Kitabı oku: «The Girls' Book of Famous Queens», sayfa 28
The group on the sidewalk approved this laudable sentiment. M. de Lesseps sprang inside, with the empress. The cab was whirled away; and thus ended for Eugénie de Montijo the empty dream of greatness, by which she had been so long beguiled.
Leaving Paris, she embarked on board the yacht Gazelle, and was conveyed to England, where Victoria and the royal family received her with great kindness, and placed at her disposal the beautiful country residence of Camden Place, Chiselhurst. Here she was joined by the Prince Imperial, and later by Louis Napoleon.
“Camden Place, Chiselhurst, 1871. A gentleman sixty-three years of age, a lady, and a youth of fifteen are resting in the pleasure grounds of an English rural mansion. This does not seem much. But this gentleman is he who, a twelvemonth since, was emperor of the French nation, and the most powerful monarch in Europe. He is a student and a writer – as well as an actor – of history, which must have taught him the value of an imperial title. Can he think it worth the pursuit or possession, having once sat upon a throne which was perhaps not so agreeable as his present seat on the Chiselhurst garden-chair? If he desires, for himself or for his son, to leave Camden Place, or a similar abode, and go back to the Tuileries Palace, we can only say it is a matter of taste.”
But Louis Napoleon was not destined to behold again the Tuileries Palace. On the 9th of January, 1873, he died, consoled by the presence of the empress, but not of the Prince Imperial, who, summoned from Woolwich, arrived too late to see him alive.
All the hopes and affections of the widowed empress then centred in her son, and his recent fate cannot but be remembered. He joined the expedition to Zululand, and on the first of June, 1879, perished by the javelins of the savages while scouting with a few companions. On the 10th of July, the body arrived in England, and on the 12th the final ceremony took place at Chiselhurst. It was a soldier’s funeral, but there was no glare and glitter of martial splendor.
Mind rather than matter was pre-eminent in giving voice to the public sorrow. At the head of the military pageant, whose every feature was pervaded with a genuine pathos, marched the cadets of the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich, with arms reversed; then, to the solemn strains of the “Dead March,” the Royal Artillery Band; then the cross before the gun; and then the gun, drawn by six dark-brown horses by whose sides rode mounted artillerymen. The coffin above the gun was wrapped in the English and French flags. The sword of the prince, his belt, and sabre-tache were placed upon it; while on a cushion were the great cross and ribbon of the Legion of Honor.
By the side of the coffin walked the pall-bearers, the Duke of Cambridge, the Duke of Connaught, the Crown Prince of Sweden and Norway, and M. Rouher on the left. The Duke of Edinburgh, the Prince of Wales, Prince Leopold, and the Duke of Bassano on the right. Behind the coffin came the prince’s favorite horse, “Stag,” caparisoned in the white and silver starred trappings of the imperial stable, and led by M. Gamble, the faithful retainer who had attended the baptism of the prince, and who now followed his coffin. Next came the chief mourners, Prince Napoleon and his sons, Prince Victor and Prince Louis; Prince Lucien Bonaparte, Prince Joachim Murat, Prince Napoleon Charles Bonaparte, and Prince Louis Murat.
After these came the great officers of the imperial crown, and many personages of princely rank not related by kindred.
So mournful a ceremony was not regarded in the light of a spectacle, and even the elements accorded with the nature of the scene. There was no sun to flash from the polished helmets of the Lancers, or linger on the gold of the splendidly mounted Horse-Artillery.
“It was an unusual and impressive sight to see that strangely and variously composed line of soldiers on horseback, and priests and mourners on foot, moving slowly along the serpentine road across the great, uneven plain of the common, with thousands of spectators stationary on either hand.”
To those who thought of the widowed, childless empress in her lonely house, and knew that the chief mourners were princes, and that the queen was watching the procession from her black tribune, unless she had left it to console the sorrowing mother, the sight was much more than impressive.
“The tragic elements which prevailed at the death of the prince, the inexpressible desolation of the imperial mother, the lessons of mutability in human affairs which the case enforced upon the mind, the remembrance of the virtues of the departed young man, and the tale of broken hopes, baffled aspirations, and defeated purposes, which the circumstances so clearly exhibited, preoccupied the thoughts and feelings of the mourners, and shut off for the time being all interest in the mere external traits of the scene. The realities to which it pointed stood out so clearly from the outward semblances in which they were pictured, that the latter were forgotten, and the overpowering force of the former were exclusively recognized.
“Seldom in recent times has any public ceremonial so closely touched the hearts of those who took part in it.”
And now in the little Roman Catholic church at Chiselhurst, by the side of the emperor his father, lies all that was mortal of Napoleon Eugène Louis Jean Joseph, Prince Imperial.
Requiescat in pace.
Under the elms at Chiselhurst, at the close of a mild spring afternoon, we may see a lady walking. Her figure, once so straight and graceful, is slightly bowed with age, and her fast-whitening hair is covered by a widow’s cap. And as she turns toward us her sad face, still retaining the traces of its former loveliness, we recognize her whom we have seen seated, amid the pomp and pageantry of a court, upon the throne at the Tuileries Palace, and flying with her scanty escort through the galleries of the Louvre, – Eugénie de Montijo, Comtesse de Téba, the once brilliant empress of the French.
QUEEN VICTORIA.
A.D. 1819
“Broad based upon her people’s will,
And compassed by the inviolate sea.”
Tennyson, To the Queen.
FIFTY years a queen! and still seated upon her ancestral throne. This is the remarkable record of England’s present sovereign. This fact alone would make the reign of Queen Victoria illustrious. But more than this, she has reigned during one half of this marvellous nineteenth century – a period phenomenal among the centuries of history.
Although the Victorian Era has not produced a Shakespeare, a Homer, a Dante, or a Milton, it will be remembered as an epoch of astounding progress, not only in England and Europe, but throughout the civilized world.
The unprecedented onrush of the mighty waves of enlightened civilization, bearing to all lands the blessings of Christian liberty; the flashing and dazzling lights of wonderful inventions and results of scientific researches, which have belted the world with gleaming bands of iron, chained the lightning at man’s bidding, caught and imprisoned the waves of sound, unlocked the secrets of the earth, and almost annihilated space and time, – these are some of the marvellous achievements of the nineteenth century which make the history of the past one hundred years read like the story of the most amazing transformations ever invented by the imagination in Oriental fairy tales or attributed to the weird magicians of the Arabian Nights.
Telegraphs, railroads, telephones, electric lights, phonographs, photography, the discovery of petroleum, the improved use of steam, the invention of Bessemer steel, and the practical use of gaslight for the illumination of cities, are all numbered among the inventions and discoveries of the nineteenth century.
But more wonderful still, perhaps, is the rise of the mighty Republic of the United States, which, though beginning in the eighteenth century as an independent power, has, in the short space of a little more than one hundred years, taken the foremost place in the rank of nations, and stands to-day the miracle of the nineteenth century.
To have reigned for fifty years, the sovereign of one of the greatest powers of the world, during such a time of human progress and religious liberty, will make the Victorian Age shine forth in the pages of history as one of the most resplendent epochs in the annals of the world.
Alexandrina Victoria, called by her German relations “the little Mayflower,” was born on the 24th of May, 1819. She was the granddaughter of George III. of England; her father being Edward, Duke of Kent, fourth son of that monarch.
Her mother was Victoria, the sister of the Duke of Saxe-Coburg, and widow of the Prince of Leiningen. The baby Princess Victoria was left fatherless at the age of eight months, and an establishment was formed for the future queen at Kensington Palace, under the superintendence of her mother, the Duchess of Kent. The education of Victoria was carefully watched, although she was not allowed to know that she was heir to the throne, until she was twelve years old. At this time it was thought best to make known to the little princess her future prospects; and her tutor, Dr. Davys, gave her a lesson in tracing out the genealogy of English royalty. At length the young princess exclaimed, with some astonishment, “Mamma, I cannot see who is to come after Uncle William, unless it is myself.”
Upon being told that this was the fact, she said in an unusually thoughtful manner for one so young: —
“It is a very solemn thing. Many a child would boast, but they don’t know the difficulty. There is splendor, but there is responsibility;” then, with an expressive gesture, she earnestly continued, “I will be good.” And the verdict of fifty years of sovereignty has been, “Good mother, queen, and wife.”
At five o’clock, on the morning of the 21st of June, 1837, the Princess Victoria, then a young girl of eighteen, was awakened from her slumbers and saluted as queen. Hastily throwing over her night-robes a loose wrapper, and with slippers on her bare feet, and hair in unregarded disorder, she was ushered into an apartment where stood the Archbishop of Canterbury and Lord Conyngham, who had just arrived at Kensington, and demanded to see the “Queen” immediately. State business will not wait for ladies’ toilets, and the déshabillé of the young princess was rather impressive than unbecoming, as the grave elderly men bent the knee before her and addressed her as “Your Majesty.” The king was dead, and Victoria was queen. Even as the royal salutation fell upon her youthful ears, the fair young girl seemed in a moment to don a new garment of dignity and self-possession. She had been always retiring, and obedient to others, to a marked degree, but as the words “Your Majesty” were addressed to her for the first time, she instantly put out her hand to receive the customary kiss of allegiance, and even attired as she was, looked a very sovereign. From that moment Victoria assumed all the dignity and prerogatives of a queen. She had been the most docile of daughters; but as queen, the Duchess of Kent, her mother, received only her filial affection, and was allowed no privilege of dictating the affairs of state, or even advising her royal daughter regarding her actions or duties as sovereign.
The young queen took as her residence Buckingham Palace, making Windsor Castle her country home. Mr. Charles Greville says of her at this time: “The queen’s manner and bearing are perfect. It is the remarkable union of naïveté, kindness, nature, – good nature, with propriety and dignity, which make her so admirable and so endearing to those about her, as she certainly is. I have been repeatedly told that they are all warmly attached to her, but albeit all feel the impossibility of for a moment losing sight of the respect which they owe her. She never ceases to be a queen, and is always the most charming, cheerful and obliging, unaffected queen in the world.”
On the 28th of June, 1838, occurred the coronation of Queen Victoria. The famous musical composer, Felix Mendelssohn, who was then in London, thus writes concerning the imposing pageant: “At a quarter-past twelve the procession began to arrive at Westminster Abbey, and by an hour later the whole had been absorbed in the cathedral. Nothing more brilliant could be seen than all the beautiful horses, with their rich harness, the carriages and grooms covered with gold embroideries, and the splendidly dressed people inside. All this, too, was encircled by the venerable gray buildings, and the crowds of common people under the dull sky, which was only now and then pierced by sunbeams; at first, indeed, it rained. But when the golden, fairy-like carriage, supported by Tritons with their tridents and surmounted by the great crown of England, drove up, and the graceful girl was seen bowing right and left – when at that instant the mass of people was completely hidden by their waving handkerchiefs and raised hats, while one roar of cheering almost drowned the pealing of the bells, the blare of the trumpets, and thundering of the guns, one had to pinch one’s self to make sure it was not all a dream out of the Arabian Nights. Then fell a sudden silence, the silence of a church, after the queen had entered the cathedral. I mixed among the crowd, walked up to the door of the abbey, and peered into the solemn obscurity; but my involuntary emotion was dispelled by a sense of the ludicrous as I looked closely at their dressed-up, modern cinque-centi halberdiers (the beef-eaters), whose cheeks suggest beef, and whose noses tell tales of whiskey and claret.”
Victoria wore a royal robe of crimson velvet, furred with ermine and bordered with gold. A small circlet of gold banded her head, and the collar of the Order of the Garter adorned her neck. Three swords were borne before her, emblems of justice, defence, and mercy. Her train was carried by eight young maidens of high rank, dressed in cloth of silver, with roses in their hair. After the queen entered the cathedral and advanced to the foot of the throne, she knelt there for a moment in devotion. As she rose, the Archbishop of Canterbury turned her round to each of the four corners of the abbey, saying to the assembled people: “Sirs, I here present unto you the undoubted queen of this realm. Will ye all swear to do her homage?” Each time he asked the question the air rang with shouts of “Long live Queen Victoria!”
The anointing followed, whereupon the archbishop gave her his benediction. The primate then placed her on the throne, or rather in St. Edward’s chair, used by the sovereigns in this ceremony since Edward the Confessor. The young queen then received the ring, betrothing her to her people, and the orb of empire – a small globe surmounted by a cross – was placed in her hand, and the sceptre of rule was given to her. The crown of England was then laid upon her head by the archbishop, and at the same moment peers and peeresses donned their coronets; bishops, their mitres; heralds, their caps; the trumpets sounded, the drums beat, the cannon boomed, and the Tower guns answered, and the shouts of the people broke forth in loud and joyous acclamations. The archbishop then presented the Bible to her Majesty, and bent in homage. He was followed by bishops and lords, according to their rank, who each in turn, lifting their coronets, touched the crown on the queen’s head, and repeated the oath of allegiance.
The Communion Service followed; and the queen, in homage to the King of kings, removed her crown while she received the sacrament. Then, resuming her royal diadem, with the sceptre in one hand, and the orb of empire in the other, the crowned queen of England left the abbey, followed by her imposing retinue.
Mr. Charles Greville gives us this little bit of human nature enacted between these pompous scenes of solemn ceremony: —
“Lord John Thynne, who officiated for the Dean of Westminster, told me that nobody knew what was to be done, except the archbishop and himself (who had rehearsed), Lord Willoughby (who is experienced in these matters), and the Duke of Wellington; and consequently there was a continual difficulty and embarrassment, and the queen never knew what she was to do next. They made her leave her chair and enter into St. Edward’s chapel before the prayers were concluded, much to the discomfiture of the archbishop. She said to John Thynne, ‘Pray tell me what I am to do, for they don’t know.’ And at the end, when the orb was put in her hand, she said, ‘What am I to do with it?’ ‘Your Majesty is to carry it, if you please, in your hand.’ ‘Am I?’ she said; ‘it is very heavy.’ The ruby ring was made for her little finger instead of the fourth, on which the Rubric prescribes that it should be put. When the archbishop was to put it on, she extended the former, but he said it must be put on the latter. She said it was too small, and she could not get it on. He said it was right to put it there, and as he insisted, she yielded, but had first to take off her other rings, and then this was forced on; but it hurt her very much, and as soon as the ceremony was over she was obliged to bathe her finger in iced water in order to get it off.”
Most royal marriages have little to do with love and sentiment, but that of Queen Victoria was a delightful exception.
It is a pretty scene, and one full of fascinating charm, which presents the young queen making her offer of marriage to the handsome young Prince Albert, son of the Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld.
As she was a sovereign, the prince could not with propriety make the offer to her, and so the blushing girl, now the woman rather than the queen, in the presence of the youth who had already gained her love, forgot the sovereign, as she timidly took this momentous step.
Their married life was beautiful and happy, and within the sacred circle of such a love-life none have right to enter, even though royal lives are considered public property. No shadow seems to have come between their perfect confidence; and the sweetest tribute to the character of Queen Victoria fell from the lips of her dying husband, when twenty years after, she bent over his death-bed, and he lifted his trembling hand and stroked her cheek, murmuring, “Liebes Frauchen” (dear little wife), “Gutes Weibchen” (good little wife), and resting his aching head upon her shoulder, saying, “It is very comfortable so, dear child,” and having kissed her, fell asleep in her arms, to waken no more on this side the river of death.
We can only enumerate the most important political events of Queen Victoria’s reign, without detailed description. The Victorian Era will only rightly take its place in the annals of history when the entire epoch shall have become the past. While the present is weaving the history for the future upon the loom of time, it is impossible clearly to discern the intricacies of the pattern, or rightly to estimate the importance of the various-colored threads which are being employed to work out the finished design. Only when the epoch has become past history, can we truly measure its importance in the annals of the world.
Although during the past fifty years there has been no change in the sovereign of England, there have been vast and momentous changes in the parties which control the government of that nation. Prominent men in the ministry have arisen and declined, and the position of the English people to-day, as regards their influence in political affairs, is much changed from the comparatively insignificant part they played in past epochs. No longer does a despotic Elizabeth hold the lives of her people subject to the caprices of her individual will; and more and more clearly is the voice of that people, not only heard, but heeded, even in the House of Lords.
At the time of Victoria’s coronation, a Whig ministry was in power, led by Viscount Melbourne.
Queen Victoria was much attached to her first premier, Lord Melbourne. But soon changes took place in the ministry. The Conservatives, led by Sir Robert Peel, came into power. Sir Robert Peel, remembering the pernicious influence of women-intriguers in the time of Queen Anne, insisted that the ladies of Victoria’s household should be changed with the change of the ministry. But Victoria was a very different woman and sovereign from the weak-minded Anne. With indignation, she wrote: —
“They wanted to deprive me of my ladies, and I suppose they would deprive me next of my dressers and my housemaids; but I will show them that I am queen of England.” And show them she did, and the Conservatives were obliged to yield and retire, and Lord Melbourne was recalled to office.
But in 1841, the Whigs were again succeeded by the Conservatives; and Sir Robert Peel became prime minister. He was succeeded in 1846 by Lord John Russell, who was placed in power by the combined efforts of the Protectionists and Whigs.
The Revolution in France, which resulted in the overthrow of Louis Philippe and the ascension to the French throne of Prince Louis Napoleon, as Napoleon III., occasioned outbursts of the people in various parts of Europe. There were wild threats of an insurrection in London, but the scare passed over, and the preservation of order was secured without bloodshed.
The renowned Duke of Wellington was the chief military authority in England, and the leader in the House of Lords up to the time of his death, in 1852, in his eighty-fourth year. The queen greatly mourned his loss. She had given him the distinguished honor of standing godfather to one of her own children, Prince Arthur, and when she heard the news of his death she wrote: —
“What a loss! One cannot think of this country without the duke, our immortal hero. In him centred almost every earthly honor a subject could possess. Above party, looked up to by all, revered by the whole nation, the friend of the sovereign.”
In this same year the Conservatives again came into power, with the Earl of Derby as premier. We cannot give the various changes in the English ministry during Victoria’s reign. Suffice it to say, the Derby ministry retired in 1858, and were succeeded by the Palmerston ministry. Again, Lord Palmerston was obliged by circumstances to resign, and Lord Derby again came into office. But he was soon deposed, and Lord Palmerston returned to office as prime minister. On the death of Viscount Palmerston in 1865, Lord John Russell again became premier, but was soon defeated by the Conservatives, who came into power with the Earl of Derby, and Mr. Benjamin Disraeli. Lord Derby afterwards resigned, and Disraeli became prime minister, and subsequently received the title of Lord Beaconsfield. In 1880 Lord Beaconsfield’s party was defeated, and a Liberal ministry came in with Mr. Gladstone. Later changes it is not necessary to note here.
The English wars during the last fifty years have been wars in Afghanistan, the quelling of various revolts in India, England’s alliance with France in the Crimean War, the Abyssinian War in 1867, and the recent war with Egypt, which resulted in the loss of several Englishmen of note, especially the renowned and brave Chinese Gordon, whose imprisonment and inhuman murder by the savage followers of Mahdi, at Khartoum, called forth loud denunciations against the military measures of the English government.
The Franco-German War in 1870, resulting in the downfall of Napoleon III., although not entered into by England, was watched with intense anxiety by Queen Victoria. Two of her daughters, the Princesses Victoria and Alice, were obliged to see their husbands depart for the seat of war, and the beloved Princess Alice devoted herself with untiring energy to the care of the sick and wounded soldiers. For the second time Queen Victoria welcomed the fallen French monarchs to her realm. She had received the family of Louis Philippe with kindness; and the Empress Eugénie, together with the dethroned emperor and the young Prince Imperial, were equally the recipients of her pity and sympathy. Strange vicissitudes of fortune! During the Crimean War, the emperor and empress of the French had visited Queen Victoria, their royal ally.
“How strange,” says the queen’s journal, “that I, the granddaughter of George III., should dance with Emperor Napoleon, nephew of England’s greatest enemy, now my most intimate and nearest ally, only six years ago, living in this country an exile, poor and unthought of!”
This visit was afterwards returned by Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort, when they were received by Napoleon III. with great magnificence in Paris, and attended there the Grande Exposition; as the French were the first to follow the example of the English in the great World’s Exhibition, which had been originally conceived of by Prince Albert, when he devised the famous Crystal Palace.
This great International Exhibition, inaugurated and carried out by Prince Albert, this first Crystal Palace of the world, of which the Paris Exposition, and others of the kind, have been copies, some on a larger scale, but none of equal beauty, is best described in Queen Victoria’s own words: —
“The glimpse of the transept through the iron gates, the waving palms, flowers, statues, myriads of people filling the galleries and seats around, with the flourish of trumpets as we entered, gave us a sensation I can never forget, and I felt much moved. We went for a moment to a little side-room, where we left our shawls, and where we found mamma and Mary, and outside which were standing the other princes. In a few seconds we proceeded, Albert leading me, having Vicky at his hand and Bertie holding mine. The sight, as we came to the middle, where the steps and chair (which I did not sit on) were placed, with the beautiful crystal fountain just in front of it, was magical – so vast, so glorious, so touching. One felt, as so many did whom I have since spoken to, filled with devotion, more so than by any service I have ever heard, – the tremendous cheers; the joy expressed in every face; the immensity of the building; the mixture of palms, flowers, trees, statues, fountains; the organ (with two hundred instruments, and six hundred voices, which sounded like nothing); and my beloved husband, the author of this Peace Festival, which united the industry of all nations of the earth. All this was moving indeed, and it was and is a day to live forever. God bless my dearest Albert! God bless my dearest country, which has shown itself so great to-day! One felt grateful to the great God, who seemed to pervade all and to bless all! The only event it in the slightest degree reminded me of was the Coronation, but this day’s festival was a thousand times superior. In fact, it is unique, and can bear no comparison, from its peculiar beauty and combination of such striking and different objects. I mean the slight resemblance only as to its solemnity; the enthusiasm and cheering, too, were much more touching, for in a church naturally all is silent… That we felt happy, thankful, I need not say; proud of all that had passed, of my darling husband’s success, and of the behavior of my good people.”
Thus did the queen gracefully acknowledge her indebtedness to the devoted husband, who, refusing all titles but that of Prince Consort, spent his life in ministering to her greatness, and consecrated his superior talents of mind in unostentatiously smoothing the difficulties in her royal path. Prince Albert would, without doubt, have made one of the best and most beneficent rulers that England ever had, if he had been the sovereign; it was to his wise head and clear judgment that Victoria was indebted for many of the popular measures of her government during his life; and his loss was indeed irreparable. And her constant devotion to his memory is a more noble tribute to him than the magnificent memorial erected by her in his honor, even though the inscription reads: —
To The Beloved Memory
OF
ALBERT, THE GREAT AND GOOD PRINCE CONSORT
Raised by his Broken-Hearted Widow
VICTORIA R
Charlotte M. Yonge, in her recent “Jubilee Book,” “The Victorian Half-Century,” gives the following incident: —
“We have a charming picture of domestic life in the letters of the great musical composer Mendelssohn, who was in England in the summer of 1842. ‘Prince Albert had asked me to go to him on Saturday, at two o’clock, that I might try his organ before I left England. I found him alone, and as we were talking away, the queen came in, also alone, in a simple morning dress. She said she was obliged to leave for Claremont in an hour, and then suddenly interrupting herself, exclaimed, “But, goodness! what a confusion!” For the wind had littered the whole room, and even the pedals of the organ (which, by the way, made a very pretty feature of the room), with leaves of music from a large portfolio that lay open. As she spoke she knelt down and began picking up the music; Prince Albert helped, and I, too, was not idle. Then Prince Albert proceeded to explain the stops to me, and she said that she would meanwhile put things straight. I begged that the prince would first play me something, that I might boast about it in Germany, and he played a chorale, by heart, with the pedals, so charmingly and clearly and correctly that it would have done credit to any professional; and the queen, having finished her work, came and sat by him and listened, and looked pleased. Then it was my turn, and I began my chorus from “St. Paul,” “How lovely are the messengers.” Before I got to the end of the first verse they had both joined in the chorus, and all the time Prince Albert managed the stops so cleverly for me… and all by heart, that I was really quite enchanted. Then the young Prince of Gotha came in, and there was more chatting, and the queen asked if I had written any new songs, and said she was very fond of singing my published ones. “You should sing one to him,” said Prince Albert, and after a little begging, she said she would try the “Frühlingslied” in B flat, “if it is still here,” she added, “for all my music is packed for Claremont.” Prince Albert went to look for it, but came back, saying it was already packed. “But one might, perhaps, unpack it,” said I. “We must send for Lady – ,” she said (I did not catch the name). So the bell was rung, and the servants were sent after it; but without success, and at last the queen went herself, and whilst she was gone, Prince Albert said to me, “She begs you will accept this present as a remembrance,” and gave me a case with a beautiful ring, on which is engraved “V. R., 1842.” Then the queen came back, and said, “Lady – is gone, and has taken all my things with her. It is really most annoying.”’
