on account of her mourning. I asked her about her first grandchild—Princess Louise Fife's little girl. She said she was a dear little thing, talked a great deal, trotted about everywhere, and called her "Granny." W. and the Prince talked together, but we didn't stay very long. I didn't say a word to the Princess about Prince Eddie (they told me not to), only just as we were going I said I hoped the end of the year would bring her happiness and blessing. She squeezed my hand, but her lips quivered and she couldn't speak. She has been unfailing to us always and said we should certainly meet again, and that I must always let her know when I came to England. I begin to realise now that we are going, with all these leave-takings. After all we have been here 10 years, and that is a good piece out of one's life.
Albert Gate,March 5, 1893.
I wish you had been here yesterday to see the farewell dinner for W. at the Mansion House. It was a great tribute to a departing Ambassador—all the distinguished men in England assembled to say good-bye. The Lady Mayoress had asked me to dine with her and bring anyone I wanted, so I took Hilda and Mdme. de la Villestreux. Hilda and I started together a little before 7. As we drew near the Mansion House there was quitea crowd; quantities of policemen, and empty carriages driving away. We went in by the same entrance as the men, and then turned off sharp to the right and were conducted to the drawing-room of the Lady Mayoress. I wore black moiré with a great band of orange velvet on the corsage, and all the jewels I possessed—tiara, pearls, and diamond necklace and diamond stars and ornaments fastened on the front of the dress, as I knew we were to sit in the gallery after dinner to hear the speeches. We found Mdme. de la Villestreux already there—there were 16 women. The Lady Mayoress presented them all to me. They were all ex-Lady Mayoresses—"ladies who had passed the chair," which it seems is the technical term. She also gave me a splendid bouquet tied with a tricolour ribbon. The dinner was very good, the traditional London public dinner menu—turtle soup, salmon, etc. There was very handsome silver on the table: great massive bowls and flagons and beautiful flowers—very quickly served, and really very pleasant. After the first five minutes everyone talked. Some of the women were handsome, all well dressed and with quantities of diamonds. Just as we were finishing a servant came to summon us to the gallery. The loving cup was going round and the speeches were to begin. The Lady Mayoress led the way to the gallery in the great banqueting hall directly opposite the table d'honneur. It was a striking sight, particularly that table where was the Lord Mayor in his robes, and all the diplomatists with stars and broad ribbons. There was a blaze of light and at first I couldn't recognise anyone (we were very high), and then I saw W. standing, drinking out of the loving cup, with the Lord Mayor on one side and Rustem on the other, and gradually I made out a good many people. There were two long tables besides the table d'honneur,and they told me about 300 guests. All the representative men and intelligence of England assembled to say God-speed to the departing Ambassador. The Speaker and Lord Herschell (Presidents of the two Houses) were both there, and men of every possible coterie from Lord Lorne to James Knowles of the "Nineteenth Century." As soon as the regular toasts had been drunk there was a pause and then came the toast of the evening with "bumpers," "The French Ambassador." There were roars of applause when W. got on his legs, and I must confess to a decided choke in my throat. W. spoke (in English, which they had asked him to do) very simply and very well, going back to his early days. When he said that he had done his best always to keep up good and friendly relations with England, and that he had had much sympathy from all sides, he was much cheered; but much more when he said that perhaps what had given him more friends in England than any of his public acts as a statesman was the fact that he had rowed in the University eight at Cambridge. Then there were roars of applause, and he heard quite distinctly the people below saying—"he is quite right, we always remember it." He was quite ému when he came to the end; his voice taking that grave tone I like so much when he said "good-bye." One heard every word. He was much cheered when he finished. The Lady Mayoress came and shook hands with me and asked me if I wasn't proud of my husband. Some of the speeches were charming—the Speaker's particularly; Lord Lorne also made a very pretty little speech, and Rustem (Turk), who answered the toast for the "Corps Diplomatique," made a very good speech. I can't remember all the names and all the speeches, but it was a most brilliant assembly, and as Countess Deym said to me, a wonderful tribute to W. Assoon as the speeches were over we all went down to the great hall, where I had a perfect défilé of compliments and regrets, Lord Lorne again repeating his words "that W.'s departure was a national calamity." All had something friendly to say—the two Law Lords, Judge Bowen and Sir Francis Jeune, most sympathetic. S. too told me I should be much pleased—he had never seen such a demonstration in England for a foreigner. Of course some of the young men came in to the Embassy to talk the dinner over, and gave their impressions. They were all much pleased. W. certainly was, and said he felt quite ému when he saw all the faces turned to him and knew that every word he said would tell—also he knew quite well that his reference to the boat-race would appeal much more to thegeneralpublic than any expressions of good feeling toward England. He hasn't always had an easy time with his English name and his English education. Of course it has been very useful to him here, as he has been thrown with all sorts of people, and could understand the English point of view, but in France they were always afraid he was too English. I think when he has gone they will realise at home what good work he has done herebecausehe understands them.
French Embassy, London,March 8, 1893.
W. and I went together to the Mansion House, Tuesday, to pay a farewell visit to the Lady Mayoress, who was receiving formally with music, tea, and quantities of people. The Lord Mayor appeared too when he heard we were there, and was quite pleased when W. said how gratified and touched he had been by the banquet and the universal expression of regret at his departure. The Lord Mayor said to him, "You can't find any warmerfriends, Ambassador, in France than those you are leaving here, but I quite understand that a man can't live long out of his own country." We had just time to get back to the Embassy, dress, and start for Windsor, where we dined: our last stay in the yellow rooms. The dinner was almost entirely Royal—the Empress Frederick, Prince and Princess Christian, Prince and Princess Henry of Battenberg, Duchess of Connaught, del Mazo, the Spanish Ambassador, I the only other lady. The cercle was not long—I thought the Queen looked tired. She sat down at once; said she wouldn't say good-bye, as she hoped to see me once more at Buckingham Palace. She said at her age she rather dreaded saying good-bye, also seeing new faces, and she was very sorry we were going. "Who comes to replace you?" I said I thought nothing was yet decided. I talked some time to the other Princesses after the Queen had congédied me. The Empress was as usual charming, and said, "I am afraid we sha'n't meet again often, Mdme. Waddington, you won't cross to Berlin, and I can't go to Paris, but that isn't my fault. I think we shall have to meet in Italy, where I first had the pleasure of seeing you." The end of the evening we spent as usual in the drawing-room with the "household." I had quite a talk with Prince Henry, who is very good-looking and attractive. We left the drawing-room about eleven—W. going as usual to smoke, and I to my rooms. I sat some time in front of the fire in the beautiful little yellow drawing-room wondering if I ever should see it again, and going back to our first Windsor visit, when all was so new and strange to me. I wonder where we shall be this time next year, and if we shall settle down easily to our quiet life in France. W. came in rather late from the smoking-room: he said all the men were so nice to him, and seemed reallysorry he was going; also were very anxious to know if he wasn't sorry himself.
This morning (Wednesday) it was beautiful. I breakfasted as usual in my rooms and sat some time in the deep window recess watching all the people coming and going. There is always so much life about Windsor when the Queen is there. About 10 Colonel Byng came to take us to the Chapel to see the sarcophagus of Prince Eddie, which is enormous and has rather too much colour—almost gaudy. I went with Hilda the other day to Gilbert's studio to see the monument he is making, and which I liked. It is very elaborate and complicated, but the sleeping figure good: so reposeful and young; the long straight limbs. One quite realised a young life cut short. Gilbert is clever and interesting, and begged us to criticise freely.
We got home about 12 and I took a short turn in the Park before breakfast, which was full as usual when the Queen passes. She came this afternoon for two Drawing-rooms. I shall do my last to-morrow—I sha'n't go to the second.
French Embassy,March 10, 1893.
I am doing all my last things. I went to the Drawing-room yesterday (our last). Countess Spencer presented the ladies, and looked very stately and handsome in black, with splendid jewels. The Queen didn't stay very long, but looked less tired, I thought, than the other night at Windsor. I said good-bye to a great many people whom I sha'n't see again. At this season plenty of people are still in the country, and only come up for a day or two for Drawing-rooms, theatres, etc. Teesdale and I had quiet an affectionate parting. For so long now we have made our entrée together into the Throne Room: heholding my hand and both of us making a deep bow and curtsey at the door, that we have become quite like puppets.
This afternoon I have had my farewell audience from the Queen at Buckingham Palace at 4 o'clock. I wore as usual the blue velvet, which will walk about alone soon, as it has done all the ceremonies lately; my pearls, and a crême velvet bonnet with light blue feathers. I went in the ordinary open carriage (not gala). The gala carriage with the powdered wigs, big footmen, canes, etc., went out yesterday for the last time to the Drawing-room. I had some difficulty in getting into the court-yard, which was filled with carriages, luggage-vans, soldiers, etc., as the Queen was leaving this afternoon for Windsor. I was sent from one entrance to another, in spite of the tricolour cockade, and finally drew up at a side-door (where a shabby little victoria was standing). A man in ordinary black livery appeared, and after a short parley (in which I intervened myself, saying that I was the French Ambassadress and had an audience with the Queen) he showed me into a room on the ground floor. I waited about 15 minutes (it was 5 minutes to 4 when I arrived) and then Lady Southampton, Lady in Waiting, appeared, with many apologies for being late—she didn't think I would come so soon (and I was a little afraid of being late, they kept me so long in the court-yard). We went upstairs to a small drawing-room looking out on the court-yard, and in about 10 minutes the same servant in black appeared, saying, "The Queen is ready to receive the French Ambassadress." Lady Southampton said she couldn't come, as the Queen wished to see me alone, so I followed the servant down a long corridor—he stopped at a door, knocked, a voice said "come in," and I found myself inthe Royal presence. It was a small, ordinary room, rather like a sort of waiting-room, no traces of habitation, nothing pretty or interesting. The Queen was standing, very simply dressed in black (her travelling dress she said, she was starting at once for Windsor) before a writing-table which was in the middle of the room, covered with books and papers. She was most kind, made me sit down on the sofa next to her, and said she was afraid she had kept me waiting, but that she had been kept by a visit from Mr. Gladstone—she then paused a moment, so I made a perfectly banal remark, "what a wonderful man, such an extraordinary intelligence," to which she replied, "He is very deaf." She expressed great regret at our departure, and hoped we were sorry to leave England and all our friends, but after all Paris was not very far off, and she hoped she should see me again. She was sure M. Waddington would find plenty to do when he got back—would he continue his literary work? I said he would certainly have plenty to do, as he was Senator and Membre de l'Institut, but that we should both miss the Embassy life and the varied interests it brought. She repeated that she hoped to see me again, so I asked if ever I came back to England might I write to one of her ladies, and ask if I could be received. "Pray do, and I shall not say good-bye, but au revoir." We talked about 15 minutes about all sorts of things—some of our colleagues—our successor, etc. She asked again who was coming to London, and said, "My last two Ambassadors to France were ex-Viceroys." It seemed to me that she said it on purpose, and that she wanted France to send one of her best men to St. James's. I repeated the remark to my husband, and the chancellerie. It is quite true. The present British Ambassador, Lord Dufferin, is certainly the firstdiplomatist they have. He has had every distinguished post England can offer—Ambassador to St. Petersburg and Rome, Governor of Canada, and Viceroy of India, and has played a great part. His predecessor, Lord Lytton, was also Viceroy of India, and very distinguished, though in a different way from Lord Dufferin. I rather fancy that Montebello would be an acceptable appointment. He knows English well, has English relations, and I should think would like the post, but I have really no idea. Some of the papers say that Ribot wants the place, but I think he prefers home politics and would not care to leave France; however, I could not tell the Queen anything definite. She kissed me at parting, and gave me her photograph, signed, in a handsome silver frame—then half turned her back, moving to a door on the other side of the room, so that I could get out easily and not altogether à reculons, which would have been awkward to open the door. I tucked my parcel under my arm, opened the door myself (a thing I don't often do in these days, except my bedroom door) and found myself again in the long corridor. My audience was over, and I daresay I shall never see the Queen again. She was unfailing to us both from the first moment, always welcomed us with the same smile, was always inclined to talk about anything and to understand and smooth over any little difficulty or misunderstanding. I think she is a wonderful woman and a wonderful Queen. In her long life she must have had many difficult questions and responsibilities, and certainly England has not suffered under her rule. I met Lady S. in the corridor, who came downstairs with me, and said she was quite sure the Queen meant it when she said she would like to see me again, that sheneversaid anything she didn't mean.
I found Hilda and one or two friends when I got home who told me that the English ladies, headed by Ladies Salisbury and Spencer, representing the two parties, Conservative and Liberal, were going to give me a souvenir (in memory of my ten years in London), a jewel of some kind. I was rather pleased. The last days of adieux are rather melancholy. I shall be glad when they are over. I forgot to say that Wednesday I had a message about 3 o'clock from the Princess Beatrice, saying she and Prince Henry of Battenberg would come about 5 and ask me for a cup of tea. The notice was so short that I hadn't time to ask anyone except Hilda, who happened in, and some of the secretaries. They came alone and were most friendly—said they had not given me any more time on purpose, as they didn't want a party, but merely to see us. They were as easy and pleasant as possible, she talking much more than she ever does in the grand monde. I told her I hoped she would let me know if ever she came to Paris. She said. "Oh, yes—and we will do a lively play together."
Albert Gate,Tuesday, March 14, 1893.
I went this afternoon with Mdme. de la Villestreux to the French bazaar at Kensington Town Hall to receive Princess Mary, who opened it (and very much better than I did the day I performed the same thing). Mdme. de Bylandt, de Bille, Mdme. du Poutel de la Harpe were all there waiting at the foot of the stairs. Princess Mary was easy and charming, and I really think was not bored. She had all the ladies presented to her, talked to them all, knew apparently all their relations, young and old, complimentedthem on the arrangement of their stalls, said the various objects made and presented by the Ladies' Art Association were very artistic and useful (I wish you could have seen them—ourpincushions at the Vente des Diaconnesses were things of beauty next to them), took her tea, said the cake was so good, and delighted everybody. When I see how easy it is for Royalties to win golden opinions with a few gracious words and a smile, I wonder at the stiff, stand-off manner some of them adopt. Princess May looked very slight and pretty, and is always well dressed. I again wore the blue velvet, which will fall off me soon, but this time I changed the bonnet and wore a black jet one with a red rose, and it wasn't very pretty.
March 16, 1893.
We had a last musical afternoon to-day at Marie Humlicher's: 8 hands, two pianos, she directing and the performers being Ctesse. de Bylandt, Mlle. de Staal, Hilda and I. We played Mozart and Schumann, really very well. Mlle. Humlicher has a nice big room over a coutourière on Fulham Road. She always gives us tea after the music, which is generally brought up by a tidy little English maid with her cap and apron. She was astounded this afternoon when the tea was brought in by a most elegant young person, dressed in the latest fashion, and attended by a second, also most stylish—however, as the tea was all right she did not say anything; neither did I, but I waited a moment after the other ladies had gone and she had a mysterious conversation on the stairs and came in highly amused. It seems the two elegant ladies were the dressmaker and her assistant. When they saw all these ambassadorial equipages at their door—enormous powdered footmen, wigs, cockades, etc., also Hilda'sbeautiful carriage (Deichmann has splendid horses always and everything perfectly well turned out), their curiosity got the better of them and they felt theymustsee the swells; so they interviewed the maid, installed her in their rooms to attend to any customer who might come, got into their swell garments, and brought up the tea. Wasn't it funny? Luckily we were all rather elegant. I had been paying some farewell visits, and it so happened that we were all up to the mark. I have sometimes gone to Mlle. Humlicher's on foot in a cloth dress, as it is not far from the Embassy. I am sorry to have done with those afternoons—Mlle. Humlicher plays beautifully—she is a pupil of Rubinstein's and has a real artistic nature.
Friday, March 17th.
I had a line from Lady Salisbury yesterday, asking if to-day at 5 would suit me to receive the ladies and my present. I accepted of course, asking her about how many would come. She answered, between 50 and 60, she thought. As the moment drew near I got rather nervous, for W. said they would certainly make me a little speech and that I would have to reply, and he suggested thinking it over; but that I refused and said I must trust to the inspiration of the moment. I wore my purple satin. The ladies arrived very punctually. There were one or two men, all the personnel, including W., and one or two of my friends, Sir George Arthur, Gevers, etc. Lady Salisbury asked me where I would stand, so I put myself in the middle of the big drawing-room, under the chandelier. Lady Salisbury was spokeswoman, flanked on one side by Lady Spencer, the other by Mrs. Gladstone; all the other ladies, including Ladies Londonderry, Cadogan, Shrewsbury, Harcourt, etc.,forming a circle round me. Lady Salisbury made a very pretty little speech, beginning—"Madame Waddington, Ambassadress," and saying they hoped I would sometimes think of England and my English friends, that I had been there so long that I seemed one of themselves, etc., and then handed me a blue velvet étui. I don't know exactly what I replied (I was rather émue and W. just opposite to me was looking at me hard), but evidently only a few words, to say that the ten years I had spent in London had been very happy ones, that France wasn't very far away, and that I hoped to come back often—but I think they understood that I was pleased and grateful for the present, and above all with the feeling that prompted it. The jewel is very handsome, a circle of large, beautiful white diamonds with a large pearl in the centre and another as pendant. It was passed around the company and they all found it very handsome. We had tea in the blue room, and I talked to them all and said what was perfectly true, that they had been ten perfectly happy years we had spent in London, and ten years is a good piece out of one's life. They left me a book with the names of all the "signataires." W. was much pleased, and I fancy it was rather an unusual demonstration. One of these days, when Francis's wife wears it, it will be a historic jewel. After all the company had gone the secretaries stayed on a little while. I think they are all sorry we are going, and they certainly regret W. as a chief. They all say he is so absolutely just.
Albert Gate,Monday, March 27, 1893.
We walked about in the Row this morning. It was cold and raw, not many people. We dined at the ItalianEmbassy in the evening with Tornielli. The Comtesse is at Naples with her niece, the young Marquise Paulucci, who has just had a fine boy. The dinner was small, mostly colleagues. We sat after dinner in the red drawing-room, which is very picturesque—a fine old carved chimney, enormous, and beautiful old red silk hangings just faded enough to give an old-world look. He has brought quantities of things from his palace in Italy. Lincoln was there. He knows who his successor is—Mr. Bayard. We don't know ours.
Albert Gate,March 29, 1893.
Princess Mary and Princess May had promised to come once to tea before I left and they named to-day. I asked very few people—Duchess of St. Albans, Ladies Arran, Randolph Churchill, Hilda, and some men, Deym, Tornielli, Mensdorff, George Arthur, etc. Lady Randolph is very musical, plays extremely well and is very kind to all the artists. I asked Mlle. Jansen (Swedish), who sang quite beautifully—a fine voice, such a ring in it. She is going to America, and I am sure she will have a great success. Both Princesses were as cordial and nice as possible, said it would seem strange not to see me about everywhere any more. "Of course you will come back to London," Princess Mary said; "but it can never be the same thing—you will be a visitor; now you are living your life with us, and London is your home." Princess May looked very pretty, and so bright that I fancy her engagement is settled—everyone seems to think so. I didn't say anything to her, but when I parted from Princess Mary at the foot of the stairs I couldn't help saying that I heard that very soon all her friends would be able to congratulate her, and that as I wasgoing I would like to think that very happy days were before her. She said "I hope so—I think so," and kissed me. At the door she turned and said, "I wonder when I shall have tea and music again in these rooms. I shall always think with pleasure of the French Embassy." We had a farewell dinner at our cousin's, Mrs. Mostyn's. Lord Herschell was on one side of me and talked a great deal about the banquet at the Mansion House. He said W.'s English was so good, too classical if anything; said he would like very much to hear him speak in French and at the Tribune. He couldn't imagine such a quiet speech and manner in the fiery French Chamber. I told him the Senate was much more sedate than the Chamber (consequently much less amusing) and that he would often hear a perfectly quiet academic speech there.
French Embassy,Good Friday, March 31, 1893.
We went to the afternoon service at St. Paul's, where the anthem was beautiful. There were a great many people, a great many men following the service, and a great many also walking about looking at the tombs and tablets.
We really have not a moment these last days. I shall go over a little before W., about the 12th of next month. We have had all sorts of leave-takings. The Empress Frederick received us the other day—always charming and interesting, but still talking of her visit to Paris, which she can't get over. She said to me, "I would have liked so much to see you in Paris, in your own house. M. Waddington promised me a dinner with all your clever men." "I should have been much pleased and honoured, Majesté; perhaps a little later he may have that pleasure—but I'm afraid——"
We had all a pleasant visit to Princess Louise at Kensington, who said she would certainly let us know when she came to Paris—I think she often comes. We went to White Lodge, of course, where they all look so happy I can't help thinking that the marriage is arranged. We also went, for a farewell cup of tea, to Alma Tadema, who receives once a week in his beautiful studio. He is going to send me an engraving of one of his lovely Greek pictures. His atelier is most picturesque and full of interesting things. He has a set of panels painted by all his artist friends which are gems. He is very attractive himself—so simple. There were a good many people there.
We had a dinner and party (music) last week at Lady Wimborne's. Their entertainments are always successful. The house (Hamilton House) is one of the best in London. Lord B., a great friend of W.'s, took me to get an ice at the buffet, and was deploring W.'s departure. "Such a pity that Waddington had gone back to France after graduating so brilliantly at Cambridge. He would certainly have made the same career in England, and would have been Premier in England, so much better than being Premier in France"—a truly British sentiment (what makes their strength, perhaps), but naif.
Albert Gate,Easter Sunday, April 2, 1893.
My last Easter in London, a beautiful bright day. Henrietta, Francis, and I walked down to Westminster Abbey in the morning. It was crowded, as it always is—Easter is such a splendid service—the fine old Easter hymn always the same, with the Hallelujah echoingthrough the vaults and arches. We had a small dinner in the evening—Jusserand (who had come back to see his friends, of whom he has thousands here), the La Villestreux, the personnel, and a few young people in the evening. I wore my jewel, which they all found very handsome.
French Embassy,April 9th.
Henrietta, Francis, and I went to the Temple Church this morning. It is a grand old place, right in the heart of London. We were met at the door by one of the "benchers," who gave us very good places and took us all over the church and various halls after service. Francis had never been there and was wildly interested, particularly in the tombs of the old Crusaders with their crossed legs. We lunched with quite a party of benchers and their wives in the "parlement" room, a charming room looking out on the river and across a garden filled with roses, streams of sunlight pouring in at all the windows. They told us the War of the Roses, white and red, was planned in those gardens, and asked us if we remembered the old lines:
Yesterday we had a handsome "Diner d'Adieu" at the Turkish Embassy, principally colleagues. Lincoln was there—he too is going, his wife left yesterday. They have raised the United States Legation here to an Embassy, and I hope they will raise the salaries. No one is more asked out or has a better position here than theUnited States Minister. I always remember the remark of one of our colleagues, Baron Solvyns, who had been long in London and knew it well. We were talking one day about the Corps Diplomatique, small Powers, Embassies, etc., and were discussing who was the most important Ambassador in London. Solvyns said, "There is no doubt about it, the AmericanMinisteris the first Ambassador in London."
French Embassy,April 12, 1893.
My last letter from Albert Gate, Dear. Yesterday all our small things, silver, house linen, etc., departed. The packing seemed well done. We put everything that was to go in the ballroom (little Dresden figures, glasses, silver ornaments), nothing packed, all spread out, on tables. A man came and made an inventory, packs everything in a great van that comes to the door and arrives at our door in the Rue Dumont d'Urville, where equally everything is taken out and unpacked. He says nothing will be broken. It is certainly a very easy way of moving, and I shall be anxious to see how they arrive. The Florians had their furniture taken over like that, and I think one table was a little démantibulée. We leave to-morrow; we being Henrietta and I. W. stays some little time still. I take over all the French servants, both coachmen, and my victoria and horses, as I must settle myself for the spring in the Paris house. W. sends over one of the secretaries, M. Lecomte, with us, and the colleagues are all coming to the station to say good-bye. The rooms look melancholy to-night, so many things gone; piano of course and all books and small tables, screens, etc.—all the gros mobilier belongs to the Embassy. We sat some time talking, just we three: W.,Henrietta, and I, after dinner. W. has just been named one of the Directeurs du Canal de Suez. I think he will find plenty of occupation when he gets back.
Paris, 31, Rue Dumont d'Urville,April 16, 1893.
Here I am, Dear, back in my little salon, writing at my table in the corner by the window, and rather distracted by the quantities of carriages passing. There is so much more movement in the street than when we left ten years ago, and I have got accustomed to such a quiet bedroom and salon. All our living rooms (except the dining-room) at Albert Gate gave on the Park, so we never heard the rattle and noise of carriages over pavements, and as no cabs nor camions are allowed in the Park the passing never disturbed us. We came over very comfortably on Thursday. All our colleagues were at the station to see us off, and I think they are sorry to say good-bye. We found our voiture-salon filled with flowers. Sir George Arthur and S. came over with us. It was very cold and very rough. All the men disappeared at once, but Henrietta and I remained on deck and were quite happy, well wrapped up with rugs, and tarpaulins stretched in front of us to keep out the wet. Lecomte had arranged our lunch in the private room of the buffet at Calais (where W. and I always breakfasted when we came over) and it was comfortable to see a bright fire. I am ashamed to say that the ladies of the party eat a very good breakfast. The men looked rather white, and certainly were not good "fourchettes" at that meal. At Dover we had found Lord William Seymour in uniform, with his aide-de-camp, wife and daughter waiting for us. He took me on the boat, and to the cabin, where there were more flowers, and stayed untilthe last moment, giving the captain all manner of instructions for my comfort, and particularly to see that my cabin was warm, with plenty of rugs, etc. I never went near it. I think Adelaïde and Bonny had a very comfortable time there. Francis met us at the Gare du Nord, much pleased to have us back. We went to Henrietta's to dine. I was glad to come home directly after dinner and go to bed. Well, Dear, there is one chapter of my life closed—I wonder what the future reserves for us. I shall be uncomfortable for a few days until my van arrives. It left the same day we did, and the man said it would take a week to bring the things over, but I shall not expect them for ten days. I found quantities of cards and notes here, and Louise and Henrietta of course will give me dinner or anything else I want until I can get quite settled. Hubert got over only to-day. The sea was so rough he wouldn't cross on Thursday; he waited a day at Folkestone, and another at Boulogne, to rest the horses which had been knocked about. W. writes that the Embassy seems absolutely empty. Still he dines out every night (at the club when he hasn't an invitation) and will come over as soon as he can. The house looks so small after the big rooms at Albert Gate, and the stable and little cour minute. It sounded so familiar to hear the carriage coming in under the voûte, and also the street cries. I daresay in a few days I shall take up my ordinary Paris life, and London will seem a dream—like Moscow.
Bayreuth,Saturday, July 31, 1897.[12]
We arrived Thursday evening from Nuremberg in a pouring rain, which continued all day Friday, and detestable it was—streets crowded, everybody's umbrella running into one and catching in your veil (really twice in mine), mud everywhere, carriages scarce and dear. Our rooms are comfortable, Mary de Bunsen got them for us, a good-sized salon (with a piano), three bedrooms, and two maids' rooms. We have our early breakfast and supper, but dine out. Our experience at the Sonne was not very agreeable—a long, hot dining-room, quantities of hungry people and no servants to speak of. I was rather interested in my neighbour, a long, thin American, a Western man from Iowa I think, a school-master. He told me he had been saving for years to get money enough "to come across" (as he said) and hear "Parsifal." He had taught himself German in the evenings when his class was finished. The man was in such a quiver of delighted anticipation that it was a pleasure to see him. I told him I was sure he would not be disappointed, as Van Dyck was to sing "Parsifal." There were quite a number of priests at table, and one heard a little French, but the talk was principally German and English. We got up to the theatre easily enough, as carriages were going backward and forward all the time. The opera, "Parsifal," was beautifully given—Van Dyck as good as ever. I always think he stands so wonderfully in that scene where he has his back to the public and is absorbed by all he sees. He told me it was one of his most difficult parts. We had great difficulty ingetting our coffee between the acts, and greater still in finding our carriage at the end. The crowd, and scramble, and mud were something awful.
Friday, August 6th.
We are leaving this afternoon, having had an enchanting week. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, the whole Ring beautifully given. All the music is racing through my brain, from the lovely wave chorus of the swimming Rhine maidens to the magnificent end of the "Götterdämmerung" with all the different motifs worked in. They played the funeral march of "Siegfried" splendidly. It is a curious life one leads here. In the morning everybody walks about the town—the streets are narrow and it is amusing to be hailed from windows over small shops, grocers', bakers', watchmakers', by friends who are lodging there. About 3 a sort of restless excitement is in the air and one sees a long procession mounting the hill to the Opera House, everyone absorbed by the one idea. There are quantities of people we know. I didn't go and see Mdme. Wagner this time, as Henrietta and Pauline don't know her. Her evenings, the off night, are very interesting. One sees all the distinguished people of any kind at her house, all the artists, critics, etc. Of course no one ventures to criticise themusic—merely the execution.
Meingeningen, Biebrich,Sunday, August 15, 1897.
I have been here two or three days and am glad to have some quiet hours in the garden after the fatigue and excitement of Bayreuth. Four Wagner operas in succession is a strain on one's brain (not that I wouldn't do it straight over again this week if I could, but one wants the rest between). The crowd at Bayreuth theday we started was something wonderful, as of course everyone leaves after their série—there is nothing to do or see in the town. At Nuremberg, too, the scramble to get something to eat was funny, as there were two courants, all of us leaving Bayreuth, and just as many more arriving to take our places. There is always a crowd at the Nuremberg station, though they have multiplied little buffets outside the regular salles d'attente with coffee, beer, sausages, etc. We were late all along the line, and again there was such a crowd at the big Frankfort station that I could not get my trunks in time to take the first train for Mosbach—however, I arrived finally and was pleased to see Heinrich's broad, good-humoured face, and we drove at once to the house, where Mary was waiting for me with supper. We talked a little, but even that took us on to 2 o'clock, as it was after midnight when I arrived.
We have seen various people, and made expeditions to Wiesbaden. We wrote to the Empress Frederick's lady-in-waiting the other day (Countess Perponcher, whom Mary knows very well) to say that I was here near Cronberg, and would be so pleased if the Empress would receive me. The answer has just come, asking me to lunch at Cronberg on Wednesday. I am delighted to go—first to see the Empress, and then to see the house, which is filled with beautiful things. The Empress has travelled so much, and been so much in Italy, and has bought all sorts of treasures.
Tuesday, August 17, 1897.
Last night we went to the opera at Wiesbaden. It was "Hansel and Gretel," beautifully given—the orchestra very good and the angel scene with all the angels coming down a sort of ladder and circling round the sleepingchildren quite exquisite. It was a funny contrast to the London and Paris Opera. Mary and I started off about 5.30 in ordinary summer dress—foulard and voile. We went to the great confectioner at Wiesbaden for our tea and cakes, and a little before 7 walked across to the Opera. There we took off our hats and jackets, hung them up on a little peg, found our seats without any trouble, and had a very pleasant evening. The entr'actes are much shorter than in France, so that we were out a little before 10. The drive home was lovely on a bright starlight summer night; about three-quarters of an hour. It was such an easy, independent way of going, without the complications of a man to go with us, servant to take our cloaks, etc. I often think I should like to live a little in Germany, there is so much that I like in the country, and life seems so easy, though I believe German women wouldn't say so. They all seemed weighed down with cares, and apparently all with very small incomes. I wonder if you have read Hauptmann's "Versunkene Glocke"; I am fascinated by it. It was a little difficult reading at first on account of the sort of patois, but it is a wonderful book, so weird and full of sentiment. I will finish my letter after our day at Cronberg.
Thursday, August 19, 1897.
We had a charming day; I am so glad we went. We started a little after ten for Frankfort, where we had a wait of 20 minutes. I wore my black voile and a little black and jet toque in which I put a white aigrette, and white gloves, so as not to be too black. The trajet is short from Frankfort to Cronberg, about an hour. We found two carriages (rather pretty victorias in wood natural colour and cushions the same colour—they looked very chic and country) and tall powdered footmen in theblack and silver Imperial livery. There were two or three people in the second carriage whom I didn't recognise at first, but made out when we arrived. Val Prinsep, the artist, and his wife, a very pretty woman, and a German lady, also an artist I think. The Castle is not far from the station, and Cronberg (the town) is rather picturesque. The house is large—nothing particular in the way of architecture, but stands well in a fair-sized park. We were received in a fine hall, with pictures, carvings, and plenty of old furniture. Countess Perponcher and Baron Reischach received us. Count Seckendorff was not there, which I regretted, as I like him very much and should have been glad to see him again. Countess Perponcher took us to a small room on the ground floor where we left our parasols, wraps, etc., and then we went through one or two handsome rooms into a large salon where the company was already assembled. Lady Layard and her niece were staying in the house, also Prince Albert Solms (our old friend) with his wife. He is very ill, poor fellow, and can hardly get about. Some English friends arrived from Hombourg—Lady Cork, Lord Algy Lennox. About 1.30 the Empress came—always the same charming manner, and always her sad eyes. I thought she looked thinner and paler perhaps, but not ill. We went immediately to luncheon—the Empress first, alone, all of us following. Baron Reischach sat opposite to her, between me and Lady Cork. The talk was easy, the Empress talking a great deal. Val Prinsep too did his share, and Lady Cork is always clever and original. After luncheon we went back to the big drawing-room and looked at some of the beautiful things. Angeli's last portrait of the Empress had just come and had been placed (temporarily only) in a corner where the light was not very good. Itis a fine picture—the Empress all in black with her splendid pearl necklace, seated on a sort of carved throne, or high-backed chair—all the shading dark, the only bit of colour the yellow ribbon of the Black Eagle. It is a striking picture and very like her, but so inexpressibly sad. She called each one of us in turn to come and sit by her. She spoke very warmly of W. to me, and asked me if I didn't regret my London life, and if I did not find it very difficult to settle down in France after having lived ten years in London, "the great centre of the world." It is curious how universal that feeling is with English people (and "au fond," notwithstanding all the years she has lived in Germany, the Empress is absolutely English still in her heart). They think that life in England—London—spoils one for everything else. I told her I didn't think I was to be pitied for living in Paris—after all, my boy was a Frenchman and all his interests were in France. She asked about Francis, how old he was, and couldn't believe that I was going back to fêter his 21 years, and thought it was fortunate for him that his early education had been in England.