The news did not reach England till some three days later, and it is impossible to dwell on the terrible sorrow of all who loved him so dearly. My brother Dudley was mercifully in the States at the time of the fatal accident, and my uncle James Leigh set off at once to bring the body home; but the long wait—till October 20th—was unspeakably trying most of all for my poor parents, who were broken-hearted. My mother put a bunch of white rosebuds on his coffin, for when a little boy he had said one day that his “idea of love was a bunch of roses.”
I will only add her verses on her firstborn son:
“He is gone, and gone for ever,
‘Coming home again’ now never—
If ’tis cold he feels it not,
Recks not if ’tis scorching hot,
But by children circled round
Roams the happy hunting-ground,
Pure in heart and face as they,
Gladsome in God’s glorious day.
“If I see him once again
Will he tell me of his pain?
Did he shout or cry or call
When he saw that he must fall?
Feel one pang of mortal fear
When the fatal plunge was near?
Or to the last—to fear a stranger—
Think to triumph over danger?
“I think so—on his marble face
Fright and terror left no trace—
Still—as if at Stoneleigh sleeping,
There he lay—all the weeping
Broke in streams from other eyes
Far away.
But to him come not again
Cold or heat or grief or pain.”
Gilly was truly “to fear a stranger.” He had, as Mr. Grenfell recounts, been six times before to the Rocky Mountain country and always had extraordinary adventures—once he rode his horse along a ledge till he could neither go forward nor turn, and had to slip over its tail and climb out, leaving the animal to shift for itself. Two cowboys roped and got the saddle and bridle off and left the horse, which somehow backed out and got down without injury.
IN ITALY, 1884
Earlier in the year 1884 Jersey, Lady Galloway, and I made a pleasant tour among the Italian Lakes, including a run to Milan for Easter Sunday, where we heard some of the splendid service in the Cathedral. We took with us Villiers, his last trip abroad before his regular schooldays. He had attended Miss Woodman’s classes during two or three London seasons, and had had a visiting tutor from Oxford—Mr. Angel Smith—for the past year or so at Middleton; but on May 1st, after our return from the Lakes, he went to Mr. Chignell’s, Castlemount, Dover, where he remained till he went to Eton three years later. He had an unvaryingly good record both for the lessons and conduct while at Castlemount.
I have no special recollection of the two following years, so pass on to 1887. That winter Lady Galloway was in Russia and was to stay in Berlin with the Ambassador, Sir Edward Malet, and his wife, Lady Ermyntrude, on her return. The Malets very kindly invited me to meet her and to spend a few days at the Embassy. I arrived there on February 21st, and found Lady Galloway and her sister-in-law Lady Isabel Stewart already installed. The following afternoon the routine of German court etiquette—now a thing of the past—began. Lady Ermyntrude took us to leave cards on the various members of the Corps Diplomatique and then proceeded to present Mrs. Talbot (now Lady Talbot) and myself to Gräfin Perponcher, the Empress’s Obermeisterin. She was a funny old soul in a wig, but regarded as next door to royalty, and it was therefore correct to make half a curtsy when introduced to her. It was a great thing to have anyone so kind, and yet so absolutely aware of all the shades of ceremonial, as Lady Ermyntrude, to steer us through the Teutonic pitfalls.
COURT BALL IN BERLIN
In the evening we were taken to the Carnival Court Ball, where we stood in a row behind Lady Ermyntrude to be presented to the Crown Prince and Princess as they came round. The Diplomatic people were on the left of the royal seats. The Weisser Saal was lighted partly with candles and partly with electric lights; one felt that either one or the other would have had a better effect, but no doubt that was all rectified in later years. We were presently taken into an outer room or gallery to be presented to the Empress Augusta, who was seated in a chair with a sort of Stonehenge of chairs in front. She was attired in what appeared to be royal robes heavy with gold embroidery and gigantic diamonds, but she looked almost like a resurrected corpse, except that her eyes were still large and wonderfully bright and glittering as if they had little torches behind them. I fancy that she had some preparation of belladonna dropped into them on these occasions. Her mouth was always a little open, giving the impression that she wanted to speak but could not; really, however, she talked fast enough, and was very gracious in sending messages to my grandmother Westminster. After our presentation we had to sit in Stonehenge for a few minutes. We had heard that when the Empress was a girl, her governess would place her in front of a circle of chairs, and make her go round and address a polite remark to each. We recognised the utility of the practice as Her Majesty made a neat little sentence to each of the circle seated before her this evening. Sir Edward and Lady Ermyntrude went home early, as they were in mourning, but when we tried to go in to supper with the Embassy Staff, we were seized on by Count Eulenberg and told to go into the royal supper-room. The Crown Prince and Princess came and talked to us very kindly, but I could not help thinking the latter rather indiscreet, as when I made a futile remark as to the fine sight presented by the Palace she returned, “A finer sight at Buckingham Palace,” then, lowering her voice, “and prettier faces!” True enough, but a little risky addressed to a stranger with possible eavesdroppers.
The old Emperor William was not at this ball, as he was not well enough—which distressed him, as he liked society; but two days later we were invited to a small concert at his own Palace. When we had made our curtsies to the Empress she desired that we should go round and be presented to His Majesty. I had been told previously that he was interested in the idea of seeing me, as he had been a great friend of my grandmother Westminster and they used to interchange presents on their birthdays. When we were taken up to him Gräfin Perponcher reminded him of Jersey’s grandmother and Lady Clementina Villiers, but he immediately asked if I were not also related to Lady Westminster. When I said that I was her granddaughter he asked, “Et êtes-vous toujours en relation avec elle?” and on hearing that I wrote to her charged me with messages which she was afterwards very pleased to receive.