M. William WaddingtonM. William WaddingtonFrom a copyright photograph by Russell & Son
M. William WaddingtonFrom a copyright photograph by Russell & Son
W. had just time to get out of his dress clothes, and send back his order when Mathias appeared, and we went for a last tournée. First to the Church des Chevaliers, where all the Swedish Kings are buried, up and down some old streets where there are curious old houses, and wound up at the Museum. I only stayed there half an hour, saw some of the pictures and souvenirs of Charles IX, and then came home, leaving the others.
Now we have finished packing, I have on my travelling dress, and am seated quietly at the window with my book, Tolstoy's "La Guerre et la Paix," but I don't make much progress—I am always looking out. A big steam yacht has just come in—ran straight up the river alongside of the "Lancaster." About twenty little boats have immediately started out, going close up to the yacht, and they have sent off a steam launch, which has come up to the wharf in about five minutes.
Patenôtre and his secretary have come to say good-bye, and to say that all the orders are given for this evening, and we shall have our sleepings. I wonderif you have seen Pontécoulant. He said he would go at once to find you. He has been saving up all he heard about the Americans and their frock coats and grey trousers (when everyone else was covered with gold embroidery and orders) for you, and hopes to get a good rise out of you.
My next letter will be from Copenhagen—then Hamburg and home. The gentlemen have come in—found the Museum very interesting, and we shall dine in a few minutes, so this must stop and will go off from here by the evening courier.
Copenhagen,Wednesday, June 27th, 1883.
We arrived at one o'clock to-day, Dear, not tired at all, as our journey was easy. We had a capital waggon, a large sleeping carriage, a bed on each side, and a good toilette. We started punctually at 8.30, through fairly pretty country, nothing very picturesque, but a general impression of verdure. At 10.30 we stopped somewhere, had tea, and the man came and made the beds. I slept quite well. We took the steamer at Malmo, breakfasted on board, and enjoyed the crossing. The sea was beautiful and there were quantities of boats of all kinds. There was a thick fog for about half an hour, which was very uncomfortable, for we knew how many boats there were all around us, and as soon as our own whistle stopped, we heard many others unpleasantly near. However it lifted as we neared Copenhagen.
The approach is good, but not nearly so fine as Stockholm. There are no islands and the country all about is very flat. The quantity of boats of all kinds made it avery pretty sight. We found M. de Kergorlay, Chargé d'Affaires, waiting for us on the quai with a carriage, and drove at once to the hotel. We wanted a little time to change, read our letters (we found a quantity, two from you), which you may imagine I was glad to have. I am so glad the boy has kept well—I am getting very homesick for him now that our faces are turned homewards. M. de Kergorlay said he would come back at 4 and take us a drive. W. too found various letters and papers. We started again at 4 and had a beautiful drive to the "Deer Park" for some distance along the sea, with quantities of villas, casinos, cafés with music all the way. There were some very pretty carriages, officers riding, and every description of pleasure boat, big and small, on the sea. Just as we were leaving the sea and turning into the forest we met a big break, with the Prince Royal driving himself and his family. The carriage was full of children. He recognized of course Kergorlay, then W.—however they are all in the country. We shall have no visits nor audiences of any kind. I am rather sorry not to see the Prince. He was in Paris and dined with us the Exhibition year, when W. was at the Quai d'Orsay, and I found him most sympathetic, and very good-looking.
It was so pretty driving through the deer park. We had tea in one of the casinos, standing high over the sea, with a splendid view. We dined quietly at the hotel at a small table in the dining-room. We saw there General Appert and his family dining. They had come to Copenhagen to see their son, who is military attaché here (Madame Appert is a Dane), also Harry Whitehouse, who said they were in the country, but not far, and would certainly come in and see us. I have written a few notes since dinner, and W. has also sent one to be given earlyto-morrow morning to the Conservateur des Médailles at the Museum. The hotel is very comfortable, we have an enormous salon on the front, and good bedrooms. Adelaïde has fraternised with the Apperts' maid, and is delighted to have a compatriote to go about with. I was interrupted, as W. suggested we should go out and make a little turn in the streets while he smoked a cigar. The town is much less gay than Stockholm. All the houses are built of grey stone, and are high and narrow, rather like New York. There are a good many people in the streets and in the trams, of which there seem plenty.
Thursday, June 28th.
It is again a beautiful day, and at 10 o'clock W. and I started. I took Adelaïde, for I knew W. would be absorbed at once by the medals, and I didn't care to come home alone. We were received with much empressement by the Director. As I supposed, the Conservateur des Médailles carried off W. at once, and a sub. of some kind was deputed to show me the Historical Museum, which really is very interesting, costumes and interior groups of figures of the whole world. They say it is very exact, but what a work it must have been. We saw it very well and fairly quickly, as it wasn't a public day, and the young man only showed us what was worth seeing. We walked home. It wasn't far, and he explained the route to us. I really needed the exercise. The town is decidedly gloomy, even in the bright sunlight, and might be any Northern town anywhere.
I breakfasted alone at a small table in the dining-room, and had the big room almost to myself—two gentlemen were breakfasting at one end. Almost as soon as I gotupstairs I had some visits. First Richard appeared, very pleased with his excursion, said it would have been a pity not to see the Falls, being so near; then came Col. Wyckham Hoffman and Whitehouse. Hoffman was much interested in hearing about the Coronation, as he was five years secretary in Russia and knew all the people. He and Mrs. Hoffman are at Elsinore for the summer and want us very much to come down and dine and stay over night, but I am afraid we can't. W. wants all his time here for the coins, and it would take quite a day to really see the place. Kergorlay came with a carriage at three, and he and I and Richard started again for the same drive. It seems all Copenhagen does it every afternoon. The sea looked enchanting, and I think there were more boats than yesterday—several big steamers, English bound they tell us—and such quantities of pleasure boats. We drove rather further into the forest, as we had more time. It is really very lovely—had tea in another casino with the same view of the sea. We met various private carriages with good horses, a certain number were breaks full of nurses and children; and some rather smart-looking officers well mounted. We didn't meet the Royal break again. It seems they are all (a big family party) at one of their châteaux near Copenhagen, and come into town very often. Kergorlay seems to like Copenhagen—not the climate, he says it is cold and foggy, there are days when one never sees the sun. It makes rather a gloomy impression on me. If I lived here I too would want to come every day to the Deer Park, which wouldn't be convenient perhaps for domestic arrangements.
The streets are curiously banal—I wonder why? Of course one didn't expect to find the colour and half-Eastern look of Moscow, nor the gay half "bains-de mer"impression of Stockholm, but I am disappointed. One thinks of Danes as descendants of the Vikings, heroes, enormous men with long limbs and yellow hair. Do you remember the poem we were so mad about in the days of our youth, "Word was brought to the Danish King that the love of his heart lay dying"? I can see Mrs. Lawrence sitting at the table, and reading it in her full rich voice. I don't remember now who wrote it, but I am sure you will—and Copenhagen looks singularly unpoetical and modern. We found W. on the balcony when we got back, with his papers and his cigar, just tired enough after a long day's work in the Museum to appreciate a quiet hour. It has been warm all day, and is still. We felt the difference as soon as we turned into the streets, and we haven't the river under our windows as we had at Stockholm, and always a breeze.
4 o'clock.
Richard and I are just back from an expedition to Tivoli—the great garden here. We dined quietly at home, and I tried to persuade W. to come with us to the garden, but he declined absolutely, so we left him talking and smoking with General Appert, and we two started off in a fiacre. We were rather pleased with ourselves and the way we got along in a strange place and a strange tongue. We even made out strawberries and cream—"med" and something else I forget now. I don't know which was strawberries and which was cream, but we got them, andmedwas evidently one or the other. The garden is very pretty, very well arranged, with every variety of entertainment. We sat and listened to the band (a very good one, military) while we hadmedand ——, and then went into one or two of the small theatres and concert halls. All this too was modern,might have been Paris or London. We saw one or two of our diplomatic friends disporting themselves at one of the theatres where there were "poses plastiques" very well done. I think they were "en garçon"—the pink flower hats they were alongside of didn't give me a family impression.
We rather enjoyed our evening lounging about. A fortune teller, a rather pretty girl, evidently wished to tell our fortunes,thatwe made out by signs and the cards she had spread out before her, but we didn't think our knowledge of the Danish tongue was sufficient to understand all she would tell us of a brilliant future. Richard is delightful to go about with. He likes to see everything and know about everything, and certainly succeeds in some curious way getting all the information he wants. W. was poring over his notes when we got back. We told him all our experiences, and then talked a little about our day to-morrow.
Friday, June 29th.
It has been frightfully hot all day. I stayed at home all the morning. W. and Richard went off early to the Museum. I had a visit from Kergorlay. He has an interesting face, is a widower, poor fellow, with four children, one boy of two and a half. They say he is so devoted to the children. I told him I should like to see them, and he will send them—at any rate we shall see them to-morrow night, as we dine at the Legation. Richard came back to breakfast. He said it was cool enough in the Museum, and we started off for the Thorwaldsen Gallery. Of course some of the statues and has reliefs are very fine, but they are enormous, almost more than life size. We went on to the Frauen Kirche to see his statues of the 12 Apostles which are there. They were strangelyfamiliar. We must have seen them reproduced in plaster at home. Both St. Peter and St. John I knew quite well, and didn't like them much. While we were loitering about the church the suisse told us a wedding was just going to take place, it might perhaps amuse us to see it, so we stepped into one of the side aisles and saw the cortége. The bride was the regulation white-veiled figure, I think she had agreenwreath (it may have been myrtle like the German brides), the man was in uniform. What was really interesting was the dress of the two pastors. They wore black coats with white ruffles, just as they did in Luther's time. That reconciled me a little to this very uninteresting town.
It was still very warm, but we did a little shopping, photographs and one or two trifles. Richard leaves to-night at 7.30, and we shall dine early with him. He is to stop a day or two with Mary at Meiningen, pick up his mother who is there, and bring her back to France. Mary wanted us to come, and I wish we could have managed it. It would have been nice to have been there all together, and they would have enjoyed hearing all our impressions while they were so absolutely fresh, particularly Charles, who leads a very quiet life now ever since his accident at the Quai d'Orsay. It is extraordinary how the last thing seen remains in one's memory. Already Moscow and that splendid pageant is fading a little, and I see Stockholm, and the green islands, and the dancing river.
Saturday, June 30th.
It is still frightfully hot—not a breath of air. I have made as much of a draught as I can by opening the door into the passage. It isn't very convenient, as we are just at the head of the big staircase, but I have put a high-backedarm-chair between me and the passers by. It was really very warm until 11 o'clock last night. We dined downstairs with Richard, and were very sorry to see him go. Then we went to Mrs. Baldwin (the Admiral had gone off for two days) to ask her if she would drive with us. We made the usual turn, the only variety being our tea place—we take a new one every time. The gérant of the hotel explains to the coachman where to go, and he chooses very well. It was lovely driving, and so cool on the top of the cliff that we walked about a little after tea. There is always a long, clear evening, not like Russia, but still very pleasant and pretty, such a soft light over everything. The moment we turned away from the sea back into the town we felt the difference, but the long drive had cooled us. I have asked for my breakfast upstairs in the salon. I really can't dress and sit in that hot room in this weather. W. is at the Museum, but comes back at 4 with the Director, who is to show us some of the treasures of the town. I am getting on very well here with "La Guerre et la Paix," as I am not distracted all the time as I was at Stockholm. I think you would like it, theRussianside of Napoleon's great campaign is so interesting, also the pictures of the society of Moscow at that time, which they say is extremely well done.
W. came in about 4, not very warm, as he says the rooms of the Museum are cool, with such thick walls, and while we were waiting for Monsieur Warsoe, the Directeur, Mr. Vivian, English Minister, paid us a visit. He is very anxious we should come and see them at Elsinore, says it is most interesting (all memories of Hamlet). I should like it extremely, but W. thinks we must get home. I liked Vivian very much. He talked very easily about everything—he is going to dine with us at Kergorlay's,says all the colleagues are most anxious to hear about the Coronation. M. Warsoe appeared about 4.30 and we drove at once to Rosenburg, an old château where there is a fine collection of all sorts of things. Some of the Danish porcelain was lovely, also some fine tapestries. They showed us with much pride their trésor, jewels, and gold and silver services, but really after Moscow and the quantities of gold, silver, enamel, crowns, and jewels of all sorts that one had seen the others made no effect, though of course there were some handsome stones, rubies. What I did like was the 4 lions (couchant) of massive silver, which are always put at each side of the throne whenever there is a great ceremony at Court. They must look splendid.
We went again to the Frauen Kirche, as W. had not seen it, and the second time I liked the Apostles better, a little better. I think it was too hot, and I was too tired when I was there before. We drove out to an old bridge, which was curious, and in some old street where I had never penetrated. The trams worry me, they are so frightfully civilized and up-to-date, however they were crowded, so evidently the Danes are not of my way of thinking.
Our dinner at Kergorlay's was very pleasant and handsome. Adelaïde was again frightfully put out at my garment, and she is right, it is really a street dress, and this time there are several women. I don't know why I didn't keep outoneevening dress. It was rather stupid to send everything back. However, I made my excuses to the ladies, and said I was "en touriste." They were all very élégantes, though they were all already settled in the country, and went off about 10 o'clock by the last train. Kergorlay's children came in before dinner. The eldest girl is 10, and the baby two and a half.It was so pathetic to see them in their white dresses and black sashes and to think whom the mourning was for. The dinner was very gay. We had Count and Countess Toll (he is Russian Minister here, and a brother of Countess Pahlen), Marochetti (Italian Minister) and his wife (a Frenchwoman, née Grandval), Vivian (she didn't come, was in the country and rather exhausted with the great heat), General and Madame Appert, and two secretaries. Count Toll was very keen to hear all about Moscow, and what we thought of the great show (he speaks English quite well). I told him we were enchanted, and that one of the great features was Comte Pahlen with his velvet coat and white staff of office with a big sapphire at the top. He certainly took no end of trouble, and looked his part very well. They all seem to like Copenhagen pretty well, except for the climate, which seems most trying. Countess Toll was in white with handsome pearls. I felt rather like a pensionnaire in my simple little dress—foolish, too; I ought to have known better.
We got home quite early, so I can still have a little Tolstoy before I go to bed. Adelaïde instantly inquired what the other ladies had on and was much put out. "C'était Madame l'Ambassadrice qui était le plus mal"—"oh! cela oui, et de beaucoup." I suppose it reflects upon the femme de chambre when the mistress is not up to the mark.
Sunday, July 1st.
It is still frightfully hot. I did not go out all morning, though they sent a notice of services at the English Church. We shall leave to-morrow night for Hamburg. W. says two days more of medals will give him all he wants. After breakfast I went to see Mrs. Baldwin, whom I found gasping, sitting with open doors andwindows; also Madame Appert, who looked quite cool and comfortable, as did her two daughters, pretty girls; however, they said they didn't feel cool. When I got back to our rooms I found several cards, and then Mrs. Hoffman appeared. She was very nice and friendly, sent all sorts of messages to you and Anne, and wished Anne would come and stay with her at Elsinore. She likes Copenhagen very much, says the people are friendly and hospitable and invite the diplomats; also that some of the country places are very fine, quite in the English style. She made a great appeal to me to come to Elsinore with her this afternoon, I could come back to-morrow in plenty of time for the night train, but I couldn't manage. W. was still at the Museum, and would have been in a great state of mind if he had come home and found not me but a note saying I had departed for Elsinore. While she was still here, young Moltke appeared, our compagnon de voyage from Helsingfors to Stockholm. He hopes to be sent to Paris or London. I told him if it was Paris he must look us up. He is a very nice young fellow, very good-looking, tall, and fair.
We have had our usual drive. We dined at 5 and started out rather earlier. If possible there were more people than we had ever seen before, as it was Sunday and fête. All Copenhagen, high and low, were on their way to the Deer Park. A stream of conveyances of all descriptions, some peasants' carts with straw at the bottom filled with women and children, everybody in a good humour. There were fewer officers riding, and fewer big boats on the sea, but endless little pleasure yachts. As we came back it was really a pretty sight, all the cafés, casinos, etc., brilliantly lighted, all the villas, too, and people sitting on the verandas, some playing cards, some at tea tables, some walking about in the gardens,we could see the light dresses fluttering about in the shrubberies; animation, laughter, voices, music everywhere. We stopped as usual for tea at one of the high casinos—the sea blue and calm at our feet some distance down, and the whole summer out-door life of Copenhagen behind in the woods and hills. It was delicious driving back, and even the streets were pretty to-night, so many people, and the cool air such a relief after the terrible heat of the day. We have decided to start at 8.30 to-morrow evening.
I tried to glean some information from a Danish paper this afternoon. Col. Hoffman told me that if one knew English or German one could read Danish quite well, giving oneself a little trouble, but I can't say that was my experience. It might have been Hebrew for all I made out. I suppose I didn't keep at it long enough. It doesn't sound easy when one hears the language spoken all about one, rather harsh. I mastered a little Swedish (to understand it) much more easily.
Copenhagen,Monday, July 2d, 1883.
The heat is something awful to-day,—I think the worst day we have had. I was up early, as the salon is cooler than the bedroom, more doors and windows. W. is off to his medals until 5, and we leave to-night for Hamburg. The trunks are made (almost for the last time), as we shall stay only one night in Hamburg, and arrive in Paris Thursday morning. I had a nice visit from Kergorlay. He can't come to the station to see us off, as he dines with the King in the country, but will send his chancelier to see about places, luggage, etc.We talked a great deal about his children. He feels such a responsibility, and it is hard for a man to have such a young family to look after. He said their mother was so devoted to them—it seems hard she couldn't have been left to them a little longer.
I breakfasted downstairs, had a little talk with the Apperts, and then went to the reading-room for a little while to see if there was any news. The Comte de Chambord is very ill, dying they say. I wonder if his death will make any difference now—I suppose not. He has been only a memory practically all these years, as he never came to France, and only a few, a very few fidèles clung to him in his exile. I must say I rather admired him always. According to his lights (limited I grant), he was absolutely consistent.
I had another visit from Col. Hoffman, who came to see if we were really going to-night. We have a despatch from Richard saying that we will have much difficulty in getting into any hotel in Hamburg—the town is very full. There are races going on, also a scientific congress of some kind—however, the proprietor of this hotel says it is all right, they will keep us rooms. W. came in at 5, having been working steadily since 9.30 this morning. He took a cordial leave of the various Conservateurs and Directors, but thinks they were not sorry to see him go, and take up their quiet life, two or three hours a day in the cabinet instead of 6 or 7.
My next letter will be from Hamburg—and after that I willtellall I have seen and done, which will be much easier than writing.
Railway Station, Kiel, 7A.M.,Tuesday, July 3d.
We have two hours to wait here, so I will scribble a line to you, which will help to pass the time. We got off very early last night. Some of the young men from the Legation were waiting at the station with a servant to help us with our baggage. It really was not necessary, as we have only two trunks, and the porter of the hotel is most helpful and energetic. It was very warm even at that hour, and the compartment was stuffy, a good many passengers. We got to Korsoe about 11. The boat was directly opposite the station, and we went on board at once. There was some delay getting the baggage on board, so we sat quietly on deck and had our tea, and cooled off. The cabin felt so hot when I went down to leave my things that I couldn't make up my mind to install myself, particularly as the crossing (the Belt) was short, about 5 hours. The Captain said we should arrive between 4 and 5 at Kiel. We stayed on deck till nearly one o'clock. It was a lovely night, the sea quite calm, but a good breeze once outside, which freshened considerably as we drew away from the land.
I went down about one, but didn't get much sleep, and was quite ready to go up on deck when they called me at 4.30, and said we were approaching Kiel. Almost all the passengers were on deck. The approach is not particularly interesting. I heard two gentlemen discussing us in English. They had seen our trunks all labelledWaddington, Couronnement, had taken renseignements from the Captain, who assured them W. was the French Ambassador. They thought he must be mistaken. "That man is an Englishman—he is speaking English now to the lady—I have heard them talking always in English. They certainly are not French." They hoveredabout us, and then looked rather bewildered, for Adelaïde came up to ask me something, and then W. and I finished our talk in French. We speak sometimes French, sometimes English, it depends upon our milieu.
The harbour is fine as one gets up to it. How hard for the Danes to give it up, and how they must hate the Germans. We got off about 5.30. The city was still wrapped in sleep. We walked about a little, and it was a curious sensation to walk about in apparently a dead town. We had some breakfast at the station, and have been out again. Then (7 o'clock) the town was quite lively, workmen moving about. We shall start in about a quarter of an hour, and have about two hours and a half to Hamburg. The long wait here has been tiresome, nearly three hours. The movement on the water and the quais was amusing, but really until after 7 not a soul was stirring, at least not in this quarter, and no trains coming or going.
Hamburg,Tuesday, July 3d, 1883.
No words can tell, Dear, how uncomfortable we are, hot and cross. We arrived at 11, after a very hot, dusty journey. The town is crammed, even at this hotel where they had kept rooms for us (and such nasty little rooms, a small salon, giving on the street it is true, so that we can see all that goes on, and two minute bedrooms on one side) we can't get our trunks, nor apparently our breakfast. The hotel people are quite affolés. There are races (with a German Prince of some kind either presiding or running horses, I can't make out which), "a horticultural show, a cattle fair, (and an anniversary of something)."
We said we would take a carriage this afternoon and drive about the city, and we might just as well have asked for a balloon—nothing to be had before 7 o'clock. I should think every carriage in Hamburg was out—quantities of all kinds and large omnibuses are passing under the windows, filled with women in light dresses, and a generally festive appearance. They hope to give us one then.
We have had breakfast—the dining-room large, fairly cool, and empty (as it was late everyone had breakfasted and flown). They brought us the Figaro. The Comte de Chambord is dead, and the Comte de Paris starting for the funeral. Just as we had got upstairs again the man of the hotel came and asked if Madame l'Ambassadrice de France would receive Madame l'Ambassadrice de France. We were rather puzzled, but said of course we would receive anyone who came, and in walked M. et Mdme. de Courcel, and M. de Pina, our Consul here, M. de Sancy, the military attaché at Berlin. We were delighted to see them. The Courcels had been paying a visit to the Duke of Sagan in his splendid place, and, being not far from Hamburg, had come on to see the town. They were going to the races with M. de Pina, and wanted us to come, but we didn't care to (and indeed I don't know how we should have gone, as they had a small carriage which just held them, and we had none). M. de Pina asked us to dine with the Courcels at 8.30, and that we were very glad to do, as the prospect of a dinner in the big dining-room, with all the crowd of hungry people back from the various festivities, was not alluring. Pina told us as we couldn't get a carriage we had better take one of the small steamers that ply about in the inner harbour, and have an hour's sail. He was sure we would find it pretty and interesting. Itwould certainly be cooler than sitting in that stuffy little salon.
There is nothing to see now in the streets, as the whole population is out of town, and the rumbling of carriages has ceased for the moment. W. is lying back in an arm-chair, with a cigar, in his shirt sleeves, groaning with the heat; and very hot it must be to reduce him to that state. I have a theory that no Waddington knows what heat means. No words can describe what I feel. Certainly fine feathers make fine birds, and I think no one would recognize the gold embroidered, bejewelled couple that went in the coupé d'Orsay to the gala dinner at the Palace.
11 o'clock.
We are just in from the Consul's dinner, and as it is cooler in the salon with the windows open than in my room, I will finish my letter to-night. We start to-morrow morning at 9 o'clock for Cologne and Paris. Now that we are getting so near I am very homesick for the boy, and for my own house. The constant moving about and living in hotels for the last fortnight has been tiring. I have got nothing left either to say to anybody—I have described the Coronation so many times that it is almost mechanical now—the words come by themselves—a steady stream, like the paper that rolls off the telegrams. I think I should never do for apermanentAmbassadress if six weeks of functions have exhausted me physically and mentally. As usual tho' last impressions are the strongest. I have already forgotten Moscow a little, and see the journey from Petersburg to Stockholm more clearly than anything else. I am sorry now that I didn't write a regular journal. Almost all the gentlemen did, and it would have been no trouble if I hadmade up my mind to it, and written regularly, but unfortunately my writing-table at Maison Klein was on the court, and as soon as I established myself all sorts of interesting things immediately began to take place under the window, and the ink was bad and thick, and I got it all over my fingers, and even up in my hair—I hate so to write.
We sat all the afternoon indoors until 6 o'clock, when a little breeze sprang up, and we walked down a few steps only to the wharf from which the little steamers sail. It is about an hour, the tour round the lake, or inner harbour—quite charming—all the shores covered with pretty houses and villas, with lawns, and gardens full of flowers, sloping down to the water's edge. One would never have dreamed of finding anything so pretty and socountryin this very business-like place. Many of the villas had nice little jetties and piers that ran out quite far into the water, and pretty boats and boat-houses. It seemed incredible to find all this so close to the hot, crowded hotel where we had been all day. The boat was quite full—principally business men going back to dine and sleep at their country houses—all Germans—we were certainly the only foreigners on the boat. It rather reminded me of Staten Island at home—the afternoon boat with all the business men on board, only one didn't have the broad expanse of the beautiful New York Bay, but a small land-locked lake.
The sail and breeze (such as it was) revived us, and we had time to dress comfortably for our dinner. We didn't see the great port—divined it only, with the forest of masts of all sizes.
Our dinner was very pretty and pleasant. Our host was some time in Holland, and has some lovely specimens of blue Delft, and some fine carved furniture. We hadonly M. and Mdme. de Courcel (who arrived very late, having been caught in the file of carriages coming from the races), M. de Sancy, the first magistrate of the city, the Burgomaster, all in black, a plain tight coat, with a white fraise, very stiff and high around his neck, and a long gold chain. Also two of the principal merchants of Hamburg—the Courcels were staying with one of them, as they could get no rooms anywhere. The house was almost shut up—all the family out of town, and a femme de charge to look after them. They said the rooms were very comfortable, and they took their meals at a restaurant or with M. de Pina, who is certainly most hospitable.
W. was delighted to see Courcel and tell him all about the Coronation, and his impressions of all the people he had seen. The Burgomaster, too, was very keen to hear what we thought about everything. He is a clever old man, speaking French fairly well. They all evidently think there is much discontent in Russia, and some day there will be a great upheaving—de Sancy told me that Radziwill, Aide-de-Camp to the German Emperor, told him that our equipages, horses, etc., were so good. We thought so, but were not perhaps quite impartial. Richard says we all used to sit up talking after every ceremony, and say how well we did things.
After dinner M. de Pina showed us some of his curios, which are interesting and very well arranged. One of the two merchants, I quite forget the name, has a beautiful villa on the Elbe, some little distance from Hamburg, and wants us very much to come and make them a visit. I was much tempted—it would be amusing to see a bit of German business life, and I think W. would not have minded if the invitation could be accepted at once—but we would have to remain on here for twodays, as the gentleman is going somewhere else before he goes home, and really two days in these horrid little rooms would be impossible. M. de Pina told us the villas of some of these merchant princes are beautiful, with splendid gardens and all the luxe that money can give. He says they spend much more for their country houses than for their town establishments.
We broke up about 10, as everyone was tired. It was a beautiful moonlight night, so we told our coachman to take us round by the great port. It was most curious. The water was black except just where the streak of moonlight fell on it, and there were thousands of ships of all kinds from all quarters of the globe—smoke coming out of the chimneys of some of the big steamers, evidently preparing for an early start to-morrow morning, andmillionsof masts tapering up against the sky. Lights in every direction, some high, some low, and even at that hour of the night little boats flying about. One saw a dark object start off from the wharf—suddenly stand out well crossing the moonlight streak, and then disappear—there was a constant sound of oars and row-locks, and long creaking noises like pulleys, and heavy things being hoisted on board a ship. They say the animation, and noise, and dust, andsmellsare extraordinary in the daytime—but at night-time all looked extremely picturesque.
Cologne Gare, 10 o'clock Mercredi soir,4 Juillet.
We got off this morning at 9.30 from Hamburg, and had a long, hot, dusty journey—nothing very pretty to see. We arrived here about 6.30, found the Consul, Mr. Brandt, waiting at the station with a carriage. He proposed a drive—going first to the Cathedral, to see it bydaylight, and then to dine with him at the station, where there is a very good restaurant, so we sent all our small things over to the private room, and started off to the Cathedral. I was delighted to see it again after so many years. Do you remember it was the first European Cathedral we saw after Notre Dame, that first year when we came down the Rhine. How magnificent it is, outside and inside—the long, stately vaulted aisles, so high and so still. There was no one in the church at that hour, and we had a delightful half hour. We walked all around the outside, and then went back to the station to dine—and a very good dinner it was, in the same room where we breakfasted when we started for Russia, now nearly two months ago, when all seemed so vague, and rather a plunge into the unknown. We shall certainly have souvenirs for all our lives.
As we were finishing dinner the Chef de Gare came to say that a "lit-salon" was reserved for us, and he would have all the "kleines gepack" put into the compartment, and tell us at the last moment. The train starts at 10.30, and we get to Paris at 10 to-morrow morning, so we thought we would go out again and drive about a little, as we had so long to wait. We had a nice turn in the moonlight—the Cathedral looked beautiful, and we crossed the Rhine and drove some little distance on the other side of the river to have the view of the city. Now one or two Frenchmen who are here are talking to W. They have brought us tea, and I am scribbling this to you.
It is delightful, Dear, to think that to-morrow at breakfast I shall be telling you all this, and Baby sitting up in his high chair, looking at me hard out of his round, blue eyes. There isonegood thing in getting home, I needn't write any more letters.
Paris,31rue Dumont d'Urville,July 5th, 1883.
We got back this morning at 10 o'clock. The journey was very comfortable—there is nothing like those French "lits-salons." Our departure from Cologne was rather amusing. The Chef de Gare summoned us at the last moment—all the passengers had taken their places, the doors were shut, officials careering up and down the platform, andyetthe train didn't start. Various heads were put out of the windows, and one or two irate gentlemen inquired what they were waiting for, and why didn't we start. Then we appeared strolling leisurely down the platform, with a small suite of gentlemen, officers, etc. The adieux were again a little long, and really one man was bursting with rage, and not at all mollified when he heard it was an Ambassador returning to France after the Coronation; "he supposed Ambassadors could be as punctual as anybody else, and when an express started at 10.30, it was 10.30 for everybody."
We were very pleased to find Hubert and the coupé waiting for us at the Gare de l'Est, and Baby and Nounou in the street at the door of the porte cochère.
Well, the Moscow Coronation is over—I wonder what the next turn of the wheel will bring us.
Boulogne-sur-Mer,August, 1883.
Here we are after all settled for a month at the sea. I really needed the change and the sea-air after the fatigues of Moscow, and I was glad to get out of my own house, which is still crowded with boxes and huge cases labelledWaddington Couronnement, which now will not be unpacked, but go direct to London, as all the Court dresses, gala liveries, harness, etc., will be needed there.
We decided just at the last moment to come here, and consequently couldn't get a house near the big hotels in the real "quartier des baigneurs," so we have taken one quite the other end of the town near all the fishing boats. They are a never-failing attraction. We love to see them go out, and, above all, come in, when all the women, bare-legged, and with flat baskets on their backs, go out to meet them and bring in the fish. W. wanted us to come here, as he was in London and thought he would often get over from Saturday to Monday.
I made my first visit to the Embassy on the 15th of August (Journée de l'Assomption). W. thought I had better come over and see the house before arriving in November to take possession. We started quite cheerfully.It was warm and bright with a good breeze—a few white-caps, but nothing out of the way. We saw the boats dance a little as they came in, but didn't realise what a gale was blowing until we got on board of ours. The wind was howling through the rigging, and the Captain told us he couldn't start, as the wind was blowing the water off the bar. It increased very much while we were waiting, and several passengers left the boat and stayed over in Boulogne until the next day. However we had promised to go; we are fairly good sailors, and W. had just two idle days he could give us in London—so we started. It was certainly the worst crossing I have ever made. The boat rolled and pitched terribly, we shipped heavy seas all the time, and arrived at Folkestone shivering and drenched. All the way to London we felt little streams of water running down our backs, and our hats were a curiosity—filled with water like a bowl. We emptied them on the quay, but the feathers, of course, were finished. We were met at Victoria by two swell young secretaries, in evening dress, with gardenias in their button-holes, who had come to meet their Ambassadress; and I have wondered since what impression they had of the limp, damp, exhausted female they extracted from the reserved saloon carriage. It was only a few minutes' drive to the Embassy at Albert Gate, where we were received by a stout porter and a most distinguished "groom of the chambers," dressed in black, with a silver chain around his neck. We dined alone in a fair-sized dining-room, with splendid Gobelin tapestries on the walls. W. came in about 11, having had a man's dinner with Gladstone.
The French Embassy, Albert Gate, LondonThe French Embassy, Albert Gate, London
The French Embassy, Albert Gate, London
The next day we went all over the house, which is neither handsome nor comfortable. It is high and narrow, like a cage, with no very large rooms, and a generalappearance of dinginess and accumulated dust. However, the Minister has promised to paint and clean, and to do over the small drawing-room entirely, just as I like. Of course I shall have blue satin—you remember how I always like blue everywhere, on me and near me. The situation is delightful, on the Park—just at Albert Gate. The windows and balconies of the drawing-rooms give on the drive, and the "Row" is so near that I could easily recognise horses and riders. The season is practically over, but I have just seen a pretty group pass; a lady mounted on a fine chestnut and a child on each side of her on nice, small fat ponies; close to the little girl, about eight years old, with her fair hair streaming down her back from under a blue cap, rides an old groom, evidently much pleased with his little lady's performance, and watching her so carefully.
Our inspection of the house took us all the morning. The kitchen, offices, servants' hall and rooms are enormous, and in very bad order. I should think it would take weeks to get it clean and habitable, and need an army of servants to keep it so. I am thinking rather sadly of my little hotel in Paris, so clean and bright, with not a dark corner anywhere.
We went out driving in the afternoon, and I had my first experience as Ambassadress, as the coachman drove down Constitution Hill—a right of way reserved for Royalties and the Corps Diplomatique. We went straight to Mrs. Brown, the famous milliner, in Bond Street, to get ourselves new hats, as ours were quite impossible after our very lively passage, and the housemaid at Albert Gate had a handsome present of two hats with drooping feathers and a strong smell of sea and salt. London was of course empty, but a few carriages were in the park, and it amused us to drive aboutand see all the shops, and the general look of the streets, so different from Paris.
We spent our evening quietly at home looking over our installation with W., horses, carriages, servants, and in fact the complete organisation of a big London house, which is so unlike a French one. I shall bring over all my French servants and add as many English as are necessary. I don't quite see Hubert, our French coachman, driving about the London streets, and keeping to the left. I should think we should have daily discussions with all the drivers in London; however, we must try. I wonder if I shall like being an Ambassadress, and I also wonder how long we shall stay here. My brother-in-law R. says perhaps two years.
We got back three days ago—started on a bright summer's day. The Ambassador and secretaries came down to the station to see us off, and W. promised to come over and spend Sunday. We had an ideal crossing—blue sky, bright sun, and few passengers, and, notwithstanding our hard experience in the first passage, we are glad to have been over and made acquaintance with the personnel of the Embassy, also to have seen the house and realized a little what I must bring over to give it a look of home.
This morning we have the news of the Comte de Chambord's death, and I am wondering if it will make any political complication. However, for years past he has only been a name—a most honourable one certainly—but one wants more than that to deal with the present state of France.
After all W. never came over. Although London was empty, he had always some business to attend to, and on Sunday usually went to see some friends in the country. Last Sunday he spent with Lord Granville at Walmer,which he said was delightful. The castle so close to the sea that the big ships passed almost under the windows; Granville himself a charming host. He knows France and the French well, having been a great deal in Paris as a boy when his father was British Ambassador to Louis Philippe (1830-4); Lord Palmerston was then British Foreign Secretary.
We are very busy these days making our "pacquets," as we leave in three days. I am sorry to go, as I have so much enjoyed the quiet life with the sisters and the children. We have seen few people, as we are not in the fashionable quarter, but we have become most intimate with all the fishing population. The young women and girls jibe at us when we go shrimp fishing, on terms of perfect equality—there are no distinctions in the sea—because we have not the sleight of hand necessary to jerk the shining, slippery little fish into the basket from the net. Some local swell, the Mayor, I think, came to see me the other day, and was told I was on the beach, so he came down and was much astonished when they pointed out to him Madame l'Ambassadrice in a hat and feathers, diamond ear-rings, very short skirts, and neither shoes nor stockings, walking up to her knees in the water with a fishing-net in one hand and a basket in the other, and followed by her little son and niece similarly equipped, all quite happy and engrossed with their sport. We have one or two country visits to make, and then I must have some time in Paris to dismantle my house and make my preparations for London.
Mersham Hatch, Ashford, Kent,Wednesday, November 28, 1883.
You will say I am taking up my old habits of writing to you always from the country, but you cannot imagine how busy I have been in London since I came over just 2 weeks ago to-day.
We came down here Monday afternoon to stay with W.'s old college friend and cousin, Charles Monk. The house and park are charming—quantities of large, comfortable rooms, and capital shooting. The gentlemen brought down a great many pheasants yesterday. The party in the house are Lord and Lady Abinger and Miss Scarlett, Sir George and Lady Chetwode, Mr. Leveson-Gower, a brother of Lord Granville, with a most polished courteous manner; a Mr. Price W. Powel, and a young Wm. Gladstone, nephew of the Premier. Monk has no wife, and three unmarried daughters; the eldest, Julia, does the honours very well and simply. I absolutely declined the 9.30 breakfast and asked to have my tea sent up to me.
Yesterday I came down about 12, took a little turn in the garden until one, and at 1.30 had luncheon. Then we went for a drive to Eastwood, the Duke of Edinburgh's place. The house is not so large as this, but the park is charming, with quantities of deer. We had tea when we came in—some of the gentlemen appeared and we dined at 8, all the ladies most gorgeous in satin, lace, and diamonds, the girls generally in white. After dinner we talked a little, then some of them played whist, and the young ladies sang. This morning the gentlemen have started again shooting, and I shall sitin my room quite quietly until 12, which gives me an hour and a half with the ladies before luncheon.