Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900 Part 12

_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 pa.s.sengers 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 Amba.s.sador returning to France after the Coronation; "he supposed Amba.s.sadors 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 fis.h.i.+ng 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 Sat.u.r.day to Monday.

I made my first visit to the Emba.s.sy on the 15th of August (Journee de l'a.s.somption). 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 pa.s.sengers 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 s.h.i.+pped heavy seas all the time, and arrived at Folkestone s.h.i.+vering 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 b.u.t.ton-holes, who had come to meet their Amba.s.sadress; 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 Emba.s.sy 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The French Emba.s.sy, 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 acc.u.mulated 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 pa.s.s; 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 Amba.s.sadress, as the coachman drove down Const.i.tution 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 pa.s.sage, 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 Amba.s.sadress, 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 Amba.s.sador 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 pa.s.sengers, and, notwithstanding our hard experience in the first pa.s.sage, we are glad to have been over and made acquaintance with the personnel of the Emba.s.sy, 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 s.h.i.+ps pa.s.sed 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 Amba.s.sador 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 fas.h.i.+onable quarter, but we have become most intimate with all the fis.h.i.+ng population. The young women and girls jibe at us when we go shrimp fis.h.i.+ng, on terms of perfect equality--there are no distinctions in the sea--because we have not the sleight of hand necessary to jerk the s.h.i.+ning, 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'Amba.s.sadrice 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 fis.h.i.+ng-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.

We came down here Monday afternoon to stay with W.'s old college friend and cousin, Charles Monk. The house and park are charming--quant.i.ties 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 quant.i.ties 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 sit in my room quite quietly until 12, which gives me an hour and a half with the ladies before luncheon.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Dining room of the French Emba.s.sy, London, Showing its Two Famous Gobelin Tapestries]

Thursday, 29th.

W. is off again "running for partridges," whatever that may mean, and at 3 we go back to London. He has a big dinner somewhere to-night.

Yesterday two ladies came over to luncheon, and in the afternoon Julia Monk and I took a drive in the pony carriage to meet the sportsmen, who had a very busy day. In the evening we made a little music, Miss Scarlett played very well. I expect to be very busy all this next week in London. The workmen will be out of the drawing-rooms, and I shall get all kinds of little odd tables and chairs and unpack my own bibelots.

The carriages arrive, too, and we must decide about horses. Two English giants are engaged as footmen, of equal height, to go on the gala carriage, and we have our own two Frenchmen, one of whom is very tall.

He and Adelade came down here with us, and Adelade is much entertained at the respect with which she is treated. She looked quite a swell yesterday with her black silk dress, but she says the other maids are much more dressy, attired in black velvet and satin and open dresses.

Soon there will be nothing left for the mistresses.

I will stop now, as I must be down a little earlier this morning. I hope you will soon be settled in Was.h.i.+ngton, and that the children will have no more scarlet fever or measles complications.

_To H. L. K._

#French Emba.s.sy, Albert Gate#, December 1, 1883.

I am gradually settling down, but everything, hours, service, habits, servants, is so different that I still feel rather strange. I quite sympathised with Francis, who was already unhappy at leaving Paris and his dear "Nounou," and very much put out with his new German governess who was deadly ill crossing. His woes culminated on arriving at Albert Gate, when he was solemnly conducted upstairs by a very tall footman to his room (a nice large nursery and bedroom giving on the Park), and he wept bitterly and refused to eat any dinner or to have his coat and hat taken off. A great many people have been to see us, and we shall have some quiet dinners--and a shooting party at Mr. Monk's one of these days.

The shooting party at Mr. Monk's was pleasant. He has a fine large house and capital shooting. The ladies walked about a little and followed some battues, and everyone a.s.sembled in the drawing-room for tea. All the women in full dress and diamonds for dinner.

Our Harcourt dinner was pleasant. Sir William is charming--such an easy talker, with no pose of any kind. It is decided that Lady Harcourt presents me to the Queen. Lady Granville is away, and it falls upon her as wife of the Home Secretary. Sir William had been to Windsor, and had told the Queen of the curious coincidence--the French Amba.s.sadress, an American, presented by the wife of the British Home Secretary, also an American,[8] and an amie d'enfance of Mrs. Waddington. I had some little difficulty in finding out what I was to wear (as there is little etiquette at the English Court upon these occasions), but they finally told me ordinary visiting dress, so I shall wear my blue velvet. We go down to lunch and see the Queen afterward.

[8] Lady Harcourt is a daughter of the late John Lothrop Motley, the historian.

December 7, 1883.

I have had my audience to-day, and will write to you at once while I still remember it all. First I must tell you about Francis. He heard someone asking me the other day if I had been yet to see the Queen. I saw his face change a little, so when we were alone, he said, tremulously, "Tu vas voir la Reine?" "Oui, mon fils." "Est-elle toujours si mechante?" "Mais la Reine n'est pas mechante, mon enfant." "Elle ne vas pas te faire couper la tete?" Evidently his mind had been running on the Tower of London, where we went the other day, and where the block on which Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey had their heads cut off was of course shown. When he heard I was going to see the Queen, his heart failed him, and I had some difficulty in comforting him, and explaining that sovereigns in these days didn't have recourse to such extreme measures (at least in civilised countries. I suppose the Shah of Persia wouldn't hesitate to dispose of a head that was in his way).

Lady Harcourt and I started for Paddington at 1 o'clock, and got to Windsor a little before two. We found a landau with two servants in plain black liveries waiting for us, and we drove at once to the Castle.

It was a beautiful bright day, but snow had fallen heavily in the country, so that the old gray walls and round towers stood out splendidly as we drove up. We drove through several courts and finally drew up at an entrance where there were five servants in the royal red liveries with c.r.a.pe on their sleeves (all the Queen's household are always in mourning), a big Highlander in full dress, and a butler in black who ushered us into a large drawing-room with an enormous bow-window looking on the Park. Instantly there appeared Lady Erroll, lady in waiting, and four maids of honour. Lady Erroll shook hands and introduced the maids of honour, who made us low curtseys. Then came Lord Methuen--Lord in waiting--and we went at once in to luncheon. Everything was served on silver plate; there were four footmen and a butler, but the repast was of the simplest description--an ordinary English luncheon--roast mutton, fowl, pudding, apple-tart, etc. After luncheon we talked a little, and then Sir Henry Ponsonby appeared to give Lady Harcourt her last instructions. It was the first time she had presented an Amba.s.sadress in a private audience. Precisely at three a servant in black appeared and said, "Will you come to see the Queen?" Lady Harcourt, Ponsonby, and I proceeded down a handsome long corridor filled with pictures, vitrines, of china princ.i.p.ally, and old furniture, to a room at one end where a footman was standing. Sir Henry opened the door, Lady Harcourt made a low curtsey at the threshold, saying, "I have the honour to present the French Amba.s.sadress," and then immediately backed herself out, and I found myself in the room. I made a first low curtsey, but before I had time to make another the Queen, who was standing in the middle of the room with Princess Beatrice, advanced a step, shook hands, and said, with a very pretty smile and manner, "I am very glad to see you." She asked me to sit down, and talked a great deal, was most gracious, asked me if I was getting accustomed to the climate and the stairs, whether I had seen all my "colleagues," and how many children I had. When I said one little boy whom I had left in London, she asked me what he was doing; I thought I would tell her about his fears for his mother's head, so I replied he was trembling at home until his mother should return. She looked a little surprised, but was really amused, and laughed when I told her his preoccupations; said, "Poor little boy, how glad he will be to see his mother back with her head on her shoulders."

Princess Beatrice took no part in the conversation. She looked smiling and very intelligent. The Queen was very simply dressed in black, with her white widow's cap and veil, no ornaments, but a gold chain and pearls around her neck, and a medallion with a portrait of a man in uniform, whom I supposed to be Prince Albert. I think the interview lasted about fifteen minutes. Then the Queen arose, shook hands, and said she hoped my husband and I would like the life in England. Princess Beatrice shook hands--I backed myself out, and it was over. I was very much impressed with the Queen's personality. She is short, stout, and her face rather red, but there is a great air of dignity and self-possession, and a beautiful smile which lights up her whole face.

I never could find out any minor details in dress, as to taking off veil, gloves, etc., but I did as I had done with other Royalties and took off veil and gloves, which I hope was right.

Lady Harcourt and Ponsonby were waiting for me in the corridor, and seemed to think my audience had been longer than usual--were also surprised that the Queen made me sit down. It seems she sometimes receives standing all the time, at a first formal presentation.