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 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.