To H. L. K.
Hôtel Demoult, Petersburg,
Wednesday, June 20th, 1883.
Richard and I went visiting yesterday. We found the Thorntons, who gave us tea. Their Embassy is charming—a big house on the Quai Anglais. The drawing-rooms are large and high. All the windows look out on the Neva, and they say it is quite beautiful at night. Then we went back to the hotel, got W., who had had a fine morning with his medals—says the collection is magnificent, much larger than he had any idea of, and started off to the Quais to see our boat. We leave to-morrow evening between 6 and 7. It looked very nice and clean, and the Captain was quite overwhelmed with the distinguished passengers he was to have the honour of transporting. We have an enormous cabin (two thrown into one) big enough for a family. I interviewed the stewardess, a nice fresh-looking Norwegian woman. Conversation was rather difficult, as I spoke German and she Norwegian, and neither of us understood the other, but I am sure we shall get on very well. They tell us the voyage is enchanting, all in and out of small fiords, islands, and narrow rivers. We stop five or six hours each day to see the country, and never have any sea until we cross to Stockholm, when it is generally rough.
We dined quietly at the hotel with Coutouly, our Consul, a very nice man, very intelligent. He too had interviewed the Captain, and told him to take every care of us. He says the trip is enchanting, and the two Finnish towns, Helsingfors and Abo, very well worth seeing. About 10 o'clock we drove off to the "Pointe" and had a pleasant hour with some of the colleagues. It is always cool there, and the drive out is interesting, so unlike anything else.
Richard went off early this morning with Sermet and Moulin of the French Embassy to see the Falls of Smatra, which are said to be very fine. We pick him up at Helsingfors.
I walked about a little with Adelaïde—I never see anything the least like a femme du monde in the streets. I suppose the "société" are away for the summer, and the streets look rather as September streets do in Paris.
W. and I dined at the Thorntons'—handsome and pleasant. Jaurès was there, not his wife, she has already started for Paris, and the Ternaux Compans, a nice young ménage (just married) attached to the Embassy. She was very well dressed, in white. There was also the Danish Minister (I forget his name). He is a friend of the Empress and très bien vu à la cour. After dinner someone played on the piano, and he and Mary Thornton danced a little, showing us some of the figures of the mazurka. Lady Thornton says, like everyone else, that the society of Petersburg is very fermé. They know everybody, but I fancy very few of the diplomatists make real friends with anyone. I was rather surprised, as the Russians one meets abroad are generally very easy and sociable. She also finds the climate very trying. She showed me all the rooms, which are charming. In all the bedrooms very thick curtains, as the light is most trying, and of course people who live there must have regular hours for sleep—for us birds of passage it is of no consequence, and going to bed seems the last thing one would think of doing in Petersburg.
We came home about 11, and now W. is busy over his Paris letters, also putting his notes in order, as he has finished with the medals. He has had three or four days of real hard work, but says it rested him after all the Court festivities.
Jeudi, 21 Juin.
We have been shopping all the morning,—W. and I and M. Lomatch (I have found his name). We bought, among other things, a sled for Francis—I haven't seen one since I left America—and a good deal of Russian lace, which they say is very solid, and embroidery. We came back to a late breakfast, and I am writing now at the last moment while they are carrying down the trunks. We are going at 4 to the steamer to leave our boxes and Adelaïde, and install ourselves, and then go for tea to Coutouly, who has an apartment on the Quai, just opposite the wharf where the steamer starts from. I am quite sorry to go. We are very comfortable here, and the streets are so amusing. I should like once to hear a little laughing and singing, as the various groups of work-people, soldiers, and peasants pass—but they are a curiously sad, subdued race.