No. 130 UCDA LAI/G/221

Handwritten letter from Eoin MacNeill to Agnes MacNeill

GENEVA, 23 September 1923

Dearest Taddie,

I sent off a letter to you this morning dated the 21st by mistake.1 This is Sunday, and this day week I hope to be on my way home. I told you I was going to tea at the Ch?au de Coudrée, I have been there & back. There was a crowd of guests, nearly all French - I only noticed one Japanese in addition to myself who were not French. The Ch?au is the most richly furnished mansion I have ever seen. MacWhite, who is a repository of information, tells me that the Bartholoni family are descended from a native of Florence who had to become a refugee in France some three centuries ago. They kept up the family tradition of banking & became very rich. The Ch?au is a very old one, but not medieval. It is built in a square with a courtyard inside, a square donjon towards the courtyard, & round turrets from the ground up at the outside corners. It is a moderate size, but contains magnificent apartments & exquisite furniture and is quite a museum of ornamental work of the last three centuries.


Today our delegation entertained nearly a score of journalists at lunch. We have had to give some entertainments in revenge for those to which we have been invited, & so far our arrangements have been successful. This evening I am to be a guest of the Cuban delegation. But I am tired. Nearly all the social functions and every one of the League functions, which are every day, morning or evening or both, are wearisome to me, though evidently pleasant to others. That is one of the disadvantages of being happy at home. I have gone off several times to enjoy myself rowing on the lake in a boat all to myself. Today is fine, and I have just been admiring a wonderful sunset. While it was raining a deluge in Geneva, the Alps to the east were getting covered with snow. As the sun went down, the high mountains turned from white to a delicate rose colour & the lower mountains near us became purple. A little later, the rose colour was in the sky and the snow took the faintest shade of green - perhaps it was only the contrast. Still my favourite air is 'Go day, come day, God send Sunday'.


1Above No. 128.


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