There is an old house in a quiet old-world street leading out of Hans
Place, called Walton Place, where the Emperor Napoleon III. used to live
after he left King Street, St. James's, and which was the scene of some
of his famous political dinner-parties. This house, which is back to
back with Jane Austen's home in London, once stood in its own gardens,
but the ground was too valuable to spare for the picturesque, and it has
long since been turned into a row of neat dwelling-places. Standing well
back from the noisy thoroughfare and the incessant roar of traffic in
the Brompton Road, there is a sense of peace and quiet about it
externally which prepares you to find that within it is a home of
talent, of refinement, of domestic harmony and affection.
Whilst ascending the stairs a fresh, sweet soprano voice is heard,
giving thrilling expression to Tosti's lovely song, "Love Ties." On
being shown into a fair-sized double drawing-room, your first impression
leads to the belief that there are some good old bits of carved oak
furniture to be studied, but there is more to learn about that
presently. Mrs. Chetwynd is busily engaged in finishing a large coverlet
of art needlework, which she puts aside as she rises to greet you with
much grace and cordiality. She is very fair in complexion, with large
blue eyes and softly shaded eyebrows. The hair, parted smoothly on a
broad forehead, is gathered up at the back, and brought round the head
in a plait, worn in coronet shape in front. She is dressed in black with
a scarf of old black lace knotted becomingly round her throat, and a
bunch of violets nestles in the folds. She has an air of high breeding,
combined with an irresistibly sweet and pleasant manner.
The musician is Mrs. Chetwynd's youngest daughter, and you cannot resist
the temptation to beg her to indulge you with yet another verse of the
song. She good-naturedly complies, rendering the melody with much skill
and pathos. On your thanking and complimenting her, she tells you that
she is a pupil of Madame Bonner, and has never had any other teacher,
and truly she does credit to her instructress.
There is an artistic simplicity about these bright, cheerful rooms which
is very fascinating. The walls are hung with gold-coloured paper, copied
from a pattern at Hampton Court, and taken from an Italian palace.
Carpets of electric-blue colour cover the floors, and tapestry curtains
of the same shade, with inner ones of cream-coloured guipure, shade the
windows; close to your hostess's chair there is an enormous Moorish
brass tray mounted on a Moorshebar stand. This was sent home by a dear
absent naval son for his mother's afternoon tea-service, but as it is so
heavy that it would require two servants to carry it, Mrs. Chetwynd has
turned it into a most appropriate work-table. Large plants of the
"Sacred Lily of Japan" are flowering beautifully yonder, a big Japanese
screen stands near the door, armchairs of every shape and degree of
comfort, together with a broad couch, are placed apparently exactly
where they ought to be; nearly everything else in the room has a story,
and now the secret of the old oak furniture is learned. You could have
declared it was a production of the seventeenth century. The material is
of cypress wood, and Miss Katherine Chetwynd is now carving some oak,
which was a gift, and which is old, very old, inasmuch as it was taken
out of the Thames, at Blackwall, and formed part of the planks and
stakes driven in there to keep out the Spanish Armada. It is black with
age, but still sound. It would appear to be a curious present for three
young girls, but Mrs. Chetwynd's daughters have a genius for
wood-carving; collecting old designs, they actually made the fire-place
entirely by themselves, with its rich, broad pattern on each side, the
Rose and the Shamrock for their father, and the Thistle entwined in
compliment to their Scottish mother, and with the help of their brother
they even fitted and placed it without the aid of a carpenter. Several
tables, too, carved in a variety of designs, are the manufacture of
their clever fingers, and their talents do not end here, for on one of
these tables you recognize a life-size portrait, in red crayons, of the
fair young musician herself, executed with masterly and skilful touch by
her elder sister. The painted panels of the outer and inner doors as
also of those which divide the rooms, are the work of these young
artists, in thoroughly correct Japanese style, the rising sun, the
storks, and the tall flowers in raised gilt, being all perfectly
orthodox. This talent is inherited from their mother, for every picture
on the walls is from her own brush. On the right hangs her large
painting from Siegert's "Liebesdienst," in the Hamburg Gallery, and she
was very proud of obtaining permission to copy it, as it was then only
the second copy allowed. On one side of the fireplace there is her
portrait in oils of the beautiful Miss Bosville, afterwards Lady
Macdonald of the Isles, Mrs. Chetwynd's great-grandmother; on the other
"The Holy Margaret," copied in the Dresden Gallery, a Madonna after
Rotari, and a cherub after Rubens, in all of which pictures it is easy
to see that she excels in flesh tints, and has a fine eye for colour.
Mrs. Chetwynd is the daughter of the late Mr. Davidson of Tulloch, by
his first wife, the Hon. Elizabeth Macdonald, one of the lovely
daughters of the late Lord Macdonald of the Isles. Mr. Davidson
inherited, besides the family place, Tulloch Castle, the deer forest of
Inchbae, and many thousands of acres on the West Coast, which he sold to
Sir John Fowler, Mr. Banks, and others. He was first in the Grenadier
Guards, then member for the county, and, finally, Lord-Lieutenant of
Ross-shire. He was noted for his handsome person and his great kindness
to everyone around him; a most popular landlord, he possessed a great
charm of manner, and was much in advance of his day, especially in the
matter of education. Though he was the best and kindest of fathers, he
was strict in discipline. His daughters were made to learn Latin and
mathematics, and, besides a resident English and foreign governess, the
village schoolmaster came to teach them history and geography every
evening.
"It was impossible," says Mrs. Chetwynd, "to have had a happier
childhood than ours, particularly up to the time of my mother's death.
Though I think that education was perhaps a little overdone, we had a
great deal of exercise on horseback and on foot to counteract it. We
were made to keep very early hours, to be in the schoolroom at six
o'clock every morning in summer and seven in winter. The piper's walking
up and down playing in front of the old place at eight o'clock was the
signal for our breakfast, of which we had great need, having previously
studied for two hours. We then worked hard at our books till noon, when
my mother always appeared at the schoolroom door with peaches, grapes,
or something good in her hand; then we rode for two hours in all
weathers, dined at two o'clock, worked till four, out again till six,
then tea, preparation, and to bed."
It is probably just the regularity, order, and method of the happy,
healthy country life of her girlhood, and the constant out-of-door
exercise, which have preserved Mrs. Chetwynd's constitution so
excellently, that until four years ago, when she met with a severe
accident at Rugby Station--from which she has never quite recovered--she
could walk long distances, and go out at night afterwards without
feeling any fatigue. "The walks and rides," she continues, "that we were
accustomed to take in the elastic Highland air, sound wonderful to
those who have not experienced the ease with which one can walk there.
We, as girls, would tramp seven miles to a luncheon party, join in any
expedition, and return the whole way on foot easily. We have often
ridden twenty-five miles, (sending other horses on early, and changing
halfway), gone out with the friends with whom we spent the afternoon,
and ridden home in time to dance at a gillies' ball."
Another great excitement in their youth was the acting of French and
Italian plays, which were adapted for their own capacities from
_Moliere_, _Goldoni_, etc., by the foreign governess, enjoying
thoroughly the applause, the dressing-up and the arranging of the
costumes, which were made in strict keeping. "But what we did not
enjoy," adds your hostess, smiling, "was the trouble of our long and
thick hair, which as often as not was powdered for these juvenile
performances, and I can remember to this day how unmercifully our cross
French maid used to pull and tug at it next morning."
The autumn holidays were often spent up at the West Coast place or on
the Continent. The former was, however, the favourite holiday resort of
these happy, hardy young people, where they boated, fished, and bathed
to their hearts' content, often going off to one of the many islands on
the coast, taking books, work, and provisions; then, sending away the
boat, they would spend half the bright, warm days swimming about in the
sea. When these vacations were spent abroad the opportunity was seized
to give them the best masters to be found; "and, though we enjoyed
foreign life very much," says Mrs. Chetwynd, "we always felt we were
being cheated out of our holidays. In later years my uncle, General
Macdonald (known as Jim Macdonald) lived at the Ranger's Lodge in Hyde
Park, and going there was always a great pleasure. He was so clever and
entertaining, never too busy to enter into anything affecting his
family, so overflowing with wit of the best kind, that he made one see
the amusing side of the most commonplace things."
The excellent education she received, the beautiful scenery in which she
was reared, the clever people (George Eliot among them) with whom she
was brought in contact--all conspired to expand the young girl's mind,
and to pave the way for her subsequent career as a novelist. She
describes their charming supper-parties at St. Andrews which were
constantly joined by such learned men as Principal Tulloch, Professors
Aytoun and Ferrier, and Sir David Brewster, who used to talk to her in
the most fascinating manner about astronomy and other science, as "being
an education in itself." Thackeray, too, gave her the greatest
encouragement, and showed her much kindness. But the girlish days were
coming to a close. In February, 1858, she married Lieutenant, now
Post-Captain, the Hon. Henry Chetwynd, brother of Viscount Chetwynd, by
whom she has a family of four sons and three daughters. Her first
literary effort was a play, written at the early age of twelve, in which
she acted with her brothers and sisters. It was really a wonderful
production for so young a child, and a few years later she wrote several
society verses, which were printed, and read with much amusement by her
father, to whom, however, she had not the courage to disclose the
secret of their authorship. For some years after her marriage Captain
Chetwynd held some appointments enabling her to be constantly with him,
but when the dreaded moment for separation came, and he was ordered on
foreign service, first to the West Indies, and then to Mexico, Mrs.
Chetwynd felt the solitude of the long evenings to be so oppressive
after the little ones were gone to bed, that for distraction she took to
her pen and wrote her first novel, called "Three Hundred A Year." It had
a good sale, though on looking back on it now the author pronounces it
to have been "excessively silly." Encouraged by this success, she wrote
"Mademoiselle d'Estanville," which was translated into French, and had a
good run. Then came "Janie" and "Life in a German Village," which passed
into several editions. "Bees and Butterflies" came out first in the
_Pictorial World_ before being published in three volumes. This book the
author considers to have been the most successful, financially, though
"Sara" is her own favourite, and was the result of a long study. The
story is founded on fact, and the incidents relating to the discovery of
South End smugglers were drawn from the life, Mrs. Chetwynd having been
a witness to the scene when the great cask, supposed to contain wine,
was opened, and found full of white satin shoes, valuable lace, and
other contraband articles. Scenes, too, in the Highlands are well
depicted in this book, whilst the sketch of Sara is carefully worked
out, from her first introduction as the "dethroned princess" in all her
ignorance and absorption in her supposed "Gift of Poetry," to the final
page when, after many vicissitudes of fortune, her soul is awakened by
the love of a good man, and her really fine and noble character is fully
developed. Other books written by Mrs. Chetwynd are entitled "A March
Violet," "The Dutch Cousin," and "Lady Honoria's Nieces," but though
want of space prevents much comment on them, they can confidently be
recommended as most pleasant reading, and all are characterized by the
kindly nature, the refinement, and the noble spirit of this
distinguished gentlewoman's mind. She modestly says of her works, "When
I think of the great competition nowadays, I am surprised that they have
held their own at all, and directly a new book is out, I always feel
that I should like to recall it. I have sold the copyright of most of my
stories, but some are still in my own hands, and I have long since
handed over all my literary business affairs to Mr. A. P. Watt, which I
have found a perfectly satisfactory arrangement." The author was
considerably amused a few days ago on hearing that a former old servant
takes in _Bow Bells_ regularly in order to read her late mistress's
novels, which have been reproduced and are now coming out weekly in that
periodical. Her two last books are called "Criss-Cross Lovers" and "A
Brilliant Woman."
On asking Mrs. Chetwynd about her plots and taste in literature, she
says: "I generally build up characters from my own experiences, a bit
here, and a trait there, but I do not deliberately set to work to take
pictures of people. I think that most persons have some particular
characteristic that comes out in everything they do, and to create is
better than to copy. My favourite novels are written by the Gerards,
and by Mrs. L. B. Walford--I find all hers charming. Besides these, I
admire George Meredith's books more than any others, the one drawback
being that when I have re-read one of his I cannot interest myself in
anything else for a long time. I delight in history, too, history of all
nations. Things which really happened absorb me intensely. I remember
when a child I had curious punishments; for being untidy I had twenty
lines of _Henriade_ to learn by heart, or a French fable. As I could
repeat the _Henriade_ from beginning to end, I must have been untidy
pretty often. The English governess for punishment used to make me read
twenty pages of Alison's "History of Europe" aloud in the play-hours, a
fact which I once told the learned historian, and it amused him greatly.
The historical punishment, however, has not deprived me of my love for
history. My favourite poets are Wordsworth, Tennyson, Shelley, and
Burns. I am a great needlewoman, too, and when I am ruffled by anything
I take refuge in sewing a plain seam. This coverlet is from a Munich
pattern, and I have finished it for my sister, Mrs. Carnegy of Lour, who
began it; the tablecover is for my other sister, Mrs. Craigie-Halkett of
Cramond."
It is through one of her daughters that you learn of Mrs. Chetwynd's
great musical gifts. She was a pupil of Garcia, had a beautiful voice,
and used to sing at many amateur concerts. She still keeps up her
pianoforte playing, for which she won a gold medal, and will improvise
on the piano by the hour together. Her husband and children are very
proud of her performances. She has lately invented a fire-escape, which
is approved of by experts and engineers, and of which more will soon be
heard.
After tea, at which the party is joined by a beautiful thoroughbred
Dachshund called Freda, you are taken down into the dining-room, and, in
passing, just peep into a little room on the stairs, which your hostess
calls her "girls' workshop," where all the wood-carving is carried on.
There is a little point of interest in the dining-room which must be
noticed as betokening the versatile gifts of this accomplished family. A
friend had sent them a roll of paper from Japan, but, as it was found
insufficient to cover the whole of the walls, Mrs. Chetwynd and her
daughters put their heads together to consult as to how the balance
required could be eked out. The result was, that they first distempered
the uncovered part of the wall to the exact shade of the colour, and
then painted it in such close imitation of the Japanese pattern, even to
the native mark, that it is quite impossible to discover which is the
original and which the imitation. Among the many books is a copy of
"Freytag's Reminiscences," translated by Mrs. Chetwynd's second
daughter, and considered by good judges to be one of the best
translations from the German that has appeared for a long time. There is
a picture of that grand old Highlander, Mr. Davidson of Tulloch, taken
in the days when he, with your hostess's uncle, Cluny Macpherson, Fox
Maule, afterwards Earl of Dalhousie, and the Duke of Abercorn, danced
the first reel that the Queen ever saw in Scotland at Taymouth. By the
way, Mrs. Chetwynd herself was a great performer in that line in her
youth, and at some juvenile festivity she and another young Highland
friend danced the reel before the late Prince Consort.
But you had forgotten thoroughly to inspect the picture of Tulloch
Castle, so Mrs. Chetwynd sends for it. "I am sure," she says, "that my
old home is the loveliest place in the world. Part of it is very old,
and it has been (through the female line) in our family since 1300." It
has an old keep, and what was once the dungeon is now a wine cellar. The
house stands very high up, though almost at the foot of Ben Wyvis, and
over the park you see the far-famed Strathpeffer, framed in the distance
by the West Coast hills. On the other side, also over the well-wooded
park, are the Cromarty Frith, and Dingwall nestling at its bend. The
gardens are very large, and a good many acres are now not kept up. The
approach to the front door is under a very old archway; and though a
great part of the place was destroyed by fire some years ago, the walls,
some of which are six feet thick, are intact. Facing the south, it
catches all the sunshine, and as the hills rise behind it everything is
sheltered from the colder winds, and flowers and shrubs grow most
luxuriantly. Some scarlet rhododendrons of great height blossom in the
winter out of doors. The place is now in the possession of Mrs.
Chetwynd's nephew.
Your hostess recalls one little incident which she says was "an event in
our lives. My father and Cluny Macpherson received the Queen on the
occasion of her visit to Badenoch. She went to Ardverikie, then rented
from Cluny by the Duke of Abercorn. My father took forty gillies with
him, Cluny had as many more, and they met her majesty on the edge of
the property, and escorted her in true Highland fashion. Ardverikie was
afterwards sold by Cluny to Sir John Ramsden. The Queen went to Cluny
Castle, and examined the many relics of 'Prince Charlie' kept there with
an interest which pleased all the family much. Some of the sisters were
there with my father."
You are rising regretfully to leave, when the door opens, and Captain
Chetwynd comes in. This fine old sailor greets you in the same genial
manner which characterises the rest of the family. He is the chief
inspector of the Royal National Life-Boat Institution. He is a great
organiser, is deeply interested in his work, and his wife delights to
think that his talents are now turned to saving, not to destroying life.
She had previously confided to you, that not only is he one of the
cleverest and best of men, but also one of the most straightforward and
appreciative. The good, benevolent face carries its own testimony to the
fact. A more happy, united family it would be impossible to find; mutual
love and confidence reign supreme; when cares and anxieties come, as to
whom do they not? they are shared by all, and thus is the burden
lightened.
[Illustration: Jean Middlemass]