Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900

by Mary King Waddington

This afternoon we had our audience from the old Duchess of Cambridge. We found her in handsome rooms in St. James's Palace, and one lady in waiting with her. She was lying on a sofa—she is very old, eighty-four—has seen and known everyone, and talks easily both French and English. It really seemed a page of history to listen to her. She asked us to come back, and Lady G. told us that when she felt well, visits were a great pleasure to her, and also that she was always glad to see any members of the French Embassy.

We got home to tea—and then I had various skirmishes with the servants. It really is difficult to make French and English servants work together. The butler is an Englishman, and directs all the men of the house. It is not easy to make the Frenchmen take their orders from him. They all want to be in direct communication with me. There are always two together in the hall—one Frenchman and one Englishman, and the result of that is that when anything goes wrong, and the bell is not answered, the Frenchman tells me he was not there, it was the Englishman's turn; and of course the Englishman the same—so now I have told Holmes (the butler) to make me out a regular paper every Monday with the men's names and their hours of service—Yves et George, 10-12; William and Charles, 12-2—I hope that will work. As to Hubert he hasn't driven me yet. He goes about London all day in a brougham, with one of those non-descript English servants, half French, half English, that we got from the British Embassy in Paris. I find the domestic part of the Embassy rather a bore, but I suppose things will settle down. The housemaids are a delightful institution, though I was amazed upon inquiring one day from my own maid as to who was a young lady with a red velvet dress, and a large hat and feathers, I had met on the stairs, when she replied, "C'est Alice, Madame, la seconde fille de chambre." It seems that my maid remonstrated with her for spending her money on clothes, to which she replied that all housemaids in big houses dressed like that, and that she herself would be ashamed if she dressed as plainly as my maids. The two thrifty Frenchwomen were scandalised.

The Duchess of Cambridge
From a photograph by Walery London.

London, January 9, 1884.

I paid a visit to-day to the Dowager Lady Stanley of Alderley. I found her at her tea-table in her drawing-room, with Mr. Gladstone having his cup of tea with her, and talking easily and cheerfully about all sorts of things (never a word of politics); no one would have imagined that he was to make a great speech that evening in the House. He really is an extraordinary, many-sided man. In the course of conversation the talk fell upon the Roman Catholic religion, and its extension in many countries, particularly in America. He said, turning to me, that a great friend of his, an American, Mr. Hurlbert, certainly the most brilliant talker he had ever heard, and one of the most intelligent, had told him how much the Roman Catholic religion was gaining ground in the Northern States of America. I rather demurred to his statement, even though it came from Mr. Hurlbert. His intelligence and brilliancy are undeniable, but I should have thought his views were a little fantastic at times. "I rather agree with you," said Mr. Gladstone; "but I have recently had letters from my friends Bishop P. of New York, Bishop A. of Massachusetts, and other distinguished Churchmen in the United States, who tell me that the Roman Catholic religion is making certain progress; their preachers are so clever, and know so well how to adapt themselves to the liberal views they must have in America." We then talked some time about the various Bishops and clergymen he knew in America, the slight difference between the two Prayer Books, etc. One would really have thought it was a Church of England clergyman, who has passed all his life studying theological questions. A few moments after something turned his thoughts in another direction, and he was discussing with Lady Stanley the translation into English of an Italian sonnet which he thought was badly done. "Too literal, really not understanding the poetry, and the beautiful imagination of the writer." It was extraordinary. I was rather mortified when he asked if I knew the two Bishops. I didn't, but it is fair to say he understood when I said how many years I had been away from America.

Lady Stanley is a delightful old lady. She has seen and known everyone worth knowing in Europe for the last fifty years, and it is most amusing to hear her down-right way of talking. She was killing over the "Professional Beauties," a style of modern woman she couldn't understand. She asked me to come in again and have a cup of tea with her, and I shall certainly go, as one doesn't hear such talk every day.

We dined with Mr. Childers, and there was a big reception in the evening, with all the celebrities of the Liberal party, the Harcourts, Hayters, Lord Northbrook, Tennyson (son of the poet), and many others, but of course in a crowd like that one can't talk. I hope I shall remember the faces. About 11 o'clock we went on to Lady Stanhope's, where there was a big reception of the Conservative party. There I found the Lyttons and some few people I knew, and many more were presented. They were all talking politics hard; said the Ministry couldn't last another week, as there is to be a vigorous attack on them in both Houses on Tuesday. Everyone says the Lyttons are going to Paris when Lord Lyons leaves. She will be a charming Ambassadress, and he is so fond of France and so thoroughly well up in French literature that they will be delighted to have him in Paris.

The political talk was exactly like what I have heard so often in Paris, only in English instead of in French, and the men talking more quietly, though they abused one another well, and with less gesticulating. Also they don't carry politics into private life as they do with us; the men of opposite sides lavish abuse upon each other in the House, but there it ends, and they meet at dinner and chaff each other, and the wives are perfectly intimate. In France there is a great gulf between parties, even moderates, royalists, and republicans, and I was astounded when I first mixed in political life in France to see people in society turn their backs upon some perfectly distinguished, honourable gentleman because he had not the same opinion as themselves in politics.