On the 15th we left for Paris, and had a very shaky journey, but it did not hurt him. Our great friend Professor Zotenberg met him, and dined with us. On the 18th we left Paris for Folkestone, where we stopped one day to see his sister Lady Stisted and her daughter, and the following day, the 19th of July, 1888, we arrived at the St. James's Hotel in London. We had not been in London for two years, and we had naturally an immense quantity of people to see and business to transact. About ten days after, Richard got very ill, and kept us in a great fright; but it lasted a very short time, as he was at his club next day.
One could imagine what a delight it was to him to return to the club. He used to like to be dropped there at about half-past eleven, or twelve. He would lunch there, take a siesta after, and read and write and see his men-friends, and then either Dr. Baker or I used to call for him at six. It was the only free time he had from our surveillance, the whole three years and a half of his illness, and it was an immense relief to him. I do not mean to say that he could not be alone in his room as much as ever he liked, but we never let him walk or drive out by himself, lest a return of the attack should occur, and he would have no assistance, and we always carried restoratives in our pockets.
Here we had the pleasure of seeing our friend H. H. Johnston, Consul in West Africa and artist, one of the most charming and sympathetic of men. St. James's was too noisy, although Richard thought the situation quite perfect. His central point of the world was Apsley House, and he despised everything between that and the desert. Dr. Baker now went for a holiday, and Dr. Leslie came back to us.
However, Richard took it into his head that as Ramsgate has such a reputation for air, we would go and try it; so on the 3rd of August we went to the Granville, where we stopped for a week, taking drives to Margate, to St. Peter's, and Westgate, to see Admiral Beamish, or to Deal, Sandgate, where we tried to see Mr. Clarke Russell, and Broadstairs, in each of which we found friends or cousins. We did not think much of the Granville Hotel, having been thoroughly spoiled by the best hotels abroad; but our great amusement was that, having lived so much away from home, we knew nothing about Bank Holiday, and found ourselves landed in a hundred and fifty thousand of the people for four days, and Richard's delight was to go and sit on the sands and watch them—the Salvation Army, the niggers, the performers with ventriloquist-heads stuck on poles; but we were immensely edified, for although here and there there was a little rough play, there was not a single case of drunkenness. After a week the air proved too strong for Richard, and we went back, this time to the Langham Hotel.
Here we had a most pleasant time, for, in spite of its being August, old friends and relatives came and lunched and dined with us every day, which cheered Richard up immensely; and our friend F. F. Arbuthnot joined us, and passed a week in the hotel, and amongst others were Mr. John Payne, Du Chaillu, Mr. Henry Irving, Swinburne, Mr. Theodore Watts, and others. Dr. Baker came back eventually, and we went off to Oxford, where Richard delighted in driving round to all the Colleges, and where we met numbers of old friends—Mr. Arthur Evans and his wife, Mr. Chandler, Professor Sayce, etc. From there we went to the Queen's Hotel, Norwood, to be near Richard's sister and niece for a fortnight, and enjoy the Crystal Palace.
A Norwood treat was having a clairvoyante down from London, who pronounced on our health. She told Richard that he was bad in the head, eyes, down the back of neck, stomach, feet, and legs; that I had cancer; that I had healing powers, powerful light from heaven, a red cross above me, a large protection and light from above, with troops of friends and patrons. The cancer prophecy made Richard unhappy, till he saw how little I believed in it. The drives were to Dulwich and to Croydon, to see Commander Cameron and his wife. One particular treat we had was going to Colonel Goureaud's, who gave us a field-day with the Eddison phonograph, which we had seen in its infancy in 1878 in Dublin. Richard thought that it opened a wonderful future in science. He offered to do the muezzin's call to prayer, "Allahu Akbar," into a phonograph; somehow it was not done. What a treasure it would be now!
After a fortnight we went back to the Langham, which we liked thoroughly. We saw our last of Lawrence Oliphant about the 1st of September. In London Dr. Baker had several consultations for Richard with Dr. Mortimer Granville, who took infinite pains with him, and gave him a long and careful examination. Dr. Mortimer Granville said he was as sound as a bell, barring the gout. And that day, the 23rd of September, he insisted on going to the club by himself, and he did so several times whilst he remained in London. It was a relief to him to feel that he could do something of former times.
It would seem as if we were always changing our abode; and so it was. His magnetism was so immense, his brain travelled so fast, absorbed so quickly, that he sucked dry all his surroundings, whether place, scenery, people, or facts, before the rest of us had settled down to realize whether we liked a place or not. When he arrived at this stage everything was flat to him, and he would anxiously say, "Do you think I shall live to get out of this, and to see another place?" And I used regularly to say, "Of course you will. Let us go to-day, if you feel like that;" and that would quiet him so far that he would say, "Oh no; say next Monday or Tuesday;" and then we went. During the latter days of his life, this restlessness became absolutely part of his complaint, and we used to seem to be moving on every week. One of his peculiarities was that he never would remain one moment in the hotel behind me. We used to plan to divide our work. I did all the courier's work, and the doctor took care of my husband. I used to go down to the stations or the steamers, with Lisa, a full hour before time, to take the tickets, weigh the baggage, procure a compartment for our party alone, telegraph forward for carriage, for rooms, and meals, so that his journey might go on oiled wheels, and Dr. Baker was to follow with him to save fatigue, getting him in five minutes before the start. We never could manage this; he would not let me go away one single instant before him, but used to jump into the same carriage.
The chief things Richard notes on this visit were as follows:—
"But on the 15th we left Geneva for Paris—when Zotenberg dined with us (at Folkestone I saw my sister)—and London, which we reached on the 20th of July, after nearly two years' absence, and lodged at the St. James's Hotel, Piccadilly. Literary work awaited us both, and I was again obliged to run the risk and dangers of the Bodleian at Oxford; but this time I had my wife and Dr. Baker with me, and I escaped all the evil results.
"During the time we were in London we had luncheons and dinners every day for our friends. It is no use giving a long list of names, but most of them were the most interesting people in London. We were also asked out immensely into Society, and in the daytime we accepted; but we made a rule now, on account of my health, never to accept a dinner or evening invitation, because I was obliged to dine at 7.30 and go to bed at 9.30, and my wife would not leave me. Amongst others, we had the pleasure at Lady Henry Gordon Lennox's of meeting Mr. Villiers, a brilliant relic of the old school, and my wife was fortunate enough to be taken in to lunch by him.
"On the 21st of August we went down to Bromley Holwood to see Lord and Lady Derby; they showed us Pitt's old house, the oak under which Pitt organized the abolition of slavery, Pitt's writing table, and a doll which the Queen gave to Lady Derby when she was Lady Mary West."