I was anxious to see “Angers la Noire,” where we stayed on our way from Savonnières to Amboise. But the black slate houses which gave it that name are being turned into white stone ones, and so its grim characteristic is passing away. Give me character, good or bad; characterless things are odious. I don’t suppose a more perfect old Angevin town exists than Amboise. It fulfilled all I required and expected of it. How Turner understood these towns on the broad, majestic Loire! He occasionally exaggerated, but his exaggerations were always in the right direction, emphasising thus the dominant beauties of each place and their local sentiment. Which recalls the deep charm of the rivers of France more subtly to the mind, Turner’s series or an album of photographs? Turner’s mind saw more truly than the camera. The castle of Amboise is superb and its creamy white stone a glory. Then came Blois, with a quite different reading of a castle, where plenty of colour and gilding and Gothic richness gave the character—not so restful to eye and mind as Amboise. Through both the châteaux we were marshalled along by a guide. I would sooner learn less of a place, by myself, than be told all by a tiresome man in a cicerone’s livery. Plenty of horrors were supplied us at both places, vitiating my otherwise simple pleasure as a painter in the sight of so much beauty.
We returned to Plymouth Sound on a lovely day, and there our blue launch, with that bright brass funnel I had so long agitated for, was awaiting us, and we landed at the steps of Mount Wise as though we had merely been for a trip to Penlee Point.
I found my picture of the yeomanry cantering through a “spruit” in the Boer War, “Within Sound of the Guns,” admirably placed this time at Burlington House, in the spring of 1903. I had greatly improved in tone by this time. Millais’ remark once upon a time, “She draws better than any of us, but I wish her tone was better,” had sunk deep.
On July 14th, 1903, the Princess Henry of Battenberg (as the title was then), with a suite of six, paid us a visit of two days at Government House, and we had, of course, a big reception, which was inevitable. Our guest hated the ordeal of all those presentations, being very retiring, and I sympathised. I heard her murmur to her lady, Miss Bulteel, “I shall die,” as the first arrival was announced. And there she had to stand till I and the A.D.C. had finished terrifying her with about 250 people in succession. What a tax royalty has to pay! There was the laying of a foundation stone, a trip in the launch up the Tamar, and something to be done each day, but with as many rests as we could squeeze in for our very simpatica princess. The drive through the streets of Plymouth showed me what the crowd looks like from royalty’s point of view as I sat by her side in the carriage. I remarked to her what bad teeth the people had. “They are nothing to those in the north,” the poor dear said. How often royalty has to run that gauntlet of an unlovely and cheering crowd!
I was now to go through the great ordeal of witnessing our dear Dick’s[15] taking his vows. This was on September 4th, 1903, at Belmont Minster, Hereford.
On July 10th, 1904, a German squadron of eighteen men-of-war came thundering into the Sound, and on the 12th we assembled a Garden Party of about three hundred guests to give the three admirals and their officers a very proper welcome. Eighteen beautiful ships, but all untried. I lunched on board the flagship, the Kaiser Wilhelm II., on the previous day, and anything to equal the dandified “get up” of that war vessel could not be found afloat. Wherever there was an excuse for a gold Imperial crown, there it was, relieved by the spotless whiteness of its surroundings. The fair-haired bluejackets were extremely clean and comely, but struck me as being drilled too much like soldiers, and wanting the natural manner of our men. The impression on my mind at the time was that immense care and pains had been taken to show off these brand-new ships and to rival ours, but that they were not a bit like their models. The General dined in state on board that evening. Oh! the veneer of politeness shown to us these days; the bowings, the clicking of heels, the well-drilled salutes; and all the time we were joking amongst ourselves about the certainty we had that they were taking soundings of our great harbour. As usual, they were allowed to do just as they liked there. It is a tremendous thought to me that I have lived to hear of the surrender of Germany’s entire navy. How often in those days we allowed ourselves to imagine a modern possible Trafalgar, but such a cataclysm as this was outside the bounds of any one’s imagination.
I devoted a great deal of my time to getting up a “one-man-show,” my first of many, composed of water colours, and in accomplishing the Afghan picture I have already mentioned as being so much honoured by the Hanging Committee at the Academy in the spring of 1904. My husband’s command of the Western District terminated on January 31st, 1905, and with it his career in the army, as he had reached the retiring age. The Liberal Party was very keen on having him as an M.P., representing East Leeds. I am glad the idea did not materialise. I know what would have happened. He would have set out full of honest and worthy enthusiasm to serve the Patria. Then, little by little, he would have found what political life really is, and thrown the thing up in disgust. An old story. Non Patria sed Party! So utterly outside my own life had politics been that I had an amused sensation when I saw the Parliamentary world opening before me, like a gulf!
“January 31st, 1905.—Will is to stand for East Leeds. It is all very sudden. Liberals so eager that he has almost been (courteously) hustled into the great enterprise. Herbert Gladstone, Campbell-Bannerman and other leaders have written almost irresistible letters to him, pleading. When he goes to the election at Leeds he is to be ‘put to no expense whatever,’ and they are confident of a ‘handsome majority.’ We shall see! Besides all this he is given a most momentous commission at the War Office to investigate certain ugly-looking matters connected with the Boer War stores scandal that require clearing up. I am glad they have done him the ‘poetical justice’ of selecting him for this.
“February 13th.—We went to a very brilliant and (to me) novel gathering at the Campbell-Bannermans’. All the leaders of the Liberal Party there, an interesting if not very noble study. All so cordial to Will. Tremendous crush, but nice when we got down to the more airy tea room. The snatches of conversation I got in the general hubbub all sounded somewhat ‘shoppy.’ Winston Churchill, a ruddy young man, with a roguish twinkle in his eye, Herbert Gladstone and his lovely wife, our bluff, rosy host and other ‘leaders’ were very interesting, and we met many friends, all on the ‘congratulate.’ All these M.P.’s seem to relish their life. I suppose it has a great fascination, this working to get your side in, as at a football match.”
The general election in course of time swept over England and brought in the Liberal Party with an overwhelming majority. My husband did not stand for East Leeds. He had to abandon the idea, as a Catholic, on account of the religious difficulties connected with the Education Act.