What possible object can there be to my remembering that the engine which hauled us from Calais to Paris in 1865 was built by J. Cail of Paris, on the “Crampton” system; that is, that the axle of the big single driving-wheels did not run under the frame of the engine, but passed through the “cab” immediately under the pressure-gauge?—­nor can any useful purpose be served in recalling that we crossed the Channel in the little steamer La France.

In those days people of a certain class in England maintained far closer social relations with people of the corresponding class in France than is the custom now, and this was mutual.  Society in both capitals was far smaller.  My father and mother had many friends in Paris, and amongst the oldest of them were the Comte and Comtesse de Flahault.  General de Flahault had been the personal aide-de-camp and trusted friend of Napoleon I. Some people, indeed, declared that his connection with Napoleon III. was of a far closer nature, for his great friendship with Queen Hortense was a matter of common knowledge.  For some reason or another the old General took a fancy to me, and finding that I could talk French fluently, he used to take me to his room, stuff me with chocolate, and tell me about Napoleon’s Russian campaign in 1812, in which he had taken part, I was then seven years old, and the old Comte must have been seventy-eight or so, but it is curious that I should have heard from the actual lips of a man who had taken part in it, the account of the battle of Borodino, of the entry of the French troops into Moscow, of the burning of Moscow, and of the awful sufferings the French underwent during their disastrous retreat from Moscow.  General de Flahault had been present at the terrible carnage of the crossing of the Beresina on November 26, 1812, and had got both his feet frost-bitten there, whilst his faithful servant David had died from the effects of the cold.  I wish that I could have been older then, or have had more historical knowledge, for it was a unique opportunity for acquiring information.  I wish, too, that I could recall more of what M. de Flahault told me.  I have quite vivid recollections of the old General himself, of the room in which we sat, and especially of the chocolates which formed so agreeable an accompaniment to our conversations.  Still it remains an interesting link with the Napoleonic era.  This is 1920; that was 1812!

I can never hear Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture” without thinking of General de Flahault.  The present Lord Lansdowne is the Comte de Flahault’s grandson.

Nearly fifty years later another interesting link with the past was forged.  I was dining with Prince and Princess Christian of Schleswig-Holstein at Schomberg House.  When the ladies left the room after dinner, H. R. H. was good enough to ask me to sit next him.  Some train of thought was at work in the Prince’s mind, for he suddenly said, “Do you know that you are sitting next a man who once took Napoleon I.’s widow, the Empress Marie Louise, in to dinner?” and the Prince went on to say that as a youth of seventeen he had accompanied his father on a visit to the Emperor of Austria at Schonbrunn.  On the occasion of a state dinner, one of the Austrian Archdukes became suddenly indisposed.  Sooner than upset all the arrangements, the young Prince of Schleswig-Holstein was given the ex-Empress to lead in to dinner.