Now all this proves that in some ways she had a keen sense of humour, but one of the most hopeless undertakings in the world was to try and tell her even very obvious jokes. How describe her puzzlement her desperate efforts to understand-her agonised attempt at a laugh, followed by some remark which clearly proved that the point had escaped her! One could not refrain from telling a funny story sometimes, in order to witness its still funnier reception. She was fond of saying that she preferred English "humour" to French "wit," which she described as "de l'esprit sur le pointe d'une épingle," and I cannot help help suspecting that her extreme difficulty in understanding that sort of "esprit" had something to do with it. enchanting Spanish proverb: feeling, one is puzzled to say "Si Vous voulez aller diable, au moins allez-y en au how much of it she possessed. allez-y en I have said that pictures were voiture !" of the difficult moments at a sealed book to her, and one Farnborough Hill was being called upon to admire works of certain famous painters of the Second Empire which were unhesitatingly accepted by her as masterpieces. Nor can one deny that such decorations in the house as she herself was responsible for were not in good taste. Yet it is certain that she must always have dressed beautifully, and in later days her costumes were the perfection of appropriateness, simplicity, and grace. She once told a very elegant sister of mine that in the old days no pains were too great for her to take as regards her toilette, but that once she had left her dressingroom, she never gave the matter another thought-which is exactly what one would expect. There is no doubt whatever have come to the conclusion that she loved nature; but I that this particular form of sensitiveness to beauty, which is shared by some of the least artistic people I know, can have nothing to do with the so-called artistic temperament. But if for once, to use an expressive vulgarism, she really did catch on,... what triumph! what a scene! It reminded one of a child's delight blowing open 8 watch! That joke would be repeated by her over and over again, its anatomy analysed, and comment after comment would satisfactorily prove to you (and herself) that the point had been grasped. And once more you realised as in other cases where, perhaps, it was less a matter of unmixed delight-the childlike quality of certain aspects of her spirit. tions whatever Again, as regards artistic remarked that probably no one but myself possessed a composition by the Empress Eugénie. But en reflection I think it must have been a case of copying, for I do not believe she would have been capable of an original effort of the kind. I may add that it consists of two bars of musio, written on a sheet of letter-paper, and bears the superscription: "Two days and two nights work!! Eugénie." Countless are my memories of her connected with music among them her touching belief that the Prince Imperial must have had strong, though undeveloped, musical proclivities, inasmuch as, when a baby, after hearing Madame Alboni sing, he reached forward out of his nurse's arms, and putting his fingers on her vast threat, said "Ioi! ioi!" It was a charming anecdote, but seemed to me rather an indication of the map-making genius for which the prince was celebrated when a Woolwich cadet than a proof of musical instinct. For Madame Alboni was so enormous that people used to call her "the elephant that has swallowed a nightingale"and to find the right spot on so large a surface was a remarkable feat for a baby in arms. But if one had said so to the Empress, this is the sort of joke she would not have understood. Besides which, she would have preferred her own reading. Once upon a time the singer Henschel, who was staying with us, asked me if I thought she would like him to sing te her Schumann's "Two Grenadiers"? Of course she said she would be delighted; but as it was to be sung in German, I took the precaution of explaining that Heine's poem was an immortal tribute to the Great Emperor. This explanation seemed to be unnecessary, for apparently she knew all about the song (in which, as we know, "The Marseillaise" is introduced), and no doubt had heard it scores of times in the French version. None the less, next day she remarked to me: "Quelle drôle d'idée de votre ami de me chanter cette chansenlà... 'le Kaiser...le Kaiser'!" Horror-struck, I explained matters all over again, and needless to say that at the time no one would have suspeeted a hitch anywhere; her manners were proof against far severer trials than this! Close on the heels of this incident same a similar one, if possible more surprising still. One day she paid a visit to the County Lunatio Asylum, and on her arrival the band (oomposed of lunatics) struck up "Partant pour la Syrie," which is the hymn of the Napoleonic dynasty and is attributed to la Reine Hortense. I felt oertain that it was not on their usual repertory, and must have been specially studied for the occasion; so as we drove away, I remarked that to play it in her honour was a delightful idea on their part. The Empress gave a great jump: "Comment?" she exclaimed, "vous êtes bien sûre que c'était 'Partant pour la Syrie' qu'ils ont joué?... Il me semblait connaître cette mélodie-là . . . mais j'ai pensé que c'était God save!"... And a letter was despatched expressing her gratification at this delicate attention. I think no one can ever have had greater natural violence of temperament than the Empress. Age may be supposed to have mitigated it, but as late as 1918 I have seen her possessed by a passion of wrath, and pouring forth a torrent of magnificent inveotive, such as few young women could emulate. We had been discussing the future of Serbia, and and gradually worked round to the murder of King Alexander and Queen Draga. None have ever disputed the proposition that these unfortunate sovereigns were puppets of Austria, and I had been contending that this faot should count, to a certain extent at least, in defence of a people struggling for independence. But the Empress hated and disbelieved in the Slavs. Moreover, Austria was one of her sacred subjects, owing chiefly to the romantic attachment she cherished for the aged Emperor Francis Joseph. This cult found expression in a visit she had paid him not long before the war, and her fond belief was that one as sorely stricken in his domestic affections as she herself would inevitably share the emotion she felt at the thought of their meeting again after all these years. Pathetic illusion! blatant instance of her lack of intuition as regards character! I do not suppose that in the whole world you could have found another monarch who, on being informed of her desire to visit him, would merely have said, as did that cold-hearted old cynic, "Was will denn eigentlich die alte Eugenie?" This supremely characteristic remark went the round of Vienna, and greatly amused the Viennese, who rather admired, but had no illusions concerning, their venerable sovereign. The following winter was spent by me at Vienna, and when, on my return to England, the poor unsuspecting Empress crossquestioned me as to the impression her visit had left in his faithful heart, for once I lied-and lied freely. To return to the murder of the unfortunate Alexander and Draga, the Empress's contention was that the horrible circumstances of the crime, though carried out (as she must have known) by a Court oabal, proved the Serbians to be a race of barbarians, unworthy to take rank among civilised nations. Thereupon I could not refrain from pointing out that no nation, eivilised or otherwise, had gone the lengths of the French in the unnamable charges brought by a more or less regularly constituted tribunal against Marie Antoinette. It was not a bad retort, for Marie Antoinette was a still greater idol of hers than the Emperor Francis Joseph,. and for the moment she could 1 What does old Eugénie want? not think of an adequate rejoinder. Nobody likes being cornered, and one could not expect a woman of ninety-three, and an ex-Empress, to like it more than another. As a matter of fact, large-minded as she was, and far from demanding other deference than that due to her age, she was not acoustomed to her dicta being opposed. Pietri was of course a privileged person, though she did not always endure his bluntness with equanimity; otherwise I think young Count Clary, son of her former Master of the Horse (?), and myself, were the only two people who ever ventured to eontradiot her, for which reason she bracketed us together as "mauvais earaotère, tous les deux!" Long, long ago I remember a splendid onslaught of hers. Something I said infuriated her to such a pitoh, that she suddenly seized me by the shoulders, and, with an "allezvous en pour vous calmer!" ran me bodily out of the smoking-room, dragging one half of the double swing-door to with such violence that I found myself involuntarily plagiarising the young lady of Norway. I cannot remember hearing of any similar outbreak thoughout all the years that lie behind me, and fear I must have begun by showing temper, or at least unseemly zeal, myself. Anyhow, to continue the plagiarism, if the door squeezed me flat, well may I exclaim "what of that!" for I never think of that scene-the Empress's swift concentrated fury and the herculean strength it gave her-without laughing. Her usual method of signifying annoyance was a way she had of looking at you without seeing you. Suddenly you would find yourself reduced to the status of a plateglass window, thus to remain for several hours, or in extreme cases for several days. Another plan of hers was to address her replies to some third person. Any one would do; and thus some maiden, who happened to be at the tea-table, between two sets of tennis, has found herself recipient of the Empress's views concerning protection, colonisation, or the principles of foreign policy. One day last summer I was lunching alone with her and Madame d'Attainville as 80 often happened,—and being by no means sure of my sympathy, she addressed her soathing analysis of the English Government's fiscal policy to Antonia, whe naturally had not studied the question, but none the less went on comfortably murmuring at intervals: "Mais oui! je crois bien!... naturellement!" and raising her eyebrows at the proper places, though I fancy her thoughts were elsewhere. At last the Empress saw the ludiorousness of the situation, and remarked: "Je m'addresse à toi. . . mais à l'intention d'une autre personne!" There was one particular manifestation of annoyance that could only be studied at meals. The Empress had told me that toothpicks, together with a certain overthorough, not to say dreadful, use of finger-bowls, were forbidden by the Emperor at the Royal Table. But in my day the toothpick had come back again, and at certain oritical moments you might watch it turn into a weapon of warfare in the Empress's hands. Brandished right and left, it gave point and emphasis to her argument; put to its proper purpose, the while she listened with simulated patience to your reply, nothing but the reflection that never was a human body made of more magnificent material than hers, relieved your anxiety as to the outcome of so furious an onslaught. Meanwhile her eye would be fixed on you sideways, darting such disgust and aversion, that you were thankful it was only a toothpick, and not a stiletto, she held in her crispé fingers. I must add that sooner or later after these little scenes, she would be at special pains to soften down the impression -perhaps put her arm round the offender's shoulder as the party trooped down the oorridor. On one such occasion, quite in early days, I remember her saying to me, "vous n'êtes pas commode, ma chère!" It was said shaffingly and in all friendliness but she meant it! I love insisting on the violence of the Empress's temperament, because apart from its being so wonderful a VOL. CCVIII.-NO. MCCLX. thing at her age, one must remember that it was this immense force, tamed and channelled, that held her unswerving in the road of heroic endurance she had marked out for herself, and made of her a live and inexhaustible source of beneficence where others were concerned. There was one Royal House she detested, for political reasons of course : "I would rather see them dragged down than ourselves uplifted!" she exclaimed one day; "could I but live to witness their downfall, I would willingly accept an extra spell of of purgatory in exchange!" She raised her voice, and raised her arm: "Ce sentiment que j'éprouve. But here Pietri out in with one of his amused little comments: "Ce n'est pas un sentiment, Madame, c'est une passion! -"Eh bien," oried she, "s'est la dernière que j'éprouve"; adding in accents of tragicomic regret, "et combien fautil encore pour la réchauffer!" Less than she imagined was sufficient to rekindle the fire. True, it did not often flare up to this extent, but association with her was like a stroll on the upper slopes of Vesuvius ; a chance stumble cracks the cool lava. . . and lo! the sele of your boot is smouldering! It was this eternal ardour, combined with a powerful brain and unlimited intellectual curiosity, that kept her so young, and guaranteed her against boredom. An advance in science, a new discovery in medicine (which I trust one is not expected to class among 2 F |