MOSCOW
We arrived at Moscow in the beginning of May, and settled down for the
summer months in a wing of the Petrovski Palace, situated in a beautiful
park two miles out, to wait for our apartments to be got ready in town.
This palace is a majestic building flanked with four red-brick turrets,
looking like a mediæval castle.
The summer passed quickly. It was autumn now, and yellow leaves were
falling thickly on the paths outside. The last week of September we took
up our winter quarters in town. It was great pleasure to settle in our
new home. We have bought a pair of carriage-horses, beautiful steppers,
and a pair of lovely ponies to drive myself, sweet little pets they are.
We are leading a very happy life. Sergy keeps from me all knowledge of
the world’s misery and wrongs. I have really drawn the great prize in
life’s lottery, and am one of fortune’s favourites. There never was a
tenderer husband in the world. His one idea is to keep every cloud out of
my life. He smooths my path and clears away all the thorns and briars.
He is my protector, my guardian and my guide. If there were more men
like Sergy there would be fewer miserable women. Sergy surrounded me
with comforts and gave me everything my heart could desire, guessing my
wishes before I knew them myself. There was nothing under the sun which
he wouldn’t do for me; I had only to reach my hand out for anything I
wanted. I was really born with the traditional silver spoon in my mouth,
and I think myself the most fortunate of human beings to have such a
husband.
For social distraction I have now but little taste, and delight in
staying at home with Sergy. My time is well filled up and my hours are
regulated as clock-work. My daily life begins early in the morning. I
usually rise at seven o’clock and am never for a moment idle, working,
reading, playing the piano and trying to keep the house in order. I am
rather new to housekeeping, it is true, but am determined to begin it in
a thorough fashion. It is not a small affair to make myself respected by
our servants. The management of that unmanageable creature, the cook, is
especially difficult; I have had many struggles with him, and often see
a sneer on his lips, but nevertheless I have never allowed him to fleece
us too much. Sometimes I had a terrible turn for cleaning, and visitors
often caught me perched upon a chair with my sleeves rolled well above my
elbows, and my dress shielded by an apron, with a sponge in my hand, busy
washing the plants in our drawing-room.
We had to mix a little in society, and Sergy took me out occasionally
to pay formal calls, a task I particularly disliked. There seemed to
be no end of card-leaving and card-receiving. It is such a bore going
out visiting or holding a drawing-room—and this was my only crumpled
rose-leaf. I had got thoroughly tired of the vapid folly and hypocrisy
of social life, which is a daily lie, and mentally consigned all
dinner-parties and deadly “At-Homes” to perdition. Nothing is more
horrible than these “At-Home” days; it is such a nuisance to have to be
nice to people whom in the bottom of your heart you despise, and who
devote their ample leisure to passing criticisms of no tender character
on their friends behind their backs. All these _Grandes Dames_ of the
so-called Best World are more like mechanical dolls moving on wires, than
living, feeling women. Their lives are framed uniformly on a fixed set of
rules, and their gossip is perfectly intolerable to me. They talk either
platitudes about chiffons, or make remarks about the weather; they murmur
mechanically hospitable phrases, and then tear their guests to pieces and
mock the weak points of the very people whose hands they had just pressed.
I have the courage to order my life independently of the conventions
which govern the existence of most women of my position, and I want
to keep myself apart from the Great World. I am no longer fond of the
pleasures and the admiration of society, finding no interest whatever
in balls, which are insipid without a little bit of flirtation, for I
can’t enjoy the actual exercise of dancing quite irrespective of whom I
dance with; and now that I am married, I certainly will not admit any
more courting. People wonder how I manage to kill my time, hiding myself
from the world in a monastic seclusion. I am being talked about. “Mrs.
This” and “Mrs. That” disapprove of my manner of life which gives rise to
comment, but I am hopeless, and they have quite given up trying to reform
me. They boycott me now when they meet me and cut me dead, giving me only
the tips of their fingers. I pay them back in the same coin, even more,
by giving them the ends of my nails. I do not care at all about what
people say or think. Why should others busy themselves with my affairs?
I am perfectly well able to act for myself and intend to do so now, and
to always brave public opinion. It is difficult to imagine my ranging
myself among the slaves, and certainly I am not going to permit my life
to be interfered with. If my husband is satisfied with me, it’s all right
then; only we two—the rest of the world does not count.
Sergy is occupied all day with his business, but in the evenings I have
him to myself. He is the only man for me, the rest of the people are
mere furniture. We understand each other perfectly; Sergy never plays
the domestic tyrant over me, and is ready to do anything to please me,
yielding in many respects for the sake of peace, but he knows how to
manage me, nevertheless, and is a rock of resolution when serious things
are concerned, and keeps his ultimatum for the great occasions. He has
completely changed me from what I had been, and made me what I was to be.
However, as I have a very inflammable temper, I often make shipwrecks
in a tea-cup tempest, during which Sergy always acts like a tonic on my
temperament.
Prince Dolgorouki, the Governor General of Moscow, gave great receptions
on Sundays after mass held in his private chapel, where the fashionable
world met to stare at each other and criticise each other. After service,
the Prince invited everybody to take tea and chocolate in his apartments
adjoining the chapel. During the reception I noticed that the over-ripe
damsels, fearing to be classed as old maids, kept apart from the married
matrons. It was very comical to see them planted stiffly on the edge of a
sofa in their virginal nook, trying to look young and waiting for future
husbands who did not come.
A new and desperate plot was hatched to assassinate the whole Imperial
Family. The winter palace has nearly been blown up by dynamite which was
to explode at a quarter past seven, during dinner, but luckily the Court
was awaiting that day the arrival of a foreign prince, whose train was
half-an-hour late, and this delay saved the Tzar and his family.
Sergy began to be anxious for my health; finding that I was looking
rather pale, he wisely decided that I must have more exercise and made
me go out for a walk every day. Hating to do things by halves, and
wanting to prove to Sergy that I was a first-rate walker, the idea came
to me one day, whilst taking my afternoon walk, to pay a visit to my
aunt Galitzine, who lived about three miles away. I returned home dead
tired and awoke next morning with a bad cold. I had to lie in bed with
bronchitis for at least a week to be restored to health. For company’s
sake I always took Tiger, my big Danish dog, with me in my walks, whereat
he rejoiced exceedingly, wagging his tail with violence. I had no need to
elbow the passers-by with such a companion, every one cleared the way for
us. There was much fuss with Tiger, he had to be led by a chain at which
he tore with all his might, nearly choking himself with his collar in his
desperate struggle to get free; I had to do my best to keep his spirits
within decent bounds. Sometimes he would stretch himself full length on
the pavement, and it was hard work to make him get up without threatening
him with his whip, at which he would stumble close against my skirt,
doing the penitent, with the peculiar aspect of conscious wrong.
One day Tiger was more than ever demonstrative and nearly upset me with
his rough gambols, jumping to my face in fierce joy and putting a cool
nose against my cheek. Just at that moment we met an old woman carrying
a full pitcher of milk, much to my quadruped’s pleasure, and Tiger, his
big mouth wide open and his pink tongue hungerly out, bounded towards
her with loud barks of delight. The poor woman, frightened to death
by Tiger’s formidable aspect, gave a violent start and dropped her
jug, spilling her milk all over the pavement; Tiger licked it up with
grunts of satisfaction. After having quenched his thirst, my agreeably
animated dog bounced around the terrified granny, frolicking round her
with an uncouth dance and yapping at her in ecstasy; he put his huge
paws over her breast and insisted upon licking her face, wagging his
tail conciliatingly. When visitors entered our saloon and we were not
there, Tiger usually stretched himself full length across the threshold
so that our visitors could not leave the room without striding over him;
Tiger did not deign to budge and allow them to pass, but set up a most
ominous growl like distant thunder, and when he was approached, he just
opened his eyes and continued to growl until we came in and liberated the
affrightened prisoners.
In the spring the unveiling of the newly built monument of Poushkine,
our great poet, took place; it was an event of considerable importance.
A requiem in honour of the dead poet was sung on the square before
the monument, covered all over with a white wrapper. It was a curious
sight; a great crowd was assembled there. Amongst many deputations a
group of young maidens arrayed in Russian national costumes, holding
garlands of roses, especially attracted my attention. After the service
ended, the military band struck up and the statue was unveiled amongst
enthusiastic cheers. The mayor of the town invited me that same day to a
grand banquet given in honour of the son of Poushkine, who had just been
promoted to the grade of general, telling me that as an authoress I had
to take part at the festival, but I refused, giving a plausible reason.
Next day I went to a meeting of a literary committee treating on the
works of Poushkine, held in the hall of the Assembly. On the big estrade
well-known writers, and professors of the different universities gave
speeches. When Tourgeneff, our famous old writer appeared, great cheers
rose from the audience.
In May we moved to Petrovski Palace, and on the last days of June
Sergy went to review the troops at Yaroslaw. During his absence, I was
invited by my aunt, Princess Leon Galitzine, to spend a week with her
at Doubrovo, her splendid estate situated in the government of Kalouga.
I welcomed the opportunity that was offered to me and accepted my
aunt’s invitation with pleasure. Another aunt of mine, Princess Safira
Galitzine, was also going to Doubrovo and proposed to chaperon me. On our
way there, great was my surprise to meet at one of the railway stations,
Stenger, one of my old admirers of whom I had not heard for years. We
both gave a violent start, and I uttered an exclamation of surprise:
“Where on earth did you fall from?” I asked.
My appearance nearly deprived Stenger of speech, then he took my hand
and devoured it with kisses, much to the indignation of my aunt who was
of the opinion that a married woman shares the dignity of her husband
and, like Cæsar’s wife, should be above suspicion of even the slightest
flirtation. Whilst we paced up and down the platform, a pretty flood of
eloquence rose to Stenger’s lips, and I was aware that the constancy of
his heart was as great as ever, and that he was still my devoted servant.
He said with a quiver in his voice, looking me full in the face and
nervously tormenting his very slight moustache, that after my marriage
he had been moved to the desperate resolution to marry also; but it did
not help him to forget me, and that all these years he did his best to
tear the thought of me out of his heart and could not. But I didn’t love
him, all the difference was there. I only shrugged indifferent shoulders
and responded to his passionate eloquence with six degrees of frost.
“Fiddle-de-dee! old times are better left alone,” I replied, looking
upon his dismayed countenance with a cheerfulness which rather hurt his
feelings.
“Why do you treat me like this?” asked poor Stenger, looking very
miserable and crestfallen. Really I am afraid I’ve been rather rude, to
hurt anybody was quite contrary to my nature; I called myself a monster
of ingratitude and tried to be more friendly towards him. I ought to be
grateful indeed for he was a faithful being! Wishing, nevertheless, to
get away from my impetuous lover, I hastened into my car. In bidding
good-bye, Stenger captured my hands and squeezed them so horribly that
he left the print of my rings on my fingers. He stood in a drooping
attitude under my window, staring at me with eyes objectionably mournful
and looking the very picture of despair. The train moved on and Stenger’s
pale face was lost to sight; life had separated us for the second time!
He was completely brushed away from my memory, and the whole episode fell
away from my mind like breath from a mirror.
The journey to Doubrovo proved to be a tedious business. We had to leave
the railway behind; a coach drive of some fifty miles awaited us. We
drove along a flat and somewhat desolate country road. The sun grew hot
and so did I. Clouds of dust pursued us, and swarms of big flies attacked
us; we chased them away with branches cut from the trees. A drive of four
hours under such conditions is a prostrating experience!
I spent a splendid time in Doubrovo with my cousin, Nelly Galitzine, and
was sorry to leave her.
When I got back home, Sergy suggested a trip on the Volga, which I
accepted with enthusiasm. We went by train to Nijni-Novgorod, where we
had to take the steamer. We arrived at Nijni at about seven o’clock in
the morning. I hid myself in my coupé from the military authorities who
had come to greet my husband on the platform, but was dragged from my
retreat by an officer, who insisted upon my following him into the state
apartments of the station opened for us. I was half inclined to crawl
under the seat, but there was no escape possible, and, conquering my
impulse to flee, with tangled hair and unwashed face, horribly ashamed of
myself, I had to walk with such dignity as my disordered condition would
permit between two rows of brilliant sons of Mars. General Korevo, the
chief of the division stationed at Nijni and its outskirts, offered me
his arm and led me to his carriage to drive to the pier.
We took passage on a small steamer belonging to the company of “Caucasus
and Mercury,” and steamed down the Volga from Nijni to Kazan. In the
beginning of our voyage, where the Oka flows into the Volga, the river
is in many places half a mile broad. We glided between sandy and sterile
banks. Towards evening we arrived at Simbrisk, where we were to pass
the night. A rickety old cab drove us to the hotel creeping up the
ill-paved hill of an old and dirty street. A shabby waiter showed us into
a small room with one bed and a greasy sofa. There was a tournament of
self-denial between Sergy and me about the bed, and as neither would give
in we decided that we should toss a coin: heads, the bed—tails, the sofa.
It came tails, and the sofa fell to my lot! It was not at all a bed of
roses, and when I lay down I soon discovered that the repulsive sofa was
the property of certain highly disreputable and painfully disagreeable
insects. I tossed on my couch of torture until morning.
At eight o’clock we took the “Colorado,” an immense three-storied vessel,
replete with every luxury and convenience. The first-class cabins
opened on a spacious dining-room. There were many passengers on board, a
doleful trio amongst them, a young sad-faced woman in the last degree of
consumption travelling with her husband and baby. The poor invalid looked
wretchedly ill and extremely nervous, her eyes were constantly filling
with tears. Her husband was full of little cares and attentions about
her. Another passenger, a lady of unpleasing appearance, more than fifty,
but dressed like a young girl, with an artificial complexion and dyed
hair, strummed all day long on the piano, which was much out of tune. She
fell upon the defenceless instrument, dashing out marches and abominable
polkas, making two false notes in every five. At last it was decided that
an appeal _ad misericordiam_ would be made to the noisy virtuose, and it
was the captain who saved the whole company from the much dreaded musical
entertainment and undertook to keep that peace-disturber away from the
tempting instrument. He made her understand that her performance was not
approved of by his passengers and that she had better give the piano a
little rest.
After sight seeing in the town of Kazan, we were back at Nijni the next
day. In the morning Sergy went out to the camp, after which we had dinner
on board with champagne and speeches, and were back at Moscow on the
following day.
In September my husband was appointed military representative at the
celebration of the twelve hundredth anniversary of the famous battle
on the “Koulikovo Field.” We had to be separated for more than a week.
I profited by the occasion to visit my parents at Dolgik, my dear old
home. It had been arranged between us that as soon as the festivals at
Koulikovo were over, Sergy would come and join me at Dolgik. We travelled
together as far as Toula, where we separated to go each our different
ways. I found myself for the first time in my life travelling alone, but
managed, however, to get to Dolgik without any adventure. I established
myself in the train with pleasant books and papers to amuse me on the
way, and never emerged from my compartment till the last station, which
stands a few miles only from Dolgik, where I was met on the platform by
my brother, who had come to fetch me in his carriage.
I spent such a happy week in my old country home! What a lot of sweet
reminiscences! I was in my dear little room again, in which I recalled
the old days. I saw myself as a child, a half grown-up girl and a happy
bride. The old village people hadn’t forgotten me and seemed glad to see
me; as to my parents, one can easily imagine how happy they were to have
me with them again.
Fedia, the youngest of my nephews, is such a darling, with a smile
which says, “Please love me!” One morning as he was just emerging from a
battle-royal with his nurse whilst she was coaxing him into his clothes,
she began to threaten him that if he continued to be naughty he would be
devoured by all the animals mentioned in his favourite story-book, by
the lions, tigers and wolves. Fedia, totally unabashed, his mischievous
little face peeping from under the coverlet, burst out suddenly: “And the
hippopotamus, you forget him!”
Sergy came to meet me as it had been arranged and brought me back to
Moscow.
The director of the “Foundling Hospital” invited us to visit this
interesting establishment, one of the largest in the world, founded
by the Empress Catherine II. That huge asylum takes charge yearly of
fourteen thousand babes. Many rows of cradles fill up the vast halls.
About fifty little ones are brought here every day. The wet-nurses,
chosen with the greatest care, carry them away to their villages
afterwards, and continue to take care of them until they are grown up.
These women receive three roubles per month for each child, who, on
attaining the age of twenty, remains as workman in the family that has
given him shelter. We saw a respectable matron who had been serving in
the “Foundling Hospital” for forty years, and whose sole duty is to give
the newly-arrived babes their first bath. The poor little things will
never see their mothers again, for as soon as they are washed they are
carried away to be mixed with thousands of other babies.
A terrible crime has just been committed at St. Petersburg. On the
first of March our beloved Emperor, Alexander II., was murdered by the
anarchists. This noblest of men has been killed by a bomb in the streets
whilst returning from a visit to the Duchess of Oldenbourg. That day
we went to a concert given by Marcella Sembrich, the celebrated opera
singer. In the middle of the performance an officer came up to say that
the Governor-General of Moscow, Prince Dolgorouki, wished to see my
husband at once. Something serious must have happened, otherwise the
Prince would not have disturbed Sergy who promised to be back soon.
But I returned home immediately and would not go to bed before Sergy’s
return. I became very anxious at his prolonged absence and couldn’t
imagine what was keeping him so long. Eleven o’clock arrived and he had
not yet returned. I could not help being very much alarmed, and as the
minutes passed, I listened more and more anxiously for the sound of hoofs
on the pavement, but still there was no sign of my husband. It was long
past midnight when he came home in a great state of excitement, bringing
the awful news of the murder of our Tzar. A bomb had been flung at his
carriage, the back of which was torn away. His Majesty, luckily, was
not hurt, but two Cossacks of his escort, and a boy who was passing in
the street at that moment, were severely injured. The Tzar insisted upon
seeing the wounded and approached the victims, when a second bomb was
flung at him which tore off one of his legs and shattered the other.
General Grösser, the Prefect of the Police, who always accompanied
the Emperor wherever he went, had him lifted up into his sledge and
transported His Majesty in that desperate state to the Winter Palace,
where he passed away some minutes after.
The tragic death of Alexander II. filled the world with horror. The
inhabitants of Moscow were thrilled by the news of that terrible event;
the streets are black with people in mourning, the bells in all the
churches are tolling all day long.
The murderers of our Tzar were caught and brought to trial; they were
all sentenced to death. The sole executioner existing in Russia had been
sent for from Moscow to execute them. Sophia Perovski, the daughter of a
high Russian functionary, who had participated in the conspiracy plot,
fled to Switzerland and for some time eluded her pursuer, a political spy
who had been sent to trace her. The detective craftfully succeeded in
making her fall in love with him and follow him to the frontier, where
she was arrested and brought for trial to St. Petersburg. Not a very
handsome proceeding on his part I must say! When Sophia Perovski appeared
before the tribunal, she was told that she would be hanged if she did not
denounce all her accomplices; but she absolutely refused to divulge their
names, and exclaimed with splendid indifference, “I do not dread your
gibbet, I only dread the misfortunes which befall my beloved brethren!”
However, when the choice was given to her to be hanged or delivered over
to the mercy of her beloved brethren, she threw herself at the Attorney’s
feet, imploring him to condemn her to the crudest punishment, but only
not to give her up to the mob.
We are living through very troublesome times. Our new Emperor, Alexander
III., receives anonymous letters with threats that he too, will be
murdered and his son, the heir to the throne, stolen and taken away!
A secret notice was given to the police that the anarchists were
preparing to blow up the Winter Palace, which is looking now like a
fortress encircled with a rope; even generals are not permitted to enter
its enclosure.
It is an awful time altogether! Alarming rumours continue to circulate.
There is said to be a great deal of agitation in the country, especially
in the south, where there is a special hatred against the Jews; their
houses are ransacked and plundered. The peasants begin to rebel and
refuse to take oath to their new Tzar, stating that his father’s
murderers had been bribed by the Russian nobility, which was now avenging
itself for the emancipation of the peasants, effected by Alexander II.
Troops were obliged to be sent there to settle order amongst the rebels.
Kobzeff, one of the most important anarchists, a very stylish young man
who hadn’t at all the dynamite-look on his face, gained admittance under
a false name into the most fashionable drawing-rooms of St. Petersburg.
He went afterwards to Moscow and even forced his way into Prince
Dolgorouki’s palace on pretext that he was an engineer who had found out
a new system of gas-light for the town.
The police had been informed that a quantity of dynamite has just been
transported to one of Moscow’s railway stations. But, when they wanted
to confiscate it, the cunning anarchists disguised as policemen, took
possession in full daylight of the murderous baggage under the very nose
of the real police agents who arrived at the station a few minutes later
and found all the dynamite gone.
The irritation against the anarchists is growing from day to day; there
are often scuffles in the streets. A masculine-looking girl, with short
hair and glasses, was taken for a socialist by the wild mob, which
stamped upon her reducing her nearly to the condition of a pancake. She
had to be sent to the hospital with a bloody nose and black eyes. About
the same time a French manicurist bought a paper from a news boy, in
which the Emperor’s funeral was described. Finding that the vendor had
charged too high a price for his paper, the Frenchman asked him, in very
bad Russian, why “he took so dear for such stuff,” meaning the sheet of
paper, but unfortunately he was understood in quite a different manner,
and knocked down and beaten so severely that he died the next day.
In the middle of June the Tzar came to Moscow to review the troops on
the “Khodinka Field.” A warning had come from abroad telling the police
to take great care of bomb-throwers during that review, and especially
to mistrust the men wearing top-hats, which could hold engines of
destruction in them. Though great precautions had been taken, I felt
awfully nervous whilst the review was going on. Count Brevern opened
the parade on horseback, surrounded by my husband and a brilliant staff
of splendidly uniformed officers who took up their position behind the
Emperor. My fear of the anarchists did not hinder me from admiring the
beautiful appearance of our soldiers. The artillery and infantry in
compact rows, and the cavalry galloping very fast, produced an imposing
spectacle. The regiments were splendid, they all came up and passed:
cavalry, infantry, artillery, ambulance, doctors and all, with much
music.
After the review the Emperor invited the chief-commanders to a lunch at
Petrovski Palace. Some of the officers of the Emperor’s suite came to pay
us a visit in the afternoon, General Skobeleff, a brilliant celebrity,
amongst them. Though he was supposed to be a woman-hater, he gallantly
kissed my hand, at which an enthusiastic lady-visitor, who happened to
be present, began to examine my hand to see if a star had not incrusted
itself on it after the kiss of such a man, every inch a hero.
A week afterwards the Grand Duke Michael arrived to be present at the
grand manœuvres. I was on the Kodinka Field driving my pair of ponies
when the order was given to the cavalry to attack the Petrovski Palace.
Fearing to be trampled down by the charge of the cavalry, I jumped out of
the pony-chase, leaving the ponies to the care of the groom, and started
running home by the shortest cut, jumping over pits and ditches. The
next day I drove to the spot where the mock-battle was to take place.
The sound of the trumpets resounded from everywhere and the cannons kept
up such a continual firing that the ground actually shook under us. The
cavalry was prancing round. I soon perceived the Grand Duke and would
have turned tail and fled, but I was not permitted to make my escape. I
alighted and tried to hide myself behind my ponies, but for the first
time I was dissatisfied with the diminutive stature of these little
fellows; there was no concealment even for a rabbit. My position was
awfully critical; I have never felt such a longing to sink into the earth
and disappear from human sight. The Grand Duke, who had discovered me,
laughed a great deal—I didn’t!
We often spent our evenings at the Hermitage, a large music-hall, the
entrance of which was strictly forbidden to collegians and cadets. One of
them got in nevertheless, dressed in woman’s clothes, a fair, effeminate
youth. With his smooth girlish face he easily passed for what he
pretended to be and played his part to perfection. He was soon surrounded
by a crowd of admirers. But the poor boy got severely punished for his
trick, and had to endure three days of arrest.
By the end of September we returned to town. Our new home was ready to
welcome us: our house is said to be haunted, and the first thing we did
was to order a Te Deum to be sung in our apartments. Now I hope we won’t
come across visitants from the other world!
We have been very busy settling into our new quarters. When all was
arranged, we began to lead a gay life, and went to the best concerts and
theatricals of the season. Sarah Bernhardt, an actress of world-wide
renown, the greatest tragedian of the age, having conquered New York,
achieved her next success in Moscow, which she took by storm. I was
deeply interested to see her in _La Dame aux Camelias_, where she is at
her best. Sarah, who is already well up in years, is a delicate-looking
woman with a waist of painful slenderness. Her acting is simply
wonderful. She was a glorious incarnation of _Violetta_, in the death
scene, though I am not readily moved to the tears, I wiped from my eyes
“_Una furtiva lagrime_” as Donizetti’s song has it. The audience, which
packed the house from floor to ceiling, was enthusiastic and applauded
her much.
Sarah’s name was on everybody’s lips. The best milliners and dressmakers
of Moscow went to her performances to copy her costumes, and the
confectioners promised her portrait for every pound of bonbons. On our
“At-home days,” when I found myself searching for a suitable topic of
conversation, the name of the great artist came to my aid, and I had
every reason to be grateful to her without her being aware of it, for
having helped me to entertain my guests. In comparison with Sarah the
rest of her troop was very insignificant. The actor performing the
leading part of lover, a gentleman by birth, had fallen under the spell
of the enchantress and lost his heart to her. For her sake he became an
actor and always accompanied her on her tours, following her wherever
she went like the traditional lamb. The love-sick _Jeune Premier_ looked
extremely foolish when making love to Sarah on the stage, casting sheep’s
eyes at her. My goodness, what ridiculous creatures men are!
Anthony Rubinstein, the king of the piano, was giving his last
public concert in Moscow. The whole town came in to be present at
the leave-taking. When the great pianist appeared on the estrade, he
was met by a roar of applause; the wild enthusiasm of the house was
indescribable. Rubinstein was a real treat, and bewildered me by his
marvellous execution. This incomparable artist gave an interpretation of
Chopin which sent a thrill through me. His _touché_ and his _technique_
were wonderful and perfect, he made the instrument positively sob and
sing. I was in an ecstasy of delight and listened entranced, having never
heard anything so beautiful before. Rubinstein looks something like
Beethoven, clean-shaven, with a powerful face; his long locks, shaggy and
picturesque, waved in sympathy with his excitement. When he had ceased,
there was a moment of entire silence, that finest homage due to beautiful
playing.
During Rubinstein’s stay in Moscow he was bothered by a crowd of artists
“in embryo,” who all wanted to sing for “opera” without having the
remotest idea how to sing, coming to ask him if he would try their voices
and tell them if they had talent enough to follow the artistic career.
A friend of ours happened to come on a visit to Rubinstein just at the
moment when a fat, neckless lady of about fifty summers was making her
rehearsal. She sang like an old cat; her one idea was to be heard and
she howled all her top notes so hard as to make all the dogs bark in the
street. Dumfounded and horrified, our friend stopped his ears and took to
his heels, running away as fast as his legs could carry him.
One day we went to see a bird Exhibition at the Manège and were present
at a horrible cock-fight—a most disgusting sight! White and red cocks
were taken out of their narrow cages and settled on a small estrade
covered with sand and surrounded by a railing. The combat began, the
winged champions struck against one another, with bristled feathers which
flew about on all sides, croaking piercingly all the time. By refinement
of cruelty they had steel spurs fastened on their legs. The enraged birds
picked off each others’ skins by morsels, and long streams of blood
spread on the sand. The white cock soon became purple-coloured; his red
antagonist after having plucked out both his eyes, won the battle. I
was boiling all over with indignation, but the cruel audience exhausted
itself in frantic applause, admiring this miserable sport. The ganders’
fight was not a less sickening spectacle. The males with wings outspread,
prepared to battle, but only in the presence of their better-halves, who
ran after their “pachas” gabbling loudly.
I regretted still more to have accepted an invitation to be present at
a wolf hunting on the race ground. The poor animals were brought on the
arena in big wooden boxes. Exposed to the light of day and scared by the
crowds of noisy spectators, the unfortunate wolves had scarcely the time
to make two or three limping steps, both their hind legs being tied fast
together, when a pack of starving hounds rushed upon them and tore them
to pieces. It was a shame, a crying shame! Oh, how barbarous mankind is,
I thought.
The Terrorists are continuing their work. It’s getting positively
dreadful, everyone’s nerves are set on edge. Many rumours are circulating
in St. Petersburg. The story goes now that the late Tzar Alexander
II., proceeds slowly every night from the Winter Palace to the Kazan
Cathedral, where he appears to the people. One of the chief rioters
profited by this report, and one evening, during vespers, the Emperor’s
ghost made its usual appearance, pronouncing in a loud voice the
following words: “Warn my son that I am waiting for him.” But hardly had
the admirably disguised sham-Emperor finished his public address, when
the police laid hands upon him.
Moscow is now the rallying place of the anarchists. A band of malefactors
had just been caught setting themselves upon undermining one of the
theatres which was being built in the enclosure of the future French
Exhibition on the “Khodinka Field,” a few paces from the Imperial
pavilion which will be inaugurated in the month of May. By a lucky chance
a factory where imitation oranges stuffed with dynamite were being made,
was also discovered. The terrorists disguised as errand boys were to
throw this murderous fruit into the midst of assemblages in order to
produce a panic. I am greatly alarmed by all this!
Towards the beginning of May, in consequence of a sudden burst of hot
weather, we left the town and betook ourselves to Petrovski Palace, the
French Exhibition was just opposite the Palace. It was a grand affair;
lots of people were flocking in to see the splendid show. Punctually at
ten o’clock in the morning we heard the whistle announcing the opening of
the Exhibition. Every time I visited it I felt myself as if transported
by magic from Moscow to Paris. All the sections are very interesting and
instructive. My cousin, Prince Leon Galitzine, one of the richest wine
makers in the Crimea, had a splendid stand where he regaled everybody
gratis with his wines. I dreaded to pass close by, because my cousin
always forced me to taste the different sorts of wines, which made
my cheeks, already burning like fire because of the great heat, pass
gradually from red to crimson, and it was most unbecoming.
I had some accidental meetings with old friends at the Exhibition. One
day, in the whirl of the crowd, I found myself suddenly face to face
with Mr. O., my old love, for whom I had had a strong liking in my
girlhood days. It was an age since I had heard anything of him and he
was the last person I ever expected to see there. I had quite rubbed him
out of my mind and there he was now. I could scarcely believe my eyes.
My heart gave a little jump and I don’t mind confessing, I was rather
pleased to see him, although I thought I had long since given him up for
ever. The sight of Mr. O. gave me an odd mixture of sensation, I was
startled, I was disturbed, I was pleased. Time had made but few changes
in his appearance, he had grown a trifle stouter, that was all, and I
recognised him immediately. For the first moment agitation deprived us
both of speech. On overcoming his constraint, Mr. O. began to talk of
different things, he chaffed and laughed and told funny stories as of
yore. Presently we discovered a comfortable seat and sat down near where
the band was playing. Suddenly Mr. O. became serious and began assuring
me of his love, of his fidelity. Oh, the things he said to me! I wanted
to put a stop to his passionate outburst, and felt very angry with my
paralysed tongue. All the same I could not remain entirely unmoved, and
to my extreme disgust I felt myself turning very red, and for the sake of
doing something, I began drawing circles with my umbrella on the sand,
looking anywhere but into his face. When recovering my composure I felt
it my duty to lead the conversation into other channels and though my
colour was beyond my control, my voice was steady, and with eyes which
still declined to meet his, I told him he should leave off talking such
nonsense, doing my best to make light of the matter. But he gazed at
my downcast countenance and said, “I love you Vava!” to my very face,
as if he had the right to call me by my Christian name. When we got up
and passed through the section of toys, he asked abruptly if I had any
children, and without waiting for my reply, he disappeared and returned
soon after, holding a small india-rubber monkey by a long string. He
thrust this little horror into my hand whispering, “That’s for your
baby.” As it appeared Mr. O., who had married soon after me, had neither
any babies of his own, and thus this nasty little monkey was of no good
to either of us.
In September the Grand Duke Nicholas came to witness the grand manœuvres
and stopped at Petrovski Palace. We lived in one of the wings of the
palace, and wanting to see the Grand Duke’s arrival, I had to mount a
narrow cork-screw staircase, with shattered steps leading up one of the
turrets. The walls were mouldy and hung with cobwebs which tumbled down
upon my head. The view of Moscow and its surroundings, on reaching the
top of the turret, was a thorough compensation for my disagreeable climb.
The next day I was invited to a dancing-party given in honour of the
Grand Duke at the military summer club on the Khodinka Field. The
Grand Duke was very affable towards me and contrived to put me at my
ease at once. His Highness asked me to take tea with him. He seemed in
capital spirits and talked in the most friendly way. He told me that
he remembered me when I was quite a little thing and wore socks and
pinafore, and said that passing through the town of Kharkoff he came
to visit my parents and made me jump upon his knee. We sat round the
tea-table for a long time. In bidding good-bye the Grand Duke proposed to
me to come on the manœuvre-ground the following morning.
Getting up at break of day I hurried to our rendezvous and saw the Grand
Duke in the distance standing upon a hillock amongst a group of generals
and officers surveying the sham-fight with a field glass at his eye.
On perceiving me the Grand Duke nodded and waved his hand, and when
I approached His Highness, he inquired after the state of my health,
fearing I had taken a cold in remaining out in the club-garden so long
the night before.
A few days later a sham-alarm was raised in the camp. I was out before
five o’clock in the morning and directed my steps towards the camp half
asleep and yawning widely. There was still moonlight outside, and the
breeze that ran before daybreak was making me shiver a little. Suddenly
cannon-shots were heard and in less than two minutes the whole camp was
astir. The soldiers rushed out of their tents and arranged themselves in
battle-columns, whilst trumpet signals rent the air.
No sooner had the Grand Duke Nicholas departed than his brother the
Grand Duke Michael arrived to inspect the artillery. During his stay
the artillery officers gave a lunch at the military club. I was invited
to it, but was about to refuse, being very unwilling to go there alone,
as Sergy was not quite well. But there was no escaping from it, and
I had to accept the invitation. Countess Brevern, the wife of the
commander-in-chief, who was also going with her two daughters to that
lunch, offered to take me under her wing. When I was being presented
to the Grand Duke he did not recognise me at first, and taking me for
one of the young countesses he asked their mother which number I was.
“Your Highness does not recognise me!” I exclaimed indignantly. When the
countess named me, the Grand Duke pressed my hand warmly and said that I
looked so absurdly young, that there was nothing surprising at all that
he did not recognise in me such a respectable person as the wife of the
chief of the staff.
Lunch passed off gaily, and I was glad after all that I went to it. The
Grand Duke was charming to me and not at all ceremonious; I soon felt
quite at my ease with him, and entirely free from shyness. Altogether I
enjoyed myself thoroughly, although I had been dragged there by force
and considered myself a victim, feeling like a lamb about to be led to
slaughter, and compared that lunch to a disagreeable pill which had to be
swallowed.
In November Sergy had to go to St. Petersburg and took me with him.
Whilst there, I had the chance to be present at a banquet given in the
Hall of the Assembly on the day of the jubilee of the Academy of the
General Staff. With difficulty I got a place in the gallery, from where
I could see very well. As I was ascending the stairs, someone called me
by my name, I looked round and saw the Grand Duke Michael hastening up to
me. Putting out a welcoming hand His Highness exclaimed,
“You can’t say now that I did not recognise you and it will atone for my
former mistake, I hope!” to which I answered that the Grand Duke would
only be completely forgiven when I receive his photograph from him. The
very next day he sent me his portrait with his autograph.
Spring came with galloping speed. The date of the Coronation was fixed
for the 15th May. I went to see the Court Regalias exposed to view in
the Kremlin Palace. The crown and the sceptre, studded with precious
stones as big as nuts, amazed me by their incredible richness. On the
walls hung Gobelin tapestries and pictures taken from the Bible. Just
opposite the Metropolitan’s seat I saw a painting illustrating the story
of Potipher’s wife dragging Joseph by his legendary mantle. These heroes
of the Ancient Testament being very lightly clad, the police censor
had found it necessary to dress them in a more decent manner for the
Coronation, leaving at the same time, just next to that picture, a large
canvas representing a group of the “Happy Just” enjoying Paradise in a
completely nude state. I also went to see a fine assortment of State
carriages and the beautiful horses which were to drag them, pure white
Hanoverians all of them.
In Moscow wonderful preparations have been made in the way of
decorations. Our capital is in a state of extraordinary excitement.
Triumphal arches and large tribunes are built on the principal squares.
A great number of houses have their fronts decorated with carpets and
flowers.
Our old capital is crowded to its utmost. People come from all parts of
the world to see the ceremony of crowning. Every place in the trains was
booked weeks in advance. The troops of the Guard Regiments continue to
arrive from St. Petersburg. Along the streets move cavalry and guns. At
our entrance door a placard says, “Staff of all the troops quartered in
Moscow during the Coronation festivals.”
My husband’s eldest brother has arrived to be present at the Coronation.
He had to take part in the equestrian procession of the Russian nobility.
I went to see the rehearsal of it, and nearly choked with laughter at the
sight of the timorous expression painted on the faces of some of these
brave knights, who sat on their horses all of a huddle, and were wrapped
up in observation of their own movements. The nobility certainly did not
shine in the saddle. My brother-in-law’s neighbour, a stout and rosy
country gentleman, clutched at his horse’s mane and asked him anxiously
if his horse would not bite his heels, and confessed that he did not at
all feel safe, being quite out of practice now, not having been for some
twenty years on horseback.
The Emperor arrived at Moscow on the 8th May and drove straight to
Petrovski Palace. There is much to be dreaded during the Coronation
festivities, for the anarchists are not slumbering, and agents of the
secret police had to be placed on the whole way. The triumphal entry
of the Tzar into the town of Moscow took place two days afterwards. A
great crowd had assembled in the streets through which the procession
was to proceed to see the Emperor’s entry. I and my sister-in-law had
the privilege of being given good places on one of the tribunes built
on the square just opposite the Kremlin. It was at the risk of our limbs
and lives that we got there, being nearly crushed to death. We found
ourselves in a dense crowd and marched boldly through the throng, our
dresses leaving a good deal of themselves behind. We ventured within the
rope drawn to keep back the crowd, and nearly reached our places when
a new encumbrance arose, a row of soldiers refused to let us pass, but
their chief took pity on us and cut our way through his men. At last we
got inside the Kremlin with a deep sigh of relief.
We had to wait for the procession from early morning till two o’clock
in the afternoon. The day was grey, the sky looked threatening, it was
undoubtedly going to pour soon, and we risked being drenched as our
tribune was uncovered and our umbrellas had been taken away from us at
the entrance. But I was not made of sugar or salt, and preferred to have
my dress ruined and to be drenched to the bone rather than be deprived
of the beautiful sight which awaited us. To crown all, I was awfully
hungry, not having had time to breakfast before starting, and it had
been strictly forbidden to bring anything in one’s pockets for fear of
concealed explosions blowing everyone up. A lady sitting next to me had
a squabble with a policeman through an inoffensive orange which she
had taken out of her pocket. She was not allowed to eat it even in his
presence.
Outside the rope there was an indescribable squeeze. The crowd swayed
with a wavelike motion and made a rush besieging the barrier. The human
waves were kept back by several lines of soldiers and a double row of
policemen. Such a crowd was almost beyond imagination.
At two o’clock precisely the guns began to fire and the bells to ring a
full peal, announcing that the Tzar had left Petrovski Palace and was on
his way to the Kremlin. Soon the procession appeared in sight and the
crowd began to acclaim their Sovereign by loud cheers; all the heads were
bare. As I am a creature of strong emotions I, too, screamed to make
myself hoarse. The procession advanced in the following order: First
came a golden coach drawn by a team of splendid white horses in which
sat the Empress and the Grand Duchesses. The Emperor rode behind with
the Tzarevitch at his side, on a lovely pony. The Grand Dukes and the
officers of the guard regiments brought up the rear. The spectacle was
most imposing.
For three days the Heralds in heraldic costumes rode about the town
announcing by sound of trumpet that the ceremony of the Coronation would
take place on the 15th May.
The great day arrived. Long before six o’clock in the morning the streets
were black with excited crowds. I rose when it was only beginning to be
daylight and at seven o’clock we were already driving to the Kremlin;
it was printed on our tickets that after eight o’clock nobody would
be allowed to enter its enclosure, and that was the reason we had to
start so early. The large square was covered all over with red cloth.
Ministers of the State and officers in full uniform began to assemble.
The tribune on the opposite side was occupied by foreign Royalties and
representatives of the different Oriental countries in gala costumes
studded all over with precious stones. The Khan of Khiva was glittering
like the sun. The Grand Duke Waldemar, accompanied by a numerous suite,
came out of the palace and proceeded to the Cathedral of Assumption
where the Tzars are crowned, followed by all the members of the Imperial
Family, the ladies of the Court wearing the national dress of the richest
style, the Court officials resplendent in their gorgeous uniforms, the
Ambassadors of foreign countries with their spouses, the personages of
the first two classes and all the authorities of the town with my husband
amongst them. The bewildering variety of the many different uniforms,
both military and diplomatic, was striking. Our troops standing in long
rows, with the standard of every regiment, were an imposing sight. The
Metropolitan, with a mitre on his head, in magnificent vestments thick
with gold embroideries, followed by his Archbishops, came out of the
Cathedral to meet Their Majesties who were slowly descending the steps
of the wide marble staircase of the palace, coming out of the private
apartments to proceed to the Cathedral. The Tzar gave his arm to the
Tzarin, whose train was carried by four pages, behind came a long file
of ladies-in-waiting and maids-of-honour. A company of the regiment of
the Chevalier Guards walked ahead, behind them came forty-eight pages,
and a second platoon of Chevalier Guards brought up the rear. The day was
grey and wet, it soon began to rain, but it was indeed remarkable that
at the moment Their Majesties appeared, the heavy clouds broke away and
out burst sunshine, whilst a flock of white doves circled around them. At
the foot of the staircase sixteen generals aide-de-camps to the Emperor
supported a magnificent baldachin under which Their Majesties passed on
to the Cathedral to be crowned, whilst guns were repeatedly firing. At
the end of the ceremony there was a clamour of joy bells and the military
bands began to play our National Anthem. It was a thrilling moment and my
excitement was intense.
That evening Moscow was beautifully illuminated; the belfries of
the numerous cathedrals and the towers of the Kremlin glittered
with different-coloured lights. From all parts gushed out fountains
illuminated by Bengal-lights. I felt myself transported into dreamland.
The following days were a whirl of festivities. There were many
entertainments given to which I was bidden, but it was difficult to
get me to go anywhere. At the risk of being treated as a Vandal, I had
arranged my existence nicely without going outside to look for amusement.
I hate balls now, finding that dancing without a bit of flirtation is
only a ridiculous jumping about, and loving my husband as I do, I am not
the woman to be flirted with. I was told that the Grand Duke Michael
repeatedly alluded to my absence at the Court balls. He hinted to Sergy
that he was a Blue-Beard and kept me under lock and key inside a tower,
like a tyrant knight of the middle-ages. Mrs. Grundy is ever on the
war-path and people won’t let me alone for having cut myself from the
world. I wonder why they take so much interest in me when I do not take
the faintest interest in them. I do not care a fig for any one, having
the courage of my own acts and opinions, and care only to please my
husband.
It is difficult to understand me at times. I am not quite like other
people, being a thing of nerves and moods. One evening, when my
sister-in-law had driven away to a Court ball, I felt myself somewhat
like Cinderella, and as I couldn’t stand being left altogether out in
the cold, I seized the opportunity for a few frantic tears in private.
I daresay it was silly of me, but I couldn’t help it. Only fancy, my
sister-in-law is going to enjoy herself whilst I must pine away at home!
But the odd thing was that even if I had been persuaded ever so much to
go to that ball, I should not have gone.
A great festivity was given on the Khodinka Field for the people. On
both sides of the Imperial pavilion large tribunes were built for the
higher dignitaries of our town and the guests, and just opposite an
immense stage was set up for the mob. I sat surrounded by all the great
ones of the earth. As soon as Their Majesties appeared, surrounded by
a glittering court, the performances in the different shows broke off
and hurrahs were heard from all sides, whilst hats and bonnets flew up
in the air. After the patriotic enthusiasm got appeased, an allegorical
cavalcade in fancy dress defiled before us, after which baskets full of
fruit and sweets were dealt out to the populace. We had to dine in a
restaurant in the park, all our servants having a holiday that day.
The town-council organised a banquet for three thousand soldiers
belonging to the Preobrajenski guard regiment within a few miles of
Moscow, in a village bearing the name of that regiment. Our Emperor was
present at the festival; he walked round the refreshment tables set up
near the Imperial pavilion, and lifting up his glass, His Majesty drank
to the health of his soldiers who threw up their caps in the air and
shouted with all their might.
Many crowned heads had come to Moscow to see the Coronation, Prince
Amédée d’Aoste amongst them. He is said to have the Evil-Eye, and as I
am somewhat superstitious, I provided myself with a “Getattore,” a tiny
coral hand with two extended fingers. This Prince has really brought many
misfortunes during his life with him; one day the part of the tribune on
which he stood smashed and fell, another time a part of the ship on which
he was sailing was blown up.
By that time much of the excitement had calmed down and Moscow relapsed
into its former quiet. At the end of May our troops began to leave
Moscow. The regiment of the Chevalier Guards, with their band marching
in front of them, defiled before our windows on their way to the railway
station. At this sight, without knowing why, I burst into tears like
a silly that I was. I suppose it was due to the state of my nerves,
irritated by the unusual mode of life I was leading during the Coronation.
A great number of rewards have been distributed on account of the
Coronation. My husband having already got all the rewards due to the
rank of major-general, received as a present from the Tzar a rich gold
snuff-box set all over with big diamonds—a custom dating from the times
of the Empress Catherine II.
September came, bringing in premature cold weather, the rain fell
continually. These showers had their good side in laying the phenomenal
dust in the streets of our venerable old city.