It must be pleasant to remember, on growing old, that there once was a young time of Paris and wine and bouquets. Do the Ottos and Karls and Edmunds, the poets and sculptors of Montmartre, still tie up their bouquets with pink ribbon? Do the shy ones loop them over the front door knob as did Aunt Nell’s poet long ago? Is it still delightful for girls to sleep out on the lawn, on summer nights, in a high-walled studio garden? Nell remembers how the poets and sculptors would carry a feather bed onto the grass - it had a coverlet of crimson satin - while she and Iris and Stefani watched from the verandah. Otto would arrange the cushions, then he and Edmund would withdraw under the trees in their velvet jackets to smoke cigars and look up at the Paris moon.

Nell is an old lady now. As she sits in her little box of a room in South London she will often talk of her German friends who lived in a house with a studio in the Rue Boulard. There was a green lattice gate with a green Venetian blind at the window. Nailed to a plane-tree was a card with ‘Pas De Models’ printed in charcoal. On her first visit Nell had to be told - for she did not speak French - that it meant simply ‘No Models’.

She is just twenty years old and has come alone from London to Paris - “Such a wicked place,” her friends had said.

It is the autumn off 1897 when Nell takes her savings of three pounds from the post-office. She buys with it a portmanteau for nine shillings, twelve yards of tulle at a shilling a yard which she makes into five elegant blouses, a dove-coloured costume and a hat with a pink, spotted veiling. The hat is saxe blue felt and Nell wears the veiling tightly under her chin. On the September morning when she clatters through the cobbled street of Paris in a fiacre, driven by a wild looking man like an Apache, feeling extremely tentative, she has but six shillings left in her purse.

But in the house in the Rue Boulard there is a warm and charming welcome for her. There are Otto Hettner and Karl Wiek and Stefani and Edmund Freyhold. Otto, in a blue silk dressing gown makes the coffee while Stefani and Edmund blow up the charcoal fire with a pair of bellows. The little girl, Iris, hands round scones shaped like horse shoes. In the studio off the verandah are Otto’s plaster casts and Karl’s palettes and easel. There are lamps still burning about the house for it is not yet seven o’clock. And when, later, Otto says to her, “Can I change your money for you, dear Nell? and Nell replies, “Money? But I have only got six shillings....” Otto is very kind. “We will buy you everything,” he says, “It will indeed be an honour for Karl and myself.”

Aunt Nell has never forgotten that morning and the wonderful time that followed - the carriage drives under a full moon, the Italian wines, the flowers. Some of it she has put down in a small green notebook which she has bought in the Rue Argo when she went out on an excursion with Edmund. Can you see Nell with her serious, dramatic face and braids of golden hair (Otto thought she looked like Mrs Siddons but she reminded Edmund and Karl of Botticelli’s Madonna) sitting on the studio couch to set down her first impressions.

Rue Boulard, Paris: I arrived in Paris on Wednesday Sept 17 1897, after the most exquisite journey by moonlight.....

On Sunday Nell lies under the trees in the Luxembourg Gardens listening to the strange stir of Paris beyond the gate. Otto and Karl escort her, Otto wearing a high stiff collar and Karl a cravat. She often talks of the children playing there with hoops and shuttlecocks and feathers fixed to a moving ring at the end of a long stick. The feathers whirl round and round in the breeze. In the evening Nell goes, with Otto and Edmund, to her first fair.

Rested all day under the trees with Edmund and Otto. Enjoyed the content of a long letter from darling mother in the dear old homeland......In the evening went to the fair, the Lyon being beautifully illuminated. Went on the roundabout and flew like a gazelle......Otto sat on a deer and Edmund on the lion......The days following this I have not exactly kept account in my dear diary but I had many happy hours among which I had 8 cards from Adonis......

All September there is sunshine in the Gardens and Aunt Nell walks with Karl under a scarlet parasol to look at the statuary along the paths. She wears a navy blue linen costume with a stiff red bow at the chin. The bow is dotted with white spots. She writes in her diary:

Having altogether a most pleasant afternoon in the Luxembourg among the exquisite statuary from Rodin and other sculptors. “You are very alive to beauty,” Karl exclaimed.

In her next entry for the first of October, Aunt Nell says:

October came gently in - not with the moans of winter but full of sunshine and brown leaves falling sadly from :their throne of glory. It adds a quietude to the heart after the great rolling of London where so much business and rushing life is......Otto carried mypparasol......

On October the ninth Nell goes to Notre Dame with Edmund and Otto:

  A most magnificently built cathedral. On entering one may have a most magnificent view of the Three Roses. The whole is lighted by hundreds of candles and lamps which cast a most unique shade and adds to the beauty of one of the most delightful and serene wonders of Paris......Wore a most beautiful shawl covered in Sequins......Otto bowed when he saw it......

There is no doubt, as the diary goes on, that Nell is living her new life to the full. For dining out she wears an emerald green opera blouse embroidered with red roses. On her shawl there are gold stars and a silver half moon. Nell remembers that she and her friend Stefani ‘emerged like exotic butterflies’ from the house in the Rue Boulard.

The Louvre is the largest and most lovely picture gallery in the whole of Paris......Otto gave me a pair of kid gloves. (Late up) Had coffee sitting out in the open and a little walk down the Boulevards. Went and had wine......the most lovely Italian wine......Otto spends money like lightening. All came home in an open carriage in the moonlight. Felt very happy....Wore exquisite green opera blouse.... Wine......sleep......oblivion......

Another day in October held so much excitement for, in the evening, the generals of the Boer War, Botha and De Wet, came riding in a carriage through the streets of Paris. Nell is there to watch near the Arc De Triomphe. Botha wears a large, wide brimmed hat and rows of purses slung round his chest. Stefani tells Nell to be careful not to speak English for, to the French, these men are great heroes.

In the afternoon had rest and three postcards from the black painter......Had a carriage to the Italian restaurant......Beautiful dinner.

.....most glorious wine......After went and stood in crowd and saw De Wet and Botha coming in a carriage and both stood on verandah......Stefani would not let me speak English so I said nothing......came home at half past one in a cab......

The feminine side of Nell’s days has not been entirely unrecorded. Early in November she buys a hat in a shop called the Louvre with her friends, Iris and Stefani.

Went to the Louvre. Bought hats for each of us and saw many exquisite shops......Stefani bought a cerise hat with grapes on the crown. Mine was an exquisite hat with black velvet streamers and white velvet under the brim. Stefani gave me a gold ring with pearls and sapphires......so delighted with it. Arranged our hats all day in the evening went out to dine. Met a nice poet who hung a bouquet on the door. Bad headache. Went to bed early at twelve o’clock.

Then, after a few weeks, Nell leaves Paris for her home in South London. It is one of the most poignant moments in her life. It is one of the most beautiful also.

I left Paris one night. Otto and Edmund drove me in a carriage to Gare St Lazare. I had a basket full of sugar plums and the like - which young girls delight in. My dear Stefani had packed it and on the top rested a lovely pair of pink garters which I later heard were supposed to be a gift from Edmund. The carriage stopped at the florist and Otto purchased me a great bouquet of crimson roses - how lovely were they - my heart was greatly moved at the generousness of this great sculptor. He placed a coin in the hand of a beggar who stood by the carriage......

But Nell cannot stay in London for long. In March she returns to Paris and Otto and Edmund are waiting at the station with a carriage full of flowers. In Nell’s portmanteau are spring and summer dresses for the Luxembourg Gardens, dresses patterned with stripes intertwined with crimson flowers. Her veils have chenille spots, like confetti.

Again I found myself in Paris. Otto and Edmund met me with a carriage filled with bouquets of for-get-me-nots and lovely bunches of tulips. Really they were lovely - those small striped ones. That dear face overshadowed by his large hat. How pleased I was to see him there. Otto greeted me with a kiss.....’Mein heart, Ich liebe mine much love Nell......’ Otto was saying all these endearing phrases to

me. I loved Edmund more and more. Both wore large capes in colour. Edmund’s hat had a cerise shade, Otto darkish blue, I do not know what it is that always reminds me so distinctly of Napoleon only Otto is by far the handsomer, being of splendid stature......

It is a long ride to the Rue Boulard and Nell feels very chilly after the Channel crossing. That evening, by lamplight, in the friendly house smelling of paint and coffee, she writes down what is to be the last entry in her diary.

Otto took off his coat to wrap about me. On our way to meet Karl. He was on his way to get flowers for me......Otto stood up in the carriage and called “Bringst du eine blumen” (Bring me the flowers will you.) he shouted so loudly to the annoyance of Karl. We arrived and my dear Stefani and my darling Iris were awaiting breakfast:which we partook of with great pleasure. In the midst Karl came :with the most beautiful bouquet anyone could behold. Such Spring daffodils. He handed them to me with such grace and bowing low took the seat next to me. (Later) Karl proposed. “I do not want to marry you either......I love you but it is too much for eternity. No!”

Otto, Edmund, Karl and Stefani are all dead now. Nell sits alone in a London suburb with her cats and paintings and miniature dolls. When she tires of looking out of her window at the long row of brick houses opposite she will often take out the little green notebooks and read again the pile of postcards sent to her half a century ago, by her friends in the Rue Boulard.