Chantilly, 9 juin.—Bon! très cher ami, nous irons, s'il plaît à Dieu, ensemble à Oxford, le 17, par 9.55 en cravate blanche. Je compte arriver le 14 au soir à Claridge's, où je serai présent le lundi, 15, de 10 à midi, et de 6 à 7; le mardi, 16, de 10 à midi. Si vous pouvez venir m'y voir, je serai très heureux, car j'ai encore besoin de quelques renseignements complimentaires.
Vous m'avez offert l'hospitalité du Dean, et je lui ai écrit que je l'acceptais. Mais en quoi consiste cette hospitalité? Simple luncheon suivi d'un départ, ou dîner et coucher au doyenné? Je ne voudrais pas manquer de courtoisie; but above all I would not intrude—et je suis très disposé à me retirer de très bonne heure. Seulement j'aimerais à être fixé pour prendre tous mes arrangements.
The Journal simply notes that on June 16th the Duc d'Aumale dined at The
Club; and on the 17th 'with Duc d'Aumale to Oxford, where he was made
D.C.L. Lunch at All Souls; very pleasant day.' Reeve left early and
returned at once to Foxholes.
From the Duc d'Aumale
Chantilly, 1er juillet.—Après votre départ de Christ Church [Oxford] le 17 nous avons eu le ou la 'Gaudy.' Ainsi que vous l'aviez prévu, j'ai dû dire quelques mots à peine préparés. Comme il n'y avait pas de reporter, et que je n'avais aucune note, et comme l'auditoire, y compris nos Seigneurs les évêques, avait accueilli mon speech avec bienveillance, je l'ai noté sur le papier—comme disent les musiciens—avant de me coucher. Vous avez été presque mon parrain à Oxford, je vous en dois bien la copie. C'est, en tous cas, un témoignage de ma fidèle amitié.
The speech which follows, although delivered under circumstances which necessitated a complimentary tone, is a more than usually graceful tribute to our old Universities, and the introduction of the little analogue is singularly happy. The Duke, whose letters to Reeve are all in French, wrote this verbatim as here given, in correct English, perfectly well spelt.
Mr. Dean, my Lords and Gentlemen,—Let me first express how highly I prize the honour which has been conferred upon me to-day, and how glad I am to be so connected with your illustrious University. I have always admired the University of Oxford. I have more than once visited this town, when I received a princely hospitality in the noble baronial halls of this neighbourhood—Nuneham, Blenheim—or when I was quietly living on the banks of the Avon. Often I brought here my French friends, and I tried to explain the peculiarities, the complicated machinery of this illustrious corporation; to show how, remaining faithful to the traditions, preserving your old customs, you did not remain deaf to what might be said without, nor blind to the movement of the world; how, slowly perhaps, but prudently, step by step, you managed to bring the necessary changes, the wanted modifications, so as to keep pace with the times without breaking with the past.
'Mais c'est le couteau de Jeannot que cette Université,' said one of my interlocutors. Well, I will give you the tale of Jeannot's knife.
There was once a young peasant called Jeannot, and he had a knife of which he took great care. He found that the blade was rusting and he changed the blade. Then he found that the handle was decaying from dry-rot, and he changed the handle; and so on. His friends laughed at him, and would not take the same care of their knives, which they lost—one breaking the blade, another the handle. But Jeannot, having always kept his knife in good order, could always make use of it, cleverly and powerfully.
Well, I think there is some analogy between the tale of this humble man and the history of your great University. It seems to me I see the huge frame of a large fabric which has stood for centuries glorious and proud. The stones are changed, the bricks, the mortar, or the roof are renewed; and the fabric still stands through the ages, through the storms, glorious and proud. And I hope it will so remain and stand everlasting, with its old frame and the new materials; and I wish glory and prosperity to the University of Oxford.