Ex Libris C. K. OGDEN iat - ' -- '"''I'":'''. -'-*'*:' -,*': '- -,--.::: r -V -.. v ^' "^- ^^^ ^-.-" ( :V--.; /V;: :-.:- -" -' -. ' "-' : : -'' '' -'-' fyJ -- ;; 01 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES BY A. M. F. LONGMANS, GEEEN, AND CO. PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON NEW YORK AND BOMBAY 1898 All right* reserved TO MY THREE DEAR CHILDREN DO I DEDICATE THIS BOOK PREFACE I HAVE often been asked, by many old and valued friends, to place before the public some of the stories and legends related to me in years gone by, and to tell some of the experiences of my past life. It has been unusually difficult for me to do this, as from increasing blindness it was impossible for me to read and correct what I had written ; hence many repetitions and mis- takes may have occurred. For these I apologise to my readers, and beg their indulgence. With hesitation and fear I launch my little bark on the troubled seas of criticism, hoping it may successfully reach a safe harbour. CHAPTKR PAGB I. EARLY DAYS IN HANOVER . . 1 II. LAST DAYS IN HANOVER . . . . 23 III. ENGLAND . . . . . . ' .'_ . 33 IV. FRANCE . . . , ... 54 V. NORMANDY . . . . ><,-.* .66 VI. REMINISCENCES OF THE GREAT NAPOLEON . 75 VII. FRENCH LITERARY FRIENDS .... 91 VIII. THE BISHOP'S TALE, AND OTHERS , . . 107 IX. FRENCH COUNTRY LIFE . ,~ . . . 129 X. PARIS . . . . . . . . . 149 XI. EXCURSIONS IN NOBMANDY .... 163 XII. ODDS AND ENDS ....... 195 XIII. MY SISTER'S VISIT TO FROHSDORF . . . 228 XIV. VISIT TO BRITTANY . . . . . . 245 XV. THE LAST CRUISE OF THE ALABAMA . . 279 XVI. THE END OF MY LIFE ABROAD . . . . 301 FOEEIGN COUETS AND FOEEIGN HOMES CHAPTER I EARLY DAYS IN HANOVER HALF A CENTURY ! What a long time it seems to the young ! what a short time to those who have lived through it ! and the question rises, Would you like to live it all over again ? Ah ! if one were only more sure of the future if the curtain were lifted for only one little moment, just to tell us it is all right, that it is only a struggle here and that some day we shall understand and know why we have suffered so much, why our hearts have been well-nigh broken then, I say, if the curtain were lifted, we should B 6 2 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES not want to live the fifty years again ; for we should know the why and wherefore of all our hopes and fears. But I am not going to preach not going to write a sermon. I have heard too many. I am only trying to write a few pages of my life. It is not very interesting, perhaps you will say : then don't read it ; throw the book aside, take up another, and forget my humble efforts. There were only we three, two girls and a boy. I was the youngest of the family, never crossed by my sister, who was three years older, and who at an early age tried to fill a mother's place, and curb the wild Irish blood that I inherited from my mother, which was luckily tempered on my father's side with the cold blasts of an eastern county in England, or I should have come to terrible grief. My sister always looked after me well, aided, I am sure, by my guardian angel for I do believe in those angels, and am sure they help us to fight the battles of sin and sorrow ; and when one has conquered in the fight, one can almost hear the soft rustling EARLY DAYS IN HANOVEK 3 of their wings, as they fold them gently, rejoicing with the angels in Heaven that their prayers have been answered, and that they can add another victory to one's score of victories won in the good fight. Am I moralizing again ? I hope not, for the book will get very tedious. We were all brought up in a quaint German town, where we were all born. My father held high position at the Court, and the old King from my babyhood had singled me out to be kind to, as I was his godchild. I can remember having an unbounded rever- ence, the most passionate love for my god- father. He often came to our house, and, as soon as I heard the tramp of his horses, it was a dead fight between me and my nurse, for I wanted to rush down and open the door with my little hands, and let him in. He always used to pat my head and give me a bonbon. One day it was my birthday, and I had beautiful presents, but none from the King. Nothing came from him. I was wild. If it only had been a penny doll, anything, I B 2 4 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES should have prized it. I was jeered and laughed at by my brother and sister and servants, who mockingly said, ' Where are your godfather's presents ? ' Passionately I seized all the presents I had had, threw them about the room, and danced on them with rage and fury, pursued by the furious nurse, when in the midst of all this turmoil and row the door opened, and in came my mother, accompanied by the King. 1 Now you will go to prison, and serve you right,' said the frightened nurse, as she flew out of the room, and tried to drag me with her. But I refused to go, and stood in the middle of the room aghast. ' What is all this about ? ' sternly asked my mother. The King, much amused, called me to him, and took me on his knee (oh, I can remember that scene so well !), and, patting my little head, he said, ' Tell godfather all.' And I did. Tightly clutching him round the neck, with sobs and tears I told my baby sorrow, and he, dear old man, before whom others trembled, said, ' You are quite right, the King ought to remember EARLY DAYS IN HANOVER 5 his godchildren ; ' felt in his pocket and gave me the customary bonbon, and said, 1 Your mother is to bring you to the Palace next week. I am giving a party to all good children.' The day came. I can see the large room a mass of Christmas trees, for it was winter, and in the middle of the room a tiny tree which I was told was for one little girl no one knew who, but an especial favourite of the King. How we all wondered who it was, when suddenly a page came, led me up, and said, ' The tree is for you.' I was dumb- founded at first, and then danced round the brilliantly lighted little tree. The German children looked furious at this especial mark of honour to me, and a murmur of ' that English child ' was heard buzzing about. In the midst of it out came the King, lifted me up on his shoulder, and carried me round the tree, and let them all see the little English child. When I was put down, some childish instinct made me kneel down and kiss the hand he held out to me, and from that day, yes, even now, he 6 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES has always been k sort of King Arthur to me, though he has been dead years and years. At an early age I was a terror to gover- nesses and nursery-maids, as I stuck at nothing to carry out any plan that I had formed in my wild little head. The old King, who (in spite of being sovereign of a German court, and surrounded by Germans) used to glory in his English blood, had nick- named me ' Daredevil.' I remember a baby sister of mine being born, and the Queen consented to be god- mother. As was the custom in those days, the christening took place in our dining- room, and both their Majesties honoured it with their presence. I had a bad cold and could not come down, and all the maids crowded on the landing and staircase to see the company arrive. I was left alone and determined to see the fun ; so I got out of bed, opened the window, and leaned out to look at all the carriages and horses, feeling sure I was safe for half an hour, and stretching my small body as far out as it would go. All of a sudden I overbalanced EARLY DAYS IN HANOVER 7 myself, and fell out of the window, luckily only one story high, into the garden below, and was picked up, a little ignominious heap of dirt and mud, by a bystander, and taken into the house, fondly hoping I should escape into it unnoticed and creep up to my room. But no ! It was a broiling day and the windows were open, and the small white bundle was seen falling to the ground. My father rushed to the window saying, 'What is it ? ' The King mildly said, ' Only Dare- devil. Bring her in.' In I was brought, and with sobs and tears, said, ' I did so want to see the fun.' The King decided I should see the fun ; so I, in my little white night-gown, freely bespattered with mud, and little bare feet, stood in the gay crowd of ladies and stiff German officers, and watched the proceedings with wistful eyes, for I knew the punishment had yet to come. Luckily I was not hurt at all, excepting for a small cut across my lip, the scar of which I bear to this day. But after it was all over and everybody gone, was I not whipped, first soundly by my father, then by the governess, 8 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES and last, but worst of all, by the nursery- maid, who had been soundly scolded for leaving me alone. Many are the stories my father used to tell me of the old King, whose language at times was anything but parliamentary. One night it was my father's turn of waiting. He had to go at a late hour to take despatches to the King, for a courier had arrived from London to tell him of the birth of an English royal prince. My father went to the door of the royal apartments, knocked loudly once, twice. No answer. At last, im- patient and wearying of waiting, he knocked still louder and louder. The door was opened and a page came out, and inside the King's voice was heard using oath after oath (luckily in English), winding up by asking, ' What the d-v-1 do you want ? ' The page, with a frightened look on his face, took the despatches, saying, * His Majesty was not to be disturbed, as he was saying his prayers.' But prayers said in this peculiar manner had to give way to despatches from Eng- EAKLY DAYS IN HANOVER 9 land ; and an autograph letter of congratula- tion was written by the old King, and my father told to go at once with it to England, and deliver it to the English Court. My father, much put out at this peremptory order, left the royal presence, and in half an hour was on his way to England, doubtless copying His Majesty's example by saying his prayers in the same peculiar manner. The Queen was very fond of my sister, and she was often asked to the palace. I was not asked by her, nor my brother either, for he and I always did something to dis- grace ourselves. My sister was so good and gentle ! Often and often did we make her shed tears at the threats we two made of the dreadful deeds we meant to commit if we were not asked. She was once asked to Herrenhausen on a visit. The Queen had no daughter of her own, and said she would have loved to have had a gentle little girl as my sister was. She had some childish illness during this visit, and the Queen had her to sleep in her dressing-room. The child awoke in the middle of the night, 10 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES startled and alarmed by a blaze of light, and saw a page softly going through her room, carrying a large silver waiter, on which were all sorts of good things : cold chicken, pat6s, jellies, ices, fruit, champagne, etc. It was taken into the Queen's room, and came out much emptier than it went in. Each night this took place, and my sister was told to lie down and sleep, as the Queen was only eating her supper. One day there was a grand review. Some scion of royalty had arrived, accom- panied by his son, a child of eight years old. There was no pony small enough for the young Prince to ride. We had a lovely Shetland pony called ' Prince Charlie,' and my brother and I taught him to do all sorts of circus tricks stand on his hind legs at a particular whistle, and then we gave him sugar. My brother had been promised by my father to ride this pony at the review, when a message came, early in the morning, that the pony was wanted for the young Prince to ride. My brother and I were wild. We determined on vengeance, EARLY DAYS IN HANOVER 11 and that the Germans should see they could not ride English ponies. Oh, how frightened my sister was ! We threatened to burn her pet doll if she said anything to my mother. I can see her now in the carriage, going off with my mother to the review, with a white set face, dreading the unknown horror that was hanging over her. My brother went in the crowd with the governess. For some reason I was left alone behind at home. I saw the stately procession pass from the nursery window : the King, Crown Prince, the Koyal Guest, the little Prince riding our own pony. How well he rode ! Even I was forced to own it. The review took place. In the middle of the march-past, all at once a shrill whistle was heard. The pony knew and recognised it, stopped, stood up on his hind legs, wist- fully looking for his bit of sugar. My brother, wild with delight at his trick, an- swering, fondly hoped and thought the young Prince would fall off. But, no ! Though startled, he stuck to his seat, and brought his small whip well down on the pony's ears, and 12 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES Prince Charlie was fairly beaten and cowed. The persons who suffered for it were my brother and I, the conspirators, as for weeks we were not allowed to ride the pony, as the groom was supposed to be breaking it of its rearing. All this time I have never mentioned the Crown Prince, as he was then called, afterwards King George V. He was quite blind, from an accident in his boyhood. I was much frightened and alarmed at him, much more than at the King, and childlike gazed at his sightless eyes with wonder and awe. I can well remember one evening at our house he had come in to supper, and reaching across the table for something or other, he was so blind that he did not even see the lighted candle, and put his eye against it. The agony must have been dreadful, and while everyone was rushing about to sug- gest remedies, the Prince's voice was heard in commanding tones : ' Don't tell my mother.' Even in his hour of pain the love and thought of his mother were predominant. None of us children forgot it ; and from that EAELY DAYS IN HANOVER 13 moment a deeper, still more passionate love rose in our hearts for our own dear mother. I don't think he knew what fear was, and no one meeting him in Hanover, walking in the streets lightly leaning on his aide-de- camp's arm, would have imagined him blind, so firmly did he walk. One day he brought a little white Maltese dog as a present for the nursery. I at once adopted it, and claimed it as my own. It always slept on my bed, and followed me like a shadow. When we moved to England the dog was to be left behind ; but I cried and sobbed so piteously that I became quite ill, so I was allowed to bring the dog, and it lived to a good old age, and when it died was buried in the garden of Belgrave Square ; and even now, though I am old, and half a century has passed, the memory of Schnee comes across me, and I wish I had the Indian faith, and think of Schnee happy in the hunting-fields of Dogs' Paradise. I recollect the old Emperor William of Germany (then Prince William) coming on a visit to Hanover. We children used to 14 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES love to walk towards Herrenhausen, and our attendants were equally pleased to loiter about with us outside the railings, and see all the princely personages that used to pass so often to and fro. My father, whose term of duty was on, was in attendance on the Prince, and used to come home and tell many stories of the Prince's kindness and courtesy. I wish I could remember them all. No one in those days could foresee the destiny of the grand old Emperor. The irony of fate ! How little could he and all the obsequious Germans who followed him about, foretell it either ! What would they have said if a palmist or somnambulist could have read the future, and told how the reigning house of Hanover would be driven out, their King in exile, and Prince William sovereign of United Germany ? Is Hanover happier for this change of fate ? Is she happier for having no longer a King or court ? the Prussian flag flying on her State buildings ? the old familiar White Horse of the Guelph put aside, aye, almost forgotten ? I should think not, in her heart, though the EAELY DAYS IN HANOVER 15 city looks prosperous ; she cannot forget the old times, though now she is one of the brightest and most sparkling jewels in the Imperial diadem she cannot, for the sake of her much-loved and honoured Kings. All is so uncertain. Perhaps some day United G%many may get tired of paying the taxes that are levied on them since they enrolled themselves under the flag of the House of Brandenburg. But time passes, and I must not weary you with too much of Hanover. I think the Crown Prince was more beloved than his father. The old King had terrible bursts of passion, and his eyes in those rages shone and glistened like a tiger's. He prided himself on being true and honourable ; scorned a lie, and would rather have had his right hand burnt off than tell or act one. ' Ich bin Jclar als Wasser mit jeder Mensch ' (I am clear as water with everyone) was his favourite motto, and he prided himself on acting up to it. In some things he was so English, and to the day of his death always spoke German with an English accent. He was 16 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES not popular for some rep-sons ; and his bringing my father, an Englishman, over, and keeping him on as his aide-de-camp, caused a lot of bad feeling between my father and the other German officials. My father bitterly resented any coolness on their part, and haughtily refused to have any salary or emolument of any sort as aide-de-camp, when he knew it would come out of the State money. I think it was foolish of him, as he spent a great deal of his private for- tune in living up to his position. He used to give beautiful presents to the King, and at this moment one of my ancestors' por- traits is hanging in the palace of Herren- hausen. He also had a fine collection of engravings of all the celebrated pictures of the great Sir Eobert Walpole, the originals of which were bought by the Empress Catherine, and are at this moment at the Winter Palace at St. Petersburg. My father, who was a descendant of the great Prime Minister, gave all this priceless col- lection to the King he at one time so loved and admired. EARLY DAYS IN HANOVER 17 But, strang^ to say, though the King accepted all th3se presents, he never made any return for them, but took them all as a matter of course. Looking back to those old childish days, I do think Germany is a happy PAKADISE for children. The Christmas trees, the sledging, the snow and ice, bonbons and playthings, the many Christmas presents that we as children got from all ! I recol- lect a children's ball that was given at Herrenhausen. My brother had a small uni- form made for him, as (don't be shocked, my English readers) he always said he would be an officer in the Hanoverian army, and never leave the country of his birth. He was a very handsome boy. We two girls were dressed as German peasants. My brother was furious when we appeared. His small head had been quite turned by the splendour of his dress and the admiration of the male servants. What he expected us to wear I can't think ; but when he saw our humble costumes he furiously refused to enter the ball-room with us. ' He was an c 18 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES officer,' he proudly said. Oh ! what a scene took place ! My mother wept and implored ; the governess threatened ; the nurse en- treated. It was hopeless. My father was not there. Who was to conquer this young Turk ? My poor sister, always ready to give in meekly, took off her pretty little costume and said she would rather go to bed. I faced my brother, and a regular fight took place between us. At last we were both seized by the furious nurse; two separate carriages were called, and I was put in one with her, and the boy, sulky and defiant, went with my mother. And so at last we arrived at Herrenhausen. What a brilliant spectacle it was, the last I ever saw in Hanover ! I shall never forget it, or the blaze of jewels the Queen wore. Ah, those were historic jewels, and have been the subject of a long lawsuit and estrangement between the sove- reigns of England and Hanover. They had been brought over by the Elector of Hanover, I fancy, when made King of England, and the English nation claimed them and lost the lawsuit. I could not take my eyes off EARLY DAYS IN HANOVER 19 the Queen; she seemed such a blaze of light. I was standing by my mother when Her Majesty came up and asked where my sister was ; she was so fond of her, and always singled her out at all the childish gatherings. My mother told the whole story. The Queen was much amused, and sent for my brother and said, ' The first duty of an officer is obedience. Take your sister and dance this next quadrille with her, or deliver up your sword.' Cowed and abashed, my brother offered me his arm. What a miserable quadrille it was ! At the end he led me back to my seat, calmly say- ing, ' We will fight this out to-morrow ; ' but before the evening was over we made it up : we loved each other too well to keep up a quarrel, and soon were dancing joyously together. When we left the hall and made our tiny obeisances to the King and Queen, the King sternly said to my brother, ' If you had not danced with your sister, I should have had you put under arrest. A soldier's duty is to obey orders.' How stern and fierce he looked ! how frightened w T e were ! c 2 and for a long time after that my brother, if he heard a knock at the door, shook with fright, thinking it was someone coming to arrest him. My father and the King were on the most extraordinary terms together. Some- times my father had the devotion of a dog for him would have laid down his life for him, and yet at the slightest real or imaginary affront, would (as the King ex- pressed it) turn and rend him. The King, on the other hand, would go out of his way to rouse my father's ire. One day, when in an excited swearing mood, he was dictating a letter in English to my father. Everything had gone wrong that morning with him : my father had been late ; the English news- papers had a violent article of abuse on the King of Hanover; his favourite charger, which he rode at reviews, had gone lame. He was sending a letter to Sir Eobert Peel, and my father wrote exactly as he dictated. The letter was mixed up with the most extraordinary abusive language to my father. At the end, as he was writing too slowly, the EARLY DAYS IN HANOVER 21 King, in the midst of a sentence, told him to go to Hell, a place to which he was very fond of sending him. My father calmly wrote it all down ; he was furious, and the most extraordinary letter that was ever penned was sent that day, by the hands of one of the mes- sengers, to one of our Cabinet Ministers. In the end the King apologised to my father for all his ill-temper, and my father told him about the despatch. Instead of being angry, the King roared with laughter at it. But it was too serious a thing, after all, not to be looked well into, so another messenger was sent after the first to recall the letter. Luckily a terrific storm was raging, and the boat had not sailed. So the letter was brought back and read by the King, who, being in a good temper, declared it served him right. But all these jokes, quarrels, and misunderstandings came suddenly to an end by a hasty and un- governable fit of temper on my father's part. The King had come to supper privately with my parents. On these occasions he always called himself Duke of Cumberland, dropping his title of King. As usual they 22 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES were, so to say, quarrelling about some trifling mistake my father had made in pre- senting people to the King the night before. The King, getting more and more excited, abused my father in his usual strong language, and he, in a fit of excitement, at once, then and there, gave in his resignation, announcing his intention to leave for England that night. The resignation was accepted, and His Majesty left the house. My father at once left for England, and never returned to Hanover. His resigna- tion was formally and officially sent in, and accepted. 23 CHAPTER II LAST DAYS IN HANOVER AFTER my father's resignation we went to England. Our little hearts were well-nigh broken when we were told we had to go. We wandered round our old nursery, saw all our most valued treasures heaped up in a corner, for in those days travelling was more diffi- cult and expensive than now, and we could take nothing. It nearly broke our hearts to say good-bye to our pony ; the little miniature circus that we children had made in the stable -yard, the three tiny gardens side by side, the little arbour where we had our tea, the old tree we used to climb up, the blackbird that hung in the cage, the white mice, the squirrel all had to be left : only Schnee was allowed to go. We had to go to the Palace to say good- 24 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES bye to the King and Queen. I can well remember driving up, and feeling it was the last time ; that we were going to a foreign land ; not speaking the language ; not knowing a soul ; having to cross the sea, which in our eyes was a fearful horror. We were taken at once into the presence of the King. He was very grave, and, it seemed to me, seemed sorry to part with us three. My sister was sent for to see the Queen, and we were left behind, as Her Majesty had always only noticed her. On returning, her eyes were filled with tears. My brother thought it unmanly to cry, more especially as the King said, ' Boy, give up your child- ish tricks. Be a man, and take care of your sisters.' The words seem engraven in my heart. None of us dared speak, but made our childish obeisances. The King put his hand on my head at the same time, saying the dear old German blessing, * Gott mit Dir.' We dared not speak, we all felt too frightened, and slowly went out into the passage, where we were met by one of the German officers, who said we were to go and LAST DAYS IN HANOVER 25 say good-bye to the Crown Prince. He was standing on the hearth-rug as we entered, and turned his sightless eyes towards us, called us to him, and according to his usual custom passed his hand across our faces so as to distinguish our features. He found my sister's face wet with tears, and a sus- picion of dampness on my brother's ; but mine was hard and dry, not a tear had come to me. He thought I did not care, and, turning to the gentleman who was with him, said, l That child has no heart.' How little did he know that child ! and, baby as I was, I felt if I let loose my tears, it would be impossible to check them. We were all too miserable to speak as we drove home. We had one more farewell interview to make, and that was to my mother, who had refused to come to England. How passionately and wildly we clung about her neck, begging and imploring her to keep us. But it was no use ; the carriage was at the door, and we three broken-hearted children left, huddled together in the carriage, solemnly promising each other that when we were grown-up we 26 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES would return and live again in the old house. Two of us never did return ; only when half a century had nearly passed, I, old and nearly blind, determined to go there for one night. For long I had had a great longing to visit the home of my childhood. I arrived in the company of an old friend (who would not let me go alone), late at night, and went to the hotel puzzled, not recognising in the stately buildings, grand hotels, gardens, statues, etc., the peaceful, quaint old town I was born in, and used to love. I don't think I slept much that night. I opened the window, put out the light, and looked out on to the heavens where the stars were so brightly shining, and I seemed to be back half a century. I fancied the room was full of spirits. A wild feeling came over me. Why was I left alone, and all those of whom I had been writing had gone before me ? the King, the Queen, the Crown Prince, father, mother, brother, sister, all had crossed the fatal river, all had landed on the other side ; I still had to cross it. How I longed for one of them to be with me that night ! It LAST DAYS IN HANOVER 27 is so dreadful to be the last left in one's childish home, with no one there caring about one. The next day I went to Herrenhausen, as I meant to wander about the old palace and see if it was as much altered as the once royal city. But it was not a show day. The stern soldier or sentinel refused me admittance ; I could not see it. Bitterly disappointed, I walked up the long alley of trees to the Mausoleum, where I was told I should find the tombs of the King and his Queen. Long did I gaze on that beautiful tomb, the features seemed so familiar to me. There he lay, his hands resting on his sword. I think the guardians of that silent tomb must have thought the English visitor mad. I knelt by the side of it (though no Catholic myself), and prayed that God would have mercy on his soul ; for many were the stories I heard of him when I grew up whether true or false it is in- different to me : it is not for us to judge. I only know he was my godfather, my childish idol, my King, brave and fearless as the 28 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES knights of the olden time, and to him do I apply the old English rhyme : The knights are dust, Their good swords rust, Their souls are with the saints, I trust. Slowly and sadly I went out into the bright daylight, past the old-fashioned palace I was not allowed to enter, back to the modern hotel, my heart and thoughts full of the Koyal House of Cumberland. I left the next day ; but I had wandered about the old part of the town, preferring to go to the old part rather than to the modern town, where I felt a stranger. I attracted some attention at the hotel. I wore a small cross, the Hanoverian order of the Guelph. I prized it much, as it had been given by the King to my father. I kept it a long time after he died, as I did not know how to return it to King George. I also found a quantity of letters that had passed between my father and King Ernest after he had left Hanover. But outside he had written ' To be burnt at my death.' I am superstitious, and therefore did not dare to disobey the wishes of the dead, and LAST DAYS IN HANOVER 29 at once burnt them. There was also a large packet of letters from him and the Crown Prince ; these had no instructions on them. I did not read them either. I had a fancy they were not meant for my reading, so I sent them to a cousin of mine, Lord Ernest Bruce (as he had the honour of personally knowing His Majesty when he was living exiled in Paris), telling him to give them up to no one but King George, as he was then. Lord Ernest was very much interested, and faithfully obeyed my instructions. His Majesty asked who they were from. I had told my cousin to say they were from ' Dare- devil,' to see if the King remembered the old familiar nickname. He did at once, and all the letters were read to him by my cousin. Several of the late King's (his father) were amongst them. After having heard them read, His Majesty said thought- fully, * What a strange correspondence be- tween King and subject ! ' and then added, ' Poor little Daredevil ! she was always in hot water.' I returned at the same time the Guelph cross. The King at once gave my 30 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES cousin back the cross, bidding him return it to me, to keep as a remembrance of the old days at Herrenhausen. And so a sort of odd feeling came across me to wear it openly in the once royal city of Hanover. A year later Lord Ernest went again to Paris, and as he was again going to see the King, I asked him, if he saw his way, to ask if I might have a fine old family portrait, painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller, of Sir Robert Walpole, which was hanging at Herrenhausen, and which my father had given King Ernest. The King was more than kind about it, freely returning me the picture, and authorising me to use any means I liked to get it back, but said it was not possible for him to ask for it, adding characteristically, * The Prussians are in Hanover ; they have stolen all I have there, even down to my trousers.' Thus was the last link snapped, that bound me to the old life, and the Royal House of Hanover. Shall I ever go back to visit the old town ? I felt sad as the train took me swiftly away. I could not bring back the LAST DAYS IN HANOVER 31 old days. People would have thought me mad if I had talked of King Ernest or King George, though I am told that, if I once more lived amongst the Hanoverians, they would love to talk of the old, old times, the dear old times. And so I say good-bye to my Hanoverian home and manners ; and if my reader is not bored, or does not think me egotistical, I will ask him to follow me to my life in England very uneventful, but mixed up with many interesting people. I went down to Windsor the day of King George's funeral, and mingled in the crowd unknown and unrecognised by anyone saw the coffin taken from the hearse, and followed it as far as the public was allowed to go. Amongst all the pushing crowd that gaped and stared, there was no one whose heart was so full of old memories and heart-stirring recollections of the blind King as I, a humble spectator in the crowd that day, when the last King of Hanover was laid by the side of his ancestors in the royal vault of St. George's. 32 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES I am afraid I shall have to introduce somewhat of my private life, as a great French writer said, so uninteresting to every one except oneself, and, I may add, unless one has climbed to the top of the tree, and then there is no detail too trifling, no inci- dent too common, that the public, especially the British public, do not seize at and devour. Let me for the moment fancy I am at the top of that tree, and that my uneventful life may also be devoured. 33 CHAPTEE III ENGLAND I WAS very poorly when I came to London a child of six years. The stories I have been relating are all only faint memories, whispers of the past, or told to me by my dear old nurse and my father. I think losing our mother so soon was the cause of a great deal of unhappiness in our young days, and I think also an especial guardian angel watched over us motherless ones. Well, we three started for England, landed in London, and went straight to our first English home. None of us could speak a word of English, or understood it either. We were taken the round of our many rela- tions and friends, all curious to see the trio, for my mother had been much loved by D 34 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES many in England. We had not seen our father for some months, as he had been sent on a small diplomatic mission to St. Petersburg. How angry he was when he found us practically three little Germans. At once everything was changed; the old German nurse and maid despatched back at once. It did not make matters much better for us when he saw our tear-stained faces, and heard our voices broken with sobs beg- ging and imploring to go back with them. I shall never forget those first days of loneliness and misery. The German language was forbidden, and English, hateful English, was only to be spoken. My brother in six months was sent to a school at Brighton, kept by the son of my father's doctor (a great friend of his). The first two boys were my brother and the late Lord Lytton. We two girls went to live with a cousin of ours, who was noted for his magnificent collection of famous Dutch pictures. We used to love to wander amongst these beautiful pictures. When not in London we spent our holi- days either at his beautiful villa, or at ENGLAND 36 another place in Kent belonging to my great- uncle and aunt. Lord Beresford, my uncle, was an old Peninsular veteran, and had lost his arm in one of the battles. Though he meant to be kind, we were always frightened of him, especially I, who always did and said the wrong thing. One day an old gentle- man came to lunch. We children were very angry at being put at the side table, as there was a large party, and there was no room for us. We eyed the old fellow askance ; and, as he sat very stiff and up- right, we settled in our small minds that he was one of the many old fogies who used to haunt the house. In the afternoon we were to go to Lady Ernest Bruce, who was my sister's godmother, and as our nurse was late the old gentleman offered to take us, as he lived close by. We hated going, but had no choice, more especially as my aunt told us to be very good, as it was a great honour to walk with him. He never uttered a word the whole way, except to tell us not to go in the puddles, and left us at the door with a curt good-bye. Lady Ernest asked who D 2 36 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES had brought us. We could not say. * De- scribe him,' she testily said. With my usual rudeness, I cried, c He was afraid of our dirtying his white trousers, and pushed us away from all the puddles, and seemed to know everyone, as everyone took their hats off to him.' With a shriek of horror at our not knowing him, or appreciating the honour of walking with him, we were told he was the great Duke of Wellington. Another time my uncle took us to see a Chinese junk, the first that had ever been to England. A great fuss was made when the Chinese were told who their visitor was, the hero of Albuera, one of England's well- known generals. They expected him to come in full uniform, attended by aides-de- camp, and insisted on firing a salute of eighteen guns on his departure, which frightened us to death. The Chinese loaded us with beautiful presents, and gave us girls a beautiful piece of green silk, which my aunt insisted on her maid making up into two little bonnets. How hideous they were ! The dirty little street arabs used to ENGLAND 37 laugh, and call out at us Apple Green ! ' The Duchess of Inverness was a constant visitor at my aunt's house, and I shall always remember her with gratitude, as she was so kind and good to us, always taking our part when people laughed at our German accent. She had rooms in Kensington Palace, and^many a happy hour we spent there. She encouraged us to talk of^our old Hanoverian days. One long happy summer holiday we spent at the beautiful country seat of a son of our aunt's by her first marriage. Whilst we were there several visitors stayed, amongst them several young men who went under the name of c Young England.' Alas ! that bright happy party of enthusiastic chivalrous young men are all dead or quite old. ' Old England ' they would be called now. Mr. and Mrs. Disraeli were amongst that party. I don't think he was appreciated then. People looked on him as an adventurer, and* though, of course, I was too young to understand politics or remember the discussions that used to take place, I shall ever remember Y 38 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES how kind and good they were to us. As soon as the early cup of tea was brought them, we children were allowed to go into their room. I, loaded with German books, climbed on to the foot of the bed and read German to them. Disraeli used to try and talk it with me. My sister never would speak anything but English, as German had been forbidden by my father. He loved to hear me recite little German rhymes. Mrs. Disraeli's kindness I shall never forget. There was nothing she would not do for us, and always insisted on taking my sister out driving, taking her on her lap if there was no room in the carriage. We always rushed to them when the dressing-bell rang ; and my greatest treat was to turn out Disraeli's box of jewels, as he had a most extraordinary collection of studs and pins by the hundred. He always called us * the little Hanoverians,' much to my father's annoyance, and I can re- member so well trying to make him pro- nounce dimcult German words, such as Ich, michy nicht, and Mrs. Disraeli's con- stantly chiming in with * Beautiful ! ' as each ENGLAND 39 time the accent, if possible, was worse than ^ before!' I don't think I ever did anything really well in my life, except riding, of which I was passionately fond. An old coachman in the family took a great delight in my riding, taught me jumping, and made a small circus, where I practised daily. My cousin, having heard of this, insisted on all the guests coming to look at my feats of horsemanship, and loud was the applause as the bar was put higher and higher, and each time suc- cessfully jumped by me. In the midst of all this a servant rushed in to tell dreadful news. My cousin kept for his private amuse- ment two bears. One of them had broken his chain, escaped, gone up to the house and into the dining-room. It was about six o'clock, and the table was laid for a large dinner party. Bruin had gone in at the window ; no one dared enter, and he was calmly seated in one of the best chairs, the other half of his body on the table, eating all he could lay hands, or rather paws, on, beautiful fruit being devoured by him, price- 40 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES less china and glass in shivered fragments at his feet. Decanters were broken, and he was greedily lapping up the wine. What was to be done ? How get him out ? The housekeeper's face was full of anguish, and the guests would soon arrive on this scene of ruin and desolation. The keeper had gone away for the day ; no one dared touch him, till the animal, tired out from his excess of eating and drinking, fell asleep peacefully under the window. When the keeper re- turned, a rope was thrown round the bear, and a sack over his head, and, blinded and stupefied, he was led back to his cage, and dinner laid in another room for the amused guests. After this adventure, my cousin tired of his four-footed friends, so they were sent to the Zoological Gardens as a present, and there they lived to a good old age. We children often visited them there, and flattered ourselves that they knew us when we threw them buns. This inroad of bears into civilized life was of course a great topic of conversation amongst my cousin's friends. ENGLAND 41 On Sundays we were allowed to come in to dessert. We young ones had been much scared by the maids telling us the bears had found their way into the house, and would come again and eat us naughty children up, and no one would be sorry if I were eaten. These sorts of threats and cruel teasing do more to make a sensitive child miser- able than thoughtless people imagine. I was sitting next to Mrs. Disraeli, who, as usual, loaded my plate with goodies, so I asked her if it was true no one would be sorry if the bears ate me. Ever kind and thoughtful, she did her best to comfort me, when her husband, hearing all this, said to me, ' Would any one be sorry if I were eaten also ? ' I unhesitatingly replied, ' I should be sorry,' evidently having a high idea of my own im- portance. A gentleman who was also stay- ing in the house, and who went out of his way to snub us, called out, ' Well done, little Prussian.' This roused all my childish ire, as he knew I hated to be called Prussian, for Hooked upon myself as Hanoverian, so I looked him steadily in the face, and added, 42 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES ' The whole world would be sorry.' A roar of laughter from all came : no one then knew or imagined the brilliant future of this quiet young man ; but my enemy, sarcastically bowing to Disraeli, replied, * We greet thee king and lord of all. Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained praise.' I refrain from giving his name, though he was afterwards the most unpopu- lar man in London, and if he is alive I do not wish to bring up old scores; if he is dead I do not wish to hurt the feelings of any of his descendants. I do not remember this incident, as I was too young ; but it was repeated to me years afterwards by the late Lord Strangford, then George Smythe (as he was called), with whom I became very intimate when I grew up. Perhaps the anecdote is not worth repeating ; but it was a curious prophecy from a young child, and literally came true. The next morning when, as usual, we went in at eight o'clock, Mrs. Disraeli gave me a pretty little ring to commemorate what she called my fight with the man she and I so cordially hated. ENGLAND 43 How many bright half-hours did I spend in their room ! How often did she say she would like to buy both of us little girls, as she had none of her own ! But these happy mornings and evenings came to a summary end. My father, who was always harsh and stern, was told of these daily visits, and was wild when he heard I was speaking the much-hated language and reading it to my friends. He sent for us, and as usual I was the culprit : my sister had loyally kept to her promise of never speaking German. I was forbidden to go to their rooms, and he and Mr. Disraeli had a stormy interview which ended in a quarrel, and we were sent back to the dreary London house. Mrs. Disraeli wrote several times when they came up to town, asking us to tea ; but it was always sternly refused, and I never saw Disraeli again to speak to till years and years had passed, and I was stay- ing at another cousin's house (the late Earl of Malmesburys'), when he came to a large party and was introduced to me. I longed to recall the old days to him, but did not 44 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES like to trespass on his time, as he was then one of Her Majesty's ministers, and everyone was trying to get a word or nod of recog- nition from the great man. Lord Malmes- bury asked me at the end of the evening if I had told him who I was, adding it was a great honour for me to be introduced to him. When I told him I was too shy, and it was too long a story to tell, he said I was a fool for my pains, and had missed my opportunity. We returned to London for the winter, and there my poor little dog Schnee died. I have had many sorrows since ; but I can well remember the dreadful grief it was losing my little companion. All night my brother and I sat up with him. What strange things children are ! We forgot the stern com- mands of my father about never speaking German, and we fondled and caressed our canine friend, talking to him in German, vainly thinking that that language would save his life ; and the little animal seemed to recognise the familiar guttural and feebly wagged his tail. 'Don't let him die,' I im- plored my brother, who at last, desperate ENGLAND 46 what to do, went on his knees and repeated the Lord's Prayer in German, thinking it was a charm or fetish, and Schnee would recover. But it was not to be, and Schnee went the way of all dogs. We were kept very strictly in this dull old house, and the only children we were allowed to associate with were the three Miss Sidneys, daughters of an old brother officer of my father's. One was much older than us, and my father said she was the most agreeable woman of her day, she was so well read, and wrote several good novels herself. We lost sight of each other when we were all grown up, as we all married and each went her own way. The eldest, a widow, lives in London now. There is no one I love talking to and seeing more than her, for she is never bored with one, and has the great charm of never letting anyone think she is bored. The youngest married, strange to say, the son of an old Hanoverian family, who, like me, is much attached to the Royal House of Hanover. He has a most lovely chateau in the north of Germany, Gulzow by name, 46 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES more than interesting to lovers of English history, for the house is full of portraits of English historical celebrities. His ancestors were much mixed up with George I., and in the dining-room there is a valuable collection of pictures by Kneller, all of them English duchesses of that period. The celebrated Countess Kielmansegg, who accompanied George I. to England, was the first to recognise and appreciate the talents of Kneller ; she introduced him to George I., and Kneller, in gratitude to her, gave her replicas of his celebrated paintings. Count Kielmansegg has also the coronation throne or chair of state used by George I., and a beautiful chair worked by Sophia, mother of King George, whose one ambition was to have put on her coffin, ' Here lies Sophia, Queen of England.' But it was not to be, as she died six weeks before Queen Anne. There are several portraits of George I. there, each of them rivalling the others for hideousness, and one can quite understand how the English nation, accustomed to the beauty and fascina- tion of the Stuart dynasty, hated and loathed ENGLAND 47 the ugly progeny of the Guelphs forced upon them. Luckily the ugliness has died out in succeeding generations, and we now can point to our Eoyal Family with pride, as one of the best-looking and cultured of the reigning families in Europe. But I seem to be going on too fast and dipping into the end of half a century, and must return to the beginning of it ; only I must add that there is no house where I feel so welcome, and where I am so happy, as at the historical old chateau of Giilzow ; and it is strange that in the latter part of my life there is no place I enjoy visiting so much as this my old playmate's home, and that I should really find a second German home with an old Hanoverian, who has all the courteous bearing and agreeable con- versation of one accustomed to mix with foreign princes and foreign courts, and all the simplicity and charm of an English gentleman, caught by a long and happy marriage with what one so seldom sees now, a real English lady. I seem to wander off to highways and 48 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES hedges, and must now go back to my un- interesting and uneventful life, only made interesting by being accidentally mixed up with many well-known people both in England and abroad. A change came over us again. I had been very dangerously ill with a sort of brain fever, brought on, they said, by fretting so much over my dog, and losing my brother, who had passed his exam, for the Navy, and was leaving home for the first time. We went down to Kent to say good-bye to our uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Beresford. Her son had married the present Marquis of Salisbury's sister, the kindest woman that ever lived. She nursed me so tenderly through this illness that I believe I owe my life to her ; and when I first began to take an interest in outside matters, I shall never forget my wild delight at her bring- ing a small Scotch terrier and putting it in my arms as a successor to Schnee. Her husband was much associated with the modern High Church movement, and horri- fied at our want of reverence in church. ENGLAND 49 They had a pew in the gallery of All Souls, Langham Place, and made us children have sittings opposite, and used to fix a stern gaze on us if we moved at all during service. I recollect during this visit to my uncle, the present Marquis of Salisbury coming with his wife. I think they had only just been mar- ried, and were rather taken aback at the girls' school they met, for Lady Mildred Hope had girls of her own ; there were three cousins and we two. We girls eagerly discussed the new arrival, who on her side did not trouble to notice any of us. He was then only a younger son with a small fortune, and not much thought of. But his sister had a firm belief in his star, and, child as I was, I remember her saying to my father, c Give Eobert only the chance and he will climb to the top of the tree.' After this visit, as I said before, we were sent to a small town, Ashby-de-la-Zouch, in one of the midland counties, to be educated. My brother came on leave one summer and brought his old schoolfellow, the late Lord Bulwer. What a happy holiday 60 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES it was ! We wandered all about the ruins of a beautiful old castle that was in the town, and Bulwer used to relate to us the most beautiful legends and stories he impro- vised respecting the grand old ruins, re- building the old place, filling the halls with brave knights and fair dames. One room was celebrated as being the prison house of Queen Mary of Scotland, for whom young Bulwer had an intense worship, and so vivid and life-like were his descriptions of her that one could almost fancy one saw the ill-fated Queen. He was devoted to my sister, saying she was like one of the maidens of olden days, so pure, so graceful. He talked of all sorts of things far beyond my childish understanding. He was bold and fearless, like the knights he loved so to describe. There was an old place close by, with a haunted room in it, associated with the following weird legend. One of that race, celebrated for his wickedness and blasphemy, keeping up his disregard of everything good and holy to the last, left directions that his body should ENGLAND 51 be buried in an ox's hide just outside the church walls. The wish was carried out, and the legend ran that a dreadful monster on certain days wandered up and down one of the rooms moaning, as if in great pain. Young Bulwer heard of this, and was deter- mined to go and sleep in the room. He insisted on my brother accompanying him. We knew the housekeeper through our governess's brother, who was solicitor to the family, and got leave to wander about the house and garden. I can see the two boys starting, my brother in an awful funk, the other eagei and excited to see the apparition. The next morning they returned, young Bulwer furious with my brother, who, he said, left the room at midnight, declaring nothing would make him stay in it any longer, as he heard a noise. ' What did you see ? ' we eagerly asked. ' I shall never tell anyone,' he replied ; and nothing would induce him to tell us. But he had a strange scared look in his eyes, and we were certain he had seen the ghost. Years and years afterwards I was told by one of the Bulwer family that B 2 62 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES a relation of theirs (who had married into the family referred to), laughing at the story, slept in this room, and declared that at two in the morning he awoke with a strange feel- ing of awe on him, and in the moonlight he distinctly saw a figure clasping his hands, making awful noises, and wrapped in a bull's hide. He was perfectly convinced about it. I am now told that the wall of the church- yard has been rebuilt, and that the grave of this unhappy man is now inside the wall. Since then the spirit of the blasphemer and sinner has ceased to wander. We once went a long expedition to see some gipsies. Young Bulwer declared he had gipsy blood in his veins, but was rather vague from which side he inherited it. He insisted on seeing the gipsy queen, for her to tell our fortunes. He succeeded in that ; but we were all rather disgusted at finding Her Majesty dirty and ill-favoured. She was much amused apparently at this invasion of four sturdy young people, and presented Bulwer with an awful cur as a mark of her favour. But as we only ENGLAND 63 managed to scrape one shilling and three- pence between us, she refused to tell our fortunes. However, a dirty young woman offered to do so if we could give her some ' baccy,' which the two boys luckily had. She did not waste words. To Bulwer she merely said : ' You will get to the top of the tree ; ' to me, c many trials, many separations, but you can make name and fame if you like ; ' to my brother, c a foreign grave.' My sister was too frightened to have her hand examined. What she foretold of the boys came true, cer- tainly. ; Bulwer lived to be English ambas- sador at Paris. My brother died in Australia. I have had many trials and separations, but I don't see the name or fame ; if it does come it is better late than never. The day after our expedition the two boys left us, my brother to join his ship, Bulwer to return to his father. I think that was the happiest holiday we ever had. We all swore eternal friendship, endless corre- spondence ; but it all fell through. Like many a childish friendship it burned fiercely, nickered, and then went out. 54 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES CHAPTEK IV FRANCE MY sister and I lived quietly in this way till my father was appointed to a consulship abroad, where we joined him, and where it was my good fortune to be thrown amongst many interesting people. So now I must ask you to follow me to France, to a little Norman town, Cherbourg by name. Near our house was a small village. I visited a good deal amongst the peas- antry, and many were the interesting stories and legends they told us. Amongst them was a dear old man, over ninety years old ; and a strange, wandering life he had led. He was a Breton by birth, coming from a village near St. Malo, hating the Normans with all the old hatred that has existed for years, and always will exist, FRANCE 65 between Brittany and Normandy. His son had married our gardener's daughter, and in his old age the father had come to Normandy. Falling ill there, he had never left it. I visited him daily for a year, as he was quite bed-ridden. He had been apprenticed as a boy to his uncle, who was a small watch- maker in Paris, and he lived in the midst of the first French Eevolution. This uncle was looked upon with horror by all the family, as he turned Republican and atheist, forgetting all the traditions of his race. He was one of the National Guard who used to go to the Temple. Old Jean as a boy used to take him his food and sit with him. He often carried the pitcher of water into Marie Antoinette's room. His description of the first time he saw her was most interesting. He had no idea who she was, as she was always spoken of as Veuve Capet, and her daughter as Citoyenne Marie. The first time he was gruffly told by his uncle to put the pitcher down. On entering her room he looked up and saw a pale, cold, stern-looking woman with snow-white hair, 66 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES standing bolt upright, facing the three men and boy as they came in. She started vio- lently as the boy entered, but not a word did she say. The sight of the child must have brought back to her mind her own boy, from whom she had been so cruelly separated. Some childish instinct made the boy rever- ently bend his head to her ; and if he had dared he would have doffed his cap and bent his knee. In the guard-room he asked who this Veuve Capet was, and was told a bad, wicked woman, who had been the curse of France. Constantly he carried the pitcher to her ; and one day, when his uncle was more drunk than usual, and not notic- ing him, he slipped three little primroses, which he had in his hot little hand, into hers. The Queen took them, hid them in her dress, and burst into tears. Did those primroses remind her of bright happy days when France showered flowers at her feet ? The child was frightened at her hysterical sobs, which became worse and worse. Loud and fierce was the roar of laughter from the ribald guards on hearing Veuve Capet cry. FKANCE 57 She had not shed a tear since her boy had been taken from her ; but the flowers had opened the flood-gates, and nothing could stop them. The boy in his young heart pondered and wondered over it all. Who was she, this mysterious lady with the snow-white hair, so poor, so meanly dressed, and yet so grand and stately ? He looked upon her as a saint, and was certain it was all a lie that they had told him of her. The following week, in carrying the pitcher, he stumbled, and the pitcher fell and was broken to pieces. His uncle was furious, fetched another, and told the boy to mop the water up, and left the room angrily. In one moment the child was on his knees, and, stooping down, suddenly and reverently kissed the hem of her dress. The Queen laid her hand gently on the bright little head. The boy, hearing footsteps approach- ing, quickly got up and crossed himself, for, as he expressed it, he felt it was straight from Heaven that the blessing came. After that accident he was never allowed to go into the room again. He was standing among 68 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES the crowd when she was taken to her trial ; saw her marching slowly on, with her hands crossed on her breast, a bright smile on her face. Ah ! she knew her prison gates were opening. Her deliverance came ; she had tasted more than the agonies of death in that dreadful cell. Soon after, slowly walk- ing in the streets, he came across a fearful surging crowd, and was told there were to be a lot of women guillotined. Frightened, he tried to get away ; but the crowd closed upon him, and the ghastly procession passed by. To his horror, in a cart full of terror- stricken women, he saw his dear Veuve Capet. He struggled hard, and fought to get at her, not knowing why he did so, only longing for a look or sign from her ; but it was no use. The terrible procession swept by, and he never saw Veuve Capet again. ' But I shall see her some day,' he said to me. ' When my end is coming Veuve Capet will come and fetch me.' After her death he met Marie Capet in the garden of the Temple. She gave him a tiny slip of paper, inside of which was one FRANCE 59 tiny primrose, saying at the same time, ' It is from my mother,' and relating to him that a priest who stood by the ill-fated Queen on the scaffold to give her his blessing, received from her this slip of paper to give to her daughter, to whom she had given in- structions about it. Jean was sent back to Brittany soon after this, and, entering the French navy, was taken prisoner at one of the naval fights, and for a long time was imprisoned in one of the hulks at Portsmouth. If all the stories are true that he told me, his treatment was a disgrace to the English nation. He returned again to Paris when peace was proclaimed, and one day suddenly came across Marie Capet, as he called her, walking in the Tui- leries gardens. He tried to get near her, but could not. He said she looked very sad, as if nothing could make her smile. One of the gentlemen near her, hearing this man say, 'Marie Capet, Marie Capet,' thought he was mad, and came up to him. Jean told his story, how he had waited on Veuve Capet in the Temple, and how he longed to see 60 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES Marie Capet. The gentleman took down his name and address, and a month later a letter came summoning him to the Palace. He went, and standing by the window was Marie Capet, dressed in exactly the same costume as in her prison days. She had put it on on purpose. Jean rushed up. seized her hand, kissing it fervently, and kept saying, l Oh, Marie Capet,' to the as- tonishment of a priest who was in the room. Sternly rebuking him, he told Jean it was the Duchesse d'Angouleme, daughter of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI. ' No, no,' he roughly said, c not Marie Antoinette, but my dear, dear Veuve Capet.' The Duchesse was strongly moved, and burst into tears, telling him that the proud, stately woman in the Temple was her mother, once Queen of France. He told us, such a broken-hearted looking woman he had never seen before. Her voice seemed full of tears ; a slight nervous shudder was constantly running through her frame ; and her face had a frightened, scared look, as if she still saw the horrors of that dreadful FRANCE 61 prison. Jean was just returning to Brittany and going to be married : the Duchesse pre- sented his bride with all her trousseau, and gave him a pension, which went on till the day of her death, and it was so liberal that he saved on it. It was a great shock to him, Veuve Capet turning out to be a Queen. In his boyish imagination he had pictured her as a saint of olden time come down to visit earth. He was scared at the idea of her being royalty. He often visited Paris in after years, but never went to the Tuileries. When the Emperor and Empress came to Cherbourg he went in the crowd to see her ; but came back disappointed in her, owning, though, that her face was lovely, her figure exquisite, her clothes beautiful : but she did not rouse the feeling of reverence that Veuve Capet did. In fact he did not even take his cap off to her. Jean was most anxious to see our Queen, who came over with Prince Albert incognito. He stood by the landing-stage, dressed in his quaint old Breton costume ; and when I asked him what he thought of our Queen, 62 FOREIGN COUETS AND FOREIGN HOMES he answered so naively : ' Mademoiselle, I felt I must take off my cap to her. She was not beautiful, nor smartly dressed ; but a feeling came over me as it used to do when I saw Veuve Capet : I felt I must bow my head.' I, as an English girl, did indeed feel proud at this mark of respect made by a Breton peasant to my Sovereign. Poor old Jean got weaker and weaker, and it was evident to all that he could never return to his dear Brittany. Oh ! how he pined and longed to get home ! He hated the idea of dying on foreign soil. He was always singing to himself the quaint old Breton ditty : Judas Iscariot etait Norman, Tout le monde il le dit ; Entre Caen et Rouen Ce malheureux naquit. Daily we used to go and sit with him. He loved us to come, and we girls fell into his peculiar ways, and always called him * mon pere ; ' and many is the time I have knelt at his bedside to have his blessing. He idolised my sister, and said she would die FRANCE 63 a good Catholic and go straight to Heaven. Latterly he wandered in his mind, and went back to the stormy terrors of the first Kevo- lution, and talked such horrors that it made one's blood run cold. He vividly described one day how the head of the Princesse de Lamballe was carried about the streets of Paris, blood dripping from it. The last night we sat up with him till three. There was a grand fete held in honour of the Emperor and Empress, who were there, salutes fired, etc. The sons and daughters-in-law went out to see the ftte, and we girls promised to sit with him till they returned, no one think- ing the end was so near, though the doctor came and said he would not last through the day. He rallied, and we were alone with him. We had never seen death, and were terrified. He saw it and called us, saying, ' I shall not go till Veuve Capet comes, who will fetch her petit bonhomme when his time comes.' He then told us to fetch his prayer-book, old and nearly worn out from constant use. Inside, at the Mass for the Dead, was a tiny piece of paper. He gave it 64 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES to my sister, saying, c When I am dead, place it in my coffin, on my heart ; it is only a faded primrose.' We knew what he meant ; and, faithful to her promise, my sister placed it, after his death, on his heart. The Nor- man peasants who were present, thinking in their greed it was bank notes, roughly asked what it was, and wished to open it, but were pacified by my sister's clear voice saying,' Jean gave it me ; it is only a faded primrose.' What a brilliant night it was ! all the town en fete, and a poor old Breton peasant waiting his summons. Suddenly at 12 p.m. sounds of artillery pierced the air a hundred and one guns booming forth to tell the townspeople the Emperor had left for Brest and by a strange coincidence the stately man-of-war was called ' La Bretagne.' A light came over Jean's face ; he sat up in bed. At that moment his family entered. Awe- struck, all knelt, and a faint voice from the bed was heard to say, 'Veuve Capet, je viens ! ' It was curious that amidst sounds of artillery the spirit of the dead Queen had come to FRANCE 66 summon her ' petit bonhomme ' home. No one saw her, but Jean's spirit had passed away. We were very overcome, and felt very frightened. The guns kept booming, booming, and the rough accents of the Nor- man priest were heard praying for the soul of the departed peasant. Slowly we all left the room ; my sister and I reverently kissing the hands of our dear old friend as he lay with them crossed on his breast, feeling we had lost one of our truest friends ; for he was always teaching us right, and telling us to be good and brave and holy like Veuve Capet. He had kept his simplicity and faith all this time. No peasants are, or were, so piously brought up as the Bretons. They seem to belong to quite another race than the crafty Norm an, the gay Parisian, or the fiery peasant of the South. In the hulks of England, on board the French men-of-war, where atheism reigned rampant, Jean remembered the teaching of his Breton mother, and his faith never wavered. He taught us a great deal of Breton patois, which the French them- selves cannot understand. Strange enough, F 66 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES the Welsh and Breton dialect are so alike that the two nations can make each other understand. A large yacht belonging to a late cousin of mine, Mr. Talbot, and princi- pally manned by Welsh sailors, often went to Brest. The sailors used to mix freely with the natives of that place, understanding their patois, and they in their turn under- standing theirs. 67 CHAPTER V NOEMANDY OUES was a strange life, mixing with all sorts and conditions of men. Our father, a cold stern man, was bored to death by having us two girls on his hands. We never had a word of affection or kind- ness from him. His one idea was to shut us up, and deny us the fun and freedom that most girls of our age had. My sister gave in, and stopped at home; but I would not, and said if I couldn't see the fun by fair means, I would by foul. We had an old Norman housekeeper who simply idolized us, and we were very fond of her. She had made for each of us a costume of the Normandy peasant style ; and dressed in that I used to go with her to many a village fete. One day I nearly came to terrible grief. The Queen F 2 68 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES had come over with Prince Albert. I longed to see her, and asked my father if I might go to the landing-stage, and see her land. He was just going off, officially, to accompany her in her drive through the town and country. I did long to see my Queen, but was sternly refused. I had been on the pier the night before and seen the Victoria and Albert glide in, and take up her moor- ings inside the famous breakwater. It is a strange feeling that comes across English people when, in a foreign land, surrounded by foreigners, they see the Eoyal yacht come in, the English flag flying, and they know it has their Queen, their Sovereign, on board. I knew my father was to dine on the Koyal yacht that night ; so, doffing my quaint little dress, I and dear old Bonnine, as we called her, got hold of her son, who was a gen- darme, and persuaded him to take us in the gendarmes' boat and row alongside the Eoyal yacht. How I craned my neck and stared, hoping to have a glimpse of my Queen ! I insisted on his rowing us quite close, so I might say I had touched^the yacht. But we NORMANDY 69 were promptly ordered off by the officious marine. The next day the Queen landed in the morning to visit the dockyard. All my plans of seeing her were knocked on the head, as we were told at breakfast the Royal children were coming up to pay us a visit. How pleased we were ! All the morning we toiled at making an enormous mat of all the most beautiful flowers we could collect, for them to walk on, so that they should not tread on an ordinary mat. Princess Helena, Princess Louise, and Prince Arthur arrived. The two Princesses jumped over the mat, saying it was far too lovely to walk on. Prince Arthur, boy-like, stepped right into the middle, heedlessly crushing all our flowers, and was scolded well by Princess Helena. What a happy half-hour we spent with them ! What pretty shy manners they had, and how kindly they accepted two bouquets we timidly offered ! They wandered all over the garden. In the afternoon the Queen was to land again, and drive to an old quaint ruin, Bricquebec, the last fortress in Normandy that was held by 70 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES the English, and given up in Henry V.'s time. No one knew she was to land, and that the carriage and pair waiting at the landing- stage was for the Queen of England. But it soon leaked out, and on her return all the town thronged to see her, women coming out with lighted candles to pay her homage. ' Oh, la bonne femme ! ' they kept ejaculating, which was the highest term of honour they could give her, as it was an expression peculiar to that part of the world, meaning she was per- fect wife, mother, and woman. It was then I so nearly came to grief. Bonnineand I were in the crowd, gaping and staring like all the rest, I in peasant dress, when Prince Albert turned to my father and said, ' What a very plain race these Normans are ! But there is rather a jolly young girl over there : with her bright hair and complexion, one could almost take her for an English girl.' I felt as if I should sink into the earth. What was to be done ? I would rather have died than lose my chance of seeing the Queen. Luckily the Queen remarked something to my father, and he did not see his promising NORMANDY 71 daughter, so my last hour did not come. Close by was dear old Jean, with his snow- white hair, his clothes sparkling with bright Breton buttons, which are handed down from father to son (if my father had only known we had helped to polish those buttons the night before !). I saw my father go down the steps to the Eoyal boat. I and Bonnine fled, and I told my sister of our escape. I listened as if butter would not melt in my mouth as my father, at dinner, told us all about the Queen's landing. The inhabitants of Cherbourg at least, the poor in our district loved to talk to us about the Queen's visit. Naturally a cold race, poverty-stricken, and only thinking of their poverty and struggles to get more, they did not think much of crowned heads. As long as they could have their pot-au-feu and their cheap wine, they did not meddle much with politics ; but it did strike them more than anything that the mighty Sove- reign of England (that unknown country to them, which some in their imagination thought consisted of milords, and could 72 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES have no poor) should drive about their town with no guards, no state, only accompanied by her husband and children. It was the woman they admired, the tender wife, the fond mother. Some of them kept for years the cheap candle they had bought to light the streets whilst she drove past in the twilight. It was an extraordinary mark of French reverence. Eather a curious incident a propos of it occurred. My sister had stood godmother to the infant grand-daughter of our old friend Jean. The simple peasants asked if we would come to the christening feast : they pressed so hard that we did not like to refuse. The father was a gendarme ; and as my sister and I entered the little garden, we found the pathway lined on each side with his comrades in full uniform, to pay honour to the English visitors. We were received with a roll of the drums, and con- ducted to two chairs, almost of state. How well those peasants behaved ! No French noblemen of the old school could have been more courteous or high-bred. After supper NORMANDY 73 the principal gendarme in a pompous voice proposed the health of the Emperor; an- other sang, ' Partant pour la Syrie.' Poor old Jean refused to stand up to drink it. With his Breton loyalty he only remembered the old Bourbon race. A great altercation took place ; but luckily nothing further was said than calling him, ' Le mauvais Breton.' Then the cure of the village rose, and in a loud tone said, ' For the first time in my parish, and at such a gathering, has such a toast been drunk : ' A la Eeine d'Angle- terre, la bonne femme ! ' All rose cheering lustily, even the women, and all again said, ' A la bonne femme ! ' Imagine the delight of my sister and myself. We shook hands with all ; and felt so excited, so enthusiastic, that in drinking her health we cried. We felt so proud of our Queen. It was the first time they had drunk wine that evening, poor things ; some were so afraid they might get drunk before their English visitors, so amongst themselves they had agreed that very little wine should be drunk till we had gone. We left after this, and all the gendarmes 74 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES insisted on escorting us home. Luckily our house was quite close by, and, again saluting us with a roll of drums that only Frenchmen can produce, they returned to the cottage, and sat solemnly eating and drinking till the next morning. It was a touching incident of French homely life that I am quite sure no English person has had the privilege of attending; only we were so identified with our poor people, they looked upon us as belonging to them. I expect half that generation has passed away. The little baby did not live to grow up, and died before her old grandfather. 75 CHAPTEE VI EEMINISCENCES OF THE GBEAT NAPOLEON WE became very intimate with some of our country neighbours, ' la noblesse de pro- vence,' as they were called. They held the same sort of position and standing as our country squires, but are without their brus- querie and pomposity/ One of our great "v friends was an old French general, le Comte de M . He had seen the campaign of Moscow, and many and thrilling were the stories he told about the wonderful fascina- tion that the first Napoleon held over all those he mixed with. My friend was Norman. At one time his family had been Huguenot. He entered the army young, and commanded a very smart cavalry regi- ment. He dined with the Emperor, in company with several officers, when the 76 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES march to Moscow was decided upon. He felt very low and wretched, having just left his young wife and only child. The Em- peror clapped him on the shoulder, and said, ' Buvez, mon brave ; buvez a notre succes.' Tremblingly he took up the glass that the Emperor passed him, and by some mischance the glass fell from his hands and smashed to pieces. Another glass was hastily put in his hand. The Emperor had walked to another part of the room, and did not see the accident. It seemed to be his custom never to sit long at table, but to walk from one guest to another. The French colonel felt a cold shudder go through him. Was the breaking of that glass a bad omen ? At that instant a letter was put into his hand. It was from his wife, imploring him to come at once. Their little daughter, their one ewe lamb, was dangerously ill. He must come throw all up, and come to her. What would he do ? To-morrow they were to march ; could he refuse to go ? The Emperor came up at that moment, heated with wine, eyes bright, hands trembling REMINISCENCES OF THE GREAT NAPOLEON 77 with excitement. c Buvez, mon cher. What was the toast ? ' ' Moscow.' ' Moscow ! ' Napoleon looked at him and said, ' Mos- cow and no drawing back. We all leave our hearts behind ; honour calls us on. Your Emperor knows your struggle. Buvez a Moscou.' What intuition had told him his officer's trouble ? What wonderful powers of persuasion made him induce this young father not merely to follow him, but forego to ask for leave ? Years after, the Count was told how his servant had been questioned by the servants of the suite, who told their master his errand, and that was how the Great Buonaparte knew the way to work on the colonel's feelings and keep him at his side, and spare him the pain and indignity of a refusal.*' Wild and long did the revelry last that night; but the Count sat apart, praying for the child he so loved, pray- ing the angel of Death would not visit his peaceful Norman home. Next morning he received a letter appointing him aide-de- camp to the Emperor, and specially attach- ing him to his person. At daybreak they 78 FOKEIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES started, the Grand French Army, the flower of the nation, the Emperor heading them on his favourite white charger, presented to him by the people of Paris as a New Year's gift. The old general told many interesting stories of that march; how, though a Eoyalist by tradition, he had thrown in his fortune with the Emperor, and if asked he would have laid down his life for him. He told of the Emperor's meals, the little soupers, the Emperor giving attention to the minutest details ; his firm belief in his star ; his interest in the hospitals, the sick, the wounded ; how he would talk of the wonderful things that would happen when they reached Moscow ; how they all looked upon it as a sort of garden of Eden ; the riches it would bring them, the ever- lasting renown, the undying glory. But through all these dreams and visions of glory the poor father longed for news from home. None came ; it was too far. The day before they entered Moscow the Emperor gave a large dinner. The Count was one of the in- REMINISCENCES OF THE GREAT NAPOLEON 79 vited. The sitting-room was lighted by the gilded crosses ; the great bell of the Cathedral was tolling all night. ' It means the death of Kussia,' the marching army proudly said. How little did they know it meant the death of the French army. After supper the Count accompanied the Emperor all along the lines. The soldiers were told to smarten up, to look their best, to let the Russian nation see what a splendid thing the French army was. How silent was the gloomy city ! How sadly everyone there had retired to rest ! No lights were to be seen ; no noise heard, but the tolling of the grand old Kremlin bell. The next morning the start was made. The Count rode in the Emperor's brilliant suite, the Emperor trying to look as if all were right ; but they all felt depressed, none of them felt like victors. Silently they marched in, all through the deserted streets ; nothing living to be seen but a few frightened peasants. A halt was made in the Great Square, and still the bell kept on its mournful toll. The Emperor did not speak till they halted, then in a few brief 80 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES words his orders were given, and different quarters of the city assigned to various squadrons. To the Count he gave the Square where the Kremlin was, and he was to use a large palace for the accommodation of the officers. To him also was given the task of going into the Kremlin, of climbing up the steps of the lofty tower, to stop that weird tolling. Accompanied by fifty men he climbed up, the bell tolling, tolling, all the time as they clambered up. When the top was reached, the door was locked, and they could not get in. He sent hastily down for hatchets to break open this massive door, and sat wearily down to wait, listening to the awful clang of that bell, feeling as if his brain would go. He longed to go into the fresh air ; but he was a soldier and had orders, and must stop there till the bell was silenced. At last the necessary tools were brought, and the hammering and noise of breaking down the door drowned the clanging of the incessant tolling. Finally the door was forced ; but on doing this no one had noticed that the tolling had ceased. The belfry was de- KEMINISCENCES OF THE GREAT NAPOLEON 81 serted. The iron chains that moved the bell were still swaying to and fro as if in- visible hands were playing with them, but there was no sign of life. Down they all went, scared and alarmed, not knowing why back into the streets, back into their quar- ters. I don't think history with its volu- minous pages has mentioned this episode of the Kremlin bell, told me by an eye-witness. The house the Count was quartered in was most beautifully furnished. The wardrobes were full of most costly clothes ; the library with English books ; the cellars open and full of wines, several bottles broken, and their contents spilled on the floor; large casks of oil in the butler's pantry trickled slowly, and one, on the principal staircase, was just dripping, as if by accident. Ah ! how little did the invaders know it was all planned fuel to the flames ! In one room full of toys, evidently the nursery, there was a lot of candle grease on the table. The Count wandered from room to room, his soldiers eagerly rushing about and filling their pockets with all the costly G 82 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES trinkets that were lying about, although no pillage was allowed. The Count's heart was full of forebodings. He refused to go to the great banquet the Emperor was giving. His heart was full of home. The sight of these toys awoke old memories. He felt what his feelings would be if his own bright Norman home were invaded by a ruthless foreign army. He returned to the room he had chosen for himself. Twice that night he was aroused by an alarm of fire, and he went out and helped to extinguish it ; but it was constantly breaking out again. At last, tired and exhausted, he lay down to rest, but again was aroused by the baying of a hound quite close at hand. It seemed under his bed. At last he heard it in the next room ; but he could find no entrance to it. He opened a wardrobe which he thought contained only dresses ; but it was empty. On touching the back of it, it slid back, disclosing a room where a strange sight met his eyes. The room was a small chapel : a beautiful crucifix on the altar, Russian eikons set with brilliant jewels REMINISCENCES 01 THE GREAT NAPOLEON 83 about the room, and opposite the altar was a small coffin open, and in it a beautiful child of about three years of age lying like a marble statue. Candles were burning, and there was a scent of flowers ; around all an atmosphere of peace and holi- ness. A small Sevres clock ticked the weary hours away. Outside in the streets, ribald songs and rough merriment ; inside the tiny chapel, death and a promise of a future life and happiness. As his eyes caught a splendid altar-piece of the Besur- rection he reverently bent and kissed the hands of the dead child ; a low growl met his ear ; and from under the altar came one of those splendid Eussian wolf-hounds, its coat bristling, ready to fly at the intruder. But it was not for him the eyes of this faithful guardian of the dead shone and glared. The French soldiers had penetrated into the chapel. All was lawful spoil to them. Was not Moscow promised to them ? One brutal fellow laid hold of the eikons on the altar ; another tried to take a beautiful locket that was round the dead child's neck. With o 2 84 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES one bound the dog flew at his throat, and in a second the Count levelled his pistol and swore to shoot anyone who dared to enter the room. They all disappeared, not daring to disobey their officer, and the Count was again alone. Hastily picking up some of the flowers, he placed them in the shape of a cross on the child's breast. What was there in it all that reminded him of his peaceful home in sunny Normandy, with his three- year-old darling he had left so closely clasped in her mother's arms, whose last letter had summoned him to her sick-bed ? He then fetched water for the dog, who seemed to recognise him as a friend ; then shut the door, and went out to help again in extin- guishing the fires. He did not return to the palace that day, for he had had orders to fall in with the rear-guard, and attend the military council and try and persuade the Emperor to leave the ill-fated city. In the evening he went into the tiny chapel again. No trace was left of the little coffin; but the dog was there, and the picture of the Christ looking down mourn- REMINISCENCES OF THE GREAT NAPOLEON 85 fully and sadly with extended arms, as if saying, * A broken and contrite heart I will not despise.' The Count's heart felt broken. He felt he never should see his child again, and that the dead child mysteriously carried away was the message sent to tell him that the two little ones were safe in Paradise. The dog did not after that leave him, but followed him mournfully and slowly wher- ever he went. That night again the flames burst out, and it was decided to leave Moscow, THE HOLY CITY. All discipline seemed ended : deep and loud were the curses against Eussia, and against the Emperor who had misled them. The Count remained on for two days, following, as ordered, with the rear- guard. His was the last regiment to leave, and as he passed through the gate a Russian peasant put a letter in his hands. He opened it, and out fell the diamond locket that was round the dead child's neck, and a paper with it, on which was inscribed in French, ' Fill your pocket with chocolate bon-bons.' 86 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES He obeyed; went to a bon-bon stall, and crammed his pockets with them, and those, he said, saved his life, and kept body and soul together. They camped just outside the gates, and the city burnt fiercely that night. For miles the sky was lit up with the glow, and the bells tolled, and the French army marched out to its death. He struggled on with the rest, the dog close at his heels, till they came to that fearful river of ice which they had to cross to reach the other side. Pitiless fires were on every side, in all villages and towns, as if to mock them ; the ice and cold outside. Oh, that river of ice ! Even that seemed turned against the in- vading army. Many a gallant soldier and horse perished in that surging flood. What was he to do ? Alone he stood on the ice- floe. Was death really so near to him ? Full of fancies and impressions, like the Normans, he fancied he saw a child on another floe, by its side the dog, who made one bound at it. The Count followed, and then the dog jumped from one piece to another, always looking back as if inviting EEMINISCENCES OF THE GEEAT NAPOLEON 87 him to follow ; and so he did at the peril of his life, madly jumping till he safely reached the other side. The dog looked at him. A whistle was heard, from where he knew not, but it was familiar to the dog. It turned and jumped into the river again. The Count watched it jump back, but at last lost sight of it, and never knew if it reached the shore safely ; but on looking back he again saw a light, and the figure of a little child on the other side, his guardian angel. He told me he often saw it in after life, and at his death he felt certain he would come for him ; and so he did (if the story I was told was true), as when dying he kept saying, ' Eegardez Fen- fant.' The Count reached his home safely, one of the few survivors of that terrible cam- paign, and found only a tiny grave in the churchyard, with a cross and a broken lily sculptured on it. Curiously enough, the cross he had put in the Eussian child's coffin was of lilies. Years after, the Count went to London as one of the members of Marshal Soult's suite, when he was sent on some mission to 88 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES England. At one of the smart London balls he was at, he was struck by the like- ness of a beautiful Eussian lady to the little child whose body lay in the chapel at Moscow years ago. He longed to be intro- duced to her ; but, knowing the stiffness of English society, he did not dare address her. He was told it was no use asking her to dance, as she never danced. Desperate, he followed her into the supper-room, got a seat next her, and taking the locket he always wore round his neck, he placed it on her plate with a courtly French bow, saying, * This locket is yours ; it came from Eussia.' The blood rushed to her face ; she looked at him fixedly and said, * You are the French officer who placed the cross on my child, and kept our chapel free from the French soldiers.' Question and answer quickly followed. She told him how she had ordered a Eussian servant to follow him till he left Eussian soil, with orders that if he died on that fatal march, he was to see him properly buried ; how he whistled the dog away ; how in the dead of night, when he (the Count) was asleep, the faithful serf took the dead child away ; how the child had sickened and died the day of the French army's entry ; how impossible it was to take the body away ; how they had emptied the wine bottles and oil casks, and done all they could to help the conflagration. She was leaving London next day : her husband also was attached to a special mission to England. Warmly she invited the Count to come and visit them again in the old home at Moscow ; and they parted, having met once, only once, but friends for her life, and to the day of her death they kept up a brisk correspondence. The iron had entered into both their souls, and they both had little ones at rest. The old General used to talk by the hour of his Russian campaign. At the close of the campaign he retired from the army, and lived quietly and peacefully in his country home. He never got over that campaign and the misery it caused France, and Waterloo finished his dislike of the Buona- parte dynasty. He threw in his lot with 90 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES the Orleans, the * Bourgeois King,' as Louis Philippe was familiarly called in Paris. Although he hated England and English people, he was always kind to us girls ; and we loved to wander with him through his woods and gardens, and hear of stirring times and scenes. 91 CHAPTEE VII FRENCH LITERARY FRIENDS ANOTHER great friend of ours was Alexis de Tocqueville. He also was of Norman ex- traction, and with the bigotry of that age was rather looked down upon, as he had devoted himself to literature instead of em- bracing a diplomatic or military career. He married an English lady, who, having no children of her own, took a great fancy to us girls when I was about sixteen years old, and from then we almost lived at the old chateau. Dear old Chateau de Tocqueville ! how I loved it, with its quaint old tower and a winding stone staircase leading into a long gallery with dear little bedrooms each side, furnished in the old French style : a small bed in an alcove, a polished floor, two cane chairs, a small deal table, on which were a 92 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES tiny basin and jug, etc. Wardrobes were unknown luxuries in the old chateau. I loved my little room, which was at the end of the library, containing a marvellous col- lection of books, where the talented author used to sit all the morning. I generally sat with him. He was always writing political essays and philosophical books historical snatches, as he called them. He made me read to him some of our great works. Macaulay he admired immensely ; Hume, Smollett, and Walter Scott he never tired of. What a happy life it was ! the chateau always full of well-known French people : Montalembert, with his beautiful face and firm belief in the Roman faith ; longing to head a crusade to Protestant England, and bring her back to the fold of the Roman Church ; full of poetry and enthusiasm ; knowing English perfectly, having been taught it by his mother, who was a de- scendant of an ancient Scottish family. How delighted he was with a copy of Jameson's * Legendary Art ' which my sister gave him. Monsieur de Courcelle, who had FRENCH LITERARY FRIENDS 93 been French ambassador at Rome at the time when the Pope fled, and Rome, the Eternal City, was abandoned by the Holy Father and left to all the horrors of a civil war and atheism. How enthusiastically those two men talked of Catholicism, while Alexis de Tocqueville, who was outwardly an active Catholic, smiled gravely and shook his head at all their firm belief in legends and saints scarcely known to the Catholic world even. Gktstave de Beaumont, one of the forty members of the Academy, the * silver-tongued Gustave,' as he was called, so beautiful and elegant were his discourses at that wonderful Academy. Remusat, rough and ready, always longing to see the tide turn against French Imperialism. Admiral de Chabannes, belonging to an old Legitimist family, with his courtly bearing and strong devotion to the Legitimist cause. What energy they all had ! All these men loathing the Emperor ; all modern Re- publicans except the Admiral. Many neighbours used to come to the chateau : it was always open house. One 94 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES of these constant visitors belonged to an old historical family, a lineal descendant of the great minister Choiseul, and was the last of his race. He owned a beautiful old chateau, St. Pierre, close to Tocqueville, where he lived alone. His mother periodically paid him a visit a hard, cold woman, bowed down with sorrow and trouble, but too proud to show it ; married from the convent to his father, a wild reckless rouS of the French Court, who left her at the old chateau while he wasted time and substance in the gay French capital. She was only seen in the village church at stated times. She had three children : the eldest a girl who never left her ; the second was humpbacked ; and this son, the last of his race, who loved to come to the gatherings at Tocqueville. He never dared cross or vex his mother. She heard of the constant visits of her son to the little chateau, and of the two English girls, ' here- tics,' as she called us. All were allowed to go to St. Pierre except us two. The last Eng- lishman who had come there was our James II., who had slept there with the Grand FRENCH LITERARY FRIENDS. 95 Monarque the night before the fatal battle of La Hogue, where England beat the navies of the great French King, and when James II. proudly said, though he knew crown and country were lost to him in that battle, * None but English sailors could fight like that.' Sternly did the King reprove him, and left him standing on the beautiful cliffs, and swore (so the tale runs) that he never would look on his face again. The old Countess was only three months in each year at St. Pierre. The week she left we were all asked to dejeuner. What a lovely old spot it was, associated with historical legends ! One seemed to go back to the old days. How stiff that meal was ! All the guests brought one by one and introduced to the English visitors ; all sitting round in a circle till the meal was announced. Then the young Count took my sister in first, not arm in arm as in England, but hand in hand, passing through a room where hung a full-length portrait of Louis XIV. He stopped as he came up to it, and bent his head as a Catholic does to the Host on the 96 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES altar, gravely saying he never passed it without paying it that homage. He had been brought up to look upon the Grand Monarque almost as a god. After dejeuner, lifting his glass with a slight bow to us, he said in a firm voice, * Let us drink to the English and French alliance ; and from this day my chateau is always open to both nations.' How pleasant was our intercourse with the Count ! He was crazy about England. His house must be kept in English fashion ; horses, carriages, grooms, all came from England : yet he never dropped old French customs, though he became one of our most intimate friends. He never offered us his hand, but bowed low on seeing us and on saying good-bye. One morning I received a letter from my father to say some English friends of his Baillie-Cochrane (afterwards Lord Lamington) and Monckton Milnes (after- wards LordHoughton) were coming over to Cherbourg, and would much like to see Tocqueville, having a great admiration for FRENCH LITERARY FRIENDS 97 the owner. Alexis de Tocqueville, with his usual hospitality, sent word to them asking both of them to come straight on. Next day he received a reply saying they should come direct from the steamer. Arrange- ments were made for their reception. They arrived at midday. We all waited for them in the drawing-room. The carriage drove up, but the visitors did not come in. A French footman, dressed in the peculiar fashion of the country, viz. a blue blouse and loose trousers, came in and said both gentlemen had gone to their rooms and asked each for a bath. What was to be done ? There was not such a thing in the house. ' Mais qu'ils doivent etre sales,' was the naive remark of a French cur 6, who prob- ably never used a bath. The only thing approaching a bath was a wooden tub in the kitchen, used for washing up plates, etc. ; that would do for one, how about the other ? They must make the best of it between them, which they did, judging by the splashing on the polished floor. In half an hour they came down, both looking so clean, so fresh, H 98 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES full of apologies for keeping the company waiting, perfect masters of the French language, both full of imagination and poetry. One day we were told Monseigneur Du- panloup, Bishop of Orleans, was coming, for he was a great friend of Montalembert. He was one of the most distinguished prelates of the Koman Church, always in hot water through his fiery denunciations of the Im- perial policy a thorough gentleman, which the French prelates are not always. He had never been to Normandy before, and had a great longing to go everywhere. He and I used to roam about for miles, or drive in the rough victoria the Tocque- villes had. There was one spot we longed to go to, only reachable at low tide, and that was the rock on which the ill-fated boat struck that was carrying Henry I.'s son and daughter back to England. The peasants declare that at certain tides, if you go far enough out, you can hear the cries of the unhappy princess imploring help. We made up a party and went, FRENCH LITERARY FRIENDS 99 amongst us the Bishop and his chaplain, a narrow-minded priest from the south, know- ing nothing of England and its history, and looking upon Protestants as only fit to be burned. How he and I used to fight ! How rude I was to him, always contradicting him, and what is vulgarly called ' shutting him up,' to the Bishop's great delight, who dis- liked him as much as we all did. We went by night, and what a lovely night it was ! Long we sat on the cliff, the bright moon over us, the sea booming beneath. Sud- denly Montalembert stood up and began by reminding us of all that had passed before those cliffs hundreds of years ago. He described the Eoman legions sweeping up those waters, eager to conquer the unknown isle, the mysterious England ; St. Augustine with the cross in the prow, sturdily refusing to land in Gaul, but bent on christianising England ; then the Spanish Armada pass- ing by those cliffs, also bent on landing in England ; then the great English navy sailing down to fight the French ships. Oh ! how eloquent he became as he said H 2 100 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES how mysterious the ways of Providence were : how the French fleet sailed forth full of pride and fervour to fight for the Catholic faith, and to force back on Protestant Eng- land the Catholic king she had spurned and driven out and Protestant England conquered. The great sea now stretched before us was rolling over the graves of French and Englishmen. When he had finished the Bishop rose, and, seeming utterly oblivious of us, he dropped on his knees and in a clear voice said, * Holy Church, in her great mercy, prays for all. Let us pray for the souls of the mighty dead lying under the peaceful waters. English and French are alike beloved by Our Lord, lying side by side under the great waters, waiting for their last judgment.' ' No,' cried Montalembert, ' don't pray to-night for them ; the prayers of the faithful are always going up to Heaven for the departed. Let us all pray for the conversion of England, because we may live to see that great country come back to the faith of her fathers.' A solemn hush prevailed over us, till Baillie-Cochrane cour- FRENCH LITERARY FRIENDS 101 teously begged pardon for declining to join in those prayers. ' I am,' he said, ( the descendant of the old Scotch Covenanters, and I am proud of the Protestant blood that flows in my veins.' He described the suffer- ings of the Covenanters in the old times : how they worshipped their God in holes and caves, and were hunted down, shot, perse- cuted, but steadily kept to their faith still the little lamp burnt brightly on ; and to-day all Scotland and England reaped the benefit of the Protestant faith, and held their own and were recognised by Greek, Turk, infidel, as the great Protestant Church whose branches are all over the world. * No, Montalembert,' he said, ' I do not pray for the conversion of England ; I pray for the crushing of infidels in both countries ; that the Protestant cross and the Catholic cross may go side by side, and let future generations know that, in spite of all the infidelity of France and atheism of Ger- many, there is a God who judges the earth.' Everyone was struck by the passionate flow of language from the usually cold, re- 102 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES served Scotchman who had spoken so little before. A fisherman suddenly came up, and, ap- proaching us, said the tide was going out fast, and it was now time to go to the Keine Blanche (as the rock was called) if we wished to hear the cry of the English princess. They did not all feel inclined to scramble about the rocks, it was so lovely sitting on those cliffs ; so the party consisted only of Baillie-Cochrane, Montalembert, the Bishop's chaplain, and myself who followed the guide. Long and laborious was the descent, then a walk over sands to a rock that was slowly uncovering itself. We climbed to the top and waited for half an hour, all listening to Baillie-Cochrane, who seemed wound up that night. Montalem- bert was also excited, and speaking in fluent English. Baillie-Cochrane quoted verse after verse of old Scotch poems, and told Scotch legends which Montalembert lis- tened eagerly to. The French priest was bored and tired, and sleepily told his beads. Suddenly a loud prolonged shriek was heard FRENCH LITERARY FRIENDS 103 which turned my blood cold. Was it a cry of the ill-fated princess from the sea beat- ing against the rock on which they say her ship struck ? ' Ecoutez, messieurs,' said the fisherman, ' la Princesse.' A cloud of white foam was seen ; it was her spirit, our guide said. Montalembert laughingly said it was the sea-gull's cry ; no spirit was there. Baillie-Cochrane confided afterwards to me that he really was startled, for he had some of the superstition of a Scotchman, and for a moment he firmly believed it was the cry of the drowning Princess. But something more serious had occurred; the tide was coming in, and our rock was surrounded by the sea. We were a long way from the land : the lights of the little village flickered in the distance. Nothing could be seen but the line of foam dashing upon the rock, taking all sorts of forms and shapes, often looking like a white form tossing wildly about"; and that cry still went on echoing, echoing, whether sea-gull or spirit we none of us really knew. I was too frightened to cry, and the British love of fighting came 104 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES over rne, as I longed to punch the priest's head, who kept groaning and moaning, and ended by imploring me to pray for help and succour. I could not help roughly replying, 1 A heretic's prayer will only make the tide rise higher.' Suddenly a cheery shout was heard, and a boat came rapidly up. Our friends on the cliffs had played us a trick. They knew the tide rose rapidly in these parts, and had ordered a boat to be in readiness behind the rocks to take us off after we were all well frightened. How they teased us on landing, all of us owning that we had been scared to death, except the priest, who firmly declared his prayers had caused a miracle, which brought the boat to our rescue. As we were all talking English none of us troubled ourselves to explain to him the trick those on shore had played us. How quickly that week flew ! The burning eloquence of the Bishop, the strong earnest piety of Montalembert had sown the good seed, and there awoke in my sister's heart the desire to follow that faith they so loved and longed for us to follow too. The flicker FRENCH LITERARY FRIENDS 105 in my sister's heart burnt fiercer and fiercer, and finally caused her to leave all friends and her country and join the Sacre Coeur at Lyons. The last evening we all spent to- gether we all felt subdued and depressed. Baillie-Cochrane had sent over to England for an old piece of silver, which he presented to our host at dinner, telling him of the old- fashioned English custom of drinking the lov- ing cup. He filled it, and in a speech in the French language, drank to the future of French literature and its brightest followers and ornaments, Charles de Montalembert and Alexis de Tocqueville. It was passed round, and Alexis in a graceful speech in English drank to English statesmen and Scottish chivalry, coupling the names of Monckton Milnes and Baillie-Cochrane. The Bishop then took the cup and said, as a Eoman prelate and before two Protestants it was difficult to propose a toast in keeping with his holy profession, and avoid saying words to wound the pride and feelings of the great Englishmen. Then, holding the goblet high in the air and making the sign 106 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES of the cross, he cried, ' To the everlasting memory of St. Augustine and St. David, the forerunners of Christianity in both lands.' It was a wonderful dinner that. I often think of it. All are dead now of those then present, except myself. We then adjourned to the drawing-room, where ghost stories and legends were told, one or two of which I must put down, as I am sure none of my English readers have heard them. 107 CHAPTER VIII THE BISHOP'S TALE, AND OTHEES THE Bishop told us a story he had heard from one of his clergy who lived in the South of France. He was paying a visit to an old friend of his who said, ' You won't mind my putting you in the turret room ? The room is not often used ; but the house is so full we have no other for you.' In the night he awoke and saw a small child of three years sitting on the hearth-rug, with large blue eyes, staring at him with a frightened look- It got up and stretched out a tiny pair of hands, toddled to the door of the next room, and disappeared. The priest turned over in his bed and went to sleep, thinking it was one of the children of the house. The next day the owner of the place asked him to undertake the duties of resident chaplain there for six months, the present chaplain 108 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES being ill. He hesitated at first : the air of the house oppressed him ; but he finally accepted the post. His host had a care-worn, anxious look, and his wife seemed to spend most of her time in the chapel : seldom a smile crossed her face. They had had six children ; two only were living. Often did the priest think of the strange occurrence of the first night he had spent there. His host was silent and taciturn, saying little about him- self or family ; so the chaplain kept to him- self, only joining the family at meals. He often saw his little midnight visitor wander- ing about the passages, going as far as the nursery door, hesitating as if longing to go in, then suddenly disappearing down a long corridor. He discovered that the small room next to his had evidently once been a chapel, so he used it, re-furnishing the tiny stone altar, and said daily Mass there. One day, to his surprise, on turning round he saw in a corner the strange mysterious child, with the same scared face and frightened look, holding out his baby arms pleadingly. A little time after this his room was changed, THE BISHOPS TALE, AND OTHERS 109 as the Countess decided to restore the tiny chapel, and make it an oratory for herself. Days passed ; he forgot the child, till one day he suddenly saw it running down the passage, and enter the nursery. He did not follow it, as he never went into the children's rooms. That night the eldest girl was taken ill. Then there was hurrying to and fro. Doctors and nurses were sent for, those skil- ful Soeurs de Charite; but the Angel of Death had touched the child; she was doomed. That afternoon only the father appeared in the chapel ; the poor mother was with her sick child. At early morn Mass was said, all praying for the sick child, and the priest celebrating knew and felt the mysterious child was present, pitifully wringing its little hands. He could stand it no longer, so he asked the Count whose and what child it was. The poor man turned pale ; and on the priest telling how three nights ago the child had gone into the nursery, said, ' There is no hope for our little one.' He then related how years ago the heir of the place was a lovely boy of three or four years, beloved by 110 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES all ; but the next heir was the child's uncle, who inherited all if the boy died. His constant companion was the child, who wandered in and out of his uncle's rooms with strange obstinacy. One day the uncle came in and said the child had dropped over the cliff into the sea, and was carried away by the tide. Long and hopeless was the search for the body ; no trace was found. Ten years after, another child was born to the still mourning parents, and that night the uncle was found half-way down the cliff in a dying condition. They carried him to his own room in the tower. He struggled violently, and cried, * Not there, not there.' In his delirium he raved wildly about the child, saying, * Don't look at me. Take him away.' No one could understand him, and thought he was raving about the newly-born little heir, for whom a solemn * Te Deum ' was being said in the tiny chapel adjoining the sick man's room. The Count then told the priest that no one knew what the child's fate had been ; all they knew was that it hovered about the rooms, and if death comes THE BISHOP'S TALE, AND OTHERS 111 to the house the child goes into the room where the sick person is. His father and mother, and many others of the family, had seen it ; and l if it has gone to the nursery, nothing can save my child.' The priest pondered long over this strange story, and returned to the old room out of which was the tiny chapel, determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. He searched high and low. On returning again to the room, he saw the child cowering on the hearth. He went close up, but it passed through the door and was lost in the dark passage. In this room was an old-fashioned fireplace, with deep seats each side. He went up to it as a last resource, looked up the chimney, felt all round, and finally forced himself up it, felt some loose bricks, took them out, and found to his astonishment a spring which gave way at his touch and showed a hole. He felt inside and found an iron box, and inside it, bent double, the skeleton of a little child. Excited at his discovery, he ran down and told the Count, who declared it must be the skeleton of the murdered child. 112 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES With reverent care they took it out, placed the poor little bones on a tiny table before the altar, and all night the priest knelt by it with the Count and his wife, praying that the health of the sick child might be restored, and for the repose of the murdered child's soul. The next day the child's remains were placed in the family vault amongst its ancestors. In the box had been found a small oil painting of a child of four years or so, roughly folded and torn as if the uncle had hastily put it in, not daring to face it on the wall. In the lumber room they also found an old frame, from which the picture had evi- dently been torn out. The child's skeleton was laid to rest ; and from that day the little invalid rapidly recovered, and no more was seen or heard of the mysterious child visitor. The priest left shortly after, and never re- turned to the haunted castle. Our host then, in low and earnest tones, told us tales and legends of old Norman chateaux, some of them more thrilling than the ghost stories. He told of the mob at the Revolution period storming and forcing an THE BISHOP'S TALE, AND OTHERS 113 entrance into one of the chateaux, where an old Count lived with four of his sons. He had never been out of Normandy. All his income had been spent in improving his property and helping the poor in the village. But the demon of revolution had even entered into the peaceful Norman village. Instead of bright looks and warm welcomes when he entered the cottages, sullenness and short replies were all he got, or insolent requests to stop at home and mind his own business. One of the followers of the new French doctrine of rapine and blood was in his village. Twice did the Count find in the morning the white flag of the Eoyal Bourbon, with lilies emblazoned on it, struck, and the blood-red flag of the French Eevolution flying in its stead. All his valued and prized animals were killed his favourite dog was found hanging from a tree in the garden ; so finally he and his four sons stayed at home, and gave up going into the village. Often rude murmurs, wild revelry, were heard. One day the ferocity of the mob could no longer be controlled. They burst into the 114 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES chateau, ransacking it, laying hands on everything. Nothing was sacred. Into the chapel they rushed, where they found the Count, his sons, and a faithful priest, who in spite of all the Count's entreaties had stuck to them, and who was saying Mass then. One of the ruffians insolently went up to him, and, forcing the bonnet rouge on his head, told him to say the Mass for the Dead, as all were to die. The priest refused to do so till the bonnet rouge was taken off. * Kestez-la,' said the leader ; then, bolting the door of the chapel on him, they dragged the Count and his sons, with their hands tied behind them, down the bright garden so full of sunny memories, through the village, where some of the old lot came out, not daring to come to their old friend's help. Then back across the drawbridge, which they walked with weary feet and drooping heads, knowing it was for the last time, back into the gardens ; and then they buried them all alive side by side, with their heads above the ground. As this fearful crime was carried out, the window of the little chapel THE BISHOP'S TALE, AND OTHERS 115 was thrown wide open, and in a loud distinct voice the priest gave them all absolution. Ah ! those fiends, they had locked him in, thinking he could not soothe those last terrible moments, forgetting the little slit of a window. That night heart-rending shrieks and cries were heard. They came from a girl, the daughter of a neighbour, to whom the eldest son was betrothed. She had heard her lover's life was threatened, had rushed over, and arrived only to find him still breathing. With bleeding hands and torn nails she vainly tried to release him. Night fell. Still she worked on, heed- less of the pitiless rain which beat against her, and of the wind which moaned all night as if the spirits of the noble dead were wandering round their old home. Morning broke, and she was found still digging, a hopeless look of idiocy in her face, knowing no one, but close to the ghastly head of her lover, whose fixed eyes seemed to implore her to help him. She was forcibly taken away; even the cruel I 2 116 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES murderers were frightened at their work. For days and days the heads of their victims were seen above the ground. The villagers were afraid to touch them, and constantly (so the tale goes) did the spirit of the dead girl come (she died a week after) and hover round them. Even now on wild nights, the peasants declare, her moaning and sobbing are heard, and the scraping of her fingers as she vainly digs and scatters pebbles and earth about in her frantic endeavours to free her lover. ' This is one of the many tales that circulate in our country about the French Revolution,' concluded our host. 1 Child's play to the scenes of horror that have taken place, and are even now enacted in holy Russia,' said the priest, who till now had said so little. We English all disliked and feared him, except my sister. She had latterly talked a great deal with him, and declared he was one of the most agreeable men, and so well-informed. She was certain he had suffered much. On Baillie-Cochrane asking if he could tell us any anecdotes, I whispered to my THE BISHOP'S TALE, AND OTHERS 117 sister, l He can only tell his beads, and sit like a dummy. ' To my horror and dismay he looked at me steadily, and in good English said, ' I can do more than that, Mademoi- selle. I can tell heart-stirring stories if I choose : the secrets of a priest are locked within his breast.' Everyone stared at him. He had always seemed so silent and occupied with his own thoughts, or else locked in his room, where he played the violin incessantly such weird, sad tones came from it but nothing would induce him to play downstairs. ' I am not the poor French priest you all think me. No, Monseigneur,' he said, turn- ing towards the Bishop, ' when I was chosen by you among many others to be attached to your episcopate, you asked me no ques- tions. I told you no secrets nothing of my past life. I was one of the many ordained by you to preach in your diocese. I have done my best. I have stood by the bed of the dying ; I have preached in many a church, preached comfort to the weary soul. But none has come to me. I asked to leave you. Why? To find a brother who for 118 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES years I had lost, and thanks to the good- ness of Miss Louisa ' (as they all called my sister) ' I have found him.' We all stared at him, thinking he had gone mad, and there and then his whole story came out. ' I am not a Frenchman, but a Pole, one of the accursed race, as we are called in Kussia and Austria. I was brought up according to the traditions of the old Polish noblesse ; told to ignore my own language, to study French and English, so that at a moment's notice we could go to either country. Oh, our nobility is much grander than yours the petty nobility of England, who think so much of themselves ; the French nobility, who are steeped in crime from the days of the Grand Monarque. Our Polish nobility date from father to son before Charlemagne. How I loved my dear old Polish home where my brother and I were brought up ; the freedom, the honest love of the people, who used to kneel down and kiss the hem of my sainted mother's robe as she passed down our village streets ; she who THE BISHOP'S TALE, AND OTHERS 119 never did a wrong thing, who lived but for her husband, her children, her poor. Ah ! it was too good to last. ' Eussian spies came to the village and one night Eussian soldiers entered our peaceful dwelling. My father was arrested, brought before the Eussian colonel, accused of conspiring against the Czar. Yes, it was true,' cried the priest. ' Do we not all conspire against the hateful tyrant of Eussia ? A maid, one of their spies, gave evidence that seditious papers were being printed and published in the house. A vigorous search was made, nothing was found ; but again the spy gave her poisonous evidence, and declared the Countess knew all about it and where the printing press was. She, my mother, was brought in, tortured yes, torture was positively used on her, a frail woman, to make her tell ; but with the spirit of a martyr she re- fused. She and my father were then and there to be sent to be tried by Eussians, and of course sentenced to Siberia. Only a few minutes were allowed for packing and 120 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES farewells, and we were left orphans, alone in the desolate house. Our fortunes were con- fiscated, for it was all true ; my parents had plotted against Eussia. We had to give up our old home and our country. What is the use of a grand name in a strange coun- try with no money ? I embraced the career of a priest. My brother had studied in old days music, and decided to be a music master. I came accidentally here, to this hospitable chateau, and here I found my brother, of whom I had lost all traces for so many years.' We all stared and wondered how, and still more when he said it was through my sister. What had she to do with it ? In the end he told us that our music master, who wore a wig and spectacles and dressed in an old-fashioned style, who we knew was a Pole, was his long-lost brother. My sister discovered it by suddenly seeing a miniature that the priest took one day out of his breast pocket, of a lady with a Polish head- dress on, and our music master had once shown her a similar one, the exact counter- THE BISHOP'S TALE, AND OTHERS 121 part of the priest's. She told him of it. He went to the musician's little house, and there, after a separation of twelve years, the two brothers met again. The next morning on meeting at de~ jeuner the Bishop told us of the priest's immediate departure for Kussia, and his determination to go to Siberia, to try and once more see his parents. He took his violin with him, for, as he said, ' a fiddler could make his way anywhere.' When we next saw our music master he told us that his brother had come and wished him good-bye meeting only to part again, feeling sure they never would meet again. Poor man ! He got thinner and thinner, paler and paler, fell ill of typhoid fever, and for weeks we did not see him. Then one day he came again, so altered, so bent, and told the sad story of how his brother had played his way to some large Eussian town, walking all the way, deter- mined to get to Siberia; but the journey must have been too much for him, too long, too trying. From that town he heard no more 122 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES of him. Months after, he received a parcel containing the duplicate of the miniature his brother always wore. We often went with my father to see him, as he got more feeble each day. He used to tell touching stories of his happy home and childhood. He hated and loathed the French, for he said they had consented to the partition of Poland. My sister often played to him, for he was passionately fond of music. My father was very good to him, being much interested, and was with him the night he died. We all loved that gentle musician. His one wish was to die. After the arrival of the miniature he gradually became weaker. He never knew what happened to his parents, but always declared they must have died before they reached their destina- tion, from the exposure and hardships they encountered on the way. Poor old Dolgorouki ! How bitterly he inveighed against Kussian despotism, de- claring that till Siberia was wiped off from the face of the earth no blessing could come to Russia. THE BISHOP'S TALE, AND OTHERS 123 One other tale did the Polish priest tell us. He called it * The Eyes of the Czar.' A Polish Eepublican had been brought up with all the Polish hatred for Kussia, and determined to assassinate the Czar. He started for St. Petersburg, telling no one his mission, keeping his secret to himself. Like many a Pole he had been taught to play the violin, and was a perfect master of it. For a long time he had played in a cele- brated orchestra at Warsaw ; he had letters of introduction to the leader of one of the St. Petersburg orchestras. On arriving he presented them, and was offered an engage- ment in the theatre. Full of his fell purpose he always carried a pistol in his pocket. The first time he saw the Czar was at the theatre. Full of hatred against the op- pressor of his country, he said to himself, ' The Czar's hour is come.' His hand was on the pistol ready to fire when the Czar suddenly turned round and fixed his eyes unconsciously on him. The violinist felt helpless, paralyzed. His hand refused to take the pistol out of his pocket. The 124 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES Czar's eyes seemed to burn, and gazed into his very soul as if he were aware of his intention. Finally the Pole turned his head away; it was impossible to do the deed then. He listened vaguely to the musician at his side, a Eussian, worship- ping and adoring the monarch who sat unconscious of the near presence of an assassin. ' Our God, our Emperor, Little Father,' as he was lovingly called by the Russian Royalist no one would have hurt a hair of his head. The Pole went home and seemed to see in the darkness and solitude of his room the eyes of the Czar still fixed on him with a strange command- ing look. The next day a grand review took place. The Pole was there in the crowd, determined to fire off the pistol as the Emperor passed. Again, curiously enough, the same thing occurred, and his piercing eyes were fixed on the Pole just at the crucial moment when he was pre- paring to fire. He returned to his room, unnerved, dispirited, haunted by those eyes. Six different times did this occur, THE BISHOP'S TALE, AND OTHERS 125 and the Czar rode by unscathed, unharmed. What did it mean ? Was H.I.M. under Heaven's special protection? The Pole's playing became more and more beautiful, and he was celebrated for it all over the capital. Weird sounds issued forth from his violin, his one companion and friend. The national airs of Poland, old songs and tunes that haunted one with their passion- ate tones or plaintive whisperings as he played in those magnificent rooms of the Kussian noblesse, grimly smiling when someone asked for Polish national airs. He at last even used to play about in the streets during that terrible winter, in blind- ing snow, bitter frosts, staring wildly about him. In one room he lived all alone ; no one visited him or spoke to him. One day he was arrested in the streets. An officious police officer, who had long followed him, saw him one day take his pistol out. No one was by, but the officer insisted on the pistol being given up to him. The Pole refused. A struggle ensued, and finally the pistol was taken from him. Sadly he went 126 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES home. It seemed as if fate were against him. He fell ill ; no one saw him till the conductor of his orchestra came. There was to be a splendid concert at the theatre, and he (the Pole) was called upon to be solo violin. The Emperor, the Court, in fact all the ilite of St. Petersburg were to be there. The violinist in answer to this related how a few days ago a police official had taken his pistol from him, which had been in his family for years, and that he could not play, could do nothing, till his pistol was returned to him. The conductor promised to do his best for him ; and on the morning of the concert he brought it back to the Pole. He was horrified at the latter's wild expression, and asked if he was ill. No, he could not sleep, had not slept for days, as whenever he was alone he was haunted by two eyes that always were looking at him, and they were the eyes of the Czar. Alarmed at his friend's condition and appearance, the conductor sent one of the leading physicians to see him, who said the man was mad, and THE BISHOP'S TALE, AND OTHERS 127 must be watched. His fellow musicians volunteered to sit with him that night after the concert was over. The con- ductor returned unexpectedly at six, and told him the Czar was ill ; the concert would not take place. The Pole seemed drowsy and quieter than in the morning, when suddenly towards midnight he raised himself in his bed, shrieking out, ' My pistol. He is here; see his eyes.' He fired two shots. ' I have done it this time ; ' he cried, 'the Czar is dead.' He fell back with a groan, and the pistol dropped on the ground. His friend rushed to him. It was useless : he was dead quite dead. Gaz- ing horrified and stunned, he remained motionless by the bed. People at the sound of firing rushed into the room. One woman falling on her knees, with an awe- struck voice said, ' Oh, look at his eyes ; they are so like the Czar's.' This roused the conductor, who looked, and to his as- tonishment saw in those glassy eyes such a look of the Czar that he hastily left the room. In the streets a surging crowd 128 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES met him. Bells were tolling, troops march- ing. On asking the cause of the commotion he heard that the Czar had died suddenly that night, and at the exact hour when the Pole had fired. c It was a strange coinci- dence,' concluded the priest. ' I believe the spirit of the great Emperor came to the Pole, and upbraided him for the murderous intentions he held towards him. * He was laid to rest, the members of the orchestra followed him to his grave, and at the express wish of his many admirers the band played round his open grave one of the wild, sad airs of Poland which he had so often played in the streets and concerts of St. Petersburg.' 129 WE all felt depressed after these stories. The party was to break up the next day, all going different ways. Our hostess had ac- cepted an invitation for herself and us to go to the Comte de C. For a long time she had wished to arrange a marriage be- tween him and my sister, whom she could then have as a neighbour. The old Countess had given her consent to this, as she saw her son was bent on it, and he declared he would marry no one else. There were only two obstacles to it : religion, and my sister herself. She seemed quite indifferent towards him. The next day we went there, and in spite of its stiffness we were very happy. We made the Count make a croquet lawn out of a cricket field ; and the old avenue used to 180 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES echo again and again with our peals of laughter as we tried to teach him how to drive a four-in-hand. What a curious house it was ! Tocque- ville was so bright and pleasant ; there it was a constant going to and fro. Here all was as if it were in the old times. Intimate and friendly as we were, the Count never once shook hands with us, always the courtly old French bow. No one ever dined there except the curd, who was the true type of a Norman priest. His father and mother were both Norman peasants. He had been brought up in the village, and had no ideas beyond it and love for M. le Comte ; never cringing or mak- ing up to him in any way ; never drinking the rich wines that were placed on the table, calmly refusing them, saying healthy brains could not stand such fire. He never begged. When dinner was served he would stand aside meekly and follow in alone, as it was not etiquette for a priest to give his arm to a lady. He said no long grace, but just crossed himself. In fact, he was different in every respect to the modern English curate, who, FRENCH COUNTRY LIFE 131 in spite of High Church genuflexions, loves the good things of this earth, and dances attendance on the Squire's lady or principal person in a town. In society he was the simple Norman priest, only speaking when spoken to ; but in the pulpit or in the chateau's little chapel, I, although a Pro- testant and heretic, as they playfully called me, felt he was one of God's anointed, so honest, so eager were his voice and words. One day we paid him a visit ; we wanted to see a priest's cottage. It was situated in the middle of the village; the chief room had a sanded floor, and contained a deal table and chairs, and other necessary fur- niture. The dear man was having his dinner, waited upon by his mother, who insisted that M. le cure was to have his meals alone. I can see the old lady now in her Norman costume: the high white cap, spotless white kerchief pinned across her breast, thick blue skirt and wooden sabots, gossiping and talking nineteen to the dozen, he listening. In that way the Norman priest is so identified with all x 2 132 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES the ins and outs of his parish. He took us all over his little house, so proud for English visitors to see it. His mother ac- companied us to the garden gate, he walking back with us, and on leaving her he took off his large slouched hat to her as courteously and reverently as if she had been the greatest lady of the land, while she reverently bent her head to receive his blessing. Dear simple Norman peasants ! One ought al- ways to live amongst them to see how differ- ent they are to English ones. I never felt quite at my ease in the old chateau ; it was so ghostly with its mysterious chapel always so dark, and long gallery which they said was haunted. Often of an evening, on retiring to our rooms, I would rush along it, fearing to meet the ghostly haunter of that gallery, who wandered up and down, trying to find an exit from the chateau. Nothing would in- duce me to go into the chapel alone, for I dreaded lest I should see the ghosts. Our host declared he would love to see them. Poor little man ! He always had such FKENCH COUNTRY LIFE 133 a piteous expression ; his figure seemed so bent, as if all the sins of his race were visited upon him. He was anxious we should enter into the Legitimist set, as we were to winter in Paris, my father being appointed to some small diplomatic post there. My sister was already longing to embrace the Eoman Catholic faith, and we thought when once she was a Catholic all obstacles to her marriage with the Comte would be removed. We therefore removed to Paris, and an aunt of his took us to all the parties and gatherings amongst the Legitimists. Oh ! how dull and stiff they were ! Everyone seemed to belong to another generation, they were so quiet ; the women so plain and badly dressed as if they came out of the Ark. The ladies sat in a row against the walls. No introductions were made ; there were only solemn whisperings and ominous shakes of the head about the King. In my stupid- ity and ignorance I humbly asked, ' What King ? ' and was told Henri V., ' the Comte de Chambord,' as he is more generally known. Only those few old-fashioned men 134 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES and women knew who ' the King ' was. Some of them had been to Frohsdorf ; had been admitted to the royal presence, and returned full of love and devotion to their exiled King. It reminded one of the old Jacobite loyalty during the reign of the Georges. Poor foolish Comte de Chambord ! There was once a chance of his returning to his country, if he had only sacrificed his personal feelings and consented to have the tricolour for the national flag (for the French one and all love their tricolour flag) ; but he stuck firm to the white flag and lilies, and France rejected him. How they hated and loathed the Emperor ! Nothing was too bad to say of him. I have heard those high-born ladies (full of virtuous indignation if books or papers were mentioned before them that were not considered proper) repeat and greedily listen to stories and calumnies respecting the fair fame of Queen Hortense, the Emperor's mother. I have heard them insinuate that he was no real Buonaparte, and that his father was a Dutch officer, a lover of Queen Hortense. FRENCH COUNTRY LIFE 135 Very quaint were those ' at homes,' where so few people came and so few admitted. All the talk was church and convent, Sacr6 Cosur above all, and then they returned to the abuse of the Emperor. I was a fervent Buonapartist, and had an intense admiration for the Emperor, and used to feel furious at this constant tirade against him and his family ; and often I contradicted them flatly, and astonished them by my vigorous defence of his party. One day we were asked to a ball given by a well-known Legitimist lady. It was to commemorate Henri V.'s birthday, or rather Name Day, as it was really his patron saint's day, and all the company were to wear lilies, the lilies of France, the Bourbon flower. Some spirit of mischief entered my brain, and instead of lilies I pinned a small bunch of violets to the front of my dress, the recognised flower of the Buonaparte faction. What a ball that was ; lilies everywhere ! I had kept a wrap round me, the room being so cold. A gentleman came up suddenly (it was not the custom to introduce), and 136 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES bowing low asked if I would dance the first quadrille with him. I hesitated. I saw my sister carrying in her hand a beautiful bouquet of the purest lilies, which were the gift of her ever faithful Comte de C. ; at the same time I saw her looking at me, as if she were waiting for me to take my place in the quadrille. How could I face them all, a stranger, a foreigner on suffer- ance, wearing the opposition flower? My cavalier was waiting, looking puzzled, so I stammered out, ' It is impossible for me to dance in this quadrille. I am wearing only violets ; I am not a Legitimist.' ' Wait one moment,' he cried, and flew to one of the many banks of lilies in the room, and pick- ing off a bunch, brought it me, saying, 1 Place it in your hair, and still wear your violets on your dress violet and white are the colour of the Papal Guard.' Gratefully I followed his suggestion, and from that day a friendship sprang up between us which lasted till the day of his death. At supper the King's health was proposed, and in the midst of the greatest enthusiasm a voice was FRENCH COUNTRY LIFE 137 heard singing in a most plaintive manner, amid a general hush, the old Bourbon refrain, ' O Kichard ! mon roi, comme je t'aime,' and everyone, men and women, joined in the chorus. ' Will not that even make Mademoiselle a Legitimist ? ' said my young partner. I am writing now of nearly forty years ago. The Emperor and his son are both dead ; poor bigoted priest-ridden Henri V. and his Queen are also dead. An Orleans Prince belonging to that once hated branch of the Bourbons is now by the irony of fate head of the Legitimist Koyalist party ; and the head of the party of the despised Napoleon, of whom these haughty Legitimists talked as a parvenu and Corsican, is now by the marriage of his father (Prince Napoleon, to Princess Clothilde) related to the oldest reigning families of Europe, for the Savoy blood goes back further even than the proud Bourbon. After that ball I gave up going to the Legitimist gatherings: I was not one of them ; but I went constantly to the soirees of 138 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES the K6musats and de Tocquevilles. I often met Octave Feuillet there. He was called the Walter Scott of France, as his novels and stories are so interesting and exciting, but yet quite harmless, and could be read by any French girl just out of the convent. Those evenings were indeed interesting. For half an hour it was the custom for someone to read aloud. Before his exile, Victor Hugo, * the poet peer,' would look in and recite some of his stirring verses. Poor old Thiers, old, bent, and so argumentative and captious ! he would read out of his wonderful History. Nassau Senior, Motley and Sumner (both American), Grote, and many others whose names I forget, used to congregate at these soirees. Tea would be brought in, and politics of the day were then fiercely discussed, all beginning and ending with hatred and abuse of the Buona- parte race, and Louis Napoleon especially. Some of them had wonderful stories of the quarrels between the Emperor and his cousin, Prince Napoleon. One day it was rumoured that the quarrel had gone so far FRENCH COUNTRY LIFE 139 that the Emperor had ordered his cousin out of the Tuileries, and swore he would never look on his face again. Mad with rage, and at the insults heaped on his head, the Prince gave a dinner that night at which he drank freely, and then after dinner told his guests of his treatment by the Emperor. Standing up under the lamp he looked wonderfully like the first Napoleon there was an ex- traordinary resemblance between the two. Theatrically striking his breast he exclaimed, ' I am called the Orleans of the Buonaparte family. I need not be that, for in my breast pocket I hold papers that prove my cousin is no real Buonaparte, and that I am the direct lineal descendant of the great Napo- leon.' Dead silence followed this speech. He had played his last card and he had failed, for he was so hated by all that cer- tainly no one there, or anywhere in France, would have lifted a finger to put him on the throne and upset the present man, who, whether true Buonaparte or no, was then in the height of his fame and wonderful power, for he had^a marvellously strong hold on the 140 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES affections of the people. People were only too ready to repeat these wild speeches to Louis Napoleon. The stern Emperor would smile grimly and say, ' Let him alone. He is too well known ; no one would turn me out to place him on the throne.' ' It was strange how no one said a good word about the Prince * Plon Plon,' as he was generally called out of satire a short abbreviation for plomb (lead), as he was supposed to have shown a little of the white feather during the Crimea, and carefully kept away in the battles where the lead was thickest. Paris- ians were fond of telling the story of the great historical picture of the battle of Alma which was painted by the Emperor's com- mand, and how Prince Napoleon called on the artist and explained to him different facts of the battle. On leaving he said he wished the prominent figure in it to be himself on his celebrated white charger. The horse was sent to the artist so that he could take his exact portrait. The picture was finished, and invitations sent out for a private view. The white charger was seen, FRENCH COUNTRY LIFE 141 a prominent figure in the battle, but no rider. Furious, the Prince sent his aide-de- camp to see and ask the reason. The honest artist said the horse should remain if the Prince wished, but no rider would be on it, merely saying, ' Tell the Prince I have never yet painted a lie. ' The hint was taken. The Prince ordered the horse to be rubbed out, and I believe ' Plon Plon ' does not figure in the great historical picture of Alma. This was only one amongst many of the tales circulated in Paris about this luckless Prince ; for much as a certain set of people disliked the Emperor, it was not for his cousin (Prince Napoleon) to throw a slur on the Emperor's birth, especially as until the Prince Imperial's birth he was the next heir to the throne. I shall never forget the thrill of horror that went through France when it was an- nounced that King Victor Emmanuel of Savoy had given his consent to the marriage of his daughter Princess Clothilde to Prince Napoleon. She was only a child of sixteen, carefully and religiously brought up. For 142 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES policy the child Princess was to be sacrificed and married to the detested Prince. Nobly and bravely has she done her part in the political drama. An ardent Catholic, she has turned to the comforts of religion, and in the practices of her own church has led a blameless and spotless life, and is honoured and respected all over France. Even the Faubourg St. Germain could never say a word against her. She deserved a better fate than to be allied to the Emperor's cousin. Strange to say, it is now her son who is the head of this wonderful Napoleon race, that race which seems to carry out so strangely the story of the ' Curse of the Monk,' who in the first Napoleon's time prayed earnestly to him that he would recall the cruel order that all the sick at Jaffa were to be poisoned. Napoleon told him to go and preach to old women and children. The monk left the room saying, * A direct heir shall never inherit the Napoleon name.' The curse has come too true. The first Napoleon's son died an exile in Vienna, and is buried in the vault of the Hapsburgs. FRENCH COUNTRY LIFE 143 The third Napoleon's son died a soldier's death in Zululand. The eldest son of Prince Napoleon died in Italy, and now there is this younger son left to carry on the old name. This is a long digression on extraneous matters, and I must return to our literary gatherings at Alexis de Tocqueville's. One night it was decided that instead of reading we should all recite something, an easy task for the Frenchmen. Sumner, the American, gave us a blood- curdling poem by Edgar Allen Poe ; and then to my horror I was asked. Luckily I had a good memory, so I began one of Aytoun's beautiful 'Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers,' and got on all right as far as the execution of Montrose ; there I stuck, and lost the rhythm, when Montalem- bert came to my aid, and to my relief took up the thread where I had left off, and repeated it all to the end perfectly. Then reciting 1 The Burial March of Dundee,' he said those poems alone would make a Puritan become a Jacobite. Then Sumner (whose head was nearly broken in the House of Kepresenta- 144 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES tives in America for first speaking Southern doctrines to the Northerners) told curious tales of the Pilgrim Fathers and their first landing in America. How proud they all were in America if they could claim descent from those Pilgrim Fathers who landed in the Mayflower \ He told these stories so well and earnestly, proving what aristocrats these people were, though they had no high- sounding titles. He was a wonderful man, this American. He had a profound admira- tion for this literary set. On looking back I feel it was a privilege to have entered that charmed circle. I let my sister go to her stiff Legitimist parties, always carrying an exquisite bunch of lilies sent by her faithful little Count. Those parties bored me. I was too Bohemian to care for them, and preferred sitting on a low stool by my dear old Madame de Tocqueville's side. I do so wish I had kept a diary and written down all the things I heard talked about. I remember one evening in particular. There had been great discontent in Paris. Liberty of the press had been forbidden. I FRENCH COUNTRY LIFE 145 am not surprised, as some of the scurrilous articles that were written against the Em- peror were simply disgraceful. Invitations were issued to discuss the political present and future. Madame de Tocqueville came that morning to our house and said,' Don't say anything to anyone ; it will be a stormy even- ing. The Emperor won't have a friend left.' But he had one in poor little me, I who did not even know him by sight. I wore as usual my little bunch of violets, the Buonaparte flower. I was only admitted because I was useful to pour out the tea and help Madame de Tocqueville, who was such an invalid. Thiers and Guizot were there, and Paul de la Eoche, the well-known painter of English historical subjects. Monsieur de Courcelle commenced to discuss the subject with all the fervour of a Catholic : he briefly summed up the present aspect of affairs, and said there would be no liberty while there was no religion and the French army occupied Borne. Then Gustave de Beaumont in stirring tones told of English liberty and the freedom of our press. It was a glorious L 146 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES evening, so brilliant was the conversation. It led to nothing ; they were so powerless under the heel of Despotism. I shall never forget Thiers's speech. It was in fact an essay on freedom from the beginning of civi- lisation. Dear old man ! I can see him now with his little bent finger, and snow-white hair. What a knowledge of history he pos- sessed ! They talked and talked till mid- night. Luckily I was staying with the de Tocquevilles, so had not to return home. In the middle of the evening Paul de la Roche in a voice of satisfaction said, * C'est fait.' All this time he had been sketching my face for the work he was contemplating painting, ' Edith looking for Harold's body.' He died shortly after ; the picture was never finished, and I have not been handed down to pos- terity by the great artist. The evening ended by a memorial being drawn up and signed by all, protesting against the despotism of the press laws. It was entrusted to Thiers to give to the Emperor, as he was intimately acquainted with his entourage. It was given by one FKENCH COUNTRY LIFE 147 of the aides-de-camp, and the next evening, on assembling again to hear the result, they were told it was read by the Emperor, who said, * If my bitter opponents were not such clever men the press would not have to be gagged.' Poor Emperor ! if he only could have made friends with that brilliant coterie he might have kept his throne; but he would not give what they asked for namely, parliamentary government and freedom of the press so he went his way and they went theirs. I think M. Guizot was one of the most brilliant among them. He was such an ardent Jacobite, so interested in all con- nected with the Stuarts. I often met him in other houses, and he was always so kind to me. He suggested once that I should make a translation of his work into English, as he said few English had such a technical knowledge of the French language as I had. I often wish I had consented. I should have made a lot of friends, and, more to the point, a lot of money. We often declared we would go to Scotland together and dig up L 2 148 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES the Stuart relics. I had a warm invita- tion from my cousin, the late Duke of Mont- rose, to bring him there ; but he was getting old and feeble, and dreaded crossing the Channel ; so our visit never came off. 149 CHAPTER X PAKIS AT that time Lord Malmesbury came to Paris on a long visit. He had married a relation of mine, and I had known him from my childhood, but had always been horribly alarmed at him. I was now grown up. He was very fond of my father, and often came to our little flat ; and from that time a friendship sprang up between us that became stronger year by year and only ended with his death. He was always the same always pleased to see one ; and though he had a high posi- tion in England, as he was twice cabinet minister under Lord Derby, he was always the same to me. His house in Hampshire, Heron Court, was always a home to me. I used to take him to visit all my French 160 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES friends, who were charmed with him. He was a perfect master of their language, and always grateful to me for introducing him to a French set, so difficult, nay almost impos- sible, for an Englishman to enter. He went to these evening gatherings in correct evening dress, white tie, black suit, etc. To those who had never been in England this costume was a great puzzle. They never dressed in the evening, except to put on a frock coat. Lord Malmesbury was very intimate with the Emperor during his exile in England, and the Emperor was always pleased to see him when he came to Paris. Sometimes I got into awful hot water with him, as he said I was too Bohemian. On one occasion I went to see him in the hotel in the Hue de Bivoli, as I had so often done before. He was out ; so according to my usual custom I waited for him and took up a book, as he had promised to take my sister and me to Versailles. He was a long time. A door opened, and a gentleman entered. I, in my girlish ignorance, thought him rather free and easy, as he also sat down and at once PARIS 151 entered into conversation with me. I replied. It was all wrong. I knew I ought not to do so, but I did it all the same. We discussed French politics. He asked why I wore violets. I replied, ' Because I am an Im- perialist.' At the same time I informed him my sister was a poor misguided Legitimist. We got deeper and deeper into politics. I told him how the different factions called the Emperor ' ce Monsieur-la.' I made him roar by telling him Montalembert had called on us yesterday, and during his visit, hear- ing a great commotion in the street, we had rushed to the windows. It was the Emperor driving past. * What did your friend Monta- lembert do ? ' he asked. ' He made me furious,' I replied ; ' for he was sitting facing the window, and deliberately turned his chair round and said to me, " Je lui tourne le dos ! " I rushed to him, seized him by his collar, and forced him to turn round.' My sister then entered the room and looked daggers at me for talking so familiarly to what she looked upon as an underbred Frenchman. 152 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES She sat down, looking very stiff, I jab- bering all the more, talking incessantly about the Emperor. My sister, hearing footsteps, went into the next room, and as she left my friend said, * What a striking-looking girl ; she is like one of Sir Walter Scott's hero- ines.' ' What am I like ? ' I eagerly asked. He looked fixedly at me and said, ' You have a gift that belongs to few people, which I should like to have. You have the gift of " gab," and no mistake.' I was angry then, and nearly cried with vexation. There was silence for a few moments. He then got up and said, 'Are you coming to the Tuileries ball next week ? ' ' No,' I sadly said, ' I can't come ; I have never been presented at our Court.' I then added, * I would give anything to come. I have never seen the Emperor in my life.' An amused smile came over his face, and I then left the room to join my sister. Lord Malmesbury had come in. For some time I heard them talking and laughing\ in the next room, y -> evidently at some very good joke. Lord Malmesbury then joined us in the dining- PARIS 163 I room. I had never seen anyone look so angry as he did. I felt I had put my foot in it, and I tried to carry it off with a high hand, for I was mortally afraid of him when angry. ft Who is your shabby-looking friend ? ' I asked, trying to put on a brave face. * My shabby-looking friend is the Emperor of the French. A nice opinion he will have of my cousins !' I was dumbfounded, pleaded it was not my fault, and reminded him of my excessive short sight. I tried my best to win him back to good temper, but it was to no purpose, for he remained furious ; so having bolted our food, my sister and I left, thankful to get out of the room. Lord Cowley was then ambassador at Paris, and I shall always think with grati- tude of his and Lady Cowley's unfailing kindness to us. The British embassy was like a home to us. Cold and stiff as he was to others, and for that reason unpopular amongst English visitors, who expected him to be ' Hail fellow, well met,' he was always kind and good to us. 164 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES His daughters were great friends with us, and as for Lady Cowley, she was always the same, ever ready to listen to our girlish troubles, for we were always in trouble with our father ; and even if the French Emperor were in the next room she would stop and hear what we had to say, and try and comfort us with kind words, looking as if she really cared for us, and always making us at home. Amid all sorts and conditions of men, amid the many politi- cal parties in France at that time, no one ever breathed a word against the English ambassador. He was looked upon as the soul of honour, and England never sent such a popular ambassador, and no one ever did the honours at the British embassy so well as Lady Cowley did. I and my sister loved them ; they were both the kindest, truest friends that any girls could have had. The day of my adventure with the Emperor I went in to tea at the embassy, feeling very humbled and ashamed of my- self, knowing I should see my dear friends. The room was crowded. I sat silent till PARIS 155 everyone had left, then I told them all : how the blinds were half drawn so it was impossible to see anyone plainly, and how my unlucky tongue had rattled on ; but I owned I was more frightened at Lord Malmesbury's anger than the idea of talking so freely and familiarly to the Emperor. I never heard anyone laugh as Lord Cowley did at my story. He chaffed me unmerci- fully, said that I should be turned out of Paris for want of respect to the Emperor, that he would have to get me out of prison as an English subject. All this bantering, however, did not console me. I felt miser- able, and so frightened that my father would hear of it. If a gendarme looked at me when out, I felt I was going to be arrested. For some days I did not see Lord Malmes- bury. I heard he had dined at the embassy, and how amused everyone had been at this gaudier ie of mine. He sent me a little note, telling me to come and see him, as he had something to tell me. How still more alarmed I felt, as I knew he had dined at the Tuileries one night ! I went to his flat, 166 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES and he was his own bright self when I entered, and said he was going to give me a great treat. He had been asked to the ball at the Tuileries, and the Emperor had said to him, * Be sure you bring your cousins ; they are such bright-looking girls, and are dying to come.' He accepted for me, my sister having gone away to the country. I was nearly off my head with delight. How good Lord Malmesbury was to me, saying I was to get a smart dress for it, but to hold my tongue for once. I thought the night would never come. I knew how astonished the Cowleys would be, as they knew how I longed to go. I wrote Lady Cowley a note, asking her to chaperone me if she was going. She received the note at dinner, and really (as she told me afterwards) thought I was out of my senses. She called later to know what it really meant, but was told my father and I were dining at Lord Malmesbury's. I knew I looked well the night of the ball ; my father even condescended to approve of my appearance. I shall never forget the brilliancy of that scene : the PARIS 157 splendid uniforms, the smartness of the ladies, and the wonderful beauty of the Empress. I think I never saw such a beautiful woman, and she seemed so un- conscious of it. She bowed so gracefully as the people passed before her. For a long time I stood by Lord Malmes- bury's side, and then an officer came up and asked me to dance. On finishing it I saw Lady Cowley enter, and I asked him to take me to her, and to her astonishment I stood before her. * What ! a ball instead of a prison ! ' Lord Cowley teasingly remarked to me. How good they both were to me that night, getting me partners right and left, so that I never sat down. I was always look- ing at the Emperor. I thought he looked so nice in his uniform, and could not believe it was the same common-looking man I had seen in my cousin's room. He spoke a good deal with Lord Malmesbury, who, beckoning me up to him, said, His Majesty wants to know if you are enjoying the ball.' Deeply and lowly did I curtsey, and he had such 168 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES wonderful tact that he never alluded to our interview, only saying, ' Make haste and be presented at your Court, for then you can come to all the Tuileries balls.' I must say that smart as the ladies were, covered with jewels and dressed in the last outrageous fashion, not one of them looked the lady (to use a vulgar expression) as the dear old-fashioned ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain did. I never enjoyed any ball so much as I did that one. Lady Cowley pointed out to me all the principal people. Persigny, who was for a long time ambassador in London, was introduced to me. He was much amused at my interview with the Emperor. Bazaine, who was only a colonel then, and who later ruined France at the time of the battle of Sedan. Crowds of distinguished people passed before us. The Due de Malakoff, a rough soldier who did indeed exemplify the first Napoleon's well-known saying that ' every French sol- dier carried a field-marshal's baton in his knapsack,' for I believe he rose from the PARIS 169 ranks; and indeed I was told Persigny did also, for he started life quite a poor, penniless boy, and was one day seen by a rich banker who was driving in Paris, to stoop and pick up a pin. He took him into his office, saying a boy who would pick up a pin would look to every trifle in business matters. True indeed did those words prove, as he rose to be a duke in France, and ambassador to the proudest court in Europe ; was received in all circles, as if born to such high posi- tion. There too was the Prince de la Moskowa, son of the ill-fated Ney, who was shot by the Duke of Wellington's orders for deserting Charles X. His was an historical name amongst the Buonapartes, and he was one of the most courteous and popular members of that brilliant court. Brilliant indeed it was. I could scarcely take my eyes off the Empress. She was covered with magnificent lace, looking so happy and radiant, all bowing before her, all offering homage. Who could have foretold that in a few short years the mighty Emperor would be a 160 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES prisoner in the Prussian camp, France over- come and conquered by Prussian soldiers, and the beautiful, fascinating Empress end- ing her days in England, a widow and child- less, but a stately monument of the past, a link still of the dear old Imperial days, when France dictated to Europe ? I have never seen her since she came to England, but often wonder if, like me, she thinks of the dear old happy days. It is no use moralising, it will only bore my readers. How the Cowleys laughed when they drove me home that night ! Everyone was pleased and in good humour. Several people said kind things of me to Lord Malmesbury and Lady Cowley, and one knows oneself it is always pleasant to take a girl out who is admired and who is also happy herself, as I truly was that festive night. What a happy time it was ! Both I and my sister loved our French friends ; and for real true friendship the French, when they know one, beat any nation. It takes them a long time to know one ; but, once admitted PARIS 161 into the intimiU of their circle, nothing can exceed their kindness and thoughtfulness. It was curious the different friends I and my sister had. We often did not see each other till night, each going our different way during the day ; and then how we laughed and talked over our various adven- tures. She had made great friends with the Comtesse de M , who went regularly to Frohsdorf, and she once offered to take my sister with her on one of her annual pilgrim- ages thither. Consent was given by my father, and they started. How pretty and bright she looked as she waved her hand to me as the train steamed out of the station, the old Comtesse laughingly telling me she would have taken me too, only I was not worthy of such an honour. I quite agreed with her, and yet felt strangely lonesome when I lost sight of them. We had never been parted before, never known the meaning of good-bye between each other, as we never had had to use it. We were all in all to each other. No love can equal an only sister's love. Sorrowfully I went to our flat and M 162 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES found my father was going to Compiegne, to one of the large shooting parties given by the Emperor ; so I went off on a visit to the Tocquevilles, down in Normandy, to wait my father's arrival. 163 CHAPTEE XI EXCUKSIONS IN NOBMANDY THE Tocquevilles went to Valognes, a small town about thirty miles from Cherbourg, where the old Norman noblesse used to pass the winter before the days of railways, when travelling was long and expensive, and Paris was too far to go to. Many of them still kept the houses grand old houses, with stately staircases, carved ceilings, suites of rooms all furnished in the quaint old French style, dreary little courtyards, and odd little gardens. I had a happy month there. I never was so fond of any people as I was of the Tocquevilles. I was quite like the child of their old age. He was just at the beginning of the fatal illness that at the end of three years carried him off, and was constantly subject to attacks of haemorrhage M 2 164 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES from the lungs, so he never went out after four o'clock. Such a pleasant set of people there were at Valognes : the Dares who, though strictly belonging to an old Norman family, had thrown in their fortunes with the first Napoleon, and have kept true to his dynasty ; the Choiseuls, the Montaignacs, Montes- quiou, the Marquis de Chabannes, de Cor- celles, Lafayette (a descendant of the famous Lafayette), Montespan, Cavaignac, and many others came at the invitation of the great author ; all full of life, bringing back to one's memory the glorious days of French history and chivalry, all such true and loyal Frenchmen, so simple in their tastes, so happy in their primitive town. What grand excursions we made ! To Bayeux to see its grand old cathedral, where, curiously enough, I discovered that in olden times one of the abbots was a de la Poer. A paper was shown me with his signature, and I instantly claimed him as a kinsman, as my mother came of the family of de la Poer Beresfords. Another day was devoted EXCURSIONS IN NORMANDY 165 to seeing Coutances, also possessing an old cathedral, from which on clear fine days the Channel Isles can be seen. The story is told of the great Napoleon climbing to the top of one of the cathedral towers, and, stretching out his hands to those far-away islands, exclaiming, * I shall never rest till I win back those islands to our cause.' All the evening he sat silent and dull at dinner, till, urged by his great friend and favourite, Ney, to say what affected him, he replied, ' I could give up all my victories, all the crowns I have given to my family, to be the possessor of that little spot.' Murat, ' le beau sabreur,' as he was called, for he was so beautiful and full of life, volunteered to fit out an expedition to take them by storm. All was settled ; funds raised, the expedi- tion ready, when Murat fell suddenly ill with one of those brain fevers to which he was so subject. No one else cared to risk his friendship and position with Napoleon, to head a crusade against islands manned and garrisoned by British soldiers, and hemmed in on all sides by rocks and shoals 166 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES that no one could navigate unless thoroughly acquainted with their positions and dangers. As Napoleon used to say, ' The sea fought for England; the stars fought for France,' for his greatest successes and tri- umphs were always hasty marches at night, or the battle fought as the dawn was break- ing, and the morning star shone clear and bright. He would point to it and say, ' My star ! It has never failed me yet. It shines for me and France.' Passionately did Napoleon pace up and down the little room in the inn, while the sight of those distant islands smiling and glistening in the sun, as if mocking his longing for possession, seemed to madden him. He refused to lie down that night, but walked in and out of the house as if possessed. We stayed in the inn where he had also stopped, and our landlord was the grandson of the landlord of that time. The Normans never loved the Buonapartes, but, like the rest of France, they feared him and ad- mired his wonderful talent. But they have EXCURSIONS IN NORMANDY 167 such a fellow-feeling for those Channel Isles that it would have been difficult for the fiery Murat to raise a body of volunteers as he had offered. Another bright time we spent was at sunny Avranches, full of bright little gardens ; and stately Mont St-Michel in the distance, which is one of the glorious monuments of the past, which the hand of time has not touched, except to ripen and mellow its beauties, and which the hand of man has not defaced ; where they still show the stones of what was once a famous cathedral, and where Plantagenet King Henry knelt, in humble submission, and was flogged for the murder of that 'turbulent priest,' as he called Thomas a Becket. On another occasion our expedition was to St. Lo, a quaint Norman town with an old cathedral, the only one in France that has a pulpit outside the cathedral, from which in old times they preached to the mob as much as from the one inside. Madame de Tocque- ville and I were entertained by the Prefet, who had a grand residence in the middle of 168 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES the town. Originally an Orleanist, he had gone over to the reigning house and had been appointed to one of the highest posts in France. He was a thorough man of the world, with a wonderful knowledge of Eng- lish and Scottish legends as well as French. He knew the history of nearly every stone in that magnificent cathedral. He told us a curious story of one of its preachers. It was just before Good Friday, the Bishop and all the clergy were sitting in council, discussing whom they should ask to preach on the Passion of Our Lord, when a tall figure, dressed in a flowing black robe ornamented with white bands, came in : evidently not one of them, but a foreigner, with a noble face and proud bearing. Going up to the Bishop he said, ' I will preach the Gospel of Our Lord. I will speak to these people of the Cross and Passion ! ' His accent was different to any these Norman priests had ever heard; but he looked so fervent, so full of fire, that the Bishop let him do as he asked. The next day he appeared, mounted the pulpit, and for three 169 hours kept the whole congregation entranced at his wonderful eloquence. No one knew where he came from ; no one knew where he went to. He was never seen again. The Bishop had asked him to come to the Easter Feast, and it was only years after that he discovered the man was a heretic, none other than the great Archbishop Laud, who had sailed from England in a small ship ; landing at Granville, he had gone to Paris to meet Prince Charles on his way back from Spain, where he had offered him- self in marriage to Henrietta Maria. This was one of the many stories told us by the Prefet. From St. Lo we went to Mont St- Michel. Beautiful, grand old place ! There is no place I love like it, and how I should like to go there again ; it was so peaceful, so solemn there, full of legends connected with our Norman kings. The cure of the church was (strange to say) a gentleman ; for none of the Norman clergy are so, unless they are Jesuits. He was so old, no one knew his age even. He had taken holy 170 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES orders late in life. I longed to know his history, so gentle and kind he was. What hours he spent in the old crypt ! I once ventured to ask him if it were not wearisome to say so many prayers. * Child/ he replied, ' it is for the sins of my ances- tors I pray-i-for the repose of the soul of an ancestor of mine whose spirit still wanders up and down in our old home in Languedoc.' He then described to me the old chateau which he so loved, and which, as he sadly said, ' I shall never see again. Only in dreams do I wander down the old-fashioned garden, out into the sunny village, to the little village church with the solitary grave outside, just outside, where he sleeps till his sins are judged at the Last Day. Then the inscription, " Jesu Miseri- corde," on the little wooden cross over his grave will be found to be true ; our blessed Lord will have mercy. It is left for me to say so many Masses for the repose of his soul, so that at last the poor hunted spirit will no longer wander about the old familiar haunts.' EXCURSIONS IN NORMANDY 171 The story of his uncle had been told him when a boy by a servant who loved to tell him the tales and traditions of his race. He, the proud descendant of an old name, had of his own free will gone to that far- away rock, to hear the dull confessions of the rough fishermen and labourers that lived in the quaint old town, utterly oblivious of what was going on in the gay world, caring for nothing, interested in nothing, waiting probably for his summons to another world, and spending his life in praying for the repose of his unknown kinsman's soul. This uncle had been born at the time when the French nobles vied with each other in trying to get their sons to high positions. How much Count Louis was thought of. What stately role was he to fill ? how would he hand on the old name ? such were the various remarks passed on him. Alas ! one day he went out full of life and beauty, and was brought home crushed, and, as they feared, dying. What passionate prayers were offered up for his recovery! 172 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES Monasteries, convents, churches, all wearied Heaven with their prayers for his recovery. God heard these prayers, and life, young, bright, sparkling life, came back to his veins. But he got up from that bed of sickness lame, and the cruel fiat went forth, that, as in consequence of that infirmity all other noble professions were closed to him, and he could not serve his king in any capacity (for it was a strict rule in the Court that no one lame or deformed should embrace any profession but the Church), therefore his father decided that he should be educated for the Church. He was sent away to a Jesuit college and brought up in the strictest rules of that stern, self-denying order. During his absence another child had been born to the old house, but this time a girl, and when he came home the little sister ran out to meet him, holding out her tiny arms, and in her clear childish voice crying out, * Mon frere, mon frere, comme je t'aime ! ' Fondly he clasped the little one to his heart; and from that hour a passionate love sprang up in him for the EXCURSIONS IN NOEMANDY 173 motherless child (the mother having died in giving her birth). He had come home longing to go out into the world ; he told his father he could not give up his liberty for the strictness of a priest's life. ' Am I never to know the love of woman ? ' he fiercely asked. ' Am I never to hold a child of my own in my arms ? Is all natural affec- tion in me to be stifled? I pine for the world. I long to be like other men. I shall die or go mad if doomed and forced to that hateful profession.' It was no use. The Count grimly and sternly replied, ' I have dedicated you to the Church. I cannot break my promise to Our Lady.' How well one can picture the whole scene to oneself. The stern old father, the pale- faced youth, the blue-eyed child twining her tiny arms round his neck, and saying, * Eestez ici avec nous, mon frere ! ' Count Louis left, studied hard, gained high honours, and at the end of eight years returned to hear his sister's first confession, to see her confirmed, to celebrate Mass for her, and administer to her for the first time the 174 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES blessed Sacrament. He came back a hard, cold man, with a face impenetrable like a mask, shunning all his old friends and neighbours, hated by the rich, feared by the poor. Only to his sister did he unbend. By the hour together did they wander through the woods, those fatal woods that had ruined his life. To him she confided all her girlish sorrows, all her hopes for the future : how she longed to enter a convent and dedicate the remainder of that pure young life to the services of the Church she so loved; how she liked to sit alone by the hour in the dimly lighted chapel, with its one glorious window in memory of her mother, whom she so often saw in her dreams. There she would sit heedless of time, thinking of her dead mother, of her living brother, both equally dear to her, ' the known and the unknown.' But the day came when he must again part from her. Orders arrived from his superior ; he was to go as mis- sionary to a foreign land. Wildly and hopelessly did she cling to him the morn- ing of his intended departure, and told him EXCURSIONS IN NORMANDY 175 how that morning her father, who seldom noticed her, and seemed ever wrapped up in his gloomy thoughts, had told her that she had been betrothed for years to an old friend of his, and when she was eighteen the marriage was to take place. She said she would rather die than marry Count X. With mutual tears and sobs the young priest and his sister parted. Time went on. Coun- tess Virginie was sent to the convent of the Sacre" Cosur to finish her education. News was occasionally received of her brother: how he had worked at his mission station in China ; how a deadly illness had broken out ; how many had died ; how he seemed to bear a charmed life, always amongst the sick and dying ; how many a dying bed had he soothed and comforted, taken from them the sorrows of death, held the Cross before their dying eyes, and almost seemed to go with them to that unknown bourne from whence no traveller returns to tell us weary toilers of the great and glorious bliss that awaits those who try to do their duty. At last he was struck down, and in his delirium 176 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES prattled and raved about the dear old home in sunny France, the little sister, and dear, dead mother. Home he was sent when convalescent. Better far if he had died amongst the people for whom he had almost laid down his life. It was not to be. Helpless and weak he was brought home. Dark, heavy clouds seemed to hang over the village as he drove down the street. A fierce thunderstorm broke over the old chateau as the frightened horses crossed the drawbridge, and a flash of vivid lightning only seemed to make the un- natural darkness still more apparent as he was lifted out of the carriage. The flagstaff on the grand old tower was rent in twain and the flag hurled to the ground. No one spoke, all seemed paralysed with fear. A girl of great beauty stood in the" hall ; her golden hair shone like an aureole round her head, and above all the din and uproar her clear young voice rang out, ' Mon frere, mon frere ! ' and the brother and sister met again after a long absence, and once more were clasped in each other's arms. EXCURSIONS IN NORMANDY 177 Three months elapsed. Health and strength returned to the young priest, but all noticed a great change had come over him. A fierce fire seemed to burn in his eyes ; people said he seemed never to rest or sleep. He was up half the night in the old chapel, prostrate before the altar of Our Lady, as if he would weary Heaven with his constant, incessant prayers. The wedding - day was fixed for the young Countess. Great were the preparations. In vain the young girl begged and implored to be allowed to return to her much-loved con- vent. The old father absolutely refused to discuss the question. The eve of the wedding arrived. Quite late at night, when most of the inhabitants of the chateau had retired to rest, a wild, piercing cry was heard from the young girl's room. Everyone rushed from all parts to the door ; a few entered. What a sight met their scared and astonished eyes ! Stretched on her bed lay the bride of the morrow, her bright hair almost covering her ; her blue eyes wide open, with a terrified look in them. 178 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES There she lay dying dying fast. f Send for the priest ; send for my son ! ' the poor old father cried. They rushed to the priest's room : he was not there ; to the chapel he was nowhere to be found. Sadly watch was kept by the dying girl. Why was she dying she so young, so full of life and spirits the day before ? Slowly but surely death came creeping up ; slowly but surely life faded away. But no word, no sign did she make to tell them what had occurred, what was passing in her mind ! Oh, how we hunger for last words ! Hastily a priest was pro- cured from the next village. Alas ! too late. One faint whisper came from her at the last. They bent over to hear it, it was so faint ' Mon frere.' It was the same childish cry, the old familiar sound. A bright smile flitted across her lips, then dead silence. She had passed away, and only the mourners were left, and a strange, unnatural awe seemed to fall on all. Someone whispered that the priest had been seen to leave that room looking like one distraught. Time passed on ; preparations were made EXCURSIONS IN NORMANDY 179 for the funeral, not for the wedding. The coffin was carried into the chapel and stood before the altar. In the dead of night the brother returned, spoke to no one, shut him- self up in his tiny room leading into the chapel. Early in the morning he sent a message to his father positively refusing to assist at the funeral rites. He was not even there during the sad ceremony. When all was over, and the young maidens of the village arrived to carry the young Countess's coffin to the grave, he suddenly appeared. A thrill of horror ran through the crowd. Was that old broken-down-looking man Count Louis ? His hair was snow-white and face simply agonized ; he was clad in the simple black gown of his order. Striding forward, he roughly put the maidens aside, and going up to the altar commanded all to remain in their places. Then in a hard cold voice full of bitterness he told his story. Ad- dressing himself to the Count he sternly up- braided him for forcing and driving him into the Church. He had striven hard to per- form the duties of his sacred calling. He N 2 180 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES had always hated it, loathed it ; how in that last illness he had hoped and prayed for death death, not life, had been his con- stant prayer. He then briefly related the story of his convalescence and recovery : how his sister nursed and -tended him, brought him back to life ; and to his horror and shame he found a passionate, unholy love had sprung up in his heart for his own sister. How hard he had struggled against this sin- ful feeling, this unholy passion ; how he had gone to Paris, confessed it all in shame and agony to his superior, and implored him to send him away ; but was told Heaven was trying his faith, and he must return, live down and conquer that deadly sin. Oh, how that sin ate his heart like a canker ! She saw he was ill, miserable, and with sweet sisterly sympathy and gentle loving words implored him to tell her what it was. How could he tell her ? It was impossible : he could not, dared not. He dared not sully that pure, spotless mind by hinting, breathing such a sin ; she would not even understand things so vile. Then came the EXCURSIONS IN NOKMANDY 181 announcement of his sister's engagement to that dissolute old man. He went to his father, expostulated, and tried all his elo- quence. ' Let her be the bride of Heaven ; she wishes it. Dedicate both your children to the Church.' But it was sternly refused, and she was to be sacrificed. He went out of his father's presence with his brain reeling. In the dead of night he went to her room and found her kneeling before the crucifix. The moment he entered the room she rushed to him and implored him to save her ; she believed so in him. She could not, she would not, marry this dreadful old man. Then at last his terrible secret burst forth. All his own passionate love was poured into her ears. Understanding him, and holding up her crucifix, she dared him to come near her, to approach her. No one ever knew the secret of that terrible hour. He fled from her room, out into the woods where they had spent so many happy hours together, and she, crushed, horrified, broken- hearted, was left alone ; only one agonizing cry came from her lips. That cry had roused 182 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES the sleeping inmates of the chateau. The shock was too much for her, it killed her ; her heart was broken. After his confession a long silence pre- vailed. 'I am the sinner, she the saint, the pure spotless maid ! ' he cried. Then turning to the altar he sent up one last imploring * Jesu, Mise"ricorde ! ' Before they could seize him, he plunged a knife into his heart, and the dark red blood of the priest streamed forth and stained the white flowers on the sister's bier, aye, trickled down towards his own little room. Not a word was said. The coffin was carried out, the dark stream trickling after it till it reached the door, then stopped, as if afraid to meet the bright sunlight outside. The rest of the service was completed amidst tears and sobs, the dead priest left lying before the altar. That night he was buried outside the churchyard by the orders of the old Count, who did not attend. He left the chateau, and never returned again. At his death the property went to his brother, who placed a small wooden cross on the priest's EXCURSIONS IN NORMANDY 183 grave with ' Jesu, Misericorde ' inscribed on it, and left a petition in his will that it was to be replaced by his descendants when it was worn out. Such was the story of the ancestor of this old priest, which he told me himself when at Mont St-Michel. That week we were joined by the mother of my young partner of the celebrated Legitimist ball, where I had been so foolish. She had two sons with her, high-spirited boys of eighteen and nineteen, loving their mother devotedly. Her slightest word was law ; and, though longing to join the army and fight under the flag of France, they gave all up at her bidding, as she would not hear of their serving under the present government. What a beautiful woman she was ! so stately in her movements, allied by her marriage and her own birth to the most ancient blood in France. Both her father and father-in-law had lost their lives in the Vendean war. The old cur6 was her cousin, and she came to stop with him. We all became such friends. I used to call the sons my ' Breton boys,' and they called me 184 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES 1 little English mother.' They were all to join us at Valognes, and we were to leave early in the morning, when Madame de Tocqueville roused me in the middle of the night to say that her husband had another frightful attack of haemorrhage, imploring me to help her. What was to be done- no doctor in that solitary island ? I hastily dressed, and ran down the street to knock up the curd, who, in spite of his age and in- firmities, said he knew his way in the dark amongst those dangerous quicksands to the nearest town. He looked so old and frail, we could not bear him to go alone. He laughed at our fears, saying (as I have since learnt to say in my hours of sorrow), * Death never comes to those who seek it.' Madame de L had heard the stir and commotion, and was already in the sick man's room. Charles, one of my Breton boys, insisted on accom- panying the cur6 ; so Henri, the other one, and myself went with them to the end of the town, reverently kneeling to receive the dear old man's blessing, and they passed EXCUKSIONS IN NORMANDY 185 into what seemed outer and thick darkness. There was no causeway then as there is paow ; the only way to the land was at high tide in a small boat, or to cross, at low tide, the sands with a guide. Back to the battle- ments we wandered, straining our eyes to see the little flickering light that repre- sented the lamp they carried. How strange it is in times like these ! Etiquette and con- ventionality are put aside ; for what more unheard-of proceeding was there, than for us, boy and girl, to be wandering about to- gether in the middle of the night ? What a long weary night it was, how peaceful all the surroundings ! but no sign of our friends, and the sick man growing worse and worse. Then we heard the faint sound of waters rippling, and we knew the tide was coming in ; and for three hours no one could land till the tide was high enough to let the boats enter the tiny harbour. Then dawn, bright rosy dawn, arose, and the sun seemed to touch with gold the old monastic pile. The bell rang for early Mass, but there was no priest to officiate. At last a 186 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES shout of delight was heard, and the boat was seen coming quickly across the water with the doctor. He went into the sick- room. Anxiously did we await his verdict, which was that M. de Tocqueville was very ill, but, he hoped, would recover. On no account was he to be moved for at least a fortnight. It was indeed a sad ending to our happy excursions. All left except me, who, of course, stopped to help my dear old friends, and Madame de L and the two boys stayed on too. The dear old priest took a great fancy to us young people, and we were constantly with him, visiting the sick fisher-folk in their homes, walking about the old town till we knew nearly every stone of it. He showed me a grave in the church- yard. They called it the English grave, but there was no name on it. A large sail- ing ship had struck on a rock, one of the many on that cruel coast, and in less than five minutes had foundered, and all were drowned except one girl who was found bleeding and senseless, thrown up by the EXCURSIONS IN NORMANDY 187 sea. She was picked up and taken to one of the cottages, and lingered for a week. In her delirium she talked incessantly. No one understood her, as she knew not a word of French, nor they of English. Was she talking of home ? ' Mother ' was what she kept crying. Beautiful she was indeed ; but no light was ever thrown on her history, no mark or sign to say who she was or where she came from, or where she was going the ship had gone down with her secret. She was buried in the little churchyard, and many were the tears shed by the simple peasants at her sad, lonely funeral. I used to go and sit by my countrywoman's grave and wonder at her sad history ; but no one would ever know it. For years the mother may have watched and waited for the child who never came back. It all seemed so sad, and the grave looked so lonesome. Grim and horrible were some of the tales the fisher-folk told us. For years they had lived on that rock, separated, so to say, from the outer world. They had no ambi- tion, no wish to rise. From father to son they handed on their simple profession. As long as they caught enough fish to keep the wolf from the door they were perfectly content. A strange, independent race they were, peculiar to Mont St-Michel. Utterly unlettered and untaught, few could read or write ; facing death so often on that rock- bound coast, they ceased to fear it ; acknow- ledging no laws, no authority, not knowing who reigned or governed ; but good Catholics also, and wonderfully sober. Tradition says that in the times of the Great Kevolution the mob hunted the high- born lords and ladies down to the shore, tore the clothes off the delicately nurtured women, and laughed them to scorn when they im- plored for a little covering, cruelly saying the sands should be their covering; then finally, cruelly and pitilessly they drove them to the quicksands, which engulfed them. Often they were swallowed up while singing hymns and other cantiques. Others were put in boats, tied hand and foot. The boat was sent out to sea, and never was seen again. They declared that on certain EXCURSIONS IN NORMANDY 189 nights lights are seen flickering across those sands, always taking the form of a cross or a sacre cceur ; and that, when the winds roar and the sky is dark, faint whispers are heard as if a band of pilgrims were crossing. The old priest took us to the oubliettes, down a secret passage which was unknown to the public, and bade us lean over and see the white bones heaped one on the top of the other. Oh, what stories, what horrors, does that beautiful island hold ! When Alexis de Tocqueville was slowly recovering, the priest would come to the sick-room and tell of King Arthur, who is supposed to have come with some of his knights and landed in the dead of night. His boat was seen crossing with a strange light in the shape of a cross on the prow ; and when he landed he went straight to the church and vowed then and there to erect a similar Mont St-Michel in England. He left next day. None in the island could come up to him in stature or knightly bearing. The simple monks knelt to him and said, ' It is a god, not a man ! ' He 190 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES sailed out into the night again, and the cross was still shining at the prow. Some time later at night a glorious light was seen shining on the figure of St. Michael. Years after, a pilgrim landed on the island, and said the great king had passed away ; but he had founded a second Mont St-Michel in bonnie England. Alexis de Tocqueville became better, and longed to return to his own home in Normandy. I was indeed sorry to say good-bye to the priest and the lovely island. I went there again, years after; but how different was it ! A causeway had been built ; it was no longer an island. It was haunted by British excursionists. All my old friends had gone. The old cur6 had a stroke shortly after we left, and was taken back to his old home. I know who he was, and all about him, now ; but as he chose never to divulge his name to me, I shall keep his secret : suffice it to say he was a descendant of one of the proudest families in France, of whom Charles X. said, * All the men are heroes, and all the women are saints.' 191 Years after, I was wandering about the South of France, and arrived at a small village where I intended passing the night. According to my usual custom, I went to the little church and walked about the churchyard. It was all in disorder, and looked as if no loving hands tended or looked after the graves. The wall was down and the masons were repairing it, and taking more ground in to make the churchyard larger. One of them offered to take me to the neighbouring chateau, where his mother was caretaker, and added jokingly, pointing to a solitary grave, ' He will perhaps now rest quiet, as he will be in consecrated ground.' I looked round casually, and saw a wooden cross, a lonely grave. c Jesu, Misericorde ' was carved on the cross. How the past flashed over me ; how the dear memories of the past awoke within me again ! Mont St-Michel the old curffs story. This must be the place, the chateau. The busy work- man was longing to tell the story. I could not bear to hear it garbled and gossiped over, as I knew my cure would have hated it. 192 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES We went to the chateau, now in ruins, for the mob had attacked and sacked it during one of the Kevolutionary storms. The ban- queting hall, with its fine collection of family portraits, had been burned : a few had been hastily removed to a room in the tower. I recognised it all so well by my old friend's description : the round tower and stone staircase, the flag-staff, where now no flag hung, grass growing between the seldom- used stone flags. The guardian of the cha- teau, who was old and decrepit, let us go over it alone. Several pictures were still on the walls. One with its face turned to the wall was that of a young man evidently just entering manhood. The face was full of fire, with large brown eyes and a firm-set mouth. There was a far-away look in his eyes, as if he were asking the future what it had in store for him. Lucky for him he did not know. Itwasa fine picture : someone had written on it ' Jesu, Misericorde.' This then was Count Louis. I went into the tiny chapel, now used as a granary. The windows were thick with dust, and the whole scene came vividly EXCURSIONS IN NORMANDY 193 before my eyes. Long, long did I sit. Twi- light deepened. I could almost fancy I heard the shrill cry to Heaven for mercy, that I saw the dark-robed priest coming from his little room that last day. On I sat and dreamed, my heart was so full of those dead people. I was suddenly dis- turbed by the concierge, who came bustling into the chapel, saying, ' Mademoiselle, don't stay in here any longer, for Count Louis's spirit often comes here.' She, like her son, was longing to tell the story. I could not bear to hear it from her, so hastily rising I joined my husband, who had left me to wander about alone, knowing there are times and places when one must be alone. The descendant of that old house was a young officer out in Algiers, and he, on hearing these constant reports about the place being haunted, had asked the Bishop to add to the churchyard, hoping when the priest's grave was inside the sacred precincts that the unhappy spirit would rest. He had no money to restore the old place with, and I hear it is now gradually falling into ruins. o 194 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES This is a long digression and a long jump ahead ; but it was strange that I should have been amongst the scenes and haunts of my dear old friend. CHAPTER XII ODDS AND ENDS I HAVE written a good deal about French Imperialism and French literary men. I am now going to change the subject one gets tired of too much of one thing ; and I am going to give my readers a sketch of French low life not exactly what you will care to read about, perhaps. But it was one of the phases of my youthful experi- ence. My father was very intimate with a French widow. She was well known in Paris as being one of the gayest of that gay capital. Her husband had been a rou6, spendthrift, gambler, and drunkard, and killed himself by drinking. His wife was quite beautiful, fastidious to an extraordi- nary degree no one was good enough for 196 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES her to know. She had a chateau close to the sea. She picked my father out at a large dinner given by a mutual friend, and from that day a great intimacy sprang up between those two. She often came and stopped at our house, and we used to sit open-mouthed at her garrulity. But we were not often allowed to be in the room, for naturally the presence of two girls was a great gene on their conversation. You will say this is not low life. But I am coming to it. She had two sons : one ran through all his fortune and enlisted in the French army, and died in some skirmish in Africa, the c grave of the French army,' as it is called. The other son was as wild as his brother, but more careful of his money. He was the only thing the widow really cared for. Some day he would marry and carry on the old name and traditions, such traditions as they were ; for they openly boasted that one and all from generation to generation had broken all the ten command- ments aye, twenty or thirty, if there were as many. Several times the holy sisters at ODDS AND ENDS 197 the Sacre Coeur had planned and made up a marriage for him. But no \ he would have none of that sort of girl. He would choose his own wife when he married. And so he did. He suddenly wrote to his mother that he was married, and was bringing his bride home. He wrote to the agent, to the maire (for all French towns have a mayor), to the cur 4, that he and his wife were going to make their formal entry into the little village that day week, and he expected Madame la Marquise to be properly re- ceived. We were stopping in the village with our maid, as it was quiet, primitive, and cheap, and girl-like we mixed in the crowd that was outside the chateau gates to watch the procession. The curd, the mayor, all were outside his mother also all curious to see who and what the bride was. A carriage drove up. Inside were the newly wedded pair, he dressed as a common fisherman, she as a fish-wife. Yes ! he had married to please himself a common fisher-girl he had met in a fishing village. He had not told her who 198 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES he was, and she stared at the long row of sycophants who were there to greet and make up to the Marquise. But how beautiful she was ! hair black as a raven's wing hanging in thick clusters down her back, large hazel eyes, and such rosy cheeks and white teeth. She was talking at the top of her voice ; you might have heard her a mile off. She looked like a beautiful panther. Fiercely she turned round on him, asked what it all meant, and on being told it was in her honour that she was Madame la Marquise jumped out of the carriage and insisted on returning to the station. Her language was most violent. ' Base deceiver,' she said, turning on him, ' you told me you were a fisherman and I was to live by the sea. I won't be a marquise. I am a peasant's daughter, and I will be a fisherman's wife.' Fiercely she tore the address out of the mayor's hands, burst into wild sobs, and turning round to an old woman, one of the fisherwomen, said, ' Take me to your home. I will not be a marquise I will not enter that house ; ' then turned her back on ODDS AND ENDS 199 her mother-in-law, who stood aghast and horrified. She, the polished woman of the world, who had Paris at her feet, and had come from her comfortable home in the gay capital to meet her daughter-in-law, fearing she would be impossible to receive, but little dreaming, little imagining, the virago she was to encounter, little thinking that her daughter-in-law would in the face of all these people refuse to be received by her, laugh at the reception, turn her back on all, refuse to take up her position as Madame la Marquise, openly proclaim her low birth, nay, glory in it, and only enter the home of one of the lowest of the people. It was a bitter mo- ment for her vanity indeed defeated by her son's wife whom she meant to patronize, to treat with cold civility, to let her feel she was graciously admitted into the charmed circle of the fashionable Parisian world. The poor old fisher-wife put her arm round the girl, and coaxingly said, ' Venez, ma fille ; venez a moi,' and slowly the pair went across the village street into the tiny cottage the bride bitterly weeping, 200 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES refusing to be comforted. She was dressed so plainly, yet so picturesquely, in a short blue skirt, bare feet and legs, and a bright red fishing cap placed jauntily on her head all were astonished. Her husband went to the auberge, refusing to enter his home till she, ' Victoire,' as he called her, came. The old Marquise, who had asked a houseful to meet her daughter-in-law, came down to dinner as if nothing had happened. My father, who was one of the invited guests, said she was beautifully dressed, and after dinner, standing up with a glass in her hand, without a quiver in her voice or a shade on her face to show the bitterness of her dis- appointment, proposed the health of the 1 nouveaux mari6s.' That night we went on the sands, as we generally did, for it was like one's own home, so quiet, and pushed off in the little boat that was always at our service during our stay, and which we knew how to manage perfectly, as we were so accustomed to boats and rowing. We rowed to a little ridge of rocks at the end of which was a ODDS AND ENDS 201 small cove a secret, secluded spot, where there was a tiny space of soft white sand, on which it was our custom to sit after tying up our little boat. We were talking of this wild, untamed girl, when we heard a splash of oars, and turning round saw her in a boat, rowing as if for dear life, evidently longing to tire herself out. Then she turned suddenly, and made for our hiding- place. We were too frightened to stop and be alone with her to go out we must meet her. Hurriedly we flew further in the cove, and climbing up got out of sight, wondering what was going to happen. She paced up and down like a wild beast in a cage, then, throwing herself full length on the sands, gave way to a piteous fit of sobbing, sobs that seemed to tear body and soul asunder ; then getting into the boat she rowed out in the gathering darkness, and was soon lost to view. We glided from our hiding-place, and undoing our dinghey rowed back to our lodgings. Many were the stories we heard of her, how she posi- tively refused to see anyone, saying she 202 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES would kill anyone who dared to come to her. She made a compact with the old woman who had first taken her home, to board and lodge her. She refused to take any money from the Marquis or his family. With all his faults, nay sins, he passion- ately loved his fisher-wife, and shut himself up in the chateau, waiting till she came to her senses. I, in the meantime, had fallen from the rocks, and could not walk nor stand. I used to love to be rowed to the little cove, and I and my sister spent hours there. One day I was all alone there, when a boat appeared, and in it, making straight for the cove, was the girl. It was no use to think of running away, for I could not. She came in, did not see me, and taking a small picture of the Madonna out of her pocket, she put it on a ledge, and she, the girl who was called an atheist, an infidel, a heretic (for she never went to church or admitted the curt to her presence) knelt down, uttering passionate prayers for death. How vivid and heart-rending were her prayers ! I could not bear it, and threw a ODDS AND ENDS 203 pebble at her to attract attention. She started, glared at me like a wild beast, and then said, ' You are the sick English girl ; let me talk to you.' I was very weak and rather helpless, and holding out both my hands, said, c Do tell me all.' From that moment a strong friendship grew up between us. She loved to take me in her strong arms and carry me out of the boat to our lodgings. Unlearned, ignorant as she was, for she could not even read or write, she was one of the purest women I have ever met one of the greatest ladies. She was only sixteen, quite a child, with no father, no mother. She had met her hus- band in her native village. He used to spend hours diving, fishing, sailing, rowing, in the sea up to his neck and shaking the water off like a Newfoundland dog. How he had wooed and won her told her he was a simple fisherman also, and lived by the side of the sea ; that he would take her to his simple home and they would fish together live and ever fish together. She had no ambition beyond that, and she had 204 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES been quietly married in the same old church where her father and mother were married, both in their working dress, and started at once for his home. Exhausted with fatigue and the long journey, she found on arriving that all was a lie that he had told her lies from the first ; that he was a member of that race she had been brought up to loathe and detest, an aristocrat. ' Am I to be received on sufferance,' she proudly said ; ' to be looked at askance ; to be told to do this, to do that ; to lose my freedom ; to be made love to as I am told the aristocrats do to other men's wives ; to see my children taught to laugh at their plebeian ancestors not to let out their mother was a peasant ? No, I want to die. Life is robbed of all its charms.' Day by day we met. Oh, how ignorant she was ! She had never heard of England, only knew we were not French. We taught her reading and writing. We loved to talk to her, to listen to her sad songs. How curious those old French naval songs are ! They are fast dying out. I often wonder we ODDS AND ENDS 205 were not drowned, as she rigged up a sail to our dinghey, and we three used to sail out far and far away, having no fears, as we did not know our dangers. How beautiful she was ! What power in her face, and yet in spite of all this, she did still passionately love her husband, but could not forgive him for having so deceived her. We heard of him from my father, who used to come and see us, and always went up to dine at the chateau. The Marquis never mentioned his wife, and strange to say always wore the same costume he arrived in. At the end of three months we had to return home. How she hated our going, and said she would do all she could to learn to write, so as to write to us. One day she wrote ; she had been very ill, nearly died, and was going to stop with an old uncle of hers who had a tiny shop at St. Malo, and we must come to see her there. For a long time my father refused ; but we begged so hard that, as he was going to St. Malo for two or three days on official business, he gave in and said we might go. 206 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES She met us at the station, and we all got into the diligence and went to her uncle's. It was quite the most amusing visit I have ever made. It was such a tiny shop, lighted by an oil lamp. He lived quite alone and had no servant did all the work himself. He quite understood his niece's conduct, and said to have seen her an aristocrat would have been too terrible. He was up at 5 A.M. dusting the house. At eight he came to our bedroom. I can see it now, with two tiny beds so comfortable, right under the roof two chairs, on which stood two tiny basins. He had no idea who we were, and never asked sufficient he was our host. He never dreamt of knocking when he came to our bedroom at eight with two such lovely cups of hot coffee, black bread (so nasty !), and a piece of soap, which, when we had done with it, used to be returned to him. Luckily we had a piece of our own, which we had not used so far, for fear of offending him. All the morning we roamed about with Victoire, who was obliged now to put on shoes ODDS AND ENDS 207 and stockings. Then came the principal meal at twelve, our host carefully taking off his coat and waistcoat in which he served in the shop. Dejeuner (as they called it) began with good soup, with every sort of herb in it ; then the meat from which the soup had been made not a bit of goodness left in it, but so daintily dished up, such lovely vegetables all round it, that we had three helpings, to our host's great delight and ending up with an omelette such as is only made in France, and blackest of coffee. Our host put an enormous quantity of brandy in his, and was terribly disappointed that we refused such a strong beverage. Nothing would induce him to smoke in our presence, though we begged and implored him to. After dejeuner I asked him to let me sit in the shop with him. Oh, how amusing it was ! How buyer and seller fought and haggled over all. If either could cheat the other out of a sou, what triumph of diplomacy ! In the evening he had invited two ladies, as he called them, the real bourgeoisie of France. It was too amusing, the way they 208 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES called each other Monsieur and Madame. They were all what we should call, now, Socialists. I am not sure if that name was invented then. What I am going to say may seem an extraordinary thing, but there is an aristocracy among these Socialists. They have handed their doctrines of rapine and murder on from generation to genera- tion, and woe to the person, male or female, who infringes or breaks through that rule. Their hatred of the aristocrats is fear- ful not merely the aristocracy of blood, but anyone who is above them the rich, those who are high in professions, generals, admirals, judges, senators. I got more and more interested in my company ; they kept dropping in by twos and threes gendarmes, national guard, and small shopkeepers. It was most curious, most interesting to listen to them. None of them paid any attention to me, or cared who or what I was. I was a stranger under their friend's roof : they all stood before me on coming in and made a low bow. I returned it by a curtsey. Some of them dated their wrongs from the ODDS AND ENDS 209 first Kevolution. The legends and stories they had of the old nobility of France, who did indeed grind them down to the utmost farthing to extort money to spend in de- bauchery and riot in Paris ! Among the greatest grievances were the colombiers they all had outside their chateaux, inhabited by thousands of pigeons, which were allowed to fly all about the villages, feeding on the fields and gardens of the peasants, and woe to the ill-fated peasant who attempted to shoot any of them ! They were all kept for the Count's amusement. How they gloated over all the stories of the sufferings of these nobles ! How they loathed the priests, the nuns for the bourgeoisie of France is atheistical at heart, especially the men. Then came Napoleon. They hated the Imperial Buonapartists more thantheBour- bons. It was the aristocracy of wealth, the nouveaux riches, more insolent even than the old noblesse. Taxes and taxes and more taxes that was all the good they did to Socialist France. That race must be exterminated also. How they extolled p 210 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES Charlotte Corday, the' Virgin Martyr, 'as they called her amongst themselves. Then one of them, a sharp, keen little man, who, strange to say, had been once barber to my friend Alexis de Tocqueville, described the celebrated coup d'dtat of the Prince President, as he was then, now the Emperor of the French ; how he had deceived France by promising Eepublican doctrines and Republican government ; how he had got tired of this, and aimed at being Caesar. * Caesar was killed,' said a bystander ; 1 Shakespeare tells us that.' That was a curious speech in such a party, and, as I found out, none of them knew who Shake- speare was, or of what nation. But Shake- speare had been translated into French and much read by the small shopocracy of France. My friend the barber took up his tale, and told us how in the middle of the night the Corps Legislatif was suddenly surrounded by the President's troops, and all of those who were against the President be- coming Emperor, all the members of that assembly, were arrested, marched off to ODDS AND ENDS 211 prison between two rows of soldiers, and thrown like criminals into common cells, and kept there for hours, without food, or straw to lie on, not knowing their fate, till the sycophants who were left in the as- sembly had voted all the Prince President wanted. These Socialists called the imperial government the ' aristocracy of wealth,' for then came imperial France, with all her luxury, all her wealth, ' and we,' he said, ' we, the real inhabitants, still starve.' It was all very interesting ; and wonderfully well read were they all. But what a deadly hatred there was to all that was prosperous. Little do the aristocrats of birth and wealth know how they are loathed and detested in France. What will it all end in for by their statistics that formidable body of Socialists increases yearly more and more ? I shall never forget that evening, and I was told that every evening they had similar gatherings at each other's houses. No food was offered, no drinks. I asked Victoire why. ' Because there can be no jealousy p 2 212 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES that one person's wine or food is better than the other's.' A jug of cold water was all that was put on the table. They all went home at 10, singing before they went a verse of the ' Marseillaise,' standing as we do when we sing ' God save the Queen.' When they had all gone my father came in to thank our host for his hospitality. He told us that the next day there was to be a grand function on the little island just outside St. Malo, where the great Chateaubriand is buried. It was to commemorate either his birth or death, and a large number of officials were to be there. My father had to make a speech, and was going to propose ' Chateaubriand and his contemporaries.' He gave me the headings, and as usual I had to write it out in French, as I always wrote his dispatches and speeches for him. My host came to my rescue, and took me to the small library of the H6tel de Ville. Victoire came with me, and I routed out all the contemporaries, English, Germans, even down to Spanish, and wrote a capital speech, as I flattered myself; returned to ODDS AND ENDS 213 the hotel, and my father took copious notes ; and all was ready the next day. He promised to take me, and as it was seldom I figured in the official programme I was pleased, and told Yictoire all about it. She implored me not to go even cried and sobbed; and at last said that I had been honoured by being admitted into their intimacy (I had flattered myself the honour was on my side), and no one knew I was an ' aristocrat,' as she called me ; that if it was known as it must be, as some of her friends would go out of curiosity I should be called a spy, and they would never forgive her for associating with aristocrats, as many still thought she had married her husband know- ing he was a marquis ; so I gave up going and wrote to my father. But as I was quite determined to be present, I donned my Normandy costume, and she and I mingled with the crowd. My father spoke well, and was much applauded. Sometimes Victoire nudged me and said, 'C'est toi, mon amie,' at all the applause. Some old nobleman followed my father, and compli- 214 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES mented him in a curious sort of manner, telling him that it was odd that, speak- ing French, as he did, with such a strong English accent, his language was perfect not a mistake and that it was the more inter- esting owing to the passages he had quoted from the different foreign authors living in Chateaubriand's time. My father was very pleased ; came home and told me all about it, little thinking I had heard the whole thing. (Oh, that dear little Normandy cos- tume, what fun it gave me ! ) I sent the speech on to Alexis de Tocqueville, writing underneath ' Composed by me.' He wrote me a charming letter, saying the speech was perfect, the French perfect, the intention perfect ; it had only one fault, and that was that I had named as Chateaubriand's con- temporaries, persons who had died half a century before he was born. Strange to say no one discovered it, though my father often used to quote parts of it to various friends. It was most amusing to hear the remarks of the crowd; how they discussed and laughed at all the ' swells,' as we call them in ODDS AND ENDS 215 England, and my father's beard was warmly commented on, some declaring it was dyed. He was a very handsome old man, with a long snowy beard, of which he was very proud, particularly as the Queen told Lady Ely it was the most beautiful beard she had ever seen. The Socialist friends of Victoire were much upset, as her mother-in-law was on the platform, most beautifully dressed, looking as if nothing could ever trouble her. ' Ah, my friend,' hissed Victoire's uncle, 'wait for the second St. Bartholomew, and where will you be then ? ' I asked what that meant, and it appears that it was one of their terms for the great Socialist rising in France, of which they live in hopes. After dinner Victoire took me to the little island where the great author lies. She was returning to her native village and we home. On arriving home we found an urgent message had been sent to my father to come at once to a place on the coast about sixteen miles off. A heavy storm was raging, and an English brig had got into the bay and must 216 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES drift on the rocks, and the wreckers were ready to plunder and perhaps murder. The Seigneur of the chateau was a great friend of my father's. My father took me, as I was useful to him to explain the patois. We did not get there till eight. It was a bitter cold winter evening, wind blowing a hurri- cane, and the shore crowded with people watching the doomed ship rushing on to the rocks, the flag of Old England, the Union Jack, still waving at the mast. The Seigneur was on the sands also. My father expostulated with him, imploring him to speak to his people, and tell them to be merciful. * I dare not,' he said ; * they are like wild beasts.' Suddenly a wild cry ; the doomed ship had struck, heeled over, and in one moment the hapless crew were at the mercy of the waves, more merciful than the mob who were thirsting to lay hands on spoil. The captain of the ship was seen fighting for life. Twice he might have been saved : not a hand was lifted to help all were too busy to seize hold of the passengers and boxes floating about. Suddenly the ODDS AND ENDS 217 captain's eyes met those of the Seigneur. What had happened? In an imperative tone he ordered the mob to rescue all, and at the peril of his life he rushed into the sea, and dragged the half-drowned man ashore, telling his astonished servants to take him to the chateau at once, give him food and wine, and the best room in the house. Why this sudden change? The captain had suddenly made the sign of the Freemason. The Seigneur also was one, and from that moment did all in his power to help him and his crew. All the sailors were taken up to the house, where later on we all visited them and cheered them up. The captain in gratitude to the Seigneur presented him with the figure-head of the ship, an enormous thing, which the English crew with the greatest difficulty dragged up. The French villagers, with the usual versatility of their nation, forgot their greed, and feasted and mixed with the shipwrecked crew. The Marquise was very anxious that Victoire should be with us, and my father asked her to come to the house. We could 218 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES not help loving her, she was so bright and pleasant. She hired a small boat, and on fine days she and I lived in the roadstead. One day the Eussian imperial yacht, with the Grand Duke Constantine, brother of the Emperor Nicholas, on board, came to Cherbourg. Victoire longed to see a prince. She had heard of them as something not quite human ! We had caught a lot of fish, and she proposed we should row alongside and sell it. I, always only too ready to do odd things, agreed, but on one condition, that I remained in the boat. We arrived, and Victoire, in a Breton accent, offered her fish, jumping nimbly on the deck. I at once recognised the Grand Duke by his height and stateliness, and the deference paid to him by all the suite. He looked bored, but on seeing Victoire was evidently struck by her appearance, and entered into conver- sation with her. Looking over the side he discovered me, and began talking English that we should not understand. One of them said; ' What a lovely girl that dark one is ; but what a cat,' as at any attempt ODDS AND ENDS 219 at familiarity she turned fiercely on them. Then discovering me, he said, ' Here is another ; she looks a lady, but has such large hands and feet. Ask her up also.' I declined the honour. Just before we pushed our boat away a wicked spirit came over me, and turning to the Grand Duke I said, ' Mon- seigneur, are you going to the ball to-night ? ' (The Admiral was giving a grand ball in his honour.) Surprised he replied, ' Yes.' ' Then will you dance No. 5 with me ? ' The Grand Duke burst out laughing, and said, ' Certainly, if you are there,' and, laugh- ing still more, gave me his glove, saying, ' Give me that at the ball and claim your partner.' I went home and told my father all. I was obliged to, as I was so furious at his remarks about my hands and feet, and was determined to go, as public report said he was so rude to ladies at these balls and never danced with anyone. My father was so amused that he promised to take me. Some friends were dining with us, so we were a large party. Like true Englishmen 220 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES and men of the world they were all dread- fully bored at going, but went in spite of their boredom. I told them I intended to dance with the Grand Duke, and was much chaffed about it, one of our friends betting a dozen pairs of gloves I shouldn't. We ar- rived before the Russians. At the third dance they appeared. The Grand Duke towered high above everyone, scarcely noticing the ladies who were presented. The fifth dance came on. I asked the Admiral to take me up, and, curtseying low before him, I pulled out his glove and said, ' Monseigneur, c'est notre dance, nume'ro 5.' He started, col- oured, looked fiercely at me, and for the mo- ment was quite disconcerted. Recovering himself, he offered me his arm, and one of the most amusing valses I have ever had I owed to him. I think he must have liked me, for he invited my father and me to visit him on his yacht the next day, and a de- lightful afternoon we spent. There is no nation so high-bred as the Russian. I won my twelve pairs of gloves. But after that I was bound over never to go with Victoire ODDS AND ENDS 221 and sell fish again. I met the Grand Duke once again at a large party in Paris given by the Kussian ambassador, but he did not recognise me, and I could not again ask him to dance ! But I must finish Victoire's history. She and her husband met again under our roof, and after a mutual reconciliation they went off to America, and I quite lost sight of her. I often wonder if she is alive or dead. A rather amusing incident happened to me at the French Custom House one day. We were going to Paris, and Lady Cowley wrote to ask me to bring over some peculiar shade of yellow in Scotch stuff, that the Empress had much admired and wanted to get. We matched the shade, and the dress was brought over, and my maid put it care- fully on the top of the box, with a Highland suit I had got for Lady Cowley, who wished to give it to the Prince Imperial. The Custom House officials insisted on opening the packet, and I asked them not to do it, saying it was for the Empress. They all roared at this, and taking up another dress 222 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES insolently said, * This is for the Empress of Kussia, and this for the Empress of China.' They then opened the parcel containing the Highland suit and jeeringly said, ' This is for the little Prince, I suppose.' ' That is exactly the person for whom it is intended,' I furiously replied. Oh ! how insolent they were. I and my maid were alone. They asked an exorbitant sum for duty, and I left it there, saying the Empress would send for it. I stopped at the English Embassy and told Lady Cowley the fate of her parcels. One of the officials was sent to fetch them. An inquiry into the whole affair was made, and the men severely reprimanded. It was told to the Emperor, who sent word to the quaking, shivering official that he had done his duty in examining the trunks, but ought to have taken my word. Lady Cowley begged the man off ; and the on dits were that for a long time English boxes were scarcely examined. The Duo de Malakoff gave a juvenile party and asked me to help him ; and the little Prince was there, dressed in his Scotch ODDS AND ENDS 223 costume. With his nice childish manners he came up to me, and holding out a tiny hand said, ' Thank you for my charming cos- tume.' He was such a pretty boy, with all the manners and bearing of a prince. We spent a long time that summer at St. Malo. It was in my father's consulate, and he had business connected with the oyster-fishing. He took a small house at Guernsey, and Alexis de Tocqueville gave us a letter of introduction to Victor Hugo. He was a most delightful companion, and every evening we went to his house. I never heard anyone speak such beautiful French. There was a repose about it ; it lulled and soothed one. Often I said, ' Go on talking; I could listen for ever.' It pleased and flattered him. He took great pains with my French, always correcting me if it was not right. I always had a wonderful memory, and he used to make me repeat to him Macaulay's ' Lays of Ancient Borne,' which he loved. Theology we dis- cussed by the hour. I never could make out whether he followed the tenets of the 224 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES Eoman Church, or whether he belonged to the modern French atheistical school. He used to say I had no religion, no faith ; and I think he was right, but he declared I should die a Catholic. He had the greatest ad- miration for English girls ; said they were so pure, so innocent, so well read, and were like Una and the lion, going through the world unscathed and unharmed. Looking back to those early days I candidly think the girl of that time was much nicer than the girl of the present day. French novels, newspapers, modern novels all were for- bidden fruit. Girls knew nothing of the vices and sins of the day : they did not smoke cigarettes, read every sort of perio- dical, novel, and newspaper, openly dis- cuss the loves of actors and actresses, as present day girls do in fact, getting far more knowledge of this sort than we did, with- out the fun, the real fun, the merriment we girls had. History will judge which is the nicer girl, and which made the better wife, the better mother. Octave Feuillet came, and these two ODDS AND ENDS 225 used to make me read Walter Scott, Dickens, Thackeray to them. How happy and peaceful were those times ! Prince Napoleon came in his yacht, having just returned from the Arctic regions. My father went oS to write his name down in the visiting book. We girls used to say my father loved this sort of thing, and to be saluted on leaving. I hated the guns ; they always frightened me. The Prince was extra civil that day, and asked my father to lunch the next day, and seeing me in the boat said, * Bring Mademoi- selle also.' It was the only time I was ever really in Plon-Plon's society. He fascinated me, so to say, by his wonderful likeness to the first Napoleon. His face was quite beautiful, especially the profile. But the eyes had a shifty look in them. He was full of the Arctic regions, and much interested as I told him the widow of Sir John Franklin had been stopping with us. He asked a lot of questions, which luckily for me he did not give me time to answer, as he rushed off from one question to another. 226 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES He was wonderfully curious, asking my age, how many sisters I had, etc. He seemed to know all about everything, and indeed impressed me as being an able man, but not one who had the power of leading. Victor Hugo told me people were afraid of him no one loved him, they all feared him. He sent us back in his own boat, and my father dined with him the next day. Years and years after, I was spending a short time in Paris, having lost sight of many of my friends (one does so drift away from old friends), but I still had tender memories of them, and, hearing that M. de Corcelle was still alive, went to see him. I think he was then ninety, quite confined to one room, and very hazy as to certain events. But on the subject of religion and Italian politics, that is to say, Papal politics, he was like an old war-horse. He was quite blind. Together we talked of the ' auld lang syne ' the many who had gone before. Suddenly turning round and taking my hand, he said, 1 Are not you a Catholic ? Why have you not joined us ? Why should we not all be ODDS AND ENDS 227 a glorious company in Paradise ? ' I said, ' Alas ! I am behind the scenes. I know too much.' I then briefly related to him an anecdote of bigotry and harshness shown by an English Roman Catholic priest to a member of my family years ago, which had effectually prevented my ever joining the Roman Church. But he lost the drift of my talk, and fancied himself once more in the halls of the Vatican, and feebly told stories of his interview with the Holy Father. The sick-nurse at his side, who was a Sister, was incessantly telling her beads ; the bells of Notre Dame we heard pealing in the far distance ; the cries in the streets went on. The grand old man suddenly roused himself, 1 In France this would never have happened. Your English priest was too hasty.' Then, folding his hands reverently, he repeated softly the ' Nunc Dimittis' it was his usual evening prayer. Yes, he was ready to go to depart. He had fought the good fight, and some day he and I shall understand it all. He had so longed for my conversion. But as I told him, I was behind the scenes. 228 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES CHAPTEE XIII MY SISTER'S VISIT TO FBOHSDORF I HAD to return to my home at Cherbourg from my tour with the Tocquevilles. Great fetes were to be held there, as the Queen and Emperor and Empress were to come in state to open a new dock at Cherbourg. I did not care for those fetes : it was all so noisy guns booming all day, people cheer- ing, or told to cheer, for it was the custom of the paid flatterers of the Imperial court to mix amongst the crowd, distributing sous, and urging the people to cheer; as the Normans have one great fault, and that is greed and love of money, they cheered long and lustily whenever the Imperial pair were seen. I, girl as I was, was much struck by the Emperor's appearance, and could not believe MY SISTER'S VISIT TO FROHSDORF 229 that this smart-looking man was the same quiet, common-looking man I had seen and talked to in Lord Malmesbury's rooms. He was holding a review, and rode especially well, more like an Englishman than a Frenchman ; and when on horseback one did not notice how small he was. The town gave a magnificent ball in their honour, and, with the wonderful memory he had for faces, he recognised me and my sister, and sending up his aide-de- camp desiring us to be presented to him. He seemed bright and cheerful, pleased with everything and everybody, and he was par- ticularly civil to Lord Cowley, who had come expressly from Paris to do him honour. The Emperor asked if we had plenty of partners, and aside to me he said, ' Give them the same gift of " gab " you did me, and partners will never fail you.' I coloured scarlet, but he looked so amused, and spoke so low that no one heard it but myself. Turning to the Due de Malakofi he said, ' Tell your aide-de-camp to find partners for Mademoiselle.' His Majesty recognised my 230 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES sister, who had just returned from Frohsdorf, and picked her out to dance in the Imperial quadrille. Upon Lord Cowley presenting my father to him he said, c I am sure I have seen your face before, it seems so familiar to me.' My father bowing low replied, ' The first and only time I have seen your Majesty, before coming to France, was the year of the great Chartist riots in England, where many were sworn in as special constables, and you and I, Sire, had the same beat in St. James's Street.' The Emperor recollected it at once, and said with a bright smile, ' Yes, I re- member ; and what a good dinner you gave me afterwards at the Carlton Club. When you come to Paris you must come and see me.' The next day there was a grand dinner on board La Bretagne, the French flag- ship, and we were asked to it by the wish of the Emperor. He admired my sister enor- mously, and told Lord Cowley he liked to look at her. The Empress did not recognise us that night, she was so occupied doing the MY SISTER'S VISIT TO FROHSDORF 231 honours to the many officers, French and English, that surrounded her. Everyone was charmed with her, she was so full of tact and must have been so bored ; for they were almost all strangers to her and it was her first visit to Normandy, so all was fresh to her. We had seen nothing of our own Queen. All day she was busy carry- ing out the role assigned to her. Her Majesty had visited the dockyard, seen the new dock opened, lunched on board La Bretagne, and had gone back, having had quite enough of Cherbourg and Imperial pomp. What a grand feast that was on board La Bretagne ! We followed the state barge of the Emperor. Lord and Lady Cowley, the Due de Malakoff and other great people were in ours. I sat next to my old friend, the Due de Malakoff. He was no real favourite among the Imperial courtiers. He scorned flattery, hated a lie, and told these toadies several home truths. Bough and coarse as he was, he truly loved the Emperor, and thought there 232 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES was no army that could come up to the French army. He knew nothing of England or the English, but got to know them better in later years, as for several years he was ambassador at St. James's. He was busy talking to me as our barge drew up along- side the flag-ship. Not being at home in a boat, he carelessly let his hand rest on the side of the boat as it drew up alongside, and it was crushed between it and the ship. Perfect agony it was. I thought his fingers were crushed to pieces. Lady Cowley, who was opposite, seeing what had happened, plunged her handkerchief in the sea, and we hastily bound his hand up. The pain must have been awful. He leant heavily on me as he got up and walked up the gangway. He took off his hat to the French admiral who received him, bowed low and respect- fully to the Emperor and Empress, who were having the guests presented to them on the quarter-deck ; then he joined Lady Cowley and me, and came out with one of the most awful French oaths, such as only French soldiers know, sat down in a chair, MY SISTER'S VISIT TO FROHSDORF 233 and I saw tears, hot tears, gather in his eyes. Knowing he would die rather than own to such a weakness, I offered him my handkerchief, saying, ' Marechal, you have a bad cold.' He seized my hand and in a husky whisper said, ' Child, you have witnessed an unheard-of sight : you have seen a Marechal of France shed tears ! ' It was so French, this speech only a French- man would have said it. It was a very pleasant evening. The combined fleets of France and England were there, and vied with each other in illuminations and fireworks. Cannon were roaring half the night as the different chiefs, admirals and generals, left La Bretagne. It was the first time salutes had ever been fired at night, and the effect was inexpres- sibly grand, great flashes of light lighting up the intense darkness. All Cherbourg was saluting and welcoming the royal flags, the Union Jack and Tricolour, waving side by side. Everybody was happy except the poor Due, who suffered intensely. The next day was the unveiling of an 234 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES equestrian statue that the Emperor was to inaugurate. The great Napoleon had created the idea of forming Cherbourg into a great marine fortress. The third Napoleon had carried out and finished the idea. Many were the reports of the wonderful likeness the statue had to the first Napoleon, shrouded now in a thick curtain that the hand of the Emperor was to unveil. It was a brilliant morning. Such a crowd Cherbourg had never before witnessed. The Emperor, surrounded by his staff, rode on to the spot. Close to the statue stood the sculptor, triumphant, already fancying he was wearing the object of his ambition, the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honour. The band struck up ' Partant pour la Syrie,' the Buonapartes' national air, the string was pulled by the smiling Emperor, and the statue appeared. The horse was a fine piece of sculpture ; the face of its rider like the first Napoleon, in the well-known cocked hat and military cloak, with an arm out- stretched as if pointing and menacing England. But the figure ! Could not the MY SISTER'S VISIT TO FROHSDORF 235 artist see it? Was he blind? The back was round and bent, almost deformed. It was a grotesque likeness of the great Em- peror. ' Le bossu,' some people called the statue. Never shall I forget the look of rage that flashed across the Emperor's face. Not one word did he say to the unfortunate sculptor ; he almost turned his back on him, and rode slowly and sullenly away. The cross of the coveted order was hastily put aside, and hisses came from English sailors in the crowd, who looked upon the figure with his outstretched arm and hand as a distinct menace to England. Afterwards we heard the figure was to be remoulded, recast ; but it was never done, and remains still in the principal square of Cherbourg. We saw no more of the Emperor. My father was to dine on board one of the French ships. My sister and I went to a very different scene that night, for it was the night when our poor old friend Jean the Breton died. Not all the emperors in the world would have made us leave him then. The Imperial pair sailed that night, 236 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES and I never again came in contact with the Emperor. Some time after, hearing from Lady Cowley that I was engaged to be married, the Emperor sent me a silver cup, accompanied by a note, written by his secretary, in which he wrote that he thought I should not like the initials G. G., ' Gift of Gab,' so he had had his own engraved upon it, which con- sisted of the Imperial crown and L. N. under it. I only mention this incident to show that, with all his cares and sorrow, the Emperor still had time to think and be kind to a humble individual like my- self. My sister had spent a happy six weeks at Frohsdorf. Her friend Madame de M tried to make an annual visit to the French Court, as she called it, but found it im- possible that year to stop more than a week. However, ' L'homme propose ; Dieu dispose.' While at Frohsdorf her daughter, who was my sister's great friend, fell ill, and the illness was pronounced to be typhoid. Nothing could induce my sister to leave her. MY SISTER'S VISIT TO FROHSDORF 237 They had a happy time before this sad ill- ness. Anna, as she was called, was god- daughter of the Comtesse de Chambord. Many were the castles in the air the two girls built, of when the King should return to France, and it would be Eoyal and Catholic France again. My sister was not then a declared Catholic, but was allowed to go to daily Mass with her friends in the private chapel. The first time she saw the King (as she called him) she was much struck at his ungainly appearance and heavy unintellectual face of the true Bourbon type. But when he was on his knees praying, she told me, a wonderful change came over him : his face lighted up, and it seemed as if his whole soul was wrapped up in prayer. For a week she was not asked to the Court. It was not etiquette for Madame de M (though she was on most intimate terms with Henri V.) to ask if she might bring her to the little receptions he so constantly held after dinner. Accidentally, though, my sister was thrown in the King's way. She 238 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES had access to the chapel when she liked, and was in the habit of going there to meditate and read the books Montalembert was con- stantly sending her. One day she had gone up to the royal pew to fetch a prayer-book Madame de M had left there, and had asked her to bring her, when to her fright she found the King in the pew. She hastily retreated, when he signed to her to follow him, and in getting out in the fresh air he turned and asked who she was and where she came from, adding he often noticed her in the chapel. On her saying she was stopping with Madame de M he quickly said, ' Though English, of course you are a Catholic.' She said a thrill of horror seemed to go through him on hearing she was still a heretic, and was turning on his heel as if he was going. Her courage returned and she answered him, My greatest friends are Monseigneur Dupanloup and Monsieur de Montalembert, and Home, Sire, was not built in a day.' The King understood her meaning, courteously took off his hat, and said, ' I hope to see you at MY SISTER'S VISIT TO FROHSDORF 239 our reception to-night.' My sister was wild with delight and pride ; the wish of her heart was accomplished. She had spoken to him, and been graciously spoken to also by the King. Bushing home, she told all to Madame de M . Great was the delight of the two girls. Strange to say, even Anna had not been invited. How they turned over their little bits of finery ; how generous and unselfish the French girl was ! She had the greatest admiration for my sister, and was more full of making her look nice than in dressing herself. I was told long after that my sister looked lovely that night as she followed Madame de M dressed all in white. They all stood in a row round the room ; the King spoke to whom he chose. Long did he talk to Madame de M , and then said, ' Present your friend to me ; we have already made acquaintance in the chapel.' I think he expected some high- sounding name to come out, and was more than surprised when Madame de M said, ' Miss H .' My sister told me she knew she was the only commoner in the room ; all 240 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES the others were either of Austrian or French nobility. Again the King asked her name ; again it was repeated. Then turning to her he said, ' May I have the honour of presenting to you a great friend of mine ? ' and he beckoned from the crowd of gentle- men a tall aristocratic-looking priest, who devoted himself to my sister the rest of the evening. The Comtesse de Chambord seemed interested in nothing, and sat with a tired, bored expression all the evening. She was one of the plainest women in Europe, her face being fearfully scarred and marked through an accident at her birth ; but in spite of it all, and her bad taste in dress, one saw at once she was of royal blood, for she carried herself with wonderful grace and dignity. But she was not the wife for an aspirant to the crown, and there was nothing about her to inspire enthusiasm. She was respected, even feared by some ; but no one loved her, and at her husband's death no one troubled their heads much about her. When the papers announced MY SISTER'S VISIT TO FROHSDORF 241 his death, few in Europe realised that he was the rightful King, and that but for her husband's bigotry and love of ease, she might have been Queen Consort of France. Neither she nor Henri V. had the ambition to reign ; it seemed as if all the cares and sorrows of that ill-fated race of kings had fallen on their heads. To them an earthly crown was indifferent ; they had no children, no heirs to hand it on to. Their lives were so saintly, so pure, so full of devotion that one feels that in losing the earthly crown they gained the heavenly one. Dur- ing their long exile from the country they so loved they amply atoned for the sins and crimes of the many Bourbon kings, who brought on themselves the Kevolu- tion, and on Louis XVI. his execution and the ruin of his family. Even my sister (strong Legitimist as she was) was dis- appointed in Henri V. She often saw him, so often that when the de M s were invited to the Court she went too as a matter of course. One evening he spent a long time at the de M s's house. He B 242 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES begged them to explain why my sister, who (as he courteously expressed it) was so dis- tingude y was only Miss, like any roturier's daughter, or as he further said, * comme la fille d'un marchand de tabac.' She was called up, and courteously greeting her he said, ' The English aristocracy is the greatest puzzle to me. They have some of them a dozen surnames, and I am told the old county families look down on the new-made noblesse. Pray explain it to me.' My sister, who was very proud of her Saxon descent, explained to Henri V. how the English county gentleman is often of far more ancient lineage than the modern noblesse, many of whom have made their money in trade. She concluded by modestly saying that our family was one of the oldest in the eastern counties, that we could trace our descent from Doomsday Book. Henri V. had never heard of Dooms- day Book he was so strangely ignorant of English history and she promised to get a copy of Doomsday Book to show him, which she did. The late Duke of Newcastle MY SISTER'S VISIT TO FROHSDORF 243 lent her the beautiful edition which is still at Clumber, and which she brought to the King, who took the greatest in- terest in it. He told her of his one visit to England, when he held a miniature Court at a house in Belgrave Square, till Lord Palmerston requested him to leave, as it was causing much bad feeling with our French neighbours. This peaceful time drew to a close, as Anna de M was slowly recovering, and the doctors strongly advised her being moved by slow stages to her own home. The last evening came. There was to be a reception at Henri V.'s (the Comte de Chambord), but the Comtesse de Chambord was sud- denly seized with an attaque de nerfs, which she was much subject to, and the Eoyal apartments were closed that night. My sister was very disappointed. She was sitting with her sick friend and helping her to pack her desk, when Madame de M came in, gave my sister a small parcel, saying, ' I have had a farewell private audience of the King, and he sends you B2 244 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES this as a token of friendship.' She opened it, and out fell a small piece of jewelry, really not worth much as to money, but highly prized by those who had it. My sister wore it to the day of her death. It was only given by the Bang to very few, and was looked upon as a high mark of favour. It was a brooch shaped as a long cross, in silver, having at each point a fleur-de-lys, and a blood-red heart, the SacrS Cwur, in the centre of it. The inscription In hoc signo vinces is engraved on it. It was strange that an English girl, and only an English Miss, should have been singled out for this wonderful mark of favour. So I now possess gifts from Henri V. and the late Emperor Napoleon it came to me at my sister's death, and it is one of my greatest treasures. I seldom wear it, as I am afraid of losing it. My sister returned with her friends to France, and remained with them till poor little Anna's death, which resulted from the after-effects of typhoid. CHAPTEE XIV VISIT TO BRITTANY MY great friends, the de Tocquevilles, had gone to America. He was full of a great work he was writing on American politics. A sea- voyage was considered good for him. He remained out there a long time, and sadly did I miss my constant visits to Toc- queville. But my ' Breton boys ' were the comfort of my life. The Marquise de L (their mother) was ordered sea-bathing. We invited her and her two boys to stay with us. They remained a month. Afterwards they took a small appartement in the town ; so we met daily. She was a wonderfully accomplished woman ; played and sang beautifully, and loved to hear me read English to her. What a bond there was between us ! We seldom discussed politics, 246 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES on which we had not an idea in common. She always insisted upon us calling her * ma tante,' the Breton familiar name for anyone (as they explained) intimately loved. When she left Cherbourg she insisted upon my going back with them to their Breton home. So it was settled she should take me, and that I should remain with her till the de Tocquevilles landed at Brest in the American packet, when I was to return to Normandy with them. What a happy, bright journey it was ! We went by slow stages, as she was so easily tired. Her home was close to Quimper. Never shall I forget that first arriving. All the peasants were in their quaint Breton costume, and it was like a bit of old France. The old man-servant, whose family had been years and years in the service of Madame la Marquise, how reverently did he kiss her outstretched hand ! I can see my ' Breton boys ' with their arms round his neck, calling him ' mon pere,' a name they had called him from babyhood. How full of chaff and happi- VISIT TO BRITTANY 247 ness we all were ! I was introduced to the old man as their English mother, and at once he accepted and admitted me into the brotherhood of the family. Nothing was too good for me. The principal bedroom had been prepared for me, which felt like a vault. It had been shut up, he told me, since the day M. le Marquis had been brought home dying from wounds received in a skirmish with the Eevolutionary mob. The walls were hung with the most beauti- ful tapestry, which seemed to flutter in the breeze. The room seemed full of shadows. The old man lighted magnificent candela- bra placed in the middle of the room, and which lighted up that little space, but made the rest seem darker by the contrast. There were high-backed chairs, slippery boards, no carpets, blazing logs of wood in the fire- place, and a little wooden table holding a tiny basin and jug in which I was ex- pected to perform my ablutions. All was so stiff I felt I could not sleep in it. There was a knock at the door, and in came my two boys, so happy to be at home again. 248 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES 1 Little mother is afraid to sleep here,' they both said. I owned it. Down they rushed to their mother's room and insisted upon my being put in the old nursery : and there nine of the happiest weeks of my life were spent. That night I was introduced to the maiden aunt, a grim, stately old lady, at- tired in a most ancient costume, the skirt of which was short and skimpy and in thick gathers round the waist. She had never been out of the village, and spent her life in visiting the sick and praying in the church. She seldom spoke. She looked at me fixedly, coldly, and was the only one in the house who treated me as an alien. I have nothing stirring to tell of my visit there, as nothing exciting occurred ; but I will try to describe French country life in a French country house. Hot coffee and rolls were brought us at nine, in our rooms, after early Mass in the dear little church, which my dear boys never missed attending. The Marquise was ill, so had a special dispensation. The maiden aunt never missed. She went all weathers, and VISIT TO BRITTANY 249 spent hours on her knees. I used to go also. To me it is the greatest puzzle why I have remained a heretic, as they called it, having mixed so much with Eoman Catholics. After an early meal we did not meet till eleven o'clock. My boys had a tutor, and worked hard ; and I always went to their mother and helped her write her letters, or read the papers to her, as her sight was failing fast. She always sat in the same chair, dressed in a curious sort of dressing-gown. She made no attempt at a toilette, and in that costume she appeared at the eleven o'clock repast. The old man- servant was dressed in the blue blouse of the country. No tablecloth was used, and, as in Germany, the same knife and fork for each dish. Common cider was drunk. The whole time she talked to the old servant, who related to her all the petty gossip of the village. Nothing was too trivial for her to hear she knew and loved all the villagers. After the meal, one glass of old wine was brought to her, and on presenting it the old man always bent his knee, and reverently 260 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES kissed the long white hand held out to him. The boys always stood as she drank the wine : it was an old Breton custom. Then a rush was made as to who could first reach the mother they so loved, and they placed her comfortably in a chair, each of us young people kissing her hand before leaving her ; and we never met till tea-time, to which meal I had introduced them. All the old customs were kept up : there was none of the luxury of a modern English country house. After the dejeuner we flew off to spend a long happy afternoon, but Madame (as the aunt was called) was stuck on to us. She had to go with us, for as Madame de L said, * It is only for les convenances : you can't go tearing about the country alone with the boys ! ' The aunt was called Madame, as spinsters are not (so says the Breton custom) re- cognised old maids, as in England. They are admitted into a sort of sisterhood and made chanoinesses, and in that way have all the position and privileges of a married woman. Only high-born maidens are ad- VISIT TO BRITTANY 261 mitted into it. I believe the custom now is fast dying out of France, and the modern French girl is, like her sister, the modern English girl, throwing modesty and ladylike manners to the four winds, imitating the still greater laxity of the young married woman. How I loved my boys ! I used to say to myself I loved them too much both so exactly alike that no one could accuse us of entertaining ideas of marrying each other. They were so courteous, so high bred. What a carriage it was we went out in ! carriage in name only. It had no springs, no cushions just a cart in fact. The old horse was harnessed with rope harness, which always broke at the wrong time ; never going out of a slow trot ; sometimes refusing to go at all except when we got out and walked. We often talked in English. I had taught it them, and they loved it. We would drive into the country town, with its wonderful stretch of sea. What magnificent Atlantic rollers ! Ma- dame (the aunt) was always dressing little dolls. I often wondered what she did with 252 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES them. The boys seemed related to all the proprietors of the neighbouring chateaux. We went to one by train : they were anxious for me to see it. Their mother went also. It was a curious, ghostly old place, built in a quadrangle. I was taken to the chapel, and shown the room of the priest's martyr- dom, and told the following touching story. During the Kevolution, a mob stormed the chateau, saying they would spare all if the priest was delivered into their hands. He was the favourite child of the Countess, spending his life in good works. Fearing for his life they had hidden him in a small recess inside the chapel behind the altar, which was known to few. The mob rushed in, wildly clamouring to know his hiding- place. They were met by his mother, whom they threatened, saying if she did not tell them they would cut out her tongue. Brave old lady, she refused to tell. True to their threat they cut it out, and left her bleeding and senseless on the altar steps. When the terrified servants returned, they found her speechless, paralysed, unable VISIT TO BRITTANY 268 to move or even make a sign, for so great had been the violence of her persecutors, they had thrown her down with such force that her spine was fatally injured. She was carried to her room, and for years she lay there speechless and bedridden, always making piteous signs to be taken out of bed. No one knew why she was so restless. Her day of release came at last. She was dying. According to the tradi- tions and customs of that family, she was solemnly carried into the little chapel, to receive there the last rites of her Church. As they were anointing her with the holy oil and the last solemn absolution was still ringing in her ears, some slight strength seemed suddenly to return to the poor, help- less, wasted frame. She pointed one poor shaking finger to the wall ; she tried, oh ! so hard, to form one, only one little word. Following the direction of her finger, they searched and found behind the altar a bit of wall which, upon striking, sounded hollow. They broke it open. What a sight met their astonished eyes ! In there, with hands ii64 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES meekly crossed, head bowed as if in prayer, was the body of the priest. On his lap the sacred Host, which he had hastily taken for fear the mob should trample on it and desecrate it. There was the stiffened body of her son, true and loyal son of the Church. What more glorious death than to die like that ! By the marks and scratches on the door, he must have worked and scratched with his poor weary fingers to get out. He had almost worked his way through. No one heard him, as for days and days no one had entered the chapel. Everyone had waited, expecting the priest to return and say Mass. In forcing the door and taking him out they had forgotten the poor Com- tesse. A bright smile was on her face. She had crossed the Dark River. There on the other side he was waiting for her ; mother and son had met again. Both had died in the chapel of their ancestors, martyrs not by will, but by accident none the less worthy to be ranked among the noble army of martyrs. It was very touching to hear Madame de B tell this story. It was VISIT TO BRITTANY 266 that of her grandmother. She took us to the chapel. It was so small, so gloomy. She showed us the little niche with the old- fashioned door opening only from the out- side. One wondered how anyone could hide in it. It had a curious little ventilating shaft in the roof. A dreadful storm came on during our visit, and we were obliged to stop there that night. I was given a lovely little room, fitted up in the most exquisite style. It was on the ground floor. With all the courtesy of the ancien regime Madame de B had assigned to me the room of honour, saying a foreigner and her cousin's guest must have the chambre d'Jionneur. It had been occupied by the Duchesse de Berri, who brought her small son, the present Comte de Chambord, to see if she could stir up any loyal feeling for the Bour- bon family in the Breton country. But it did not succeed. She had not the power of arousing enthusiasm ; in fact none of the Bourbons had. They were like the ill-fated Stuarts in their exile and loss of crown ; 366 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES and yet so unlike them too, for the Stuarts had the wonderful gift of making their followers sacrifice all for them. The Bour- bons had not the powers of fascination or the great beauty that the Stuarts had. Madame de B told us another story of one of the chateaux in the neighbourhood. One of the sons was an officer of cavalry dur- ing the wars of Marlborough. In one of the many charges which our cavalry made, and which generally won the battle, an English officer's horse bolted, and carried him right into the French camp. Dazed and bewildered he fell an easy prisoner into their hands, and his horse, a beautiful white charger, was given to this French officer, whose own horse had been killed. How proud he was of his English prize, and wrote home, 'After the campaign the gallant white charger shall end his days in Brittany.' Another battle took place. The horse was wild at the sound of the English trumpets, and he reared and plunged with such vio- lence that the unfortunate Frenchman was killed on the spot. It was quite dark, VISIT TO BRITTANY 257 several hands were outstretched to seize the horse, but he shook himself free with a fierce neigh, and followed the English cavalry, who were retreating, dragging the dead body of the unfortunate young officer after him, his foot being entangled in the stirrup. The body was returned with a flag of truce next day. The horse was never seen again ; but when death and desolation hang over the family ' le cheval de Mal- brouk ' (as it is called) is seen tearing up the avenue. There is a curious prophecy attached to this legend, and that is that the horse would haunt the house till an English bride was brought to it. They told many stories that night, the old ladies outvying each other with tales of Louis XVIII. 's Court. They took me to my room, and my hostess said, ' If you are nervous in the night come to me. We are up the staircase at the end of the gallery.' I was young and not nervous. I lit my candle to look at the treasures that were shut up in a cupboard in my room. The night was intensely hot, so I opened my 268 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES window, and to my fright found it opened right into the haunted chapel. A bright moon was shining ; all looked so white and ghastly. Transfixed with horror, I tried to close the window, but it would not shut. I then lost my head, rushed wildly out into the hall, not caring where I went, but any- where as long as it was not that room. Two cheery voices I suddenly heard ; it was my Breton boys. Oh, loyal and true gentlemen that they were ! Knowing I should be nervous they decided to sit up in the hall, in case I should want them. How good they were ! If I had been a queen they could not have treated me with more respect. One went at once to tell their mother, and the other took me into the little dining-room and tried to comfort me, for, silly child that I was, I was sobbing bitterly. Soon my dear old friend appeared and took me at once to her room, where I spent a happy, peaceful night. I only tell this to show how courteous and kind French people are. The next day we returned home, and were told that an English gentleman who VISIT TO BRITTANY 259 had taken rooms in the village had sent up word, asking permission to see the chateau. He had told the ancient serviteur that it was very interesting to him, as he had many French relations, and he was touring in Brittany. We were all furious at an Englishman invading our peaceful village, but Madame de L said a stranger and a foreigner was never refused admittance. She sent a courteous message to say he could see the chateau the next day. Very cross were we young people at having to give in. The next day we went into the hall to have a peep at the islander (as my boys called him) from the gallery that ran round the staircase. In he came. I started, recognising the old familiar voice, which I should have known anywhere, it was so peculiarly rich and melodious ; it was no other than my cousin, Lord Malmesbury. Dashing down, I rushed at him and seized his hands; it was so nice to see him. Hastily I introduced my boys, who stood mute with astonishment at our vigorous English mode of greeting. With all the 20 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES courtesy of their race and peculiar charm of the French noblesse, they bowed low, and bade him welcome to the old home. Their mother was quickly informed as to who the Englishman was, and she at once invited him to dine and stay the night. In fact before he had half seen the place, a lad had been sent for his portmanteau, and he was forced to accept their hospitality. He stayed three days with us, living in the 1 intimitd of the Breton circle,' as he called it. The first night he appeared in the full English costume of a modern English gentleman white tie, black clothes. I shall never forget the look of astonishment that came over all my friends' faces at this apparition, as they called him. ' Quel bar- bare ! quel horreur ! Est-il possible ? ' they said to me afterwards. * Why did he dress like a waiter ? How uncivilized the English are ! ' was all poured out to me when I went for my usual evening gossip with Madame de L . Frenchmen never dress for dinner, and their full dress is grey trousers, often a coloured waistcoat, VISIT TO BRITTANY 261 and swallow-tailed coat. On the other hand Lord Malmesbury's remarks were equally amusing : ' What savages your friends are what barbarians ! Fancy, no tablecloth, and the same knife and fork ! ' But in spite of it we all did have a jolly time. We went to a neighbouring fair, my boys dressed in the pretty Breton costume : jackets which had been handed on from generation to generation, covered with beautiful silver buttons, knee-breeches to match, white silk stockings, and shoes with priceless paste buckles. ' How handsome they are ! " whispered Lord Malmesbury. ' Why are you not madly in love with these chaps ? ' * Because I love them both so much that I could not be in love with them,' I gruffly replied. Ah! love and flirtation would have been simply sacrilege to talk of in the same breath with my boys. We stayed a long time at the fair. We drove to it in the funny old-fashioned shan- drydan. I saw Lord Malmesbury lift his eye- brows (his invariable custom when astonished) at the rope harness and primitive carriage. 262 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES For the first time in our lives we did not have Madame. * Milor can chaperone les enfants,' the Marquise said, with the far- away look in her eyes. What fun that fair was ! How courteously the peasants greeted us ! In the merry national dance of Brit- tany, which my boys danced so well, they all doffed their caps and bent their knees to the young Counts before joining in it. We ate sweets, we danced, we bought at all the booths ; we went into the tent where all the farmers were sitting, had our healths pro- posed, and on leaving we were dragged out of the fair in the carriage by some of the strong young peasants. Our rope harness kept breaking on our return home. We kept getting out to walk up all the hills and down them too so as to make that happy night spin out a bit, the moon shining brightly all the time. The next day Lord Malmesbury left. He said he had never enjoyed himself so much. They all liked him so much. He was a perfect master of the French language and thorough man of the world, one of the VISIT TO BRITTANY 263 most popular men in London society. He was very grateful to me for giving him this introduction into Breton country life. True to the custom of our island, he tipped the servants handsomely on leaving. All he got for his generosity was the old servant telling us he was * un homme charmant ; but perfectly mad, as he threw his money recklessly about.' We drove him in the primitive old shay to the station, and both my boys insisted on accompanying him to the confines of their property, to show him extra respect ; and on bidding farewell, both kissed his hand, thanking him for the honour he had shown them in visiting their old home. I am sure he was as fond of those two boys as I, for no one was more affected than he on hearing of their sad deaths, only five short years after. The day when I was to leave them came at last. Madame was to take me next day to Brest, where I was to meet the de Tocquevilles on their arrival from America. We all felt very sad the last evening, especially my two boys, who longed to serve 264 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES their country, but knew it was impossible. None of their race had ever taken the oath to any but the Bourbons. In vain I quoted heaps of well-known French names who were serving their country. ' No, we shall die under a foreign flag,' was all they said. America was the only country they would go to. They spurned England, scoffed at Germany, detested the idea of Russia, Spain was quite impossible. We had to start early next morning, as it was a long, tiring journey. For the last time I slept in the little room opening into that of Madame de L . We had clambered all over the old haunts that day, had driven to those bright sands the Bretons are so proud of. The future all seemed uncertain. My boys tried to laugh and chaff, and said next time we met I should be married to a cold, stiff Englishman. I declared I would write a novel, and they should be the heroes. Madame de L started at this joke of mine, and said with an earnestness which impressed us all, ' Child, promise me you will never put our names in print ; it is contrary VISIT TO BRITTANY 266 to the traditions of our family.' I promised, and I have faithfully kept my promise ; for I have not mentioned their name or that of the old chateau, as I could not bear to think that if these few pages telling of life in a French chateau take my reader's fancy I could not bear to think that strangers and English should try and visit the dear old place ; for railways and steamers have made it easy of access to the British tourist. Madame (the aunt) came to my room that night. Her face looked greyer and sterner than usual, her thin fingers were twined nervously together. She had seldom noticed or spoken to me. I had an idea she hated me. How wrong and mistaken I was. ' You are going to-morrow, taking a deal of the sunshine out of my life,' she gently said. ' Yes, I have been young once, and happy it seems so long ago ! The people I lived with seem to have lived centuries ago. Time has dragged on. Once I was so un- conscious of sorrow ; like you, the world was before me I never looked ahead. You shall 266 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES hear an old maid's story. For years his name has not passed my lips, but you shall hear it; and if ever you think of me, do not think of me as the cold, stern woman you knew, but as one who has suffered, still suffers, and must suffer till death sets him and me free. ' I was introduced oh ! so long ago to a French officer who was quartered close here. I, like all French girls, was already betrothed to a nobleman whom I had never seen. The officer was often invited over here to shoot. All liked him. I was young, full of life and spirits. It never seemed to enter into my parents' heads that I, one of the Sacre Coeur pupils, should break through the rule of our country and fall in love with anyone but one whom they had chosen and settled should be my fianc6. I did not know it myself, till one day, forgetting all, the officer poured out his love to me, and implored me to marry him. I consented. I would have done anything, dared anything to have married him.' VISIT TO BRITTANY 267 I looked at her in astonishment. Was it the same cold woman I had known ? ' Yes,' she continued, ' done anything but risk my soul. He told me he was a Huguenot, a lineal descendant of one of those ill-fated victims at the massacre of St. Bartholomew's day. I had heard of a Pro- testant,' she naively said, ' but never seen one. How proud he was of his Huguenot blood ; he gloried in the martyrdom of his ancestors. I had been brought up to despise the Protestants, to look upon them as lost for ever, with no hope in this world and no salvation in the next. To think that I, a daughter of the Church, had fallen in love with one of that despised, hated sect ! How could I face my people and tell them ? How eloquent he was ! I longed almost to be a Huguenot ; I denied almost my faith ! Ah ! I loved him more than my God ! ' She hid her face in her hands, and tears trickled through her fingers ; her whole frame shook with sobs. ' It was so long ago I was such a girl. One thing I did resolve, and that was to go straight to my parents and 268 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES tell them the truth. He agreed, and said, ' I will go with you to your father.' My father was stunned. He saw in the future misery opening before his child. Passion- ately did my lover plead his cause. * My race is as noble as yours,' he proudly said. ' Let me marry her, and we will go abroad : you need not see your Protestant son-in-law again.' All arguments were useless. We were allowed to meet once more,' the dear old lady said ; and, drawing herself proudly up, continued, ' We both belonged to noble families noblesse oblige neither of us could ask the other to deny our faith. We met and we parted.' There came a long pause ; I saw the old figure trembling. ' Don't finish it,' I cried, ' if it pains you.' 4 1 have never breathed this story to any- one,' she said. ' But you are so intimate here. You are a Protestant ; the boys are Catholic.' I knew what she meant. I had never con- fided in her. She feared a future for me like her own she misunderstood our friendship. She went on with her story. * Once a year we met still the two religions sepa- VISIT TO BRITTANY 269 rated us. He had a long, severe illness, and came out of it with the mind of a little child. He knows no one. Once a year I go and see him : he does not know me. The dolls I dress are for him' she squeezed my hand very tight then ' and he is always playing with them, and fancying they are me and him, bride and bridegroom ; so I always dress my dolls in wedding garments. He does not suffer,' was her last sentence, as bending over me she kissed me on the forehead, saying, 'In heaven they neither marry nor are given in marriage.' She looked so peaceful as she left the room my dear old friend ! I wish I had not laughed at her so often. What a touching little story it was ! Madame de L , the two boys, and I talked it over late that night. Even she did not know her sister-in-law's real history ; she had never asked for confidence and it had not been given. That story has often haunted me. I heard after, she died first, and he lived to ninety. Her last words were a desire that he should be kept supplied with dolls, for he would miss them so. 270 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES Have I spun life in a Breton chateau out too much ? Perhaps it is too egotistical ; but it may interest some of my readers, for it is so different to country life in England. The next day I went to Brest ; Madame de L and the two boys went so far with me. They had always laughed at my fears of sleeping alone, and dread of ghosts. Louis (one of the boys), in spite of my incessant petitions to him not to, declared if he died first his spirit should call upon me, so he laughingly said. That page of my life was turned over. Once only I saw one of my boys again. Eighteen months after he wrote, and said he was tired of doing nothing. How could he get a commission in the Southern army ? I knew no one in it, but I at once asked Lord Ernest Bruce to help me. He used to say he knew everyone worth knowing, from the Archbishop of Canterbury to the crossing- sweeper in Belgrave Square. There were great difficulties, as Count Louis did not wish to give his real name ; but Lord Ernest overcame them all. He wrote me word to VISIT TO BRITTANY 271 get the young fellow over, and he could then tell him all he had to do. It was indeed good of Lord Ernest. He met him at the station, took him home for two nights, helped him get his outfit, and put him in the train to come to Heron Court, where he had been asked to stop on his way to Southampton, and from there he sailed in a Transatlantic steamer. How well I remember the party there : Lord and Lady Derby (known as the great Lord Derby) ; Lord Eanelagh, who was particularly anxious to meet him, as he had identified himself with English volunteers ; and one or two humbler individuals, myself amongst them. He arrived looking very miserable and wretched, having said good- bye to the mother and brother he so tenderly loved, and from whom he had never been separated ; and to the faithful old servant who had nursed and tended him as a child. All this had terribly upset him. He had felt so lonely in London such a noise and tur- moil he said ; the difficulty of making him- self understood was so great, though he constantly spoke English with me. With all a Frenchman's sensitiveness he hated all the questions asked him by the Southern agent, and which he called impertinent. Dear old Lord Ernest assisted him as much as possible, but as he was nearly stone deaf they could not hold much conversation to- gether. Poor boy, he was so young to be so sad ! Lord Malmesbury's wife had French blood in her veins, her mother being daughter of the Due de Grammont. How he liked her, and said she was like a bit of France. Everyone loved my Breton boy. Lord Derby was particularly struck with him, he was so modest and yet so full of fun. The day after, one or two of us went to Southampton to see him off. The first person we met on the steamer was Lord Ernest, who had come all the way from London to wish him God-speed. It was good of him, and so like him. Poor boy, his eyes were full of tears as we all wished him good- bye. He declared to me, the night before, he should never return. He seemed strangely superstitious. When alone he confided to me he had seen the c cheval de Malbrouk,' as he VISIT TO BRITTANY 273 had been over to the chateau of to wish his cousin good-bye, and twice he had seen the fatal white horse of Marlborough. Once in the morning, on his way to Mass, it had suddenly rushed past him. The other time was on driving away at night : in the distance he caught a glimpse of it. It was no use laughing at it. Lord Derby was so struck with him that, with characteristic generosity and tact, he said to me, ' If that young fellow wants any money I will be his banker.' I did not dare wound my boy's pride and susceptibility by telling him this. He had come with no evening clothes what was the use of getting them for only one night ? and he had come third class, which thirty years ago was an unheard-of thing in England. Now people are poorer and forced to travel so : he had done it, as his outfit had cost a lot, and, though serving in the Southern army, he was too proud to take their gold ; so he did all he could to save his mother expense. For six months he served under Stone- wall Jackson, for whom he felt the greatest T 274 f FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES admiration, and would have followed him to the death. His letters were full of interest ; his mother often sent them onto me. One day one of those dreadful printed papers ( ' Faire part') with a deep black border, peculiar to France, was sent me. Opening it in fear and trembling, I saw to my intense grief it was the annonce de mort of my dear old friend Madame de L . It had no par- ticulars, no details. How I longed to go to Brittany and hear all ! Three months later I saw accidentally in the Breton local paper that my boy had died under a foreign flag, in a foreign land. For months I could get no details ; I knew no one out there. Again I had recourse to Lord Ernest, and said he must find out everything I must know. But it was so difficult, as none of us knew the name he was serving under. He wrote me one of his characteristic cheery letters, that I was always asking him im- possibilities. He did do what I asked him to, and sent me a letter from one of my boy's brother officers, giving a few details. Recollecting his playful threat that he VISIT TO BKITTANY 275 would come and pay me a visit if he died first, I had often lain awake at night, ex- pecting and dreading to see him. If the windows rattled, if the floor creaked, if the leaves rustled against the windows, or if the wind moaned, was it he ? would he really come ? His friend wrote that he had always prayed and longed for a soldier's death to die like his ancestors, on the battle-field. That was not granted him. Heaven refused him that one wish, that poor little wish. For some good purpose it was denied him. He caught one of those low fevers so common to that country, and with his usual stubborn- ness would not give in. He had never really got over his mother's death ; it had been such a shock to him. The night before his death he was delirious, all night wildly talking in French. His friend did not know a word of French, and understood none of his wanderings. How sad to think no one was there to hear his last words in his native tongue ! Was he in dear Brittany again ? Was he in the old cart, or walking f a down the little familiar street where all loved and knew him? Was he kneeling by his mother's side in the village church, or roam- ing through the quaint garden ? In the bright early morn when consciousness returned, feebly taking a locket from his breast he asked them to bury it with him. ' It is only my mother's and brother's hair,' he said. Another wish he expressed was that his face should be covered with a handkerchief (her last gift) embroidered with the lilies of France. ' I then shall have my flag buried with me.' After a pause he said, * Tell "little mother " I will not come to see her after death ; she shall never be frightened by her Breton boy when he is dead.' Brave, loyal, true-hearted Frenchman ! in that su- preme moment he thought of the old (shall I call it) joke ; and would not let his spirit return and frighten the friend and playmate of his youth. For we were like so many children together. He had teazed me so often, and yet we were such friends. He could not remember my name. The officer did not know his, so if it had not been for Lord VISIT TO BRITTANY 277 Ernest Bruce I should never have heard any details, and would still, and might still, be afraid of sitting alone in the dark, thinking he might come. He spoke but little after this, only a few broken words in French. His last words, faint as they were, were uttered in a tone of surprise. ' Ma mere ! ma mere ! ' Doubtless she came to greet him as his spirit passed peacefully and quietly away. His last thoughts were of his mother, as he always thought first of her. There is no nation so devoted, so attached, so good to their mothers as the French. I wrote to this officer, who wrote and told me he had been buried with full mili- tary honours, the band playing that sad plaintive air, ' Maryland, my Maryland.' I heard the other brother had gone to Kome, taken priest's orders, and also died in a foreign land, at some missionary station. This was the last of my Breton boys. No nobler spirits, no grander souls ever lived. They died young. They did not perhaps add to the glories of their long line of ancestors in a worldly sense. That was no fault of theirs. 278 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES They both wore the white flower of a blame- less life ; they both acted up to their favourite motto, Noblesse oblige. They had lived their day : no one could wish them back in these times of atheism, Socialism, and their be- loved country torn to pieces with internal differences. The old proverb says, * Those whom the gods love, die young.' 279 CHAPTER XV THE LAST CBUISE OF THE ALABAMA I THINK one of the most exciting incidents of my life was witnessing the celebrated sea- fight, off Cherbourg, between the Confederate cruiser Alabama and the United States cruiser Kearsage, on June 19, 1864. It is so long back quite a matter of history. Another generation has sprung up since then, and the present generation cannot understand how high feeling ran then, and how in England we all seemed to side with the Confederates. I shall always look back with pride to my acquaintance with Captain Semmes captain of the Ala- bama. The Alabama was a wooden ship of 1,040 registered tonnage. She was built at Liverpool, and she was pierced for twelve guns, besides carrying two heavy pivot guns 280 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES amidships. She had no name, and was known only as ' Gun-boat 290.' When fully equipped and manned she started ; and once in the Channel hoisted the Confederate flag, and did a lot of damage to the United States shipping and commerce, though as yet she had never come in contact with any of their cruisers. She came into Cherbourg late one evening, as far as I can recollect, and, as it was sunset, hoisting no colours. She had come in to refit and coal ; but of course the French Government could not admit her in their dockyard. It soon got about that this mysterious vessel was no other than the celebrated ' pirate ship,' as the Yankees called the A labama. The following morning, the United States cruiser Kearsage, com- manded by Captain Winslow, came in, and many then were the stories circulated : that he had insisted on the French Government giving her up ; that they had refused ; that he had threatened to fight her in Cherbourg roads, but had been forced to give up that idea as the French authorities again inter- THE LAST CRUISE OF THE ALABAMA 281 fered. How curious we all were! There she lay, the famous Alabama, colours flying, making no sign of her intentions, knowing that bluster, bully, and rage as they might, the Kearsage could not harm or interfere with her as long as she lay under the pro- tection of Cherbourg breakwater. We longed to go on board, but in my father's position it was considered impossible. However the gods have always been good to me. A very old friend of ours (now dead) came in his yacht, and asked me and my sister to come on board, lunch, and spend the rest of the day with him. After luncheon he asked if we should like to visit the Alabama. Imagine how I jumped at it ! Captain Semmes and his officers re- ceived us most courteously, offering to show us over the ship. But my friend would not go, and I think he was right. For if the United States cruiser had got any inform- ation that Semmes did not care for her to know, it would have been said at once that the report had been spread by the English yacht. I may mention that this yacht was 282 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES not the DeerJiound she only came in the night before the engagement. I was very young then, and full of enthusiasm. Captain Semmes took to me at once, and was evidently much amused at my abuse of the Kearsage, and the ardent wish expressed by me that the Alabama should send her to the bottom ! He was a very quiet, silent man, with a face full of determination, wearing at that moment an anxious expression. He talked with a strong American accent, and seemed to be incessantly receiving reports from his officers. The crew seemed a heterogeneous lot, of every nation in the world. He treated me rather as a child, once or twice calling me * Little girl ' or ' Miss.' He asked if I had visited the Kearsage, and on my indignantly saying, ' Nothing would induce me to go on board,' he said, ' You know the Kearsage says the Alabama is afraid to fight her. Do you think I look afraid ? ' What silly things girls are ! Though I had only seen him for ten minutes I had made him to myself quite a hero, and would have THE LAST CRUISE OF THE ALABAMA 283 quarrelled with anyone who said a word against him or the good ship Alabama. My friend asked him to dine on board his yacht ; but he declined, saying he was too busy to leave his ship. Little did we guess that he had sent a challenge to the Kearsage, offering to fight her in fair combat outside Cherbourg breakwater three miles outside, in what was called neutral waters and that he was waiting the reply. He well knew that the Kearsage would never lose sight of him ; that at last they had run him to ground ; that these American sailors were simply panting, longing to fight. No mercy would be shown to the Alabama, none would be asked. If he attempted to leave at night, the Kearsage would go after him. Fight he must ; fight he would, and he longed for it quite as much as the Kearsage. That evening we all were walking up and down the Square, listening to the band, the one topic of conversation being the rival ships. My father had just returned from Paris, where he had gone to see Lord Cowley about any of our countrymen who were on 284 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES board the Alabama. I had not told him I had been on board. He was talking to the French Admiral when Captain Semmes suddenly passed us, and, recognising the English party who had come in the morning, came up and sat down by me. It was the last time I ever saw him. My friends were just leaving in their yacht for Brest. I knew I could not introduce my father, so I walked up and down with Captain Semmes, who said, ' Have you heard that all is settled ? To-morrow we fight.' Startled and upset, I asked him to explain. He then told me he had challenged the United States cruiser, that the challenge was accepted, and that to-morrow would decide whose was the better ship. I had seen the Kearsage had gone, that she had got up steam that afternoon and steamed out, and in my silly girl-like way of jumping to a conclusion said, ' She was afraid and has gone.' ' Yes,' he replied, 4 she has got up steam and gone ; but only gone three miles outside to wait in neutral waters for us.' He then said, * I wanted to see you, to wish you good-bye. The THE LAST CRUISE OF THE ALABAMA 286 Kearsage has heavier guns than we, and I intend to board. If I can do that, we shall win the day.' He was very grave, very quiet, and so was I. I felt miserable. Turning round he said, ' Little girl, you are crying.' Cry- ing was not in it. I was simply sobbing. It seemed so dreadful to think that perhaps next morning he and his gallant crew might be either dead or, worse still, prisoners of war to the United States Government. Would they show mercy ? Could we expect it ? He left me. I longed to introduce him to my father, but I did not dare he was busy talking to some friends who had arrived that day from St. Malo. I mention this fact as often since Americans have declared to me that there was a private understanding between the Deerhound and Alabama ; that all the treasures and valu- ables of the Alabama had been transferred to the Deerhound, and a secret compact entered into, to help the Alabama as much as they could. This is a deliberate falsehood, as the Deerhound arrived at six, and went out 286 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES next morning to witness the fight at the urgent request of the young people on board, though Mr. Lancaster himself, the owner of the yacht, would have far rather remained quietly in the roadstead. To my certain knowledge he had no intercourse or com- munication whatever with the Alabama. What a night we all passed ! My father, with many others, remained a long time on the pier. Though it is over thirty years ago, I shall never forget it. In the road- stead, safe at anchorage, was the Alabama. No one seemed asleep that night on board : harsh notes of command; the boatswain's whistle ; boats going to and fro crowded with people wishing to inspect her, to row round her, but sternly warned off if they came too close. In the distance, the far, far distance, people said they saw the lights of the Kear- sage. They must have imagined it, as she was quite three miles off. Only now and then the distant booming of a gun told us she was there in the offing, waiting for her prey ; waiting to take revenge for the many losses the privateer had caused to America and THE LAST CRUISE OF THE ALABAMA 287 her commerce. At two we all went home, our hearts, our thoughts, full of the brave ship who, all said, was going to her doom the next day. Early in the morning we were all astir. A letter came for me from Captain Semmes, quite short, containing an enclosure, merely asking me to keep it till I had instructions from him. If he was killed, to post it at once to Paris ; if he was alive he would tell me where to send it. That morning a great friend of mine said she was going to the breakwater to see all she could, and would we like to come with her ? We were glad, for otherwise we should have had to stop indoors, as the excitement in the streets was intense. My father had gone off in the Admiral's barge, which remained in the roadstead watching the events. My friend had a man-of-war's boat at her command, as her husband was an officer in the French navy, so we were rowed straight to the breakwater, and at my urgent request steered as close as we could to the Alabama. How beautiful she 288 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES looked ! Flags proudly flying, guns run out, all looking so like business. No noise, no movement, every man at his post, all waiting for the signal to weigh anchor. We could not help it we were three Eng- lish people, and, though in a French man- of-war's boat, we three stood up and cheered. And the Alabama cheered us back, and dipped one of her flags as we rowed swiftly past, for Captain Semmes recognised the ' little girl,' as he called me. I believe my friend was terribly scolded by her indig- nant husband on hearing what he called our disgraceful conduct. But we did not care ; we had cheered them on, and the last sound ringing in their ears, as they were weighing anchor then, was our unmistak- able British cheer. The Deerhound in the distance was also getting up steam, to see what the young people called * the fun.' At 9.30 the Alabama steamed slowly out. Many cheered her as she passed close to the breakwater, closely followed by a French frigate, which had been ordered to see that no fighting should take place in French THE LAST CRUISE OF THE ALABAMA 289 waters three miles out was supposed to be neutral sea. How we all watched her as she seemed to glide along, so quietly, so stately, going straight on to where the Kearsage waited, firing her guns in de- fiance ! They were equally matched, about the same size though the Kearsage was said to have heavier guns both crews feel- ing and knowing it was war to the knife. Everyone thought the English yacht must be mad to go out also : one shot from either of the belligerent vessels would soon send her to the bottom. People said that only an Englishman would be so mad as to wilfully and willingly take his wife and children into such a position. At the end of an hour the Kearsage^ seeing the Confederate vessel was intend- ing to fight and not run away, stood out to sea another mile, as it had been settled by the French naval authorities that they must go out so far before they could begin fighting. It was a long and tedious busi- ness before the two vessels could settle down for fight. The Kearsage then rounded, 290 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES going straight towards the Alabama till she got within 1,200 yards of her. The Alabama then opened fire, and poured three broadsides quickly at her enemy, the Kearsage as yet not returning it or firing one single gun, the two vessels steering round and round each other till they got within 900 yards. It was a beautiful, most wonderful sight ; one scarcely dared breathe. We had powerful telescopes given us, and saw almost every detail as plainly as possible. The Kearsage then opened fire, and when the smoke had cleared away the Alabama was seen steering for Cherbourg at least so the Americans said. I saw Captain Winslow's report, in which he said that the Alabama, seeing she was sinking, sent her boat to say she surrendered, asking for boats to be sent to save life. Before he could reply, the DeerJwund steamed up, and hailing the Kearsage asked if they could render her any assistance. Mr. Lancaster, the owner of the yacht, seeing the Kearsage had ceased firing her guns THE LAST CRUISE OF THE ALABAMA 291 and was laying to, fancied she wanted assistance, not having seen the dire plight the Alabama was in. Winslow replied he was all right, so the yacht steamed off, as she then saw the other ship was rapidly settling down. A cry of horror broke from all. Full steam was put on, every effort made to reach the sinking ship. But when within 200 yards the gallant ship went down. Twice had her flag been shot away, twice re-hoisted, and even as she was going down one of her crew was seen still waving the Confederate colours. This was told my father by a competent eye-witness. The Alabama fired round shot, the Kearsage shell. We were told that the Kearsage declared the Alabama had struck her flag, and surrendered herself and men as prisoners of war. I only know she went down with colours still flying. The Deerhound's boats were down long before the Kearsage's or the French frigate's, though the Kearsage lowered her boats as quickly as possible to save lives. No one noticed the movements of u 2 292 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES the DeerJiound. The little English yacht, with all the eccentricity of our nation, they said, had had enough of the fight, had seen the fun, and was fast disappearing on the horizon, steering towards England in a precious hurry to take the news back that the famous Confederate cruiser was sunk off Cherbourg, her captain and crew all prisoners of war. Little did they know the precious freight she had on board. It is so easy to talk, so easy to think one knows so much. She had picked up the gallant Semmes and forty of his officers and crew ; and, knowing the fate that was in store for him, stood straight out to sea and was soon lost in the distance. We all remained on the breakwater: our boat had gone off as quickly as she could to render assistance. The air was full of smoke. The ill-fated ship had blown up as she went down. The heavy cannonade had brought down heavy threatening clouds from above. One heard, or fancied one heard (which is just the same), the shrieks THE LAST CRUISE OF THE ALABAMA 293 of the drowning men. I don't think I ever cried so much in my life. I was thoroughly unnerved so were we all. It was too dread- ful, seeing that gallant ship one moment with colours proudly flying, doing her utmost to get to close quarters with her enemy ; another moment, sinking in full sight of us all, all powerless to help ; the only thing moving to her aid was the little English yacht ; the French frigate too far off to help, though she came as quickly as she could. The Kearsage sent her boats also to help, and then slowly returned to her moorings in Cherbourg breakwater. How proudly she came in: her guns still run out as if ready to fire another broadside ; men and officers all in full fighting dress cutlasses, swords, pistols ; and (so I was afterwards told, but do not vouch for the fact) dragging after her in the water the colours of the Confederate ship. They were all so pleased with themselves; and small blame to them. They landed soon after the fight, and were seen walking about the town with pistols in their belts, as if (as 294 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES some one facetiously said) they were going to take Cherbourg and all the shipping. Luckily we were still on the breakwater waiting for our boat, for I am sure, with all the impetuosity of youth, if I had met them I should have said something very rude to them. We did not get off the breakwater till five. I was too wretched to speak ; and where was Semmes ? Was he a prisoner on board the United States frigate ? Had he been picked up, or had he gone down with the ill-fated ship the ship he so loved, the ship he was so proud of ? I found my father had been telegraphed for to go to Paris and report all to our ambassador, Lord Cowley, leaving a long and volumin- ous despatch to Earl Kussell, the then Secretary for Foreign Affairs, with instruc- tions for me to copy it out and despatch it by that night's mail. At seven the Admiral, whose wife was a great friend of mine, sent up his aide-de- camp to tell me and my sister we were to come to them to spend the evening ; they THE LAST CRUISE OF THE ALABAMA 295 knew we should be alone. I had cried and sobbed so that I wasn't fit to be seen. But anything was better than being alone. On our way we met some half-dozen of the Kearsage's crew. I went up to them and asked, 'Is Captain Semmes a prisoner on board ? ' One said, * Yes, and to-morrow he will be tried by court-martial and shot like a dog.' This was cheering news. Another said, ' He is not on board ; I saw him go to the bottom myself.' On arriving at the house we only saw the Admiral's wife ; he was far too busy to dine. As he expressed it, he had his hands full. The fate of Semmes was still a mystery. It was their ' at home ' even- ing, and the room crowded. Everyone wanted to hear and to talk. Everybody laughed at the Deerhound running away. One lady rudely said, ' She was afraid of the smoke.' Another remarked, 'It is a pity she went out, as it was not dignified to run away like that.' I was too miserable, too much upset to trouble to answer her. If I had spoken I should have made an ass of myself and burst into tears. Whilst all this 296 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES hubbub of idle talk was going on the servant came and said the captain of the English steamer wanted to see me, and me alone, as he had something particular to tell me. I went down, and he told me they had met the Deerhound in the middle of the Channel, and she had signalled to them, ' Tell Miss H to send letter to Post Office, Southampton.' I knew what that meant. I knew Semmes was safe. I flew downstairs into the Admiral's office and, wild with excitement, said, ' Semmes is all right. Deerhound picked him up. Deerhound did not run away.' ' Tell me something I don't know,' he replied. ' I had a despatch half- an-hour ago from our consul at Southamp- ton to tell me so. And I would not be your friend, the owner of the Deerhound, for something ; for she will get into a nice mess for running off with prisoners of war.' I did not care what he said. I only knew Captain Semmes was safe, and that England would never give him up. I flew home and posted the letter at once. My father arrived late that night and THE LAST CRUISE OF THE ALABAMA 297 was much astonished at hearing what I had to tell him, saying I was made to be a con- spirator. All his time was taken up going on board the Kearsage to see if amongst the prisoners there were any of our country- men. The next day we went out in a small tug to see the place where the Alabama was supposed to be lying. It was a lovely day : not a ripple on the water, sun brightly shining. But not a trace of the gallant ship. Sea-birds flying about, dipping into the sea, uttering the peculiar note of the sea-bird, as if they were chanting a dirge for the Alabama. Brave ship ! She had made her last voyage. She had fought her last fight. She had gone down with her flag still flying. She was at rest under the great sea, beneath the peaceful waters. No one could point the finger of scorn at her. True to her cause, true to the flag she never disgraced, she is one of the brightest pages in the history of the deadly fight between the North and the South. 298 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES Long and bitter was the correspondence between the English Government and the United States about the DeerJwund's share in this battle, as to taking off to England the gallant captain and so many of the crew. Only the other day, when the newspapers came in, I was told that Captain Semmes had died. A generation has passed away since this memorable fight. The war between the United States and the South is a matter of history. The name of the Alabama is almost unknown to this generation, also Captain Semmes's. My companion, who was reading the paper to me, could not under- stand the sudden start I made, or the tone of excitement in which I said, ' Kead on ! Read on ! Miss nothing. Tell me all.' Oh, how all seemed to come back through this long, long vista of years ! The quaint old Norman town, with its grand old church looking down upon the busy scene its clear-cut cross looming up against the dark blue of the summer sky, speaking of peace and good-will to all men THE LAST CRUISE OF THE ALABAMA 299 the last church built in Normandy by our Plantagenet king, the third Edward (at least so is the tradition) ; the band playing some modem operatic air ; the smart French officers ; the Normandy peasants in their old- fashioned, picturesque costumes ; children gaily dancing to the music of the band ; an English girl crying in a side seat. Once again after long, long years I seem to hear the grave, surprised voice of the captain sounding in my ears, ' Little girl, you are crying,' once again to hear the booming of the Kearsage's gun, firing at intervals, telling us that the brave ship was waiting and ready for action. Once again I see the Lights of the Alabama, the last time she ever ran them up; the dull plash of the tide as it beat restlessly against the stone quay again rings in my ears ; the sharp word of com- mand from the French frigate, which was waiting, steam up, to escort the Alabama out of French waters into neutral sea. I seem to have gone back thirty-four years, seeing and hearing all once again listening to the chorus of the Alabama's 300 FOKEIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES crew as they sang that sad and plaintive song : ' Oh, who thy beauty can withstand, Maryland, my Maryland ? ' which at one time threatened to become a national air and would have been so if the South had conquered in that deadly fight. It seemed to rise and swell as the sailors kept taking it up, and then died away only to break out again as a fresh lot took up the refrain. All this has come back to me. Yes, they were both equally brave, those gallant crews of the Alabama and the Kearsage. Most of them are now at rest, safe in the haven where they would be. 301 CHAPTER XVI THE END OF MY LIFE ABROAD THE next memorable event in our family was the reception of my sister into the Catholic Church. Montalembert had pleaded his cause well, and with tears of joy he took his god-child to the chapel at the Sacre Coeur, where Dupanloup solemnly gave her the sacrament of baptism. It was a most impressive service. Only a very few of our most intimate friends were there. Everyone was affected why, I don't know. Montalembert brought his friend the Papal Nuncio, who gave a most impressive ad- dress. After it was all over we returned to Madame de C 's house. I shall never forget that afternoon. It was so dreary for me. I felt an outsider, a goat amongst the 302 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES sheep, so out of it. I longed to be one of them. They were all kind to me, at least they tried to be ; but they looked at me with wonder and surprise. Alone I sat in the window, knowing my sister and I could never be the same again : never go to church together again, never kneel side by side to receive the Blessed Sacrament, never read our favourite authors together, Keble, Williams, etc. There was a line be- tween us ; neither of us could cross it again. Strange, and still more strange, why was I not of this creed also ? ' You will come to us one day,' said Monseigneur Dupanloup, as I with the others knelt to receive his blessing. ' Never, Monseigneur,' I replied. And I never have. Yes, I think if anything or anybody could have made me join them, it would have been then. All that eloquence, all that persuasion could do, was brought to bear on me. But it was useless. That evening my sister received a tele- gram from Henri V.'s chaplain, congratu- lating her on her entry into the Koman Church, and a kind message from the King THE END OF MY LIFE ABROAD 303 himself. Not being noble, it was not eti- quette for the King to wire direct to her. Every Legitimist salon was now thrown open to her ; anything that made life plea- sant was put in her way. One day a splendid white bouquet arrived for her from the Comte de C , with a spray of orange flower in it. We all knew what it meant. It was the old Eoyalist custom to propose in that way. If she took it with her to the party she was going to that night it meant she accepted his offer ; if left at home it signified refusal. She went to the party ; the bouquet re- mained at home. I could not blame her, for his mother had said to her only the previous day, ' The C s have always married French girls, chosen by their parents.' He called the next day; I had to see him. He declared firmly he would never marry anyone else. It was a painful interview. He was so loyal to her. He did not blame her, and only said, * I would have done exactly the same.' We both left Paris to return to our 304 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES Norman home. My sister had made up her mind to enter the Sacre Coeur convent, but put it off for six months at the earnest request of her friends and relatives. I then went to Tocqueville. It was so peaceful and quiet there. When I arrived and saw my dear old friend, I knew the beginning of the end was coming. Constant attacks of haemorrhage had so reduced him that I scarcely knew him. He was full of going to London to consult an eminent physician, a great authority on consumption. Again Madame de Tocqueville begged me to go with them. She had never been to England since she was a child, and dreaded returning there, knowing no one. A small house was taken in Green Street, and there the invalid was taken. He got marvellously better ; at one time we all thought he would recover. Many well-known people called on him, but he never went out anywhere. He was so longing to recover, so loath to die, so full of life and literary pursuits, it was quite painful to see him. His nervousness was terrible. We took him, by the doctor's THE END OF MY LIFE ABROAD 305 advice, a little tour in England : anything to distract his mind was advised ; but it was not a success. Then he longed for home, his library. With the restlessness of an invalid nothing would suit him but to return to Tocqueville, and back I accompanied them. Again the old friends gathered round him ; the daily readings were re- sumed, the discussion of politics. Each day he grew weaker and weaker. Every week was a stepping-stone towards the end, the fatal end. Each week something was given up, the visits of friends were stopped, all was done to save that precious life. I was young ; I had never seen death or a long wasting disease. I wrote all his letters for him often they were dictated in a whisper. I read all the papers to him, did every- thing that a daughter could have done. I think I only realised he was drifting to the other shore, when his daily walk on the terrace at midday was given up. The last few times he could hardly move, and he said in a voice full of tears, ' I must give up even this.' His great friend Nelaton, the x 306 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES great physician, came and saw him, and said his only chance not of life but of living another year was to go to the South of France. Gently it was broken to him. I shall never forget his look. Madame de Tocqueville, Nelaton, the sick man, and my- self were in the library, the room we all loved. The sick man covered his face with his hands, tears trickled through them, and in a broken voice he said, * Adieu to all my books, adieu, my Norman home ; the hand of death is on me. I cannot, I will not die ! ' It was a dreadful evening. Nelaton left next day, promising to meet us at Paris. On my young shoulders fell all the responsi- bility of moving and packing ; his wife was prostrated with grief. They had no children, only each other, and she was fast becoming an invalid herself. I thought it was from grief. I went to see her after he had retired to his room. She then told me that she also had consulted the great doctor. Gently and kindly he had told her the truth, and that was that she herself was dying, dying of a terrible, incurable malady. Her only prayer THE END OF MY LIFE ABEOAD 307 was that he might go first and not live to see her sufferings. We left shortly after. I could only go with them as far as Paris, as my father would not let me go so far away with two sick people. Montalembert lent us his house in the Eue du Bac, and there we stayed a week. All de Tocqueville's old friends came to see him ; all knew he never would come back again. Very touching were the farewells. He had never made an enemy even people differing from him in politics called. The Emperor sent his aide- de-camp. The Due de Morny, Persigny, Baron Haussmann, Flahault, and Due de Malakoff were amongst the callers ; they all came longing for news. ' Alexis de Tocque- villeis dying,' was the universal cry ; c France cannot spare him.' I had to interview several of them, as he was only allowed to see a few people, and I wanted to spare his wife as much as I could. They were all so kind, so full of sympathy. As for his own personal friends de Corcelle, Kemusat, I 308 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES Gustave de Beaumont, Ampere, Octave Feuillet, and one or two others they all declared the day he was taken to the South they also would go and see if love and friendship could not bring the sick man to life again. That was refused. Nelaton said there were to be no farewells, no excitement. I was allowed to go and see them off on condition that I showed no emotion. I went. I sat in the carriage till the time was up. M. de Corcelle came up, and I knew it was time to say good-bye. The sick man folded me tight to him, and in a faint whisper said, { I have never had a child of my own. I could not have loved one more than I do you. I shall come home in the summer.' I could not speak. A hand was laid on my shoulder : it was Nelaton. We had agreed that I was to send my dear old friend off on his journey smiling, and not show my grief. In old days, when vexed or annoyed at any- thing, he would say jokingly, ' I shall punch your head.' Turning round to Nelaton I exclaimed, ' I shall punch your head for listening to our little flirtation ! ' The sick THE END OF MY LIFE ABROAD 309 man went off smiling. We all tried to smile as the train steamed out. I never saw him again. He got better at first, and even went out. He wrote to me that as soon as he had resumed his walks, I was to come out to them. One day one of those fierce winds of the South came on, and that evening the hemorrhage returned. His wife described it all to me afterwards ; nothing could stop it, and life slowly ebbed away. His large eyes were fixed on her, as he was forbidden to speak, so as to give him one last chance of life a faint chance. The news spread through France : people had hoped against hope. Outside all was bright and sunny ; inside the house death was slowly approach- ing. He was dying. A strange thing hap- pened. A little bird flew in at the win- dow ; it fluttered about and alighted on the sick man's bed. He opened his eyes. They nearly always spoke English together: he feebly whispered, ' Home.' The bird flew out of the window ; the doctor, feeling his pulse, said, ' All is over.' Had his spirit fled with 310 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES the little bird ? and did the bird carry it back to his Norman home ? His last thought had been of Tocqueville, and his ' English child,' as he used to call me, who had been so much with them. I was almost stunned when I received the news of his death, the last account had seemed so much better. If earthly love and sympathy could comfort his wife, she had it. On all sides telegrams arrived from the Emperor, Lord Palmerston, Dis- raeli, the President of the United States, the Emperor of Russia they were endless, offering to send representatives to the funeral as a last mark of respect. Gratefully but firmly she declined all. He was so simple ; he had hated pomp and show, and had always kept in the background. No one was to go to the funeral, only the French Academy was allowed to send a representative. I was to meet her at Tocqueville ; so once more I went to the dear old house. Once more he was taken to the library, and yet it was not he ' The setting only was there ; the jewel had gone THE END OF MY LIFE ABROAD 311 to a brighter sphere,' as the old curt touch- ingly said. She and I sat up late that night in the library watching the dead. It was a fancy of hers. He always hated to be alone, and * he must not be left alone his last night in his old home,' she cried. Nor could she be alone, so we sat together in our old positions : she in her chair, and I on the floor with my head against her knee. His chair was in the old place opposite, empty now ; the pen and ink were on the table, the usual papers. But no one was there to take up the pen, the ink was dry as he had left it. The big table was moved, and where the table used to be was the coffin containing all that was mortal of Alexis de Tocqueville. Wreaths from England, from Eussia, from all parts of the country, were lying about that room. The odour of those flowers I shall never forget, or the long hours of waiting. At eight o'clock the villagers came in one by one, slowly and reverently, to say good-bye to the friend they loved so well, 312 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES each dropping on his knee and saying a little prayer as they passed by ; many bring- ing flowers ; all bowing silently and respect- fully to the silent figure of the wife, who even then would not leave the sacred remains. At nine the little procession started for the village church. It was crowded. All the old lot of friends from Paris had come. They had said nothing to her about coming, and they were waiting outside as the coffin, carried on the shoul- ders of the oldest tenants, passed down the long avenue, down the straight road and into the churchyard, where a halt was made. The tenants put down their burden, and his own dear friends came slowly up and carried him into the church. Outside in the church- yard, according to the French custom, speeches were made at the grave side ; but politics were excluded, only the dead man's gifts and virtues were extolled. Madame de Tocqueville and I followed she was physically unfit to do so. We returned alone to the house ; no one went with us. The house and all were left her for life ; but THE END OF MY LIFE ABROAD 313 she could not remain there all alone, it was so dreary and she was so ill ; so she decided to go to the house at Valognes. It was so much easier for us to get over to see her there, and she could always have some one dropping in to see and cheer her when she was well enough to see them. How brave and good she was ! She knew her days were numbered ; each day only prolonged her sufferings. Her one cry was of thankful- ness that he had never known of her terrible malady. It is no use lingering over those last sad months. She died alone. Though telegraphed for, my father and I arrived too late. It will not interest my reader to tell of my poignant grief at this loss. My story is done. A foreign home was exchanged for an English one. I married, and by degrees the dear French friends dropped out of my life. I constantly used to get deep mourning papers announcing their deaths as one by one they passed away. Only one was left, the Comte de C We always remained firm friends, and con- stantly wrote to one another. He never 314 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES married, but remained true to his English love. My sister died. That page of my life I cannot touch. Nothing can replace the sister, the playmate of one's childhood, the sharer of one's joys, one's sorrows, the only one who knew every incident of one's life, one's doubts and fears and hopes hopes for this world and for the next. I had to write and tell him of her death. He was so anxious to see me that my hus- band and I decided we would go to him. I went alone to the chateau. Once more I drove up the old familiar drive, went up the old stone steps. The same servant opened the door ; but he had aged much, and was very bent and trembling. Like one in a dream I sat down in the drawing-room. Nothing was changed. The chairs were arranged in the same stiff circle, the clock on the mantelpiece ticking as usual. The door opened. Was this old broken-down man the friend of our youth ? So thin, so emaciated, so hollow-eyed he had grown. It was a painful meeting. I spent the day there. Together we wandered about the THE END OF MY LIFE ABROAD 316 garden, went all over the house : into the room she and I had occupied no one had slept in that room since. Then into the chapel : iheprie- Dieu she had used was care- fully put aside. We felt too deeply to speak much. Out into the street we passed, on to Tocqueville, dear old Tocqueville ; it was looking so bright and sunny. We went into the country ; side by side we knelt by those dear graves, then back into his deserted house, and into the room where the picture of the Grand Monarque was hanging in its accustomed place. Once more I saw him bow respectfully to it. Once again dSjeuner was served by the ancient servant. When we were alone again he said, * Tell me all ; ' and I did tell him I told him all he wanted to know. Then in the evening I left him, never to see him again. The disease of his race, consumption, was upon him. His life had been so lonely. He told me that his mother had always objected to the marriage on account of my sister being English. Now the successor to the title and estate has English blood in his veins, his mother 316 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES being a Southerner and descended lineally from an English family. How true is the saying, ' L'homme propose, Dieu dispose ! ' It really was the irony of fate. He wrote after I left that it had been such a pleasure to him to see me once again. I was not surprised to get shortly after the annonce of his death he had nothing to live for. One could not mourn for him ; but he left a blank in my life. Another page in my life was turned. Oh, how fast these pages are turned over as one gets older ! Friends pass away, another generation comes on, and the old scenes change ; and so these pages must close. I have nothing more interesting to relate, and the question rises before me as to whether what I have written is of interest to the outside world. For years I had lost interest in politics. My last great trial came : I was left a widow. Only those who have had this crushing blow know what it is, and how indifferent one becomes to everything outside one's own great sorrow, till time, the great healer, THE END OF MY LIFE ABROAD 317 helps one to struggle on, and once more we take up the threads of life ; but in one's innermost soul, when alone, one longs ' For the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still.' Nearly all of whom I have written are dead. One figure, nay, two figures, still remain. With the deepest reverence and love do I venture to mention her name. She who a few months ago was the central figure on whom all the eyes of Europe were fixed, who as she drove through her capital surrounded, followed, and preceded by a brilliant guard collected from every quarter of the globe, the idol of her people, many cheering her as she passed along, many too, like myself, unable to join in the cheers on account of the big lump in their throat that would rise as she went by she, thank God, she still lives, ruler of a mighty empire, our Sovereign Lady Queen Victoria ! Empress of India, ' la bonne femme ' as the Normans affectionately called her. The other figure, more looked up to, more honoured in her circle than she ever was in her days of 318 FOREIGN COURTS AND FOREIGN HOMES surpassing loveliness, the widowed, childless Empress, who had been the honoured wife of Napoleon, third Emperor of the French. How writing all this has stirred up old memories in my heart which I thought had gone to rest ! Sitting alone and quiet, as one does as one grows older, unable to read on account of my failing sight ; sitting in the gathering darkness, in the twilight, the old and dear faces gather round me till I almost fancy that I feel the touch of their shadowy hands. Little children seem tap- ping at the window, children so prized by their parents, so unwillingly given up to the Great Keaper ' whose name is Death ; ' but their parents are with them now, under- standing and knowing why they were taken. I seem to see the King of Hanover with the fierce eyes, but who always smiled upon us children kindly ; his cold stiff Queen ; the blind Crown Prince. The stern Em- peror, with face immovable as a mask ; de Tocqueville, with sad earnest eyes, looking as if he knew he would be called away before his great work was done. De Corcelle, the THE END OF MY LIFE ABROAD 319 trusted friend and confidant of the Holy Father, with that peculiar smile which only those wear who are associated with the Vatican and College of Cardinals, that smile always so courteous yet full of meaning, so unfathomable, which is the stamp of the Jesuit. Montalembert ; Dupanloup ; my Breton boys, with their bright curly hair, and eyes dancing with fun ; their aunt whose outside demeanour seemed impene- trable, who yet possessed a true woman's heart. Lord Malmesbury with his cold quizzical manner, which only hid the warmest, kindest heart there ever was. Lord Ernest Bruce, so full of fun, appre- ciating and enjoying it more when he was stone deaf than many of those who could hear. Malakofi and Persigny, both risen from the people, the former bearing it on every feature of his face and gesture, yet so true and honest ; the latter looking the finished, courtly diplomat that he was, from mixing so much in foreign society. 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