Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900 Part 21

I will try and give you an account of our journey, Dear. We arrived in this most lovely place for late dinner yesterday, and went almost at once to bed, having begun our day at 7 o'clock. We left London Tuesday morning by the Flying Scotchman, and a tremendous pace we came. There were quant.i.ties of people at the station, all going apparently by our train--children, dogs, guns, fishing rods, provision baskets, tall footmen racing after distracted French maids, and piles of luggage. We had our saloon carriage reserved (as we were a fair party--C., the four girls, Duncan, a friend Miss W., Francis and I and two or three maids).

We had also a fair amount of baskets, shawls, cushions, etc. It was a lovely morning, not too warm, and I think W., who came down to the station to see us off, was half sorry he was not going too.

We stopped for luncheon at York, and got to Edinburgh at 6.30. The pace was frightful, but we went so smoothly that one hardly realised the speed. We went straight to the hotel to see our rooms and order dinner, and then went out for a walk. The streets were crowded; omnibuses and cabs with luggage in every direction. The old town and castle looked most picturesque in the soft summer light. Daisy and I went out again after dinner, and after loitering a little near the hotel we saw a tramcar, asked where it went, and mounted on the top, telling the man we would go as far as we could, and then come back. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and we were very cool and comfortable perched on the top of the car. When the man came to get the money for the places I discovered that I had no change--merely a sovereign. The old gentleman, a tall, white-bearded Scotchman, grumbled a good deal, and made various uncomplimentary remarks to himself in a low tone. However after some little time he appeared with a handful of silver. I took the money mechanically and began to stuff it into my portemonnaie, as he looked at me severely and said--"First count your money to see that it is right, and then give me what you owe for your places."

We were up early the next morning--breakfasted at 9 o'clock as we wanted to see a little of Edinburgh before starting for Oban at 12 o'clock. It was an enchanting morning, not too warm, and we went first to the Castle. There is not much to see inside--always a beautiful view of sea and hills. There is a chapel and some old rooms which various Kings and Queens of Scotland have inhabited at various times. A company of Highlanders in Cameron plaids were being exercised in the courtyard, and a fine stalwart set of men they were.

From there we drove through some of the old streets (Cannongate, etc.) to Holyrood, which was most interesting. The children of course were most anxious to see the spot where Rizzio was murdered, and the blood-stains on the floor, but they have disappeared years ago. We were delighted with the pictures. There are quant.i.ties of course of Mary, Queen of Scots--one large portrait with that beautiful, sad Stuart face--as if they all foresaw their destinies. I had forgotten how small and low the rooms are. In these luxurious days no ordinary lady would be satisfied with Queen Mary's bedroom and boudoir; and the servants, accustomed to be quite as comfortable as their masters, would give warning at once. We drove straight from the Palace to the station, where our carriage was waiting for us. All our wraps, cushions, etc., neatly arranged; and started for Oban, a most lovely journey, particularly all about Loch Awe. We got to Oban about 7, and I shall often think of that lovely evening. The harbour filled with yachts and sail-boats of all kinds--the water blue and dancing, and the most divine soft pink lights on the hills, a little like what we used to love at Capri and Ischia--quite beautiful. Daisy and I did some shopping before dinner--bought clean collars for the children, who were decidedly the worse for the two days' journey, and we also interviewed the well-known Ewan at the tartan shop with a view to kilted skirts. D. found their tartan at once of course as there are so many Camerons--ours was rather more difficult as there are few _Chisholms_ left (my Mother-in-law was born Chisholm) and the authorities in London told us we could certainly wear the family plaid. The shop people promised to get it for me. The man was much interested in the skirt for Miss W. Being an American there was no family tartan to be looked up, and she couldn't quite make up her mind. However he came to the rescue, telling her that "all the _American_ ladies take the Royal Stuart, Miss." We had an excellent dinner at the very small hotel where we were obliged to go--all the swell hotels were full--and there are quant.i.ties of people in the streets, and boats coming and going from the yachts. The Englishwomen all look so nice in their yachting dresses, almost all of dark blue serge and a sailor hat or regular yachting cap. The cap is rather trying, but the young and pretty women look charming in it. Some of the trippers and their ladies are wonderful to behold. We stood near a couple who were just starting for Skye on one of the steamers. The man was in a wonderful checked suit, and the lady in a brilliant red and green tartan (not unlike the Chisholm), on her head was a Scotch stalking cap, which was not becoming to a red, round face. However _she_ was satisfied and so was her companion, who looked at her most admiringly, saying--"I say, you are fetching in that cap." "Il y en a pour tous les gouts." When we got back to the hotel we found that Sir R.

had quite changed our "itineraire." He had seen the boat, a fine large one which made the outside pa.s.sage to Arishaig, so instead of taking the Caledonian Ca.n.a.l and landing at Fort William where carriages and carts were ordered for us, he decided that we should go by sea, and take our chance of finding some means of transport. He did, however, send a telegram to Arishaig, as the hotel man told him he would never find any conveyance for such a large party.

We started at 9 o'clock, and the sail was enchanting. About 12 we ran rather close to a small headland, and the Captain told us we had arrived. Apparently we were in broad Atlantic with a rocky sh.o.r.e in the distance--however a boat appeared, one of those broad, flat boats which one sees all over in Scotland. Our disembarkation was difficult as we were 11 people with quant.i.ties of trunks and parcels. Happily the sea was quite smooth. All the pa.s.sengers were wildly interested in the operation and crowded to the side of the steamer. When all the party had finally got off with trunks, bags, a bird in a cage, and a kitten in a basket, one of the pa.s.sengers remarked--"They only need a pony in that boat, to make the party complete."

To say we found a landing-place would be absolute fiction. As we neared the sh.o.r.e we saw a quant.i.ty of black, slippery rocks, and on these we landed, the boatmen holding the boat as near as they could, and we climbing, and slipping, and struggling to get on sh.o.r.e. Our baggage was dumped on the rocks and there we were--not a habitation or a creature in sight. At last we found a sort of house behind a ma.s.s of rocks, and saw several carriages in the distance which we supposed were for us. Not at all! Sir R.'s telegram had not been received and those were carriages waiting for a "Corps" which was being conveyed across on a yacht. We tried to persuade them to take some of us at any rate, and at last with great difficulty one carriage was given to us. The negotiations were extremely difficult, as n.o.body spoke anything but Gaelic, except an old woman, and she was so cross and apparently so suspicious of the whole party that we got on better by signs and a few extra shillings. Sir R.

and the maids walked (4 miles through lovely country) and we all finally arrived at the little fishing village of Arishaig, where there is a good inn. It is a little place, three or four fishermen's cottages, a post-office, and two churches, a large Roman Catholic Cathedral and a small Established Church. We had a good lunch and started at 3.30, getting here at 5.30. Such a beautiful drive--all blue sky, and heather almost as blue--and great grey mountains. We walked up two very steep hills, but had such glorious views at the top that we didn't mind the climb.

This place is charming--the house fairly large. It stands low on the lake or arm of the sea, and has pine woods and high mountains behind. It is absolutely lonely--no houses near, except one or two (agent's and farmer's) that belong to the estate. The country is lovely, wild and picturesque, but it would be a terrible place to be in except with a large party. There is nothing nearer than 10 miles, and no real village or settlement for 25. We are about half way between Fort William and Arishaig (each 20 or 25 miles away). I think all our provisions come from Fort William. A stage pa.s.ses twice a day, morning and evening. Our baggage arrived at 10.30, and we were all glad to go to bed, as we had begun our day early. It is so still to-night--I am writing in my room--the lake looks beautiful in the moonlight, and there is not a sound.

#Inveraylort#, Sunday, August 19th.

We have settled down most comfortably in the house, which is fairly large, but we are never indoors except to eat and sleep. We had a lovely drive yesterday all through this property, and to a neighbour's where there is a pillar to show where Prince Charlie landed. There are many Roman Catholics in these parts, which accounts for the large church in the little fishing village of Arishaig.

This morning we had a service in the "Wash-house"--a red-headed Scotch peasant was the "Minister." It was a curious sort of independent service, impromptu prayers, and a long sermon. The congregation consisted of ourselves and the household. Miss Cameron, the owner of this place, who is staying at her agent's cottage on the place, some friends of hers, and the people of the little inn where the daily coach from Fort William stops for rest and luncheon. There are no other habitations of any kind except a few crofters' cottages across the lake.

After luncheon we went for a long walk along the stream where there are plenty of fish, and came home over the hills. They are blue and deep purple, with heather, and there are divine views in every direction.

Thursday, August 22d.

It is again a beautiful day. We intended to row down to see some friends of Sir R.'s about 5 or 6 miles off at the mouth of the lake, where it runs into the sea, but there is some trouble about the boats. Our "proprietaire," Miss C., seems to have singular ideas as to the respective rights of owners and tenants. It was so fine and cool that we decided to walk, and the B.'s promised to send us back in their boat. It was long, but the path was not too steep all along the lake, and we arrived not too exhausted. They gave us tea, showed us the house and garden, and we started back about 9. The row home was enchanting, but weird--not a thing to be seen of any kind, except seals, which came up close to the boat. I had never seen one near, and thought at first they were dogs and was so surprised to see so many swimming about; not a sound except the splash of our oars in the water when we turned our backs to the sea, the heather-covered mountains shutting us in on all sides. It was quite wild and beautiful, but a solitude that would be appalling if one lived altogether in the country.

#Inveraylort#, August 27th.

After all they are not going to stay the month, Sir R. and his proprietor can't come to terms, and I think they will probably take a yacht and cruise about a little. The lake is decidedly rough this morning, but still we thought we must row across to some crofters'

cottages. They told us they were of the poorest description, and we wanted to see what their life and houses were. Most wretched little houses (our horses much better off in their stables), generally one room, sometimes two; no floor, merely the earth trodden hard, and covered with straw. To-day it had been raining; there were puddles in the corners and the straw was decidedly damp. A peat fire was burning, and the only opening (no window) was a hole in the thatched roof, which lets the smoke out and the rain in. An old woman was spinning and an old man was sitting in the corner mending a fishing net. They were tall, gaunt figures--might be any age. They spoke nothing but Gaelic, but soon a young woman appeared on the scene who knew English. She looked as old as her mother, but had a keen, sharp face. I was rather interested in the spinning-wheel, so the two women suggested that I should try; but I could do nothing. Either I went too fast and broke the yarn, or else the wheel remained absolutely motionless. I bought some yarn, as I had broken various bits, and then we started home, carrying away an impression of wretched poverty and hard lives of toil, with little to lighten the burden.

#Oban#, August 29th.

We are back here after a most eventful journey from Inveraylort. We started in the rain, the mist closing round us and blotting out the whole landscape. We had two carriages, but the pony cart came to grief, and the two girls and Francis were thrown out. Miss W. had an ugly cut on her face, but poor N. was lying on the ground, pale and suffering, convinced that her arm was broken. When we got up to them we took her into the waggonette and got on as quickly as we could to Caupar, our destination, where we had been told of a wonderful bone-setter who was well known in all these parts. He saw at once what was wrong--her shoulder was dislocated, and said she must not continue the journey, so we left her there with her sister and brother, and we came on here. They all appeared this afternoon--N. with her arm in a sling and looking fairly well. She said the man set it so quickly and gently she hardly had time to feel any pain.

#Oban#, September 3d.

We had a beautiful day yesterday for our excursion to Staffa and Iona.

The sea was perfectly calm, and the lights and shades on the mountains enchanting. It was a lovely sail; sometimes we ran into little shaded harbours with two or three cottages and a hotel perched high up on the top of a mountain, and sometimes pa.s.sed so close to land under the great cliffs that one could throw a stone on the sh.o.r.e. The islands are most interesting, with their old churches and their curious stone crosses, and there were not too many people on the boat. The return was delicious as we sat on deck, watching all the colours fade away from sea and hills.

We leave to-morrow for London and Paris, and I am very sorry to go. We have enjoyed our three weeks immensely. The country is so beautiful, and then it was a great pleasure to be with some of my own people; we have been away so long that the family ties get weaker. Francis was quite happy with some cousins to run about with.

_To G. K. S._

#Albert Gate#, May 21, 1889.

I got back from Paris last night, rather sorry to come. The weather was enchanting, warm and bright, and, of course, quant.i.ties of people for the Exhibition. It isn't half ready yet, but is most interesting--so much to see. I dined and breakfasted there several times at the various restaurants--one evening with the Walter Burns and a party, and we went afterward to see the "fontaines lumineuses," which are really fairy-like; but such a crowd. I also heard the two American prima donnas--Miss Eames, who is very handsome, has a fresh, young voice, and is an ideal Juliette. She is a vision really in her bridal dress as Juliette. Miss Sanderson is also very handsome, but in quite a different style. Her voice is very high and true; she was singing "Esclarmonde" at the Opera Comique. Ma.s.senet has taught her everything. I have found quant.i.ties of invitations here, in fact was obliged to come over, as we have a big dinner the day after to-morrow, and the Court ball.

Tuesday, May 28, 1889.

We had our first encounter with Boulanger this morning. W. and I were walking our horses down the Row when we met three gentlemen cantering toward us. As they pa.s.sed we heard they were speaking French, but didn't pay any particular attention. I merely said, "I wonder who those men are," one so rarely hears French spoken in the Row. A few minutes later we met Lord Charles Beresford, who took a little turn with us, and said to W., "The other distinguished Frenchman is also in the Row,"--then we divined. A few moments afterward (the Row is so small one crosses people all the time) we met them again, Boulanger in the middle riding his famous black horse--a man on each side riding good horses, chestnuts.

They all wore top-hats, which no Englishmen do now in the morning. The men all wear low hats, the women also, and covert coats, the girls cotton blouses; not at all the correct style we used to admire as children in _Punch_ when those beautiful women of Leech's riding in the Park filled our childish hearts with envy. I was rather curious as to what would happen, as W. knows Boulanger slightly, and went to him when he was Minister of War about something concerning the military attache; however, there was no difficulty, as Boulanger was apparently too engrossed in conversation with his companions to notice anyone. I wonder if we shall meet him anywhere? They tell us that some of the society people mean to invite him, but I suppose they will scarcely ask us together.

Thursday, May 30th.

Yesterday was the last Drawing-room of this season. I rather feel as if it were my last in London, but one never knows. We (Corps Diplomatique) were still all in black, the English in colours. It was long and tiring.

We dined at Lord Sudeley's--I rather wishing I had no engagement. I am always tired after those hours of standing, and the diadem is heavy, and the train, too, held over one's arm; however, I was quite repaid, as I had a charming neighbour. I didn't know at all who he was, as they rarely introduce in England, so we embarked on one of those ba.n.a.l, inane conversations one has with a stranger of whom one knows nothing, and were talking on smoothly about nothing at all, when he remarked, casually, "I suppose you never go to church." This I at once resented vehemently, so he explained that he didn't know, as I was a Frenchwoman, probably a Catholic (as if they didn't go to church), etc. He turned out to be Canon Rogers, a charming, intelligent, well-known man, most independent in his words and actions. He is rector of St. Botolph's, a church in Bishopsgate, the most disreputable part of London. We became great friends, and he asked me if I would go and lunch with him one Sunday, and he would show me Petticoat Lane. I agreed of course, and we decided for next Sunday. He said he had never had a French lady and an Amba.s.sadress as a guest, and didn't quite know what to do. Should he ask the Prince of Wales and order champagne? I told him my tastes were very simple, and if I might bring my cousin Hilda, and one of the Secretaries, I should be quite happy--also I liked apple-pie, which he says his cook makes very well. I haven't had such a pleasant dinner for a long time.

Monday, June 3d.

We made our expedition to Bishopsgate yesterday, and most interesting it was. I went with Hilda and M. Lecomte, one of the secretaries, who knows English, and is very keen to see anything a little out of the way. We had a long drive to the church through the city, and arrived only to hear the end of Canon Rogers' sermon, which was strong and practical. As soon as the service was over we went down to the door and found him and his curate waiting for us. The first thing he did was to send away my carriage, which had already attracted much attention with the tall footman, velvet breeches, c.o.c.kades, etc. He said he would never venture into Petticoat Lane in such an equipage, and would we please share his modest conveyance; so Hilda and I got into his victoria, and Lecomte and the curate walked close to the carriage behind. We had two policemen in front, two behind, and a detective. I rather demurred to such a display of munic.i.p.al strength on my account, but he said it was necessary, he much preferred having them, he was afraid people would crowd around us and insist upon my buying something. The street was narrow, crowded with people, as there was also a fair going on and everything imaginable being sold (it is the one place in London where you can buy _one_ shoe or _one_ stocking!). The people were almost all Jews, and I must say they were a bad-looking lot, frightfully rough specimens. Some of the women, girls too, with such sullen, scowling faces. We went at a foot's pace (the only carriage), and hadn't the slightest difficulty in making our way. Everyone knew Mr. Rogers and spoke to him--"Good morning, Governor," "G.o.d bless you, Sir." Two or three children ran up to him, one a pretty little dark-eyed girl breathless to tell him she was in church, though she came late. He was so nice to them all, called them all by name, patted the children on the head, and exhorted some of the women to keep their husbands out of the drinking shops, and to wash their children's faces. They say he does an immense amount of good down there, but it must be uphill work. I have rarely seen such a forbidding looking set of people. Some of the women came up rather close to the low victoria and made comments on our garments. (We had dressed very simply at his request. I wore my blue foulard and a blue straw bonnet with iris on it. Hilda was in light grey with a black hat.) "You have got a beautiful bonnet, my lady. Oh, look at her umbrell!" The "umbrell"

excited much attention. I couldn't think why at first, as it was also rather dark and plain; when I remembered that it had a watch in the handle upon which, of course, all eyes were fixed. I think the detective kept his eye upon it too, as he came up rather close on my side. The detective took Lecomte to a famous jeweller's shop near in Whitechapel, where there had been a murder some days ago. We drove all through the fair surrounded by these villainous faces (here and there a pretty, fair, innocent, childish face) and I wasn't sorry to get back to civilisation and the rectory, though I am very glad to have seen it. The rectory is a large old-fashioned house in Devonshire Square, shut in with high houses and high trees, and never, I should think, could a ray of sunshine get anywhere near it. One felt miles away from London and life of any kind. It was a curious contrast to the turbulent, noisy, seething crowd we had just left. We had a charming breakfast, Mr. Rogers talking all the time delightfully, so original and so earnest, convinced that everyone in their small circle could do so much to help, not only the poor but the really bad, if only by example and a little sympathy; he says no one ever helps the bad ones, only the deserving poor get looked after.

About 3.30 we started again to see the People's Palace, which he takes great interest in, and hopes he may succeed in keeping the men away from the drinking shops in the evening. It looked comfortable and practical, the reading-room particularly, which is large and airy, with all sorts of morning and evening papers (some foreign ones), ill.u.s.trated papers, and good, standard books. The librarian told me that Walter Scott was always asked for, also some American books, particularly Indian stories, and travels of all kinds. I was rather interested in hearing that, as whenever W. gives books to a school library, or prizes in France, Walter Scott or Fenimore Cooper are still the favourites (translated, of course. I read the "Last of the Mohicans" in French, and it was very well done). There were not many people, but Mr. Rogers says on a fine, warm Sunday they all prefer to be in the open air. There is also a large swimming bath, given by Lord Rosebery. We parted from our host at the door, having had a delightful afternoon. It is a long time since I have heard anyone talk who interested me so much.

The drive home along the Embankment was nice--quant.i.ties of people out, quite like a Sunday in France. We dined quietly at home. W. was much interested in my day. I think if he had known exactly where I was going, and that an escort of police was necessary, he wouldn't have agreed to the expedition.

_To H. L. K._

Thursday, June 4, 1889.

The Court Ball was brilliant last night. The Prince opened the ball with Princess Louise, and the Princess with Lord Fife. The engagement of Princess Louise of Wales to Lord Fife is just announced, and has of course created quite a sensation. Of course there are two currents of opinion--the old-fashioned people are rather shocked at the idea of a Royal Princess marrying a subject; but I fancy the entourage of the Prince and Princess of Wales are pleased,--and Fife is a general favourite. It is not very easy for the English princesses to marry. They _must_ marry Protestants, and there are not many Protestant princes who are not near relations.

I talked a little to the Shah, but I didn't find that very amusing. He knows very little English or French, and has a most disagreeable way of looking hard at one. He planted himself directly in front of me, very close, and said "he thought he had seen me before," which of course he had, in Paris.

It seems that one of the Princesses pointed out to him, in the supper-room, a lady neither very young nor very beautiful, who was covered with splendid jewels, thinking they might interest him. He stopped short in front of her--then turned his back at once, saying "monstre." They say he finds no woman handsome who has pa.s.sed twenty.

Tuesday, July 2d.

It was a splendid summer day yesterday, ideal, for the Shah's arrival by water. We drove down to the Speaker's to see him come. The streets were lined with troops, and there were quant.i.ties of people about. They let us drive through the Mall and to Westminster between the lines of soldiers (all the traffic was stopped). Almost all the houses and balconies on the way were draped with red, and crowded with women in their light, gay summer dresses. There were a good many people at the Speaker's, who gave us some tea and strawberries. The Royal Barge arrived very punctually. It was not very beautiful--an ordinary river steamer, painted light grey, with gold lines, and fitted up with palms, red cushions, and carpets, etc. The Thames was a pretty sight, such quant.i.ties of boats of all kinds. We saw everything quite well. There was a fair procession of state carriages, and an escort of Life Guards; but what a barbarian the Shah looks, with his embroidered coat and his big jewels, and his coa.r.s.e, bad face--however he was smiling, and seemed pleased with his reception.

We waited to let the crowd disperse a little, and then came home the same way through Const.i.tution Hill. We met the Prince and Princess coming back from Buckingham Palace. Both looked very well--he in uniform, and she in white, extraordinarily young in face and figure. The two princes, Eddy and George, were with them, and they were much applauded as they pa.s.sed. In the evening we had a musical party at Blumenthal's. The garden was lighted and everyone sitting outside. The party was in honour of Princess Louise, and the music very good, as it always is there. Mdme. Grondal, a Swedish woman, played beautifully, and Plunkett Greene sang very well. He always brings down the house with "I'm Off to Philadelphy in the Morning." Lord Lorne took me to supper. I always like to talk to him. He was not much impressed with his Persian Majesty either--thought the days of Eastern potentates were over. I asked him what he had come for, and why the English were so civil to him; to which he replied, "Oh, I suppose some of the swells want concessions, or railways."

Monday, July 8, 1889.

We went to Hatfield this morning, where there was a luncheon party for the Shah. It was decidedly grey and uncertain, in fact, raining a little when we started, and I looked once or twice at my creme linon trimmed with Valenciennes--but as I had ordered it especially for that occasion, I decided to wear it. I put on a long cloak for the train. The Hatfield parties are always very well arranged--trains starting every ten minutes. It is hardly three-quarters of an hour from London. There were lots of people, and the short trajet pa.s.sed quickly enough. All the women were looking at each other to see the dresses, as the weather was really bad. At Hatfield, one of Lord Salisbury's sons was at the station to receive the swells. I got separated in the crowd from W., so Lord Edward put me into a brougham, and asked me if I would take another Amba.s.sador, as mine was missing for the moment. I agreed, of course, so Comte Hatzfeldt came with me. There was a large party staying in the house, including the Prince and Princess, the Shah, and various members of the family and Court. Lady Salisbury was standing at one of the big doors opening on the terrace. Lord Salisbury, she told me, was taking the Shah for a drive in the park. We all loitered about a little on the terrace. The rain had stopped and, though there was no sun, the house looked beautiful with its grey walls and splendid lines. The first person I saw was the Duc d'Aumale, and we had quite a talk while waiting for luncheon. The Prince also came out and talked. Luncheon was served at small, round tables in the great dining-room. As Doyens we were at the Royal table. The Prince took me, and I had next to me the Grand Vizier, who had taken in Lady Londonderry. She is very handsome, very well dressed, and the Grand Vizier enjoyed himself very much. It seems he is a very difficult gentleman, and at some man's house party, Ferdinand Rothschild's, I think, he was not pleased with his reception, or his place at the table, and declined to come downstairs. There were about 70 people at luncheon, and as many more, they told me, upstairs.

Quant.i.ties of flowers, silver, servants, etc., and a band playing. After breakfast we all adjourned to the terrace and some photographic groups were taken. There was some wonderful shooting by some Americans which interested the Persians very much, and one of the Shah's suite was most anxious to try his hand at it, and forcibly took a rifle from the American, who protested vigorously, but the Persian kept hold of his gun and evidently meant to shoot, so the American appealed directly to the Prince, saying there would be an accident if he was allowed to go on; and the Prince interfered and persuaded the irate Oriental to give up his weapon.

They had asked a great many people to tea, but evidently the rain had kept many away. The toilettes were most varied--every description of costume, from the d.u.c.h.ess of Rutland in white satin and diamonds (large stones sewed all over the body of her dress) to the simplest description of blue serge, covert coat, and even a waterproof carried over one's arm. I was thinking of going to get a cup of tea, when I crossed again the Duc d'Aumale, who was also looking for the tea-table, so we went off together and had a pleasant "quart d'heure." He is always so nice to W.

and me, and is so distinguished-looking wherever he is--such extraordinary charm of manner and so soldierly. He had been much amused by the stories he had heard of the eccentricities of the Persian suite.

One of the ladies staying in the house found two gentlemen sitting on her bed when she went up to dress for dinner. I must say I think it was awfully good of Lady Salisbury to ask them all to stay.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Group at Hatfield House during the visit of the Shah of Persia, July, 8, 1889 From a photograph by Russell & Sons London

The following are among those in the picture Prince of Wales Lord Salisbury Shah of Persia Princess of Wales Rustem Turkish Amba.s.sador Hatzfeldt German Amba.s.sador Lord Halsbury the Lord Chancellor M de Staal Russian Amba.s.sador Duc d'Aumale Countess of Cadogan M Waddington French Amba.s.sador Madame Waddington Countess of Galloway d.u.c.h.ess of Devonshire]