Wednesday, 2 June 1880. I passed such a
delightful morning on the beach. While the boys were bathing, I sat near them
on the sand under shelter of a small rowboat and read “Jeff Brigg’s Love Story”
by Bret Harte. I find it lovely and very sad & poetical although it is a
picture of “raw life”.
At 1 P.M., we took a carriage for the
day and went to Sandown, passing through Shanklin, where we dismounted and
walked through what they call the Shanklin Clime, a very lovely valley, filled
with ferns and wild-flowers. We found a very officious old man in the village
who sold us some shells. The weather is delightful. Our coachman is very
desirous of initiating us into the beauties of his country and pointed out to
us all the ’ouses and ’ills of any importance.
We dined at Sandown at 5 P.M. at the
Sandown Hotel, which faces on the beach. I read some more about my big hearted,
honest Jeff and am more infatuated than ever. How thoroughly I hate his little
female tormentor!
Had a charming drive home. It is cold
enough for shawls. Reached Marine Hotel at 8 P.M. The tall dark personage, who
wears white leggings on his boots and whom I designate as the “Solitary Man”
because he is so delightfully averse to other society, was sitting on the
verandah [as] we drove up. [Flowers are pasted to the page, labeled: “Flowers
from the Shanklin Clime, 2 June.”]
Thursday, 3 June 1880. What confusion
this morning, before starting, about the trunks! At the last moment, when
everything was about to be locked up, Adeline found my drawer full of linen and
I found Mame’s shoes and various other articles under the bed. As a last
resort, these things were stuffed into the tray of the only remaining unlocked
trunk and right on top of my pretty blue
& white muslin dress! Adieu fraicheur [farewell
freshness]! The coach had to wait for us, too, for Mamie, Edgar, Adeline and I
had trotted off in the town to buy candy & pictures.
Finally, a few minutes after 10 A.M.,
our party had climbed up on the coach, two with the driver who was gruff &
important, and the rest on the seat behind. We had four horses and went in a
trot up hill & down hill although there were other passengers besides
ourselves. It was cold and windy. When I changed seats with Henry and sat next
to the fat driver, I nearly froze. The cold seemed to penetrate my thick
mantle.
The scenery was quite pretty, though
nothing like we expected. The greatest beauty lay in the bright coloured wild
flowers and the “’hadmirable ’edges” as a gentleman called them behind me. I
confess, his illiterate manner of speech and entire absence of h’s (except
where they were merely ornamental) rather dampened my enthusiasm for the pretty
green glens that characterize England’s Garden of Eden. We changed horses twice
on the way; I think the distance is 22 miles. This changing rather annoyed me
because I became fond of the horses being seated nearly on their broad
backs and did not like to part with them.
Freshwater
We reached Freshwater at 1.30 P.M.
(Lamberts Hotel) and lunched on mutton, potatoes & cabbage, of course. The
hotel and village, which are upon a kind of open bay, remind us somewhat of the
Lakes of Killarny.
Our Would-be Excursion to the Needles!
At 4 P.M., we all (including Adeline)
started over the cliff to walk to the Needles, a few upright rocks quite at the
southwest extremity of the Island, a distance of three miles from the hotel.
After dragging ourselves on for an hour until we reached a certain sign board
we had been pantingly aspiring to, we females sank down exhausted and left to
Henry and Edgar the glory of having walked to the Needles.
Left alone and on the summit of a bare
lonely mountain, with the wind blowing oh! so hard, we wrapped ourselves up in
shawls and lay down on the grass side by side. It was a complete rest (I even
dozed), but I am not sure that it was exactly the most prudent thing in the
world to do. However it was agreeable, as a great many doubtfully good things
are, and we were isolated from the whole mutton-eating, unpoetical English
nation. The waves sounded deliciously, dashing up on the white, bare rock, and
the crows flew so near to us that once we thought they mistook us for some
appetizing carrion. The boys were visible to us now and then, and looked like
small-sized ants scuttling alone on the hill side for an afternoon ramble. When
the ants approached us in our oasis at the end of, perhaps, an hour and a half,
we were in a state of freezing, far below zero.
We came home much faster than we had
gone out. People always do, and it reminds me of Mark Twain’s description of
the ascent and descent of Mount Vesuvius. We had very good broiled mackerel for
supper. How glad I am not to be in stupid old Ventnor any more! Mamie and I are
trying to persuade Mama to come in and sleep with us tonight. We have two large
beds in our room. [Flowers are pasted to the page, labeled: “From
Freshwater—one sees that I was not in a good humor when I arranged this poor
bouquet.”]
This morning at 10, after a breakfast
eaten vis-a-vis [opposite] a gentleman with very obtrusive
red blisters on the end of his nose, we all started in a wagonette (it reminded
me of Scotland) for Carisbrooke Castle and Newport (Isle of Wight). It is still
so cold that we were obliged to draw our water proof hoods up over our ears.
We reached the Castle at 12 and an old
guide took us under his wing and conducted us to the castle gate, explaining
all the while how the castle happened to be there, how King Charles I tried to
escape by the window, and last but not least, why the photographic views he
(the guide) sold were better than those the pedlars at the gate sold. All this
in a most refreshing English that sent cold draughts down your back.
The view of the castle, as one stands
at a little distance, is very beautiful. The rugged walls lie nestled in
a perfect feather bed of foliage from which a turret peeps out now and then. We
passed under the grand old gate way and I wondered how many hundreds of
beautiful maidens & gallant knights, such men as we no longer see in this
century of ours, gaily caparisoned, had met a welcome from each veiled window
and stopped to listen to the echo of their light laughter ring again in…
The well of the castle is very
important, as it is said to contain the purest water in the country. There is a
large wooden wheel attached to it, 300 years old, in which a donkey walks and
thus brings up the buckets of water. One bucket contains 16 gallons. The man
told us it took a donkey 18 months to learn how to pull up water by walking
around in the wheel. The donkey was therefore an object of curiosity to us all.
[A drawing of “The Gate of Carisbrooke
Castle” on what appears to be sandpaper is pasted (sloppily, hence the problem
with the damaged pages) into the diary, with the notation, “From Carisbrooke
Castle.”]
Good Lunch at Bugle Hotel.
After visiting the keep and castle
grounds, we returned to where the wagonette was waiting and drove on to the
Bugle Hotel, Newport, a very short distance. We had an excellent lunch of
lobster & veal cutlets! We found some amusement in looking over the
“Visitor’s Book” or Register. These are some quotations:
Dear
Messrs. Mew,
If
you only knew
What
a good dinner we’ve had;
Of
all the dishes
The soup was delicious,
In
fact, there was nothing bad!
Someone else wrote underneath...Except the poetry.
The eating was good. We have not
enjoyed a meal as much since we left France. We left Newport at 4 P.M. on the
train for Ryde. Reached Ryde at 5.30 P.M. (Royal Pier Hotel) and Mamie,
Adeline and I walked in the town until we were driven in by the rain. Felt
rather gloomy tonight and have nothing to read to enliven me a bit.
Saturday 5th June 1880. Anniversary of
Mama’s Wedding Day.
Adeline and I took a long, long walk in
the town and bought a few little things. We left on the boat at 2 P.M. for Portsmouth,
where we arrived at 3 P.M. and took the train for London.
Beastly Chemin de Fer [Train] Again.
How glad I am we are at last bound that
way. Our disappointment in the Isle of Wight has been immense. We
reached London at 5.30 P.M. and, after having our trunks placed on the
top of two four-wheeled vehicles, were off for the Royal Cambridge Hotel where
we had telegraphed for rooms. The hotel is full, as is everything at present in
London, it being en pleine saison [in high season] and Mama, Mamie and I
are rather uncomfortably lodged in the same room. What a beautiful apartment we
had in this same hotel four years ago! London strikes one very unfavourably
after bright, beautiful Paris. It is raining just a little.
Sunday, 6 June 1880. Mamie, Henry,
Edgar, Adeline & I started to go to the Catholic church this morning but,
on finding it full, left and took a wet walk instead. Mama is not feeling well.
Henry dined with Martinez de Hoz.
Monday 7 June. Henry went out
to order his clothes with Martinez.
Tuesday, 8 June. Mama, Edgar
& I did a little shopping in the afternoon. Met Marie Caldwell in Regent
Street, but she was busily engaged talking to a friend and did not recognize
us.
Patti in Faust.
Mama, Mamie and I went to the Royal
Covent Garden Opera House to hear [Adolina] Patti & [Ernesto] Nicolini in Faust. We were very
well dressed—one must a great deal for the opera here. Patti sang as I have
never heard her yet & Nicolini also did well. But the music was far from
moving me. No, give me my immortal Wagner—or Glück or Bach! No other music can
send such thrills of passionate joy and sorrow. What we crave for is to be
lifted out of this material sphere of ours and thrust into that region of
idealism where Sentiment exists in her true form, untarnished by the
worldliness of this sad world.
I had almost hoped to see some friendly
face in the great lighted opera house. Perhaps Lord Compton—perhaps Stevens or
Loftus. But we were doomed to disappointment—and it would have been
delightful to look into Willy Compton’s saucy eyes once more. Some of the toilettes
were excrutiating—others quite passable. The men struck me as looking more
stupid than the ladies. Indifferent women are bad enough, but indifferent men
are simply unbearable! I don’t know why I am such a little goose as to
expostulate at such length—I fancy it won’t change matters much.
Wednesday, 9 June, 1880. We had a letter
from Nini this morning and were very glad indeed, as her other letters were
miscarried. I am, at present, deeply interested in “The Wooing O’t” by Mrs.
Alexander [the nom de plume of Victorian author John Sutherland]—such a
cleverly written book. Mamie and I do nothing but read all day. [A
flower is pasted to the page, with the caption: There was a wedding breakfast
in the hotel and this lovely marguerite helped to ornament the table.]
Thursday, 10 June 80. Have been
reading desperately all day and did not go out until late. Adeline and I went
to Hyde Park and spent a very pleasant time till 7 P.M. There were crowds of
people. I have not yet seen one interestinglooking personage!
and begin to despair of them altogether. There are certainly no Mr. Traffords,
although Lord Torchesters are numerous enough [Traffords and Torchester are
characters in The Wooing O’t.] I finished my dear book late tonight and
am sorry the three delightful volumes are ended; although I enter too much into
books to be quite good for me, I think.
Friday, 11 June 80. Mama and I did
a little shopping and bought brushes at Barrets, Picadilly, the same place we
bought so many things, preparatory to our trip on the Continent four long years
ago. I say long—it seems almost a life-time to me!! Martinez dined with us and
spent the evening—staid till nearly 11 P.M. and we were all so sleepy. Saturday,
12th June 80. Henry went after lunch with Martinez to meet
Gibbons at the station. Mama and I walked in Hyde Park between 12 N. & 2
P.M. (the fashionable hour) and found Rotten Row literally black with people
and horses. [Hyde Park’s Rotten Row, where the fashionable rode or drove, was
similar to the Bois de Bologne in Paris.] It was a very beautiful sight but an
uncomfortable crowd. Met Martinez & Gibbons, who walked a little way with
us. We teaze Gibbons with his suspicion of whiskers.
Polo Match.
At 3 P.M., Mrs. Martinez de Hoz came to
call and take Mama, Mamie and me, in her carriage, to a polo match in
Hurlingham Park, a most beautiful place. There was a band of military music and
a great, but very select crowd of people.
Mrs. M. de Hoz is simply bewitching and
I think one of the most beautiful women I ever met. She is a brunette with a
very white pale complexion, exquisite features and oh! best of all, such
charming manners.
A Spanish lady, who has married an
Englishman, & her two sons were introduced—Messrs. Shore, if I remember
rightly. The young men appeared to be either too embarrassed or too indifferent
to pay Mamie & me much attention. What great babies the English men of
fashion are!
The match did not interest many,
although Mamie and I should have preferred it to looking at the people, if we
had been left in peace. It is very exciting. I imparted my fears of the heavy
mallet hitting the horses’ legs to one Mr. Shaw. He said the best player had
killed a man with the mallet last year. He seemed to think it a matter of very
small importance. In fact, I gathered that a death or two only added to their
reputation as polo players. My companion was a mercenary wretch, in addition to
being so cold blooded, and confessed that, were he the winner of a race, he
would much prefer having a sum of money to the gold cup.
We took tea on the lawn—it was too
enchanting. The pretty coloured garden costumes made a beautiful contrast with
the rich green of the trees & lawn, studded with daisies. We met Martinez
on horseback in Hyde Park on our way home. He rides to perfection. We are quite
in love with dear Martinez.
Delightful News.
We received a letter from Cousin Oscar,
whilst dining, saying he would probably be with us here the 16 or 17 of this
month. We were delighted and so startled. Henry has gone to the theatre with
Martinez & Gibbons. [The next page consists of an outline labeled “Length
of Henry’s boot. 12th June 1880;” the top of a strawberry pasted to
the page, labeled “A strawberry that Mama ate in five bites. London, Royal
Cambridge;” and a small envelope with the notation, “Things I must not forget.”
Inside the envelope is a calling card that reads: Josè Martinez de Hoz, 105
Gloucester Place, Portman Square, W. Also included is a note, in Ada’s hand:
“Doctor Good made me promise in the last private interview I had with him in
Paris, firstly that I would try to make a wedding tour to Paris (& to him);
secondly, that I would write & let him know if I ever had any great trouble
or sorrow. He asked me if I thought I could ever make up my mind to promise my
husband to love and obey him. He has found me averse to making promises of any
sort. I hope my husband will be like him just a little. He is a wonderful man.
He is very fascinating. I think he reads poor little me like an open book.
Perhaps this accounts for my never feeling quite at my ease in his presence.—12
June 80.]
Sunday, 13 June 80. While we were
at breakfast this morning, Martinez brought a note from his Mama to ask us to
lunch at 1.30.
Luncheon with Mrs. M. De Hoz.
Mama, Henry and I went and spent a very
pleasant afternoon, not leaving till 4 P.M. Garcia, the S. American minister, a
young Spanish lady whose name I did not catch, and Gibbons were there and after
luncheon others dropped in, an American lady & the Countess Arscaught,
among others. The young Spanish lady was very sweet and lovely. We had a very
long chat together. What an ideal hostess Mrs. de Hoz makes!
Saturday, 19 June. Mrs. M. de Hoz
called today. Received a letter from Cousin Oscar, who has arrived in
Liverpool.
Sunday, 20 June 80. Henry came back
from Kent today, where he & Martinez have been spending a few days with
Gibbons. Mamie, Henry and I called on Mrs. Martinez. It was her reception day
and there were a great many people there. Saw the Spanish girl whose name is
Almantez.
Monday, 21st June 1880. Moved today to
Charing Cross Hotel.
Arrival of Cousin Oscar.
Cousin Oscar arrived this evening at
8.30 P.M. Henry & Edgar were at the station to meet him. He is looking
well, I think—has really rosy cheeks and does not look older than 22. How funny
it is to see him again.
Tuesday, 22nd June 80. Mrs. Martinez
and Martinez have gone to Paris for two days.
Friday, 25th June. Martinez called today.
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