The life and letters of Frances baroness Bunsen

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THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF FEANCES BAEONESS BUN8EN

VOL. n.

THE

Chapter II. Carlton Teeeace And Huestmonceaux

** Life, I repeat, is energy of love, Divine or human ; exercised in pain.

In strife, and tribulation, and ordained If so approved and sanctified, to pass Through shades and silent rest, to endless joy.'*

Wordsworth.

TN November, 1841, Bimseii received from his beloved -*- King the appointment of Minister at tbe Court of St. James's, to the great joy of his friends and confusion of his enemies. Madame Bunsen at once prepared to join him. It was a time of infinite labour. Alone and unaided she had to wind up their affairs at Berne, to let the Hubel, dismiss the household, sell furniture, pack up library, give orders for England, and above all manage the tedious journey with all her children, of whom three were intensely delicate, in the depth of winter, when the Rhine was blocked by ice, with narrow means, and ever contradictory letters to act upon.

Madame Bunsen io Bunsen.

^'24 Nov. J 1841. — I need not enlarge upon the leelmgs

36 LIFE AND LETTEKS OF BARONESS BUNSEN.

excited by ^^oiir letter of yesterday. The Lord be with you, and with us all, in the brighter as in the darker dis]3ensations, and as He has ' taught you to be abased, so teach you also to abound.' There is no romance like that of real life and nothing can be fancied so extraordinary as what happens. My Dearest, it is my comfort that you will take this, as everything else, at the hand of God : or else the cup of triumph would be enough to intoxicate you. ... I say nothing, and do nothing here, that looks like a breaking-up, till I receiye your letter from Berlin, announcing that the matter is public."

^' Carkruhe, 30 Dec, 1841. — God be thanked that I am on my way to you ! That is my constant comfort — a sort of guiding-star. Some day I hope to look back from a safe shore, upon this late stormy time. Often I have the sensation as if I was at an end, but then God gives refreshment, and above all, trust in His help and Providence."

To her MoxnER.

^^ Osiende, 4 Jan., 1842. — It is as a dream, and I can hardly conceive what yet is true, that tlie difficulties of such a long journey, with such a troop, at such a time of year, have -been got over, or rather, I should say, have vanished as we approached : for everything has passed off well ; and without delay, or stop, or hindrance, have we got on from one conveyance to another — trotting on the road, swimming on the Bhine, whirling on the railway, and now it remains to roll and rock on the sea. At Eonn good M. Brandis'^' came to us on board the steamer, and went on with us to Cologne, from whence he saw us off by * Charles Augustus Brandis, the early friend of Roman da} s.

CARLTON TERRACE AND HCRSTMOKCEAUX. 37

tlie railway : it was a great pleasure to see him once again, after 22 years 1 Urliclis did tlie same, and young Wurstemburger from Berne, came after us to Cologne, and went on with us to Aix-la-Chapelle. I was much gratified by these glimpses of kind persons by the way ! "

^^ b Jan. — If I do not dream, my own dearest Mother, here I am — in London — with my dear husband — having all my treasures safe — in a palace — after the most prosperous passage."

The residence of the Bunsens at the Prussian Legation, first at No. 4 and afterwards at No. 9, Carlton Terrace, occupied one of the most charming situations in London, being perfectly open on each side, and having a view across St. James's Park, with its trees ' and water, to the towers of Westminster Abbey. The house became what the home on the Capitoline had been, an intellectual centre of the most interesting kind — first to foreigners, gradually to Englishmen. All who were connected with what was best in theology, history, philosophy, in poetry, music, or painting, seemed naturally to gravitate towards it, and its cosmopolitan gatherings, in which the foreign element always predominated, were the greatest possible contrast to the parties usually endured by those who drink a London season to the dregs. The host and hostess had the gift of putting all their guests at their ease, by being perfectly at ease themselves, with every nationality, with every phase of interest or opinion. It became to many

38 LIFE AND LETl'ERS OF BARONESS BUN SEN.

English men and women a real repose even to call to mind the countenance of the Prussian Minister and his wife in the midst of the ordinary turmoil — ^he beaming with vigorous animation ; and she, full of sympathy and benignity, always perfectly self-possessed in the midst of strangers, in the imperturbable dignity of the simplicity of nature. The hospitalities of the legation in Carlton Terrace were initiated on the occasion of the visit of the King of Prussia to England, which took place immediately after Madame Bunsen and her family arrived from Berne.

Madame Bunsen never could accustom herself to the w^hirl of London life, and its destructive night-work and late hours, which her numerous household and its " requirements rendered especially overpowering. ^' I do not suppose people grow old in London any faster than they do elsewhere,'' she wrote, ''but they certainly lead double lives — something beyond working double tides, in keeping even with the daily demands of life.'' Perhaps the social gatherings w^hich gave her greatest pleasure were those of the poet Rogers. More than thirty years afterwards she spoke of *' his house, his collection of works of art of every sort and kind, and his perfect little breakfast-parties,'' remaining in recollection as things quite unique, and never to be seen again. But the chief attraction which London had to offer to the Bunsens outside the walls of their home, was the opportunity of renewing of such English friendships formed at Rome, as those with the Countess of Harrowby, Mr. and Lady Emily Pusey, the Ker- Seymers, and tlie Countess of Ranfurly and her daughters. Madame de S>^' Aulaire was also in London, where her husband represented the French Court, and they were, of all Roman Catholics, the persons for whom Bunsen and his wife entertained the utmost regard and affection.*

" Carlton Terrace ^ 7 Jan.j 1842. — lam congratulated upon the happiness of my change. Now I know but two things, that I am happy to be tvith my husband, and near my Mother : all the rest is a change for the worse, unspeakable : — my only comfort is, that neither my husband nor I have sought or wished this splendid misery, therefore what is in the ways of Providence must be right. I trust God may grant me a home on my native soil, though how the necessary ingredients should come together in London, I am at loss to conceive. I am so home-sick after my dear Hub el, that I can hardly look at my elder girls : they do not complain, but their faces show the depression produced by the gloomy change, from everything they wanted and enjoyed — to — nothing enjoyable. My own Mother, this will mend ; but it will I think do me good to have nfogatoP

It was during the stay of the King of Prussia that

* The Comte de Ste. Aulaire was tlie model of a perfect French gentleman of the ancien regime. His youth had been spent as a fugitive emigTe at Vienna, and his heautiful mother had to earn her living in the capital, where he afterwards appeared in all the splendour of French ambassador to Louis Philippe, by taking in fine washing ! After the fall of the Orleans djniasty, the Stc. Aulaire' s lived quite quietly in Paris.

40 LIFE a:s:d letters of baroness bunsen.

Madame Bunsen was inyited to pay the first of many mucli-Taliied visits to Windsor. **I always liked the visits at Windsor/^ she wrote years afterwards, — ^^the comfortable quiet and independence in which one could spend as much time as one would of the day in one's own comfortable rooms, Avhere I have written letters and read books for which I had no time in London : if the Ladies in Waiting were agreeable, one could walk or drive with them, go to see the Queen's dogs in their establishment, or the exquisite poultryyard, or the beautiful dairy-house, and I had a favourite haunt on the summit of the Slopes, and made particular acquaintance with Australian pines which were very flourishing and securely sheltered from winds by the Castle : — and the period of state- stiffness was, after all, restricted within the nariowcst imaginable bounds ! — from 8 to IL Such a visit was always a rest instead of an extra exertion."

Madame Buk-sen to her Motuer.

^' Windsor Castle, 2S Jan., 1842. — I was at work till three, then came by railway to Windsor and found that in the York Tower a comfortable set of rooms were awaiting us. The upper housemaid gave us tea and bread and butter — very refreshing. When dressed, we went together to the corridor, soon met Lord Delawarr, the Duchess of Buccleugh, and Lord and Lady Westmoreland: the former allowed us where to go — that is, to walk through the corridor (a fcdry scene — lights, pictures, moving iigures of courtiers unknown) to apartments which we passed

CARLTON TEKRACE AND HURSTMONCEAUX. 41 througlij one after another — till we reached the magnificent ball-room, where tho guests were assembled to await the Queen's appearance. Among these guests stood our King himself, punctual to ^ past 7 ; soon came Prince Albert, to whom Lord Delawarr named me, when he spoke to me of Eome. We had not been there long, before two gentlemen, walking in by the same door by which we had entered, and then turning, and making profound bo"U's towards the op-en door, showed that the Queen was coming. She approached me directly, and said with a gracious smile, ' I am very much pleased to see you ; ' then passed on, and after speaking a few moments to the King, took his arm, and moved on, ^God save the Queen' having begun to sound in the same moment from the Waterloo gallery, where the Queen has always dined since the King has been with her. Lord Haddington led me to dinner, and one of the King's suite sat on the other side. The scene was one of fairy-tales — of indescribable magnificence, tlie proportions of the hall, tho mass of light in suspension, the gold plate on the table, glittering with a thousand lights in branches of a proper height not to meet the eye. The King's health was drunk, then the Queen's, and then her Majesty rose and went out, followed by all the ladies. During tho half hour or less that elapsed before Prince Albert, the King, &c., followed the Queen, she did not sit, but went round to speak to the different ladies. She asked after my children, and gave me an opportunity of thanking her for the gracious permission to behold her Majesty so soon after my arrival. The Duchess of Kent also spoke to me, and I was very glad of the notice of Lady Lyttelton, who is ver}^ charming.

42 LIFE AND LEITERS OF BARONESS BENSEN.

''As soon as the King came, the Queen went into the ball-room, and made the King dance a quadrille with her, which he did with all suitable grace and dignity, though

he has long ceased to dance At half-past eleven,

after the Queen had retired, I set out on my travels to my bed-chamber : I might have looked and wandered some miles, before I had found my door of exit, but was helped by an old gentleman, I believe Lord Albemarle."

'' 3 Feb., 1842.— On Monday we dined at Stafford House, where we were received with the greatest kindness. I was presented to the Duchess of Gloucester, who called me ' the daughter of her old friend, Mrs. Waddington.' Being taken to dinner by Lord John Eussell, I found him a most agreeable neighbour, in no common way : he is one of the persons with whom I find it possible at once to express what I think, with whom I get directly out of emptiness of phrases ; my Mother will know what I mean. The house is beautiful, the staircase especially, and a fine band i)layed the whole evening, concluding with a composition of Prince Radziwill, never before heard in England, which was an attention to the King. The Duke of Sussex and Duchess of Inverness spoke to me, and asked me to their luncheon the next day, given to the King.

''On Tuesday the way to Kensington Palace was lined by schools with flags, and crowds of people : the Duke of Sussex received me, and brought me into the Library to the Duchess of Gloucester and Princess Sophia, who spoke most kindly, and made me sit between them, asking after you. When they rose to speak to somebody else, I slipt away behind the Duchess and got to a modest distance.

CAKLTON TERRACE AND HURSTMONCEAUX. 43

Lord Lansdowne spoke to me — in short, people enough. — there is nothing like the Bude-light to make one conspicuous, and sharpen people's memories ! The Duchess of Sutherland followed up her kind beginning, and came and sat by me; — so, after speaking of other things, I ventured to tell her that I was in a difficulty about the Duchess of Cambridge, not having been yet to wait upon any of the Boyal Family, as it was not to be done till after I had been received at Windsor, the other members, including the Duke, being pleased to notice me from former recollections. Whereupon the Duchess was so good as to speak to the Duchess of Cambridge, and present me to her. At the table I sat between Humboldt and Lord Palmerston, whom I also found very ready to talk.

''I returned from the Duke of Sussex's at 6, and at 10 dressed again for the Duke of Wellington's. There was music — selected as imseasonably as could be, things the King might havo heard better at Berlin, except, to be sure, that one was a composition of Lord Westmoreland's ! poor Miss Kemble, &c. straining their voices to be heard above the buzz of company : and the unequalled tones of Dragonetti and Lindley degraded to commonplace accompaniment !

' ' The King's visit to Lambeth on AVednesday was perhaps one of the most suitable and most agreeable to him of any that he has made, from the magnificence of the building, the historical associations, and the admirable choice of the company — bishops and clergy, and few besides ; no ladies but Mrs. Blomfield, and one relation of Mrs. Howley's. The King enjoyed himself, and sate for some time aftei luncheon was over, talking to the archbishop. He

44 LIFE AND LETTERS OF BARO^sESS KUNSEN.

took leaye of Lord Ashley T^itli ihiicIt. kindness, and tokl him he must come and visit him at Berlin. At six I got homOj and at ten dressed for the Duchess of Cambridge's, where the King had dined, and whither he returned after midnight from the J^lay, haying enjoyed the Merry Wives of Windsor, and a most heart-cheering reception. I passed my time very agreeably here, owing to Lady Denbigh,^'' with whom I had much interesting conversation.

' ' Then Thursday, the opening of Parliaiiient, was the thing from which I had expected most, and I was not disappointed ; the throngs in the streets, in the windows, in every place people could stand upon, — all looking so pleased, the splendid Horse Guards, the Grenadiers of the Guard — of whom might be said, as the King did on another occasion — ' an appearance so fine, you know not how to believe it true,' the yeomen of the Body Guard : then, in the House of Lords, the peers in their robes, the beautifully dressed ladies, with many, many beautiful faces : — lastly, the procession of the Queen's entry, and herself, looking worthy and fit to be the converging-point of so many rays of grandeur. It is self-evident that she is not tall — but were she ever so tall, she could not have more grace and dignity, a head better set, a throat better arching : — and one advantage there is in her looks, when she casts a glance, being of necessity cast up and not down, that the effect of the eyes is not lost, and they have an effect both briglit and pleasing. The composure with which she filled the throne, while awaiting the Commons, I much admired : it was a test — no fidget, and no apathy. * Lady Mary IMorcion, daiighici of the Isi Earl of Diicic.

Then her voice and enunciation cannot be more perfect. In short, it could not be said she did well; but she was tJie Quee7t, she was, and felt herself to be, the descendant of her ancestors. Stuffed in by her Majesty's mace-bearers, and peeping over their shoulders, I was enabled to struggle down the emotion I felt, at thinking what mighty pages in the world's history were condensed in the words, so impressively uttered by that soft and feminine voice. Peace and war — the fate of millions — relations and exertions of power felt to the extremities of the globe ! alteration of Corn-laws ! birth of a future Sovereign ! — With what should it close, but the heartfelt aspiration, God bless her and guide her, for her sake and the sake of all ! "

^'14 Feb., 1842.~In London I live in a state of fever

and do not comprehend how I go on The bright

moments of last week were seeing Lady Frances Sandon, Lady Emily Pusey, Madame de Ste. Aulaire : those were

great gratifications On Saturday evening we had

the great treat of hearing the music of the Holy "Week performed here in our own house, by a small number of good voices, Germans and Danes — found out by Neukomm and Moscheles."

*' 17 Feb. — How I wish I may get tinder the mass of elements I am contending with — for though a quantity of things and persons, the best and most interesting, are to be found in London, one has but one life, and the day and hour will not carry double and treble. My present feeling is~ how long ?^^

^' 3 Ifarch. — ^^^e have had a most agreeable dinner-party at Lord Stanhope's, just such as I enjoy, few people and

4G TJFE AND LETTERS OF BAllONESS BUNSEX.

conversation. Lady "Willielmina is a very fine creature, externally — and a most agreeable converser, full of intelligence and information : but I was not prepared for the genius wliicb lier drawings denote — groups from subjects that interest ber, witb extraordinary conceptions of beauty and grace without distortion, and a correctness of outline and proportion very rare in possessors of the art — at tbe same time no scratching and blotting to bide defects, no colour and light and shade to give effect. — Her outlines are in pen and sepia like Flaxman's, only not like the antique, her subjects and costumes being of the Middle Ages, from Percy's Eeliques and other ballads, Italian tales, &c. Two things I saw coloured, and those, sketches, from memory, of Mademoiselle Eachel, were also admirable : but no subject was treated that was not a good subject, no quotation written by the side that was not poetical. I long to see more, and shall bear in mind to obtain further opportunities. I was very glad to make acquaintance of Lady Mahon,*^' whom I think quite cliarming — intelligent and conversible, natural and gay, giving the impression of a mind and character as wellproportioned as her pretty face and figure. I have as yet seen but little of Miss Stuart's f drawings, but those I saw showed talent of an even higher order than Lady Wilhelmina's, in the same proportion as her Grecian outline and eye of soul denote a higher order of being — without meaning to criticise the other, whom I lilce

* Emily Harriet, 2nd daughter of Sir Edward Kerrison, Bt., and wife of Philip Henry, afterwards 5th Earl Stanhope.

t Hon. Louisa Stuart, younger daughter of lord Stuart de Rothsay, who afterwards married Henry 3rd Marquis of AYaterford.

CAULTON TERRACE AND I1URSTM0NCEAX3X. 47

really — only Eubens is not Eaphael. I know my Mother will sympathise in my pleasure in these persons and things."

'^19 March. — To-day we were invited to luncheon to meet the Queen — at Lambeth — the whole most beautifully arranged, with luxury of flowers and plants."

'^ 8 April. — ! when one thinks of distress, how it does go to one's heart to spend money in a fine court dress ! and how depressed and ashamed I felt yesterday morning, put out of countenance by my own conscience. But I was obliged to say, royalty is a thing most useful and necessary in the world, and if one is pushed close up against it, one must show the respect one feels in the manner appointed. I was extremely struck with the splendour of the scene at the Drawing Eoom, and having an excellent place, near enough to see everybody come up to the Queen and pass off again, I was very much entertained, and admired a number of beautiful persons. But nobody did I admire more than Mrs. Norton, whom I had seen before, and Lady Canning's face always grows upon me."

To a Soi^r.

*' 13 Jf^y, 1842. — I thank God for your tenderness of conscience, and for your strictness of hourly self-examination, the only sort that I believe can avail, for I cannot conceive how anybody can execute what so many recommend, the passing over in a preparation for evening devotion the events and feelings of the day : either it is impossible, and a self-deception, or it leads to a very unedifying state of mind, which will get more entangled in the trammels of bye-gone hours, than free for heavenly

meditation. But wKile I recommend the speedily passing judgment upon the offences of the hour and the moment, I recall for your guidance a sentence of BishojD Patrick's which, earlj^-read and long remembered, has often stood me in good stead, — 'It is not by long poring over the wounds and bruises that wo get on in the daily journey of life, that we find means to advance farther : instead of prying into our sores, let us leave those things that are behind, and stretch forward after those that are before.' I quote from memory, and incorrectly, but that is the substance, and a great truth lies at the bottom. Another passage I cannot recall verbally, but it distinguishes between a true and false humility, and makes the former as rather attainable in devout contemplation of the perfections of Christ our Saviour, such as ' quietly sinks us down to the very bottom of our being,' than by the consideration of our own infirmities, which ruffles and disturbs the mind to its lowest depths, and renders it unfit to reflect the heavenly image.

''My dearest Son, all that you describe I have passed through so often, that in reading your letter, it was as if the secrets of my own soul were laid open. To be cheated of the comfort of the Lord's Supper, and by one's own vanity and emptiness, how painful that is I and how well do we deserve our own reproaches I But let us beware lest we place bounds to the mercy of God, and let the mists and vapours of our own souls obscure and intercept his rays, which are always shining, and ready to commimicate vital warmth and light ! "

The illness of her daughter Emilia induced Madame

Bunsen in the summer of 1842 to take her to the baths of Aix ill SaY03^ The journey was one of much suffering both at the time and afterwards, another daughter returning almost as ill as the one for whose sake they had gone abroad. It was during this absence of his wife, that Bunsen decided upon a country-home for his family at Hurstmonceaux Place, a large country-house about ten miles from Eastbourne in Sussex, situated in the parish of his friend Archdeacon Julius Hare, and upon the edge of the picturesque deserted deer-park, which contains the immense ivy-covered ruins of Hurstmonceaux Castle.

Madame Buistsen to Bunsen.

^' Aix, 16 Aiigust, 1842. — I hardly know how to believe in the prospect of Hurstmonceaux, that just all I wished, in the most desirable form, attended by every most desii'able circumstance, should at once be granted ! Indeed I may say, I rejoice with trembling: for it is as if an angel from heaven was visibly before me, bringing me the assurance of being dealt with according to my hearths desire, and niildly reproaching me with the impatience and want of faith with which I have craved that bread of life, which God has never suffered me to want in any possible shape, for myself or mine. My thoughts had often turned to the coast of Sussex, as the part of England most desirable for us, on account of its neighbourhood to Jidius Hare and Mrs. Augustus Hare — now that death has closed upon us the once bright prospect of Sahsbury aix4 P^^thampton.

'^ It is another gift of PrQvifleiice, that when it l^a§ taken

VOL. II, :p from us Dr. Arnold, it lias drawn us nearer to anotlier

friend, the only one to be named near liim ! tlie

deliglit with which I think of having a garden. The only pang, is the thought of the distance from my dear Mother : in all else I feel thankfulness for a promised place of refuge and quiet, where we may live with our children, ward off as may be such influences as we cannot measure, and as far as in us lies cast in such seed as we know to be good, trusting to Him who giveth increase in its season as He judgeth fit.

'^ We have driven in the evening to the Lac de Bourget, and staid rowing upon it till after the moon rose. Oh! this lake, and sky, and moon, are so ItaHanl — and tho calm dreaminess of this summer life is a clear reminiscence of a past that I thought gone for ever ! "

Btjnsen to Mrs. Waddingtoi^.

'' August, 1842. — On arriving at Hurstmonceaux I found that the inmate of the manor (once the place of the Hares'), who has a twenty-one years' lease of it, of which two years are remaining, wished to go to Italy for this time. The house is well furnished throughout, has seventeen bedrooms besides dressing-rooms, beautiful gardens, meadows, &c., and is only four miles from the sea. You will think it wrong if I do not seize this quite unexx^ected opportunity^, as a providential solution of a most difficult problem."

Madame Bunsen to her Mother.

^^ Aixj 31 Augusty 1842. — I have not forgotten that Qbjpctions ^re everywhere, that trial is everywhere — that

' man is born to trouble, as tlie sparks fly upward ' — but still, I see sunshine in the prospect of Hurstmonceaux, just as, in the close of last year, I saw gloom in that of London. My feeling (no, not feeling, I have no gift of presentiment, but calculation) proved true in the one case, and God grant it may prove true in the second.' '

To BUI^SEN.

*' Geneva^ 16 Sept., 1842. — Many things in life turn out all the better, for not promising much at first ; and so it may be with this bathing-journey ; but I certainly camo away from Aix under circumstances seemingly more dispiriting than those under which I arrived — Mary scarcely able to stand, Emilia much as she was, and Theodore not by any means well.

^' This has been a busy day, and much could I tell of the kindness of the Vernets, with whom I dined at Carra, of the Tronchins, whom I visited on my way back; of Mademoiselle Calandrini, who was with us a long time; and of Madame de Stael, who came hither from Coppet to see us."

It w^as in October that the Bunsens settled at Hurstmoneeaux Place, where Madame Bunsen left her children for the next two years, during her frequent necessary absences in London. At Hurstmonceaux also, she herself often obtained a much-needed reprieve from the choking and crushing fullness of her London life. When obliged to be in London, the nearest compensations for separation from her children were found, not in the usually credited advantages of the metropolis,

52 LIFE AND LETTEKS OF BAKONESS EUNSEN.

but in siicli tranquil moments as she was able to pass in the society of Lady Raffles, or amid tbe interests of tbe Britisli Museum.

Madame Buis-sei^t to her So^ Geohge.

^^ Hurstmonceaux Place, 16 N'ov., 1842. — You will bo glad to see the date of this place, wliicli will contain an evidence of our being in comfort. If anything besides clothes and food are necessaries of life, it is certainly what we acquire by our country- establishment, — quiet, leisure, command of time, consciousness of possessing the day as our ov7n, — and air, real air to breathe, not a mixture of fog and smoke; means too of taking exercise, which is not merely fatigue without refreshment. This house is the early home of Archdeacon Hare and his brothers, and is very large — really large enough for us ! — the rooms very cheerful, basking in the sun, with high windows letting in the light. A park with fine trees slopes away from the house, and the church stands on the brow of a grassy hill just opposite, and at the end of the park — which is no longer so termed, as no longer containing deer, but partitioned off into fields with sheep and cows in them.