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 will _tell_ all I
have seen and done, which will be much easier than writing.
#Railway Station, Kiel, 7 A.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 labelled _Waddington,
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 hovered about us, and then looked rather bewildered, for
Adelaide 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.
_To H. L. K._
#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
affoles. 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 attache 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. It would
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 coupe 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 a
_permanent_ Ambassadress 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 had made 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 so _country_ in 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 had only 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 two days, 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, and _millions_ of 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, and _smells_
are 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 by daylight,
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 is _one_ good thing in
getting home, I needn't write any more letters.
_To G. K. S._
#Paris#,
31 #rue 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, and _yet_ the
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 coupe waiting for us at the
Gare de l'Est, and Baby and Nounou in the street at the door of the
porte cochere.
Well, the Moscow Coronation is over--I wonder what the next turn of the
wheel will bring us.
PART II
TEN YEARS IN ENGLAND
_To G. K. S._
#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 labelled _Waddington 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 (Journee 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.
[Illustration: 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 general appearance 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 about and 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.
_To J. K._
#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.