“Dream of Fair Women”

Abstract

VICTORIA never was a slattern nor Eugénie a saint but give them time. Since they occupy the world's attention as emblems of a past age of plenty, we cannot say what perplexing and versatile accomplishments may be expected of them both. Even the pictures of a German Hausfrau knocking with helpless indignation upon the door of the Prince Consort at Balmoral, or of Britain's little governess clad in the poverty of mourning on her lonely way up the Abbey aisle at her Jubilee—so skilfully painted by Mr. Strachey less than ten years ago—cannot rob Victoria of that blushing velvety youth which our Sully crossed the water to record and which the critics of today would emphasize in retrospect. In France where the humiliation of Baron Haussmann's Paris of 1870 is alleviated by the victory of a depreciated franc, the mad wife of an exiled Emperor is now remembered as the pretty, dark eyed, and not too stupid Countess de Montijo.