Digitised Manuscripts and Books

the heat, which, however, proved too much for old Ferning who succumbed to dysentery. I shall never forget our excitement on unpacking and unrolling a mummy, which my Father brought home from his visit to the land of the Pharaohs. We expected to find a treasure trove in the case, and were not altogether disappointed. The mummy was that of a priestess, and contained a beautifully painted systrum, as well as a small gold lachrymarium or paint bottle, which are now in the possession of my elder Brother. My Father gave the mummy and its cases to the Frankfort Museum, where they are still to be seen.

Belonging to a cosmopolitan family and receiving a cosmopolitan education, I was often taken on visits to my relations in Paris and London. My first recollection of Paris is of a park where a tall, sad-looking, middle-aged lady stood conversing with my Mother. The park was St. Cloud, and the lady Queen Amélie, the Consort of Louis Philippe. My next recollection is of Surésnes, my Grandfather’s country house near the village of that name on the Seine, where my nurse often took me to feed the tame deer in an enclosure in the grounds. During the Revolution of 1848 this house was burnt down, and the deer were tortured to death by the Paris mob. This was the only occasion on which any of my relatives in Paris or elsewhere have had to suffer any personal injury from revolutionists or anarchists.

The Revolution of 1848 was a critical time for my French relatives. Some fanatics burst into the office of my Great-Uncle demanding of him that he should divide his fortune among them. “At what figure do you estimate my fortune?” he asked them, and one of the men replied at haphazard, “At thirty-five millions”. “And how many of you are there?” he further asked. “We are ten”, was the reply. “You wish me to act fairly, do you not? Very well, as there are thirty five millions of inhabitants in France I should, in order to act according to your desire, give one franc to every person in the country. Here are ten francs for your share!” The men laughed and withdrew.

I have a more distinct recollection of a juvenile fancy dress ball at my grandparents’ house, on which occasion I was costumed as a powdered marquis, my Sister Louisa as a Marquise, and my Brother as a mousquetaire with a fierce moustache, of which he was very proud. I trundled my hoop in the Tuileries, drove in a goat-carriage in the Champs Elysées, and watched Guignol the French Punch and Judy, as children still do. Almost in spite of myself I was often attracted to the Passage des Panoramas, which my Brother convinced me was haunted by a demon he had christened Casparino, and whom I fully expected – half wished, half feared – would rise out of the iron gratings in the floor. Then we saw on a Shrove Tuesday the procession of the ‘boeuf gras’, received a call from the occupants of the car, and drove on the Boulevards to see the masks, for in those days the outdoor festivities of the Carnival were still in favour with all classes. But though the gaieties of Paris were a welcome change from the quiet routine of my Frankfort life, I never really enjoyed myself in the French capital, for I had no companions