HKB
at court, at the embassies, and in society in general. For in those days society did still exist, our divisions and revolutionary laws having not yet succeeded in destroying it.
Of all these diplomats, the most liked and the most likeable, beyond all contradiction, was the Austrian Ambassador, Count Apponyi, a magnificent Hungarian magnate. The long duration of his mission, his truly high-bred kindliness, and the salon which his wife, his winning daughter, his sons, and nephews had been clever enough to make the first in Paris, had combined to render Count Apponyi most congenial to us. His English, Russian, and Prussian colleagues confined themselves exclusively to their official {{Illustration to the right of the text above with no caption}} duties and to the coolest politeness. It would have been hard for Lord Cowley (a Wellesley), even had he desired it, to wipe out the memory of his predecessors, Lords Granville and Stuart de Rothesay, and above all of the charming daughters of the last-named peer--beautiful, lovable, and artistic--who became Lady Waterford and Lady Canning respectively. Among the ministers I still seem to see the form of Coletti, resplendent in his Greek costume--a true patriot and a devoted friend to France--and then there was the Swedish Minister, Comte de Loevenhielm, a charming old gentleman, who had been page-in-waiting on Gustavus III. the night he was murdered. The Spanish Ambassador changed with every pronunciamiento. I do not remember the name of any one of them.
As a novelty, we had a Turkish Ambassador. For centuries there had been none but temporary Ottoman missions. The first permanently appointed ambassador we had, before Namick and Reschid Pashas, who both spoke French very well, was Ahmed Fethi Pasha. He did not know a single word of our language. I was present at a great dinner in his honour at the Tuileries, and this is what took place. Of course he had been placed on my mother's right hand at table, with a Foreign Office interpreter, all gold lace and decorations, on his other side. As soon as dinner began, the pasha conceived it incumbent on him to address my mother with a fine Turkish compliment, which, judging by the way he turned up his eyes, and laid his hands on his heart, and the bows he made her, must have been adorned with every flower of Oriental poetry. When his speech was finished, the pasha turned to the interpreter for him to translate it to my mother, and this he proceeded to do, the pasha accompanying and accentuating his remarks with more bows and grimacing and pressure of his hands to his heart.
Now, behold the translation, which the dragoman, who no doubt had perused the Bourgeois Gentilhomme, delivered to the Queen. "Madam, I have a daughter whom I am very anxious to get into the Maison de St. Denis. To do that I need your Majesty's powerful support. Your Majesty will understand my seizing this unequalled chance of making my request."
And all the time the good pasha kept on making agitated bows, and my mother had to keep on smiling at him and returning them!