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 creme 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 in the 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 first diplomatist 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 a
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 she _never_ said 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."
_To H. L. K._
#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,
complimented them 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--_our_ pincushions
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 coutouriere 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's
beautiful carriage (Deichmann has splendid horses always and everything
perfectly well turned out), their curiosity got the better of them and
they felt they _must_ see 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 etui. I
don't know exactly what I replied (I was rather emue 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 Italian Embassy 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
was going 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,
Majeste; 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.
_To G. K. S._
#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 echoing through 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:
"If this red rose offend thy sight,
It in thy bosom wear;
'Twill blush to find itself less white
And turn Lancastrian there."
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 the United 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 American _Minister_ is 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 demantibulee. 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 until the 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
Adelaide 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 voute, 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.
_To G. K. S._
#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 in getting our coffee between the acts, and greater still in
finding our carriage at the end. The crowd, and scramble, and mud were
something awful.
[12] Waddington died in 1894. Hence the interruption in the series of
Madame Waddington's letters from 1893 until 1897.
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 "Goetterdaemmerung"
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 the _music_--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 the day we started was something
wonderful, as of course everyone leaves after their serie--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.