Mary Waddington - Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900

W. has been riding these last two days with Sancy, the military attaché, and that always does him good. I couldn't find any sort of silk blouse, so I trust it won't be very warm travelling to-night. When we cross the frontier I shall feel as if our journey had begun. Here we have lived so with the Embassy that I hardly feel as if I was abroad, only the cadre is different, and the Prussian uniforms a disagreeable reminder. I don't think it is an easy post to be Ambassador here, and I should think M. de Courcel's succession would be a very difficult one. He knows German well, and has always lived with diplomatists, but if they send a political man, I think he will have a hard time; though as Bismarck said to W. when they were talking about any possible war in Europe—"Je désire la paix, je suis un homme satisfait," which wasn't very pleasant for the French Ambassador to hear, as I suppose what has largely contributed to his satisfaction is the possession of Alsace-Lorraine.

We have had our dinner, and W. smoked on the balcony, and we saw all the gentleman-servants, omnibuses and baggage start. We shall only go just in time to have 5 minutes talk on the platform with M. de Courcel, who is coming to say good-by. The gérant of the hotel has just been up to hope we were satisfied—would we telegraph when we came back, as of course he would give us the same rooms, and presented me with a large bouquet.

Did I say that the Malagache Embassy was at the hotel, on the same floor with us. Every time I go down the corridor I see two or three tall, dark men, dressed in white flowing garments and white turbans, who make me low salaams. They are not going to the "Kronung," as they call it here.

My next letter will be from Warsaw, where we should arrive at 4 to-morrow afternoon.

Here we are, Dear, having arrived from Berlin at 3.30 this afternoon. We started at 11—it was very hot even at that hour of the night, and the coupé-lit stuffy and uncomfortable. M. de Courcel and all his staff were at the station to see us off, and the two Embassies united made quite a gathering. I had a little talk with Princess Guillaume Radziwill, who is starting for the Coronation. It seems she has splendid jewels, and was rather bothered to know how to carry them. She has got them all on, in little leather bags around her waist, and she thinks she won't be very comfortable all night, with pins, brooches, etc., running into her. She was horrified when I told her where mine were.

The night was long, we were not very comfortable, and the gentlemen were decidedly squeezed in one little carriage. We stopped somewhere, I don't remember the name, about 6. The men all got out and had coffee. I didn't move, but they sent me in a cup. We got to Alexandrownow, the Russian frontier, about 8. The station had a decidedly festive appearance—flags, greens, soldiers, music, etc. They were evidently preparing a salute and a national anthem of some kind. We all thought it was for us, and were proceeding to emerge to the strains of the "Marseillaise," when we heard the "Wacht-am-Rhein." It seems there was a Hessian Prince, nephew of the Emperor, on board, who was also going to the Coronation, so we rentréed our heads, and remained quietly in our carriages until they had disposed of him.

Then came our turn. We were received with all ceremony—a tall Russian officer took charge of me, saying, in very good French, he was sure I would like to brush off the dust, and have some tea, etc. He took me upstairs to a very nice room, where a little maid was waiting with hot water, towels, brushes, tea, and little rolls. I took off my dress to have it brushed, and while I was standing in my petticoats several gentlemen came to the door (which wouldn't shut), and made various perfectly unintelligible remarks to me. The little maid laughed and made signs, and carried off my dress, which I thought was dangerous—however I couldn't say anything, so I put myself behind the door, and Adelaide arranged my hair; and I was just thinking of having a cup of tea when the maid reappeared with my dress, accompanied by another officer, who told me in French, from the other side of the door, that his Royal Highness of Hesse hoped I would do him the honour of breakfasting with him. I said I would come with pleasure, but begged they wouldn't wait, as I was not quite ready. As soon as I was dressed I sallied out, found my officer waiting, who conducted me to a private room, where were the Prince and his party, including W. and a Russian general, who had been sent from Varsovie to meet the Hessian Prince.

They were all at table—the Prince put me next to him, introduced the Russian general and all his suite, and we had rather a pleasant hour. We had excellent tea in glasses (the first time I ever saw it), delicious little rolls, eggs, and cold meat. The Prince is a tall, broad-shouldered, good-natured German, speaking French quite well.

We had the same ceremony at starting, first the "Wacht-am-Rhein" for the Germans, then the "Marseillaise" for us. The journey was not particularly interesting from the frontier here, but Varsovie itself most curious. We found the same bustle and preparation at the station here—the Governor of Varsovie, and Préfet de Police en tenue, and our Consul, M. Bérard.

We drove at once to the hotel, looked at our rooms, which are comfortable, and started again for a little drive through the town before dinner. Anything so unlike the cities one has been accustomed to see can't be imagined, long, straggling streets, enormous spaces, many houses tumbling down, and abominable pavement, deep holes, and paving stones as big as ordinary rocks—why the carriage ever got along was a mystery to us all. The Russian coachman, a perfect type with his long caftan and flat cap. Why the horses remain attached to the carriage is a problem, as they apparently have no harness of any description. I used to think we didn't use much in America. Will you ever forget Coligny's face at Oyster Bay when we started trotting down hill without any breeching?

There were quantities of dirty Polish Jews in every direction, all with their long caftans, greasy, black curls, and ear-rings. I had time to rest a little before dinner. We all dined together, also Bérard the Consul, all the men in their dress clothes, and I in my grey moiré with white lace, and a big, black velvet bow, one string of pearls which I had on under my corsage. Pontécoulant, who is the next man to W., took me in, and I had General Pittié on the other side. The dinner was handsome and well served. Pontécoulant had attended to that while we were driving about.

After dinner the men all went off to the theatre in the Governor's box to see a famous ballet. I was rather tired, and as we start again to-morrow, and have two nights in the train, I sha'n't mind going to bed early. I was interrupted, as we have had a visit, pleasant enough, from Mavrocordato (Greek), who is also on his way to Moscow to represent his country, and now I am going to bed. We leave to-morrow at 4, and I will try and write a little en route. They say I can probably, as the Russian roads (railroads) are smooth, and they go very slowly.

I will go on a little and send this letter also from here. We had an expedition this morning to one of the châteaux belonging to some member of the Sobieski family, or rather belonging to a Potocki quelconque, where there are many souvenirs of Sobieski. I never was on such a villainous pavement (they tell me Moscow is worse), and the road long and straight through flat country, not very interesting. The château was full of pictures and bibelots of all kinds, and every possible souvenir of Sobieski, flags, swords, snuff-boxes, etc., and quite worth seeing. I enjoyed the outing, as everything was absolutely unique, carriages, costumes, carts, people, language, houses, a poor tumble-down little hovel next to a great palace with gates and courts and gardens.