“I will marry him or no one.” February 21 - May 31, 1880

The Third Journal

February 21, 1880 -June 28, 1882

 

Pasted on the inside cover page are the following:

 

“Acrostic by John M. Glover:”

                        A cheek of rival roses made

                        Doubtful war of white & red

                        An eye like violets filled with dew

 

                        Such fancy foot in tiny shoe

                        Enchanting Cinderella drew

                        My star I would pinch her forth full son

                        Perforce if Ada’s shoe she won

                        Long lashes on azure eyes

                        Entrancing sounds that softly rise

                        And midst the pearls & rubies brave

                        More sweet than music for loves solve

                        Entreat you I her name impart

                        She’ll teach thereby thy flutt’ring heart. 

*

 A newspaper clipping with the caption, “Sent me at White Sulpher, Va, July 1881”:

 A Future

ADA.

           

            The years will bear a weight of burdened pain

            For me. The fair skies of another summer’ll come again,

            And bring no token of glad minstrelsy

            Love-given.

O, happy Love! O, Love so fair, so sweet

                        And yet to die of your own fullness! Was it meet

                        The summer’s gone so swiftly? Autumn winds

                        Blow cold

            To-day. The summer birds are still. Are fled

            The drifting, misty summer clouds. The summer roses dead

            And dead a summer love. ’Tis true, I know

            Another

                        Year will bring another summer. And yet

                        The bright, swift days of this one past, will not let me forget

                        ‘Fore that one’s dawning, must come snow, and ice, and

                        Winter’s chill.

            Love is a cruel thing. We thought ’twas kind.

            We did not know ’twould leave neither hope, nor peace of mind

            In’ts fleeting; else we had heed fuller been

            Of’ts winning.

                        O, cruel Love, that wooed with sweetest smile,

                        So weak a thing you seemed, so innocent of guile,

                        Your bonds a silken thread. To-day their iron

                        Heav’ly weights.

*

Saturday, 21^st February, 1880. We have been exchanging so ridiculously many telegrams with Mama about my dress for Krauses’ ball. Mama wanted to send me one, but I preferred having my old one done over.

This morning Tante Clio, Mamie and I took a little walk to the Kreuzberg. It is windy, but the sun shines and the air is pleasant. Tante Clio, Helene and Gertrude went to a little party this evening at Frau Dr. Hirschfeld’s. Tante Gretchen does not feel very well. She told us tonight she believed Verschner was about to be engaged. I confess this piece of news rather stunned me.  

Sunday, 22^nd Feb. 1880. I had intended going to bed early tonight, but forgot myself and did not retire until after ten. 

Monday, 23^rd Feb. 1880. Tante Gretchen, Lulu and Gertrude accompanied me to the Leipzigerstr. this morning to buy fresh flowers for this evening. I have a frightful head-ache this morning and do not feel like going to a ball. It is always so—but at the last moment my feet begin to dance.

Krauses’ Soirée Musicale and Ball.

 June 12^th 1880, London. I have always been intending to write an account of this famous ball but, not having done so immediately, have lost interest in it now and am far from being able to do it justice.

Nini accompanied me. She wore black décolletée [with a low cut neckline] & I, blue décolletée. General Verdi was being very attentive and v. Balnekow distressingly so. His pointed attentions annoyed me not a little and gave rise to several uncharitable remarks. I was therefore not surprised to receive his letter a few days afterwards.

Flora von Krause did not make her appearance, under pretense of a severe cold. We afterwards learned that the poor girl had been very unhappy, her father having refused to sanction her engagement with an officer whom she loved and whose only fault was poverty. “I will marry him or no one,” she said, and I believe she is to have her own way after all. However, it was not settled when I went to tell her goodbye, and she was not only thin and white but had such a weary restless look in her eyes. They say, for several days she refused food.

[A small envelope is pasted at the top of the next page, labeled, “What I found pinned to the bouquet. Monday, 1^st March 80.” Inside is a calling card that reads: OTTO FRHR. VON VERSCHNER, Second Lieutenant im Hessischen Füsilier Regiment No. 80, p.p.c. ]

 Monday, 1^st March 1880. Nini, Marguerite, Mamie, Edgar and I left Berlin at 12 M. for Paris. Count Valles, von Verschner, Messrs. Pierce & Brown (friends of Nini) were at the depot to see us off. v. Verschner had sent Mamie & me very lovely bouquets which we held in our hands as the train moved off.

At Hannover, where we arrived at 4 P.M. we took Henry on. The “old cock,” Dr. & Frau Wolfes, Ewing and Martines were at the depot to see him off. We are all jolly and exceedingly comfortable in our cozy little sleeping car. Marguerite seems the saddest of all at leaving Berlin. I sometimes wonder if she really was fond of Heinrichs. She is so impressionable and such a little goose sometimes. 

2^nd March to 26^th May 1880. Resumé. There is no record of this happy spring time spent in Paris, for the days were far too full to allow of the amount of scribbling in the journals we had done in Berlin.

We moved directly to a charming apartment au premier [on the first floor] (I think)—53 Ave. Marceau (Ancienne Av. Josephine). At this time, we formed the acquaintance of Mrs. Caduc & her daughters. The former often accompanied me to “Rodrigues,” where I spent so many tiresome matinees (afternoons were taken up in drives in Mama’s swell new coupe just furnished for her by the carriage makers. As Dr. Good found me somewhat anemique [anemic], I undertook a fresh air cure, which was very delightful while it lasted, even if not of lasting benefit. I drove every morning with Nini or Adeline at seven A.M. to the Pré Catelan in the Bois, where I breakfasted on black bread & milk freshly milked & foaming. Then came my stroll with the carriage following, so that the moment I felt fatigued I might jump in. Thus the time passed, dresses, bonnets, drives & amusements occupying every moment.

Tuesday, 2 March. I spent a restless night in the narrow little bed. I was so nervous and imagined all kinds of horrors were going to happen to us before morning. Thank God, we arrived safe and well in Paris in time to eat breakfast with darling Mama, who looked so handsome in her red and gold embroidered robe de chambre [bathrobe]. Staying at the Hotel de Londres.

Wednesday, 26^th May, 1880. We left Paris (Mama, Mamie, Henry, Edgar, Adeline & I) at 1 P.M. for Rouen. Mrs. Caduc, Nini and Marguerite were at the station to see us off. We had had a tearful leavetaking from Cora & Florence Caduc and our servants at the apartment.

Rouen.

We arrived at Rouen at 4 P.M. (Hotel d’Angleterre) and dined. Went in tramway to “Jardin des Plantes [Botanical Garden],” where we found quiet until 8. Took strawberries and seltzer water before going to bed. It has been intensely warm all day. We ate supper in our night gowns, being too hot to keep on our clothes.

Rouen is a very queer old place—reminds me somewhat of Amsterdam. The streets are narrow and there is little traffic, except on the quays, which are alive with men and vessels.

Thursday, 27^th May 1880. This morning we went to visit the Cathedral, which is grand. From the outside, it looks as if a breath would scatter the crumbling old ruin, but the heavy stone pillars give it a very solid look in the interior. After having seen the tomb of Richard Coeur de Lion [the Lionhearted] and George d’Amboise, Mama and I heard mass while the other children went up in the iron steeple with a guide. It was rather chilly in the church, however, and instead of hearing mass out, we walked a little way down the street to St. Maclou church, where there were a great many children making their “premiere [first] communion.” The children joined us and we went to the “Place de la Pucelle” where Jeanne d’Arc was burnt. There is a very pretty statue of her there now. Here we took a carriage and drove around the city. Left Rouen at 3.20 P.M. for the Hâvre.

Hâvre.

 Reached Hâvre at 4.30 P.M. Hôtel Frascati. Our rooms are right on the ocean. We are all wild with delight to be so near the sea. We threw open the window to let the fresh, salt air blow in on our tired dusty faces—and the roar of the big green waves was oh! so intoxicating. The little white-sailed crafts mount the waves so lustily and the setting sun casts deep yellow and red shadows on them alternately. And the sky is like one great blue sapphire. We ate supper on a glass-covered verandah facing our beloved sea. After supper we walked out on the pier. The wind is very heavy and the sea consequently rough. We were lulled to sleep by the dull roar of the waves and the beach. The sea fascinates, intoxicates me. 

Friday, 28^th May 1880. This morning Mama & the children drove in the town.

A Quiet Afternoon.

I was happy to curl myself up in the window sill and watch the peasant women dry their clothes on the beach. They brought their babies and their sewing with them and stitched away in the glaring sun while their washing was being dried.

I love to watch these people sunning themselves. They are more charitable and more Christian than me, I think, and happier, I know. I sometimes wonder how God can love us all alike—I should think he would prefer those simple minded peasants, who look Poverty in the face and are happy, to the weary blasé throng of the “upper ten thousand” who are satiated with pleasure, bloated with slander, and who have no time for religion.

The chamber maid of the hotel surprised us very much by asking us if we had not been at the hotel des Rocher Noises at Trouville three years ago. It seems she had remembered us and recognized us, although I think we have all changed somewhat since then. What a happy time we spent at Trouville. I was still so very young.

We found out tonight that Mamie’s and my cloaks have been left at the hotel in Rouen. Have written to proprietor.

On Board Steamer “Wolf”.

We left Hâvre at 9 P.M. on the little steamer for Southampton. A great many English people are on board—among others a young aspirant who has been impertinent enough to follow Mamie and me about all evening. It is intensely cold and the wind is fierce in its fury. We shipped several small seas as I stood at the very bow with Henry, holding on for dear life, and the salt water saturated my new Virst hat. [Virst was considered one of the premiere designers of ladies’ fashions in Paris.] 

A certain young couple interested me very much. She was not more than 17, and he was divinely tall and fair and enveloped in a long black ulster and hood from head to foot. As it was very dark, I first took him for her mother and admired the loving protecting way in which he (or she) clasped her light slender body in his (or her) arms. I had oh! such a hearty laugh all to myself when I found out she was not her mother but her young husband. Afterwards, he lay his whole black length on the wide bench near the pilot wheel and put his head in her lap. I believe they were very happy. All this time, I was in the very best of spirits and not dreaming of being sea-sick.

 

A Restless Night.

 

But, when I went down to the ladies' cabin to prepare for going to bed, it took all my strength of character to keep from being ill. An American lady was in a berth in our stateroom, and Mamie, Mama and I in the others. Mama broke down immediately and lay down without even taking off her corset. I fought against being sick and kept saying my prayers over and over to keep from thinking of the motion of the vessel. I am not sure this was very devout. I frequently shuddered in hearing ladies search for their basins. I don't think I slept the whole night long—I was too occupied in not being sick.

 

 

 

Saturday, 29^th May 1880. It was not quite half past five this morning when Mamie and I got up and went on deck. The wind was still blowing, but it is no longer so cold. We arrived at Southampton at 6 A.M. and were through the custom house at 6.30. On arriving at a small hotel opposite the pier, we asked for coffee, as we had not breakfasted, and were told we could not have anything before a quarter of an hour. They thought better of it, however, and took us upstairs to a small private sitting-room, where they served us ham and eggs & coffee. We then went out on the pier and took the boat for the Isle of Wight.

Mes Petits Ménages Français!

[My Little French Housewives!]

 There were two French ladies and two French gentlemen on board. It was such a relief to see some French people once more, after those stiff Englishmen who make you feel icy cold. They seemed to be two young honey moons, and looked somewhat as though they might be actors & actresses! They seemed to take an interest in me and I attributed it to my speaking French with Adeline. And I also flatter myself that they did not take me for one of those freezing islanders. One of the gentlemen reminded me very much of Victor S… It was the same independent look and short round figure. Of course I preferred this one to the other. My quartett disembarked at Carves—I felt rather like crying to them to go on to Ventnor with us. But instead, I settled down on the bench once more next to an uninteresting, great footed row of our English cousins.

We reached Ryde at 10 A.M. and took the train for Ventnor where we arrived at 11.30 A.M. The conductor gave us our tickets on credit as we had nothing but French money. I think it was very obliging of him.

Ventnor.

At Ventnor we took rooms at the Marine Hotel, overlooking the beach. The hotel has the American flag and eagle and is very good. After eating luncheon, Mamie, Adeline and I went down on the beach and sat on the sand. The sea is rough and a great many sailing boats are out. How funny it seems to hear English spoken around me!—even the children, as Mark Twain says.

A gentleman has passed before me whom I thought I had seen before. It turned out to be one of my French quartett of this morning and upon looking up, I perceived the others seated on a bench. The stage coach soon drove them away and the lonely feeling came over me again.

Sunday, 30^th May 1880. I suppose everyone knows what a stupid day Sunday is in England. It seems to be particularly stupid on the Isle of Wight. Not a soul anyplace—even the beach is deserted. We (Henry, Edgar and I) made castles of sand and stones on the beach and knocked them down afterwards, pretending it was war. We had no music for dinner, being Sunday, of course. In the evening Mama and I took a little walk.

Monday, 31^st May 1880. Rain, rain, rain!!!

An Immense Ennui!

Today has been even stupider than yesterday. Mamie and I know every book and paper by heart in the reading-room. We should be glad to play a little on the rusty old piano that is there but there are always so many old ladies in the room that we are afraid of disturbing. Had a small conversation tonight with one of these dames, but it was about roses, Virginia creeper and the season for pinks and I nearly went to sleep. Have a very sore throat.

Tuesday, 1^st June 1880. Mamie, Adeline and I started off for Banchurch, an interesting old edifice of the 7^th century but we never reached there. Instead we stopped to say our prayers in a Catholic church and took a lovely walk through some very pretty shady streets. Mama, Henry & Edgar had been to Banchurch, we found out on our arrival at the hotel.  

After luncheon Mamie and I did a little shopping—mucilage, elastic, paper, etc.—and we were amused at the shop-keepers wrapping up the pennies they returned us in paper. It was warm enough this morning to bathe in the sea. Hope it will continue so. Henry & Edgar bathed this afternoon, but found the water so cold that they did not stay in long. I watched them from my window. I had forgotten I had Victor’s and Puttkamer’s photos. in my satchel! I must put them out on my bureau—how neglectful I am. [Flowers are pasted to the page with the caption: “From the little Catholic church where we said our prayers.”]