day on the water. Lord Dufferin is a great yachtsman and cruises all
about in his own little boat. At the present moment it is pouring--I can
hardly see the sea--every now and then comes a partial break and I get a
glimpse of a great grey expanse of water. We got down for dinner last
night; a small party, as there are not many bedrooms--Lord and Lady
Wantage (he such a nice man, one of the few Englishmen who has the
"Legion d'Honneur," which he got in the Crimean War), the Marchesa Chigi
from Rome, and various young men. The dinner was handsome--Lord Dufferin
always a charming host--and we finished the evening in the big
drawing-room, where I always feel as if I were in the cabin of a ship,
it is so directly on the water. It looks exactly as it did in Lady
Granville's time, and in fact Lady D. told me she had not changed
anything. When I went to the drawing-room this morning I found the three
ladies talking and trying to persuade themselves that it would clear
after lunch. I said I did not mind weather and could not stay in the
house all day, so we agreed to equip ourselves suitably and go for a
walk after lunch. In the meantime Lady D. took me over the house--we
went to see Wellington's room (where he died). His little camp-bed is
still there, and some interesting relics, bits of uniform, and one or
two letters framed and hung upon the wall. The room is small, in one of
the towers, nothing magnificent or ducal about it. In fact the whole
house is simple and not large, one good drawing-room, looking straight
out to sea, so that sitting inside you see the big ships pass apparently
close under the windows--a fair dining-room, no library or
billiard-room, and a few bedrooms--an ideal place for a _water_ life.
The moat has been changed into a garden and there is a tennis-court
somewhere, though I didn't exactly make out where. We went for a walk
along the sea wall with waterproofs and umbrellas, and I wondered if we
should be blown over into the sea, the wind came in such violent gusts
sometimes. It seems a child and a perambulator were blown off the other
day, and strange to say nothing was hurt, neither child nor
perambulator--only the nurse had hysterics. We walked to Deal and paid
Lady Herschell a visit. I rather demurred at going in, as my hair was
decidedly ruffled and I was very wet, but they all wanted to and I
didn't look any worse than any of the others. The Castle is fine,
interesting--not so large as Walmer, but with always the same beautiful
situation close to the sea. It is one of the Cinque Ports, and Lord
Sydney had it as long as he lived. The Herschells walked back with us,
and coming home was pleasanter, as the rain had stopped and the wind
diminished a little. I came up after tea, as I was a little tired and
thought I would take advantage of a quiet moment to write to you. I will
finish to-night, as we have come upstairs early. We had rather an
amusing evening. The young people proposed playing "Historical
Portraits," and insisted upon our all taking part. I protested
vehemently, as I never have drawn anything in my life. I remember the
drawing class years ago at Mrs. Ward's, when we all copied a Greek girl
with an amphora on her head, and the tears I shed over my performance.
The amphora (that might have been anything) was crooked and toppling
over, and all her arms and legs were of different lengths. Even the
drawing master was obliged to say I had no facility with my pencil. The
game is really an undertaking. Everyone is given paper and pencils and
you have 5 minutes by the watch to draw a historical portrait or
portraits. My neighbour, one of the sons, was doing something most
elaborate--a quantity of figures--my other neighbour, about my calibre,
looked helpless, but said she must do something. What do you think she
did? "The House that Jack Built," an infantine production with 4 lines
and a chimney, the sort of thing that we all have done as children. That
gave me courage, particularly as she had played the game before, and
knew what could be received, so I drew the "Man in the Moon." Can't you
see it--a large, round O with dots for eyes, nose, and mouth. Some of
the drawings were really very clever--the "Field of the Cloth of Gold"
with a great many figures, and Raleigh and his cloak before Elizabeth;
Queen Elizabeth with a chignon and a short bicycle skirt. We amused
ourselves very much. We leave to-morrow morning, W. by the first train,
as he had an early rendezvous in London. I shall go a little later with
the Wantages.
#London#,
Friday, July 22, 1892.
W. and I drove out to Lyon House this afternoon to a garden party at the
Duke of Northumberland's. It is a fine old place, about an hour's drive
from London, with big iron gates, with the Percy lion with its tail
straight out on top. The Duke did not appear--his daughter-in-law,
Countess Percy (who is a daughter of the Duke of Argyll) did the
honours. She showed us the great corridor and large drawing-room with a
fine Adam's ceiling, and then we went out into the garden, where there
were quantities of tents, carpets, tea-tables--and half London. Everyone
was talking elections. I sympathised with Philip Stanhope, who has been
beaten, and said, "Why didn't you spend more money while you were about
it?" He was not in the least outraged at such a question, and replied
promptly, "I should have certainly, if I hadn't been so sure of being
named." They say a great deal of money has been spent this time.
#London#, July 27th.
We had our last outing for this year last night; a handsome dinner at
Tornielli's for the Duc d'Aoste. He is a tall, good-looking young
fellow, decidedly dashing, and inclined to amuse himself. He is a
curious contrast to his father, whom I liked extremely, but who was cold
and silent, looked like a Spanish grandee of the Middle Ages, or a
soldier-monk--a very striking face and figure. Countess Somaglia (nee
Gwendoline Doria) was among the guests, with her two daughters. We
talked a little of old days in Rome. I remember so well when she was
married.
To-morrow I shall make our paquets, and we four, Francis and I, May and
Beatrice, leave for Bayreuth and the Tyrol by the Club train on
Saturday. I ordered my mountain dresses at Nicoll's--two skirts to one
jacket--a real short one faced with leather for mountaineering, and a
longer one, shortish too, for travelling, in blue serge; a shortish blue
linen, and an alpaca. All the personnel dine to-night for good-bye. This
is my 9th season in London--I wonder if I shall ever see it again. I
have a presentiment that next year we shall only go back to take leave.
_To G. K. S._
#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 crepe 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 "expose 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.
_To H. L. K._
#French Embassy#,
March 3, 1893.
We are beginning our tournee 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. Prince George 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 quite a
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 moire 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 emu 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. As soon as the speeches were over we all went
down to the great hall, where I had a perfect defile 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 emu 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 the _general_ public 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 here _because_ he 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 warmer
friends, 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 congedied 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 really sorry 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 entree together
into the Throne Room: he holding my hand and both of us making a deep
bow and curtsey at the door, that we have become quite like puppets.