Seventeen Years in Paris: A Chaplain's Story

by H. E. Noyes

It was a happy coincidence that there were two weddings in the Dufferin family during their stay in Paris. These occasions were peculiarly interesting to me, as I had been in the habit of giving religious instruction to the younger members of the family every week at the Embassy; and also that I had known the Hon. W. Lee Plunket, who married Lady Victoria Blackwood, for some years. His father, the late Archbishop, was an intimate friend, with whom I had travelled much in England, Scotland, Ireland, Spain, and Portugal. The first marriage, that of Lord Terence Blackwood and Miss Flora Davis, took place on Oct. 16th, 1893. Miss Davis being an American, the wedding took place in the Church of the Holy Trinity, Avenue de l’Alma, Dr. Morgan and myself being the officiating clergy. The church was beautifully decorated, and well filled with guests, both the English and American Colonies being largely represented. In the seats reserved for distinguished guests were Lord and Lady Dufferin, the United States Ambassador (Mr. and Mrs. Eustis), the Baron and Baroness de Morenheim from the Russian Embassy, Mrs. J. H. Davis (stepmother of the bride), with some other relations. After the ceremony a reception was held at the British Embassy, very numerously attended by both French and English. The large number of handsome presents—under the charge of Nowell—had many admiring visitors. It was altogether a most interesting and brilliant gathering, and the first marriage from the Embassy for several years.

TRAINBEARERS AT THE LADY PLUNKET’S WEDDING.

The wedding bells were, however, heard again when the Hon. W. Lee Plunket (now Lord Plunket, Governor of New Zealand) was married in the Embassy Church to Lady Victoria Blackwood, daughter of their Excellencies Lord and Lady Dufferin. The wedding took place on June 4th, 1894, and was a most interesting event. It had been given out that the marriage would be of a semi-private character. Notwithstanding, the church was full to the doors. It was an interesting gathering from both the family and public point of view. Mrs. Rowan Hamilton, Lady Helen Ferguson, Lady Terence Blackwood, Lady Hermione Blackwood, and the Hon. Elizabeth and Olive Plunket (sisters of the bridegroom), were present, and Miss Muriel Stephenson and the Hon. Cynthia Lyttelton were among the bridesmaids. In describing the bridal procession, the “New York Herald” said: “The noble Marquis, who wore the conventional frock coat, appeared deeply moved as he led his beloved daughter to the altar. In close order behind came the eight bridesmaids in their light dresses and broad hats, forming a very gay cortège, the rear of which was brought up by a weeny mite of six years or so in an ample Greenaway white skirt and mob cap, and her brother equally diminutive, a jolly little ‘shaver,’ alert as he could be, his big blue eyes taking in everything, dressed in white knickerbockers and three-cornered white cavalier hat. How sweet they were. Let me introduce them to you—Miss Dora Geraldine Noyes and Master Claude Noyes.” The latter, who had imbibed the idea that this ceremony involved the departure of Lady Victoria from the Embassy, for whom he had a great admiration, was very indignant with Mr. Plunket, and “went for him” later on in the Embassy garden. It was a great pleasure to me to stand on this occasion side by side with Lord Plunket (then Archbishop of Dublin) and to assist in the marriage of his son. The signatories of the marriage contract were the Earl of Dufferin and Ava, Lord Plunket (Archbishop of Dublin), Mr. F. Rowan Hamilton, the Hon. David Plunket, and myself. The reception after the ceremony in the Embassy gardens was a brilliant gathering of “Tout Paris.” M. Hanotaux (the newly appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs) was among those present, and the Diplomatic Corps were “au grand complet.” Many American friends of the family came to wish Godspeed and happiness to the young couple. It was a happy gathering, and the fine old garden—the scene of so many memorable gatherings—looked its best.

In the Diplomatic service Ambassadors retire at the age of seventy; there was real sorrow in the English Colony in Paris when it was known that the Marquis of Dufferin and Ava was nearing this period. It being, however, inevitable, it was decided to render their departure as little sorrowful as possible, so far as the British Colony was concerned. A Committee was formed to consider a presentation to Lord Dufferin, and also a Committee of ladies, who were anxious to mark their appreciation of Her Excellency’s kindness and untiring work in connection with the various charities. It was agreed to present to the Ambassador a portrait of his son, Lord Ava, who was also very popular, and M. Benjamin Constant was commissioned to paint it.

It was unfortunately not ready for the day when the presentation was made, but the subscribers were invited to view it later. It is now, of course, of very special value, owing to the unfortunate death of Lord Ava in South Africa. At the banquet, when the presentation was made, the Earl made a most interesting speech, part of which is well worth recording. He said: “That he felt he was not addressing an audience, but was speaking to a few dear and intimate friends, and therefore would not make a set speech. When one had something to say from one’s heart words came easily. Considering the almost minatory words in Scripture, addressed to those who, like himself, had reached their seventieth year, he hardly knew whether he might consider himself as possessed of a future, or whether he ought not to regard his life as over, and himself as an uninvited guest at a crowded banquet. He consoled himself, however, with the reflection that the words of Holy Scripture were addressed to a people whose life began rather earlier—who married, for instance, sometimes at the age of ten, and whose girls were occasionally mothers at that age. As he had not married till he was thirty-six, he concluded that he was only now beginning his life. Speaking as he did in the British Embassy, he remembered what he felt at his first appearance there. It was in that room that he had ventured upon his first waltz, having been ordered to dance. The lady was, he feared, thoroughly disgusted with her partner. In this room, too, he remembered a performance of the ‘School for Scandal,’ in which three of the characters had been taken by three descendants of Sheridan—the Duchess of Somerset, his mother, and Mr. R. Sheridan. Finally, the room would be after this associated with one of the most gratifying incidents of his life, the presentation of this gift by his friends in Paris. He would like to say a few words on his choice of the present. He had desired something which might descend to his heirs, and remain long afterwards as a memorial of the kind feelings with which he had been regarded in Paris. He had not chosen, therefore, a valuable picture or other object which squandering descendants—such persons were occasionally found in families—would at once sell, but he had asked for a portrait of his son which would grow more valuable with time, and be a long-lasting memorial of his Paris career. It would be among the most treasured of the objects which he had collected at Clandeboy from all parts of the world.”

The speech was delivered in the Earl’s happiest vein, and was listened to with rapt attention, though not without emotion, it being his last public address to the British Colony in Paris.

The Colony, however, were not satisfied with shewing their warm appreciation of the kindness of their Ambassador. Lady Dufferin had won all hearts during her stay by her consideration and goodness to rich and poor. Almost every charity in Paris had benefited from the indefatigable work of Her Excellency, who had gone thoroughly into the affairs of the various agencies and then set herself to strengthen any that were weak. Never did she fail to respond to any appeal, taking a personal interest in every case, often at a sacrifice to the demands upon her diplomatic duties. It was both a glad and a sad gathering in the “Galerie des Champs Elysées” in June, 1896, when the presentation committee and a large gathering of friends met to say farewell to their Ambassadress. The gift was a lovely Louis XVI. clock and candelabras, and was presented on behalf of the donors by the Hon. Mrs. Gye.

In reply Lady Dufferin said: “It is really impossible for me to say what I feel on this occasion, for I am quite overwhelmed by your kindness and by your expressions of friendship and goodwill. However undeserving of such kindness I may feel, it is a very great pleasure to me to receive this assurance of your sympathy. I thank you with all my heart for your generous words, your good wishes, and for this most lovely gift. I thank you also for the many occasions upon which during the last three years you have shewn your sympathy with other members of my family, and for the loyal support you have ever given me in all matters relating to British charities in Paris. It is the duty, and I am sure it is the pleasure, of every English Ambassadress here to interest herself in these institutions, but without the hearty co-operation of the British residents, her fellow subjects, her interest in them could have no practical result. If, therefore, I have been able to promote in the slightest degree the welfare of any British charity here, it is because of the unfailing help and support I have received from you.”

Shortly after, the departure of Lord and Lady Dufferin took place. It was a time and scene not easily forgotten. The whole Embassy staff were gathered in the hall, my wife and myself among them. The Ambassador and Lady Dufferin came down and went round to everyone, shaking hands and saying goodbye. There were few dry eyes. No ceremony marked their departure beyond this, and they drove away in an ordinary “growler”—it was just like them. Lord and Lady Dufferin returned to Paris subsequently—for the Emperor and Empress of Russia’s visit—but stayed at an hotel. I rarely met Lord Dufferin afterwards. The last time was at the cemetery at Mount Jerome, Dublin, when we stood beside the grave of the late Lord Plunket. He then laid his hand on my shoulder, saying: “Noyes, this is a great deal out of your life;” and so it was, for I had been intimate for many years with the Archbishop. It has been our delight to welcome Lady Dufferin on several occasions since.