When, in winter, the family returned to reside in the Legation, Ravensrock was left unguarded (until quite recently, when it became necessary to leave a man in charge); and for many years, for the convenience of visitors a French window was left on the latch to ensure easy entry, and not a single article, valuable or otherwise, was ever missed.
A review of Hans Christian Andersen’s book, In Spain, published in the Spectator of February 26, 1864, says:—
Among the prettiest sketches of the book is the description of the author’s trip from Gibraltar to the African coast, whither he went by invitation from Sir John Drummond Hay.
The family of Sir John, consisting of his wife (a daughter of the late Danish Consul-General in Morocco, Monsieur Carstensen) and two daughters, were living in an Oriental villa close to the sea, which existence seemed to the poet like one of the wonders of the Thousand and One Nights’ tales. The English comfort and luxury within the house; the tropical vegetation in the garden and terraces; the howling of the jackals, with an occasional real lion within a stone’s throw of all this European art and elegance, strongly impressed the traveller from the North. ‘I lived as in a dream,’ he exclaims, ‘through golden days and nights never to be forgotten, adding a new and rich leaf to the wonderful legend of my life!’
The poet, after his departure, wrote from Seville a letter to Lady Hay of which the translation follows. It is very characteristic of the gentle unaffected being who brought pleasure to so many homes and accepted his small share of the good things of life with such modesty and gratitude.
How shall I express all my thanks for the great hospitality and kindness you and your husband showed to me and Collin? The eight days in your home is still for us the flower of our whole journey. We were so happy! We felt that we were welcome, and all around us was so new, so strange. Yes, I am conscious that if I live to return to Denmark, I shall take with me a fresh and many-coloured poetical blossom which I shall owe to you.
The steamer brought us to Cadiz in the early morning. Still, in the night I had a slight alarm, for in the Straits we grounded on a sand-bank, but we soon were clear and the weather was favourable.
Cadiz was for me a most uninteresting town. It is clean, as if in its Sunday best, but has no characteristic features. Seville, on the contrary, is full of life, like Rossini’s music. And what treasures are to be seen here—the Alcasar, the cathedral with its glorious Murillos! But it is cold here like a chilly October day at home. I am dressed in quite winter clothing, and in the streets the men wear their cloaks thrown round them so as to cover their mouths.
I dread the journey to Madrid. To travel twenty-one hours at this time of the year will not be pleasant. Very happy should I be if I could hear at the Danish Minister’s at Madrid how everything is passing in my African home. Yes! you and your husband must allow me to call your happy dwelling by that name. Give my thanks and greeting to your husband and bairns; also to Mr. Green. I regret that I did not manage to take leave of him when I left.
I hope we may meet again next summer in Denmark.