She Is The
Most Modest And Unostentatious Person One Can Well Conceive.
She
lives simply, and the chief of her large income (you know she was
the rich Miss Milbank) she devotes to others.
After lunch she
wished me to see a little of the country round Esher and ordered her
ponies and small carriage for herself and me, while Mr. Bancroft and
Miss Murray walked. We went first to the royal seat, Claremont,
where the Princess Charlotte lived so happily with Leopold, and
where she died. Its park adjoins Lady Byron's, and the Queen allows
her a private key that she may enjoy its exquisite grounds. Here we
left the pedestrians, while Lady Byron took me a more extensive
drive, as she wished to show me some of the heaths in the
neighborhood, which are covered with furze, now one mass of yellow
bloom.
Every object is seen in full relief against the sky, and a figure on
horseback is peculiarly striking. I am always reminded of the
beginning of one of James's novels, which is usually, you know,
after this manner: "It was toward the close of a dull autumn day
that two horsemen were seen," etc., etc. Lady Byron took me to the
estate of a neighboring gentleman, to show me a fine old tower
covered with ivy, where Wolsey took refuge from his persecutors,
with his faithful follower, Cromwell.
Upon our return we found the last of the old harpers, blind, and
with a genuine old Irish harp, and after hearing his national
melodies for half an hour, taking a cup of coffee, and enjoying a
little more of Lady Byron's conversation, we departed, having had a
day heaped up with the richest and best enjoyments. I could not
help thinking, as I was walking up and down the beautiful paths of
Claremont Park, with the fresh spring air blowing about me, the
primroses, daisies, and wild bluebells under my feet, and Lady Byron
at my side, that it was more like a page out of a poem than a
reality.
On Sunday night any Americans who are here come to see us. . . . Mr.
Harding brought with him a gentleman, whom he introduced as Mr.
Alison. Mr. Bancroft asked him if he were related to Archdeacon
Alison, who wrote the "Essay on Taste." "I am his son," said he.
"Ah, then, you are the brother of the historian?" said Mr. Bancroft.
"I am the historian," was the reply. . . . An evening visitor is a
thing unheard of, and therefore my life is very lonely, now I do not
go into society. I see no one except Sunday evenings, and,
occasionally, a friend before dinner.
LETTER: To W.D.B. and A.B.
LONDON, May 24, [1847]
My dear Sons: . . . On Friday we both went to see the Palace of
Hampton Court with my dear, good, Miss Murray, Mr. Winthrop and son,
and Louise. . . . On our arrival, we found, to our great vexation,
that Friday was the only day in the week in which visitors were not
admitted, and that we must content ourselves with seeing the grounds
and go back without a glimpse of its noble galleries of pictures.
Fortunately for us, Miss Murray had several friends among the
persons to whom the Queen has assigned apartments in the vast
edifice, and they willingly yielded their approbation of our
admission if she could possibly win over Mrs. Grundy, the
housekeeper. This name sounded rather inauspicious, but Mr.
Winthrop suggested that there might be a "Felix" to qualify it, and
so in this case it turned out. Mrs. Grundy asserted that such a
thing had never been done, that it was a very dangerous precedent,
etc., but in the end the weight of a Maid of Honor and a Foreign
Minister prevailed, and we saw everything to much greater advantage
than if we had 150 persons following on, as Mr. Winthrop says he had
the other day at Windsor Castle. . . . On our way [home] we met Lady
Byron with her pretty little carriage and ponies. She alighted and
we did the same, and had quite a pleasant little interview in the
dusty road.
Sunday, May 30th
Your father left town on Monday. . . . He did not return until the
27th, the morning of the Queen's Birthday Drawing-Room. On that
occasion I went dressed in white mourning. . . . It was a petticoat
of white crape flounced to the waist with the edges notched. A
train of white glace trimmed with a ruche of white crape. A wreath
and bouquet of white lilacs, without any green, as green is not used
in mourning. The array of diamonds on this occasion was magnificent
in the highest degree, and everybody was in their most splendid
array. The next evening there was a concert at the Palace, at which
Jenny Lind, Grisi, Alboni, Mario, and Tamburini sang. I went
dressed in [a] deep black dress and enjoyed the music highly. Seats
were placed in rows in the concert-room and one sat quietly as if in
church. At the end of the first part, the royal family with their
royal guests, the Grand Duke Constantine of Russia, and the Grand
Duke and Duchess of Saxe-Weimar went to the grand dining-room and
supped by themselves, with their suites, while another elegant
refreshment table was spread in another apartment for the other
guests. . . . Jenny Lind a little disappointed me, I must confess,
but they tell me that her songs were not adapted on that evening to
the display of her voice.
On Sunday evening your father dined with Baron Brunnow, the Russian
Minister, to meet the Grand Duke Constantine. It so happened that
the Grand Duke and Duchess of Saxe-Weimar appointed an audience to
Baron and Baroness Brunnow at seven, and they had not returned at
half-past seven, when the Grand Duke and their other guests arrived.
The Baroness immediately advanced to the Grand Duke and sunk on her
knees before him, asking pardon in Russian.
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