A SHORT PEEP AT ST. PETERSBURG AND BACK TO TASHKEND
August 10th.—To-day I started for St. Petersburg, where I am going
to spend two months. There were many people to see me off. The Grand
Duke was at the station. He handed me a big bouquet and a beautiful
rose-coloured satin box of bonbons. I received so many bouquets that my
husband’s aide-de-camps had not arms enough to hold them. One of the lady
members of our collective book for the benefit of the lepers, presented
me with an enormous bouquet, bound with a white ribbon with a swallow
perched on a telegraphic wire painted on it, and underneath “_Revenez_”
was imprinted in golden letters, with the signature of all the writers
concerned in the book. Before the train started the Grand Duke told me he
was very pleased that I entered my car holding his bouquet, without any
rivals to it.
August 12th.—I saw a mirage to-day: a lake with some trees around
appeared on the horizon. In the desert in fine weather, mirages are often
to be seen, but they always appear in the form of water.
August 13th.—I arrived this morning at Krasnovodsk where I had to wait
for the steamboat until to-morrow. My car was rolled on to the pier and
two sentinels were placed at its door. There is stillness all around, I
only heard the wash of the waves on the shore, some steps distant. It
made me feel drowsy, and I soon fell asleep, lulled by the whispering
ripple of the sea.
August 14th.—I woke at dawn. The morning dew spread around in a white
mist. Somewhere in the distance a cock crowed and another answered the
challenge. At seven o’clock I took passage on the steamer _Tzarevitch_.
The weather is splendid, the sea like a mirror. A slight breeze enters my
cabin, flapping the muslin curtains. After dinner I went upon deck. On
the sky bright stars were shining, and the fresh breeze swept my face.
August 15th.—The weather has changed for the worse; heavy black clouds
hang over the billowy sea. The wind is getting stronger; we are awfully
tossed about. I have really no chance on the sea; as soon as I step on
board, Neptune never fails to be very disagreeable.
We arrived at Petrovsk far behind time. My car was attached to our train
as far as St. Petersburg.
I only spent three weeks on the banks of the Neva. I was miserable
without Sergy, and my solitude becoming unbearable, I returned with my
mother to Tashkend.
We have borne the voyage capitally and had a good crossing this time.
The weather was fine, the sun shone brightly on a very calm sea; we had
no rolling at all. We accomplished also our journey by rail without any
accident.
My sudden and unexpected appearance at Tashkend created quite a commotion
in the town. My mother was very much impressed by all our surroundings.
To amuse her we arranged, every night, card-parties. There appeared to
be a great number of whist-players in Tashkend; partners were never
wanting. Mother’s partners presented her with a green cloth with all
their autographs embroidered on it. They tried to entice me into their
play, but I was no card-player, and at my first essay, my face openly
expressed: “I am bored to death.” I thrust furtive glances at the clock
all the time, watching for the hands to show the hour of my deliverance.
I did not repeat my experiment.
Tashkend is thrown into wild agitation by the arrival of General
Toutolmine, the aide of the Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevitch. This General
had been in the same military school with my husband; he was accompanied
by several smart officers in the guards, Prince Jaime de Bourbon, the
son of Don Carlos, among them. The Prince is a legitimist claimant of
the Spanish throne, serving in the Russian army in the regiment of the
Hussars. He is a dashing, showy, cavalry officer, of the type that finds
favour with women; like Cæsar he came, saw, and conquered. The Prince is
accustomed to win all hearts and does not believe it possible for any
creature of the fair sex to do so much as look at him without falling in
love with him. I found him very entertaining, but did not lose my heart.
He sat beside me at dinner and was very bright and witty. He told me
that a gipsy had foretold him three things: a great gain, a wound and a
crown. The first of the predictions came true, he has won at a lottery
the sum of 2000 roubles; will the other two prophecies come true? “Qui
vivra verra!” After dinner I mounted my bicycle, accompanied by Prince
Jaime and his comrades. We made a long run, I rode fast, going at a pace
almost equal to that of an express train; my cavaliers were completely
exhausted, trying to keep up with me.
The Emir has sent a delegation to my husband with numerous rich presents.
The delegates wore beautiful khalats and white turbans made of very thin
stuff, twisted round their shaved heads. These turbans cost scores of
pounds; it was India which supplied them, but now they are fabricated in
Moscow much cheaper. After the deputies had been presented to Sergy, they
were ushered into my sitting-room. The most talkative of the party was
Astanakul-Divan-Begui, the first minister of the Emir; his companions sat
down on the edge of their chairs, smoothing their knees with their hands,
scarcely lifting their eyes from the carpet, and would only say “yes” and
“no.” After a copious “dastarkhan,” (lunch) served in the winter-garden,
the deputies presented us with numerous gifts sent by their Sovereign,
which lay piled about the long terrace. Six Bokharian attendants stood
like ancient slaves before this amassed wealth: superb carpets, muskets,
pistols, daggers set with precious stones, gilt caskets with splendid
jewellery, a dream from the “Thousand and One Arabian Nights.”
We gave a grand dinner for two hundred persons in honour of the
delegates. An invisible band placed in the park played during the repast.
Champagne flowed in abundance and numerous toasts were drunk, accompanied
by a flourish of trumpets. I sat between two laconic deputies, who
answered with low sounding monosyllables to all the questions I put to
them with seraphic patience. I felt glad when dinner was over.
That same night I took part in a concert got up by the Benevolence
Society in our house. The hall was brilliantly lighted; every seat
was taken. The Bokharian deputies were present at the concert and I
wore in their honour the heavy golden necklace presented to me by the
Emir. It is fortunate that I had to play instead of singing, because
for the great weight of the necklace I could not have drawn one single
note out of my throat. I was seized with an access of shyness, before
mounting the platform, and had to swallow soothing drops to quiet my
nerves; nevertheless I thought I should die of fright when I appeared
before the audience and was conscious of an inclination to run away, but
giving a swift glance to the public confronting me, I soon recovered my
self-possession entirely, and performed my solo on the concertina with
great success, gathering frenzied bravos, and I had to play no fewer than
five encores. All the same I had too good sense not to understand that
my success was due especially to the position I held, much more than to
my talent; it was only green paper laurels that I got, and I should have
liked to win real ones and play in other surroundings, with veritable
artists and amongst a less partial audience. The concert brought a large
profit, more than one hundred pounds. All the ladies who took part in it
received a bouquet bound with white ribbons bearing the Red Cross.
On the next day the delegates were present at a children’s feast arranged
on the square opposite our house. The entertainment was given especially
to attract the little natives; we wanted to tame these little savages
and show them that the Russians were not so terrible as they are made to
believe. The whole population, except a small part of civilised natives
bring up their children inculcating in them the fear of the Russians.
The entertainment began about three o’clock and went on till quite late
in the evening. There were about two thousand children. It amused me to
watch their enjoyment and see the expression of mistrust, stamped on
their small faces, change suddenly into one of keen delight when sweets
and toys were being distributed to them. It is to be hoped that the
little Sartes returned to their homes carrying sentiments of friendship
to the Russians in their small hearts.
The opening of the Agricultural Exhibition took place whilst the deputies
were at Tashkend. All the productions of Turkestan were gathered there:
fruit, flowers, seeds, preserved vegetables, bonbons, domestic animals,
etc. A great number of venomous insects, which abound in the Famished
Steppe, were also exhibited; scorpions, phalanxes, and spiders of every
kind. A mollusk, which is to be found in all the bathing establishments
of Tashkend, is particularly disgusting; that little monster is scarcely
perceptible in the water, being half transparent, like jelly. Ugh, the
horror!
Summer passed quickly. Autumn came on. The dead leaves fell silently and
covered the alleys of our park with a yellow carpet. In November, snow
fell in abundance and the trees bent under the heavy flakes. The trains
are obliged to stop for several days, the line being encumbered with snow.
On Christmas night a group of maskers, wrapped up in red dominoes, with
little round bells hanging all around, appeared unexpectedly, followed
by a band of music. After having performed a kind of ballet, they took
off their dominoes and we saw before us a fantastical crowd of people
in fancy dress. There were clowns daubed with chalk among them, and
pirates, monks, pierrots, Columbines, etc. One of the aide-de-camps
proved a tremendous success; he represented a gigantic doll dressed all
in red, and walking on stilts right up to the ceiling. In one of the
corners of the big hall suddenly a small booth appeared, in which an old
wizard began selling curious advertisements. He offered, for instance,
ten thousand roubles for a faithful woman. (And for the fidelity of a
man it is ten millions that he ought to offer, shouldn’t he?) The people
who approached this booth were caught by the hook of this old man,
who sprinkled them all over with scent out of an invisible sprinkler.
Everybody seemed to enjoy themselves thoroughly. The floor was strewn
with confetti. I did not at all like to have bits of paper poured down
my back. The ball-room presented a very gay appearance with its merry
couples swinging to-and-fro to the music of one of Tashkend’s best
bands. I had not danced for years, not since I was married, and enjoyed
it greatly, I must confess. We did not stop dancing till late. When the
last people went away it was broad daylight.
The winter this year was a particularly severe one. The thermometer has
gone down very low. Our apartments though supposed to be thoroughly
heated, are very chilly. The wind whistles down the chimney its
monotonous song, and I am so dull, so dull! Oh, how I long to leave
Tashkend for good and all!
My wish was realised sooner than I expected. In the middle of January
my husband was called away to St. Petersburg on business. It seemed too
good to be true! St. Petersburg was to me the summit of earthly bliss. I
longed for the life, the beauty, the movement of the Great City.
January 6th.—We started to-day for St. Petersburg. Our train advances
very slowly because of the snow which covers the line. We have recourse
to means used in America: a sort of brush is fastened to our engine to
clear the way and sweep away the snow.
January 9th.—The weather is horrible. A snow-storm arose. The wind
whistles and howls in the plain; flakes of snow adhere to the glass and
it is impossible to see anything outside.
January 10th.—The cold keeps increasing. It is difficult to believe that
it was a hot inferno I had to endure in these places not very long ago.
January 11th.—The cold keeps increasing; though well wrapped up with
furs, I sat shivering in the train. The pale rays of the sun appear from
time to time, piercing the sky clouds, and the road covered with a heavy
carpet of snow shines like diamonds.
Early in the morning we arrived at Kizil-Arvat, having to stop here for
twenty-four hours: the train could not move for the heaps of snow on the
line and soldiers were sent out to clear the way for us. The principal
offices of the railroad are stationed here. There is a working-men’s club
with a bar, but without alcoholic drinks, a library and a large hall
where concerts and theatricals are held. It would have been desirable to
increase the number of such clubs, for it is not only by tedious, boring
preaching that the workmen are kept away from drunkenness, and if you
made them happy and comfortable they would not want to go off in the
evening to public ale-houses.
January 12th.—We continued our journey at daybreak. When I awoke I
found the snow had completely disappeared. Towards noon we arrived at
Krasnovodsk and took our passage on the _Tropic_.
We are once more convinced that the geographers are often mistaken. The
Caspian Sea, which never freezes according to them, appears to be frozen
for forty miles out. It is not an agreeable prospect to have to cut
through the ice, but we have a compensation—we shall not be tossed about.
January 13th.—At dawn we weighed anchor. It gives one the shivers to hear
the ice grating against the thin body of our ship. As the Caspian never
freezes the ships are not equipped for polar-crossing, and the _Tropic_
does not resemble in the least the ice breaker, which was of such use to
us during our crossing from Vladivostock to Nagasaki in the winter.
January 14th.—During the whole night we found ourselves in the position
of Nansen. It is only towards morning that the sea was free from the
ice. The barometer mounts visibly; the proximity of the Caucasus is
perceptible.
Towards night we arrived at Baku, where we have a special train placed
at our disposal. The railway between Baku and Petrovsk is not open
officially, and we had to advance at a snail’s pace. I thought we should
never get to Petrovsk if we crawled like that.
January 15th.—We have passed the night in the open field because the
trains do not run yet in the dark. Early in the morning we began to
advance at the rate of four miles an hour; in risky places the guards
walked on in front to examine the line.
January 16th.—We arrived at Petrovsk in the afternoon. We are in Europe
here, and although we have got a three days’ railway journey before us,
St. Petersburg seems quite near.