“March 9.—Met Princess Mary at luncheon at Lady Harrington’s, who only presented me by ‘Here is Augustus.’ The Princess was good enough to talk to me for a long time afterwards.”
“March 22.—Dined at Lady Airlie’s, sitting by Lady Herbert of Lea, who talked much of her long residence in Sicily, with which she was connected through her mother. She went about a great deal amongst the poor at Palermo, generally accompanied by a Sister of Charity, and on one occasion nursed a sick brigand. Soon afterwards, her children, going to the Bay of Mondello to pick up shells, were seized by brigands, but as soon as they found whose children they were, they sent them back to her safe. Another day, Lady Herbert was returning from a village, whither she had been on some office of charity, to Palermo, as it was almost dark. There were high walls on either side of the way. Suddenly the Sister of Charity who was with her began to go so fast that she could not keep up with her. ‘Non posso, Sorella mia, non posso cammináre più,’ she said. ‘But look behind you,’ said the Sister. She looked, and saw three brigands following them. It would have been impossible to get away, so she waited till they came up and said, ‘Che vuole?’ They begged her to excuse them: they were sent by their chief to protect her as far as the walls of Palermo: they knew her, but others might not, and they were ordered to ascertain that she came to no harm.
“A Hungarian Count and Countess were at dinner. He talked of fashion very amusingly. He said he had learnt much from his herdsman, a very clever man (‘he was hung afterwards, poor man, but he was very clever’), who chose the animal to bear the bell, which was accustomed to go in the centre of the herd. He asked why this was, and the herdsman answered, ‘Because the one who goes first naturally runs first into all dangers, and when he has done it once or twice, the herd begin to find it out, and they cease to follow him; and the one who goes last is constantly left behind, and the herd begin to find it out, and they cease to follow him; but the one that is in the middle, and chooses the safest place, that is the one they know to be wise, and so, in any time of danger, they will assuredly follow him. The Count spoke of the mania for husband-murder which prevailed at Marseilles till it became quite a fashion. Six women were tried at the same assizes for murdering their husbands. In some of these cases there seemed something of reason or excuse, but at last there came a lady whose husband had been all that was most charming and delightful, and where the crime seemed incomprehensible. The judge pressed her as to her motive, and at first she said, ‘Ces dames me l’ont mis dans l’esprit,’ and, when urged further, ‘Mais, cela se fait à Marseilles!’
“The London world has been full of the ‘Reminiscences of Carlyle,’ published with furious haste by Froude a fortnight after his death. They have dwarfed their subject from a giant into a pigmy. His journal and letters speak well of no one except his own family, and assail with the utmost vituperation all who differed from him. For his wife there is a long wail of affection, which would be touching if the devotion had not begun after her death. ‘Never marry a genius,’ she said to Lady Ashburton; ‘I have done it, and suffered from it; but then, after my death I shall have an apotheosis’—and she has had it. Much of Carlyle’s virulence arose from the state of his health: he used to say, ‘I can wish the devil nothing worse than that he may have to digest with my stomach to all eternity; there will be no need of fire and brimstone then.’”
“March 28.—Dined at Lady Lyveden’s. Sat by Lady S., who was very pleasant. She talked of Tennyson, who had been to stay with her. He desired his sons to let her know that he should like to be asked to read some of his poems in the evening. Nevertheless, when she asked him, he made a piece of work about it, and said to the other guests, ‘I do it, but I only do it because Lady S. absolutely insists upon it.’ He read badly and with too much emotion: over ‘Maud’ he sobbed passionately.
“Afterwards, at Lady Ridley’s party, Lord Houghton talked to me about Carlyle—of how his grimness, which was unrelieved in the ‘Reminiscences,’ was relieved in the man by much kindly humour. He said that he and Lady Houghton were almost the only people spoken well of in the book. Mr. Spedding used to say that Carlyle always needed that kind of indulgence which most of us need in a fit of violent toothache.”
“April 3.—Dined with old Lady Combermere, who declared that only two people ever had any excuse for living in the country, and they were Adam and Eve!”
“April 8.—An amusing luncheon at Lady Sebright’s, with an immense party of actors, actresses, painters, literati, and ‘great ladies.’ It seemed a reversion of the old order of things when the actresses had said they ‘must inquire a little into the characters of the great ladies’ they were asked to meet!”
“Holmhurst, April 9.—Lea says, ‘It’s seven weeks from Guttit to Aaster, and seven weeks from Aaster to Whissuntide.... You needna’ to tak’ any trouble about the clocks, for when Lady Day comes it ‘ull mak’ ’em all right, for there’s just twelve hours of sunshine on Lady Day.’
“‘After New Year’s day every day is just a cock’s ted longer than the last: a cock’s ted, you know, is just the time a cock stops between its crowings.’