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
sleeping children 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
the black 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.
It is 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 feter his
21 years, and thought it was fortunate for him that his early education
had been in England.
[Illustration: The Empress Frederick, wearing the Order of the
Black Eagle
The last portrait of the Empress by the artist Angeli]
We talked a little about French literature--I think she reads
everything--and she asked about Bayreuth, were there many French people
there. I told her the Director of the Grand Opera, among others, who
wants to have the "Meistersinger" in France, but Mdme. Wagner is rather
unwilling--the choruses, she thinks, are too difficult either to
translate or to sing with the true spirit in any other language. The
Empress said, "She is quite right; it is one of the most difficult of
Wagner's operas, and essentially German in plot and structure. It
scarcely bears translation in English and in French would be impossible;
neither is the music, in my mind, at all suited to the French character.
The mythical legend of the Cycle would appeal more to the French, I
think, than the ordinary German life." I daresay she is right. When she
congedied me I talked some little time to Prince Solms, Reischach, and
others. Then it was getting time for us to go, as we had to take the
4.30 train back to Frankfort. I was standing by the window, from which
there is a fine open view over plain and woods, when the Empress came up
to say good-bye. She supposed I was going back to France, where I would
find my boy. "You are very fortunate to have him still with you; it
gives such an interest to your life." She kissed me, and then said
sadly, "_My_ task is done--I am quite alone." I watched her go out of
the room, across the hall, and up the great staircase, with her long
black dress trailing behind, alone--as she said. It must be an awful
solitude for her--living there in her beautiful house, filled with art
treasures of all kinds, and with friends near all summer at Hombourg,
Wiesbaden, etc., who are only too happy to go to her--but her real life
is over, and she is as far away from Germany and the throbbing pulse of
the nation as if she were a cloistered nun.
The Val Prinseps came away with us, and we made a bout de chemin
together until they branched off to Hombourg. He has quite the same idea
of the Empress; says "elle se ronge," that she had always had such
aspirations and wanted to do so much for the intellectual life of
Germany. Mary and I got to Frankfort in good time, and home for dinner.
We were glad to prowl about in the garden after dinner, when it was
deliciously cool and the air heavy almost with the scent of roses, of
which she has quantities. We saw the Rhine and the lights of Mayence in
the distance. I suppose this place too I shall never see again, as I
think Mary has made up her mind to sell Meingeningen. I think she will
settle in Ireland if she can get the old Townshend place where she was
one summer. It is ideal, close on the sea, with a splendid park rising
up behind the Castle, but will be a great change for her.
_To H. L. K._
#South Pavilion, West Cowes#,
August 9, 1900.
We are becoming accustomed, Dear, to the wind and rain and a general
damp feeling. I don't think I have been really dry since we left Paris.
I live in my serge dress and a waterproof. I should have been quite
comfortable if I could have changed with the other one, but Bessie
Talleyrand is disporting herself in it. When we arrived we found
everyone in mourning for the Duke of Edinburgh, the first days not so
marked, but since the Osborne has arrived with the Prince and Princess
on board one sees nothing but black, and Bessie was much disgusted,
having only blue. The steam launches and boats go all day between the
yachts and the shore. Everyone, men and women, wears those remarkable
yellow mackintoshes; you can't tell them apart, and the boats look as if
they were loaded with great yellow "ballots." The two American yachts,
Nahma, Mrs. Goelet, and Itwana, Mr. Armour, are splendid, enormous
steamers and beautifully kept. Yesterday after lunch Bessie and I
started in the wind and rain to drive over to Osborne and write
ourselves down for the Queen. I am afraid I sha'n't see her, which will
be a great disappointment to me; but the ladies here tell me she is much
affected by the Duke of Edinburgh's death, and after all, the Prince has
only just got back from his funeral. The drive through Cowes is not very
interesting, through dirty, smelly little streets; but once over the
ferry (which one crosses in a boat large enough to take the Queen's
carriage with four horses) it is pretty enough, up a long hill with fine
trees and a few places. We didn't see the Castle, as of course we were
stopped at the gates, which were open, with a policeman standing just
inside. The park looked fine, grass and flower beds beautifully kept. We
wrote ourselves down and I left a card for the Duchess of Roxburghe, who
is in waiting. We went for tea to the Club garden, and there I saw the
Duchess of Roxburghe, who told me the Queen would certainly see me. We
dined quietly at home, rather a fancy meal, but we prefer that to going
out. There is a nice little dining-room, and Joseph waits. How he gets
on down-stairs with the three maiden ladies who run the establishment I
don't know. He doesn't speak or understand one word of English and has
never been out of France before. He went nearly mad over that remarkable
railway journey of ours across country from Eastbourne to Cowes, where
we changed about 10 times (all the luggage naturally being transferred
each time), lost all our connections everywhere and arrived at Cowes at
10.30 at night, having left Eastbourne at 2. He is much impressed with
the uncleanliness of the house, and said to me just now, "Si Madame
voyait les torchons _sales_ dont on se sert pour essuyer les assiettes
_propres_, Madame ne mangerait jamais a la maison."
#East Cowes#,
Sunday, August 12, 1900.
I had two notes this morning, one from Miss Knollys saying the Princess
would receive me, and one from Madame d'Arcos saying the Empress Eugenie
would like us to come to tea with her on the Thistle at 5. I had rather
hesitated about writing myself down for the Empress. I had never seen
her, and W. was in such violent opposition always to the Empire that I
never saw any of the Imperial family; but Madame d'Arcos said Bessie and
I were the only Frenchwomen at Cowes; we had been everywhere--on the
Osborne, to the Queen, etc., and it was rude not to do the same thing
for the Empress--au fond, I was rather glad to have the opportunity, as
I had never seen her. We went to the club garden after church, as I
wanted to find a friend who would lend me a steam launch to go out to
the Osborne. Lord Llangattock offered his, and also said he would take
us to the Thistle for tea, as they were going on board to say good-bye
to the Empress (they leave to-night). I wore my black and white foulard
and a big black hat with feathers (never a sailor hat), which could go,
as the day was fine and the sea smooth. The Princess was not there when
I arrived; she had gone to the service on the Victoria and Albert. Miss
Knollys appeared and we sat some time talking on deck. I was leaning
over the railing when the Royal launch arrived, and I was astounded,
after all these years (7), at the appearance of the Princess. Just the
same slight, youthful figure and light step. The Duke of York came
forward first and talked a little. He was dressed in undress admiral's
uniform and looked very well. Then the Princess came, quite unchanged.
She was simply dressed, in mourning, and looked quite as she did the
last time I saw her, when she was also in mourning (for Prince Eddie).
She kissed me, seemed pleased to see me, and we sat on two straw chairs,
under the awning on the deck, talking about all sorts of things. She
said the Duke of Edinburgh's death was a great grief to them. They were
very fond of him, and it was sudden; and spoke most sadly about the
Empress Frederick, who seems to be dying, and of a cancer. It seems that
she knows quite well what is the matter with her and what is before her,
as she nursed her husband through his long malady. Isn't it awful? She
spoke about Francis, recalling his first afternoon at Marlborough House,
when he was quite small and wept bitterly when the negro minstrels
appeared. I told her he was working for diplomacy, and she said she
would be much pleased to see him when he came to London as attache.
[Illustration: Entrance to the Club and Gardens, Cowes, Isle of Wight.
From a photograph by Broderick.]
The Prince came and talked a little while, and also recalled the last
time we met last summer on the quai at Nuremberg, both coming from
Marienbad, and swallowing hastily a cup of very hot coffee. I thought he
looked grave and preoccupied. He talked a little about Cowes. He said he
never remembered such a bad week--awful weather and few yachts. He was
very complimentary about the two big American yachts, Itwana and Nahma;
said he had never seen the Nahma, which he regretted, but he didn't know
Mrs. Goelet--did I? "Oh yes, very well, ever since she was a child, and
her mother and father before." I was sure she would be very pleased to
receive them. The Prince said they were in such deep mourning that they
had been on no yacht, and he hoped there would be no party. I said Mrs.
Goelet herself was in deep mourning. After some consultation with the
Princess they said they would like to go on board to-morrow morning at
12 o'clock (they leave early Tuesday morning), and I promised to speak
to Mrs. Goelet.
He was amused when I said I liked the "Japs" so much, as he rather
invented them. They came to sing to him one summer when he was ill at
Cowes and on his yacht all the time. There are four people, three women
and a man (a Frenchman), all masked, the women in pretty Japanese
dresses and the man in ordinary clothes. One woman accompanies at the
piano by heart, and extremely well; the other two and the man sing and
dance--dancing very moderate--a sort of "walk around," but the singing
very good; all English except one or two little French songs the man
sings alone. One of their favourite ditties, "Mary housemaid," always
brings down the house. It is just the sort of thing that would have
amused us in our young days when we used to play and sing by heart and
invent steps. The women are very graceful--I don't know if they are
pretty, as one never sees their faces--and the man extraordinary, very
amusing and never vulgar.
I think I must have been a long time on the yacht, and nothing could be
more gracious and sympathetic than the Princess. She told me the Queen
would certainly receive me. I hadn't more than time to get back where
Bessie and Borghese were very hungry waiting for luncheon, and to start
again at 4; this time with Bessie and the Llangattocks for the Thistle.
We were received by Madame d'Arcos, Mlle. Darauvilliers, and M. Rambaut.
They told us the Empress had a cold and was very hoarse; had been
forbidden by the doctor to come on deck, and also to talk, but that she
would receive us in the cabin. We went down almost immediately, preceded
by Madame d'Arcos, who said we must not stay long, as the Empress ought
not to talk. She was standing in her cabin, still a handsome, stately
figure, with beautiful brow and eyes, and charming manner, more animated
than I had imagined. She was very well dressed in black. She made us sit
down and talked herself a great deal, always about Paris, the Bassanos
(speaking most warmly of the Duke), d'Albuferas, and various mutual
friends. She knew Francis was to work for diplomacy, and said she could
wish him nothing better than to walk in his father's footsteps. We were
afraid we were tiring her, as she talked all the time. Twice the "dame
d'honneur" appeared, but she waved her away. When she finally dismissed
us she said "Je ne dirai pas adieu, mais au revoir"--regretted very much
that she could not come on deck and have tea with us, but that we must
certainly stay. We had a pleasant half hour talking with the others, and
then there came a message from her begging that we would take her launch
and cruise about in the harbour. I accepted gladly, as I wanted to
communicate with the Nahma and didn't exactly know how to manage. The
French ladies too wished to see the American yacht, so off we started in
the Empress's launch. It seemed funny after all these years to be
suddenly thrown with the Empress and her suite and careering about in
her launch. Mrs. Goelet was not on board, but the steward took the
visitors all over the yacht, and I discovered Mrs. Warren and told her
that the Prince and Princess would like to go on board to-morrow--she
said she was quite sure her daughter would be very happy to see them. I
found a note from the Duchess of Roxburghe when I got home, saying that
the Queen would receive me to-morrow at 4.30 at Osborne, so my day will
be full, as I told Mrs. Goelet I would come to the Nahma to present her
to the Prince and Princess.
_To H. L. K._
#East Pavilion, Cowes, Isle of Wight#,
Monday, August 13, 1900.
Well, Dear, I am just back from Osborne. I have the salon all to myself,
Bessie and Borghese are out, and I will write you all about my audience
while it is fresh in my memory, but I must begin at the beginning and
tell you about the Royal visit to the Nahma, which went off very well. A
little before twelve Mr. Warren, Mrs. Goelet's brother, came for us and
we went off at once to the yacht. The Royal party arrived very
punctually, Prince and Princess, Duke and Duchess of York, Princess
Victoria, and various gentlemen. They were all delighted with the yacht,
particularly the Duke of York, who saw everything. He called an officer
of the Osborne to see some arrangement of signals which it seems is
wonderful, and said they had nothing so perfect in the Royal Yacht. Mrs.
Goelet did the honours very well and simply, receiving the Princes at
the gangway, with her son and daughter on each side of her, a pretty,
graceful figure in her plain black dress. I remained on board to lunch
after the Princes departed, and they sent me ashore at 2.30 as I had
just time to dress and go to Osborne.
I started again a little before 4, wearing my black taffetas trimmed
with lace and a tulle bonnet and white aigrette (quite costume de
ville--I could not go to the Queen in a serge skirt and big hat). I took
Joseph with me in plain black livery. We arrived quite in time, as there
was no delay at the ferry this time, and the large gates were open, the
man making a sign to us to drive in. There were two or three policemen
standing near the gate and in the park. The park is pretty--not very
large but beautifully green, and as we got near the house, quantities of
flowers--a mass of colour. The house is not handsome--rather imposing, a
large grey stone house with two wings, and flower-beds close up to the
windows. Three or four footmen in plain black livery were waiting in the
hall, and they took me at once upstairs to the ladies' drawing-room--a
nice room at the side of the house not looking out to sea. The Duchess
of Roxburghe was waiting for me, and we talked about fifteen minutes.
Then came a Highland servant saying, "Her Majesty was ready to receive
_Lady_ Waddington." The Duchess and I went downstairs, walked through
various galleries, and stopped at a door where there was no servant. The
Duchess knocked, the Queen's voice said, "Come in," and I found myself
in a beautiful large salon, all the windows opening on the sea. The
Queen, dressed as usual in black, was seated in the middle of the room
facing the door. I had barely time to make one curtsey--she put out her
hand and made me sit down next to her. She spoke to me first in French
(just as she always did when I was at the Embassy--to mark, I suppose,
that I was the French Ambassadress), "Je suis tres heureuse de vous
revoir--I think we can speak English--how much has happened since we
met"; and then we talked about all sorts of things. I thought she looked
extremely well--of course I couldn't tell if her sight was gone, as she
knew I was coming and I sat close to her. Her eyes were blue and clear,
and her memory and conversation quite the same. She thanked me for my
letter; said the Duke of Edinburgh's death was a great blow to her. It
was so sudden, she had not thought him ill. She had lost three children
all very dear to her, and it was hard at her age to see her children go
before her. She spoke at once (so moderately) of the caricatures and
various little incidents that had occurred in France. I said I was very
glad to have an opportunity of telling her that everybody in France
(except for a few hot-headed radicals and anti-English) was most
indignant at such gratuitous insults not only to the Queen but to a
woman. She said she quite understood that--that wherever she had been in
France everybody had done what they could to make her stay happy and
comfortable; that she never could forget it, and hoped the French nation
felt that--also that she would never dream of holding the country
responsible for the radical press, but "my children and my people feel
it very deeply." We talked about the King of Italy's murder (she was
much pleased with the expression in one of the Italian papers "e morto
in piedi") and she expressed great sympathy for Queen Margherita--"She
is fond of Italy and is always thinking and planning what she can do for
the people." We also talked about the Shah and the attentat in Paris. I
said that left me rather indifferent, but she answered instantly, "You
are quite wrong--it is the principle, not the person, that is attacked
in those cases." I then remarked that it was a great pity, I thought,
that one of those gentlemen (anarchists, not sovereigns) shouldn't be
lynched; that I believed the one thing they were afraid of was the
justice of the people. She said, "That is not a very Christian
sentiment"; but I think she didn't altogether disagree with me. She
asked me about Francis--was he working for diplomacy; and then, I don't
know exactly how, we began talking about mixed marriages. She said she
didn't think religion ought to be an invincible obstacle. I said I
thought with her, but that French Protestants were very strict. I told
her it had been said that my husband, who was certainly a very
large-minded man in most things, was really narrow about Catholics. She
said, with such a charming smile, "Oh, I can't think M. Waddington was
ever narrow about anything, I always thought him one of the most
large-minded, just men I ever knew." I must say I was pleased, and W.
always felt that for some reason or another he was sympathetic to her.
We talked a little about the Empress Frederick; she said the last news
was better, but she evidently didn't want to pursue the subject. We
talked on some little time, and when she finally dismissed me, she said,
"I hope you will come back to England, and whenever you do I shall be
very glad to see you." She shook hands--I backed myself to the door,
opened it, and there found the Highland servant, who took me back to the
drawing-room where the Duchess of Roxburghe was waiting. She suggested
that we should go for a turn in the garden, and when she went to get her
hat I looked about the room, which is quite plainly furnished--a grand
piano, comfortable furniture, not pretty, and no particular style.
We walked about the gardens a little, which are pretty, such quantities
of flowers, and had tea under the trees. Two of the ladies came
out--Mrs. Grant and Miss Harbord. They were very anxious to know if I
found the Queen changed after seven years, but I really can't say I did.
My impression is that they find her older. They say she felt the Duke of
Edinburgh's death very much, and that she is very worried about the
Empress Frederick, though she doesn't talk much about her. It was lovely
sitting under the trees, so cool and quiet after the noise and glare of
Cowes. All the people bowed as we drove home through Cowes. I think they
took Joseph in his black livery for one of the Queen's servants.