scarcely any traces of human habitation. The cottages are very few and
far between--generally a collection of little wood hovels, or "isbas,"
as they are called. We go long distances without seeing houses, fences,
gates, or even a road. At all the stations there are people--the big
ones crowded--and at the smaller ones, where we hardly stop, merely
slacken, peasants--and such objects, one can hardly tell the men from
the women; long, unkempt hair, all barefooted, and all wearing a sort of
fur garment with a hole in the middle to pass the head through, and
which falls low down to their knees.
We have just had tea at Smolensk, which is very Russian looking, with
gilded domes and pink and green painted roofs. The gentlemen are smoking
and walking up and down the platform, always exciting great attention.
There are two rather pretty girls, with fair hair and red blouses, who
are giggling and looking, and evidently wish to be remarked.
We have gone on again now and are settled for the evening. The carriage
looks so comfortable, curtains drawn, lamps lighted, flowers on the
tables, and quantities of books and maps. Sesmaisons and Corcelle have
just been in with their maps and Napoleon's Memoirs. It is most
interesting to follow it all. They read out bits here and there as we
passed through some well-known locality. At the Beresina, I think, where
the passage of the river was so awful--some of the men quite exhausted,
and yet not wanting to lie down on the snow, made themselves seats out
of the dead bodies of their comrades. What an awful retreat!
We have crossed the Beresina, where we saw a long procession of wood
rafts. They are of the most primitive description--long logs lashed
together, and in the middle a sort of cabin or hovel, where the women
and children live. They were floating slowly down with the tide as we
passed, and singing a sort of sad, monotonous chaunt, which sounded
weird and pathetic, but impressionnant. They say all the Russian
National songs have that undercurrent of sadness.
Our dinner to-night was very gay. Schimmelpenninckg is most attractive.
We have become great friends--I have even confided to him where my
jewels are, as he thought I had left a bag in one of the stations, and
was convinced it held my diamonds. I told him what dress I was going to
wear at the Coronation, also my difficulty in finding out what the
French Court dress was. The Empress never wore a regular Court
train--her presentations in the Tuileries were always in the evening, in
ordinary ball dress. I didn't think Queen Marie Amelie's would have been
very pretty, so we concocted a Court dress from pictures, other people's
souvenirs, etc.
I was glad to walk up and down a little--one gets cramped sitting so
long, even with our outings for food, which are frequent. The tea is
extremely good always, a sort of greenish flavour, but very delicate,
and I should think very strong. Pontecoulant showed me Monsieur
Philippe in the distance, talking and gesticulating, evidently
considering himself a most important feature of the Mission--also the
detective, who looks like an amiable well-to-do bourgeois travelling for
his pleasure, until you meet his eyes, and there is a quick, keen look
which tells you he is very much on the alert. He has again just given W.
the pleasing piece of information that all the well-known Nihilist
leaders will be at Moscow.
Hubert came up and says the horses are quite well--their rest at Berlin
did them good. He is very much impressed with the absolute solitude of
the country--"pas de villages--pas de barrieres, pas meme de chemins."
We have also a telegram from M. Lhermite saying the house is quite in
order, he and his cooks and attendants installed, and he will have
breakfast ready for us to-morrow morning. We arrive about 8. We must be
ready early, as they say the approach to Moscow is very fine. It stands
low in a plain, but one sees the gilt domes and coloured steeples from a
great distance.
Our engineer tells us the railway officials are out of their minds. He
says the special envoys--Princes particularly--change their minds and
their routes all the time. They all have special trains, and the
confusion will be something awful. The Hessian Prince is just ahead of
us. We haven't crossed many trains, and yet there must be frequent
communication between Varsovie and Moscow.
I still feel rather in a dream, but not tired. I must stop now as it is
nearly eleven--my next letter will be from Maison Klein, Malaia
Dimitrofska, Moscow. Richard came in just now, and we have been talking
over our future--Russia is a "terra incognita" to all of us. It has
been certainly most novel and interesting so far. Just now we stopped
for a few moments at a little station, quite alive with people and
lights, as of course trains are going all night. The people look so
different--generally fair, with flat features, and a repressed look, as
if they had always been kept down.
This long effusion will go early to-morrow morning, as they send off a
valise at once from Moscow.
_To H. L. K._
#Ambassade de France, Moscow#,
#Maison Klein, Malaia Dimitrofska#,
Monday, May 21st, 1883.
We arrived quite safely and comfortably yesterday morning--34 people,
counting servants, policemen, etc. I hadn't time to write, but you will
have had the Havas telegram announcing our arrival. I am writing in my
little boudoir, which looks on a large, square, light courtyard, and I
wish you could see the wild confusion that reigns there. Quantities of
boxes and "ballots" of every description. Mdme. Hubert, with a veil tied
over her head, struggling to get at some of my trunks, which are all marked
with an enormous M. K. W. in white letters (a private mark, so as not to
confound them with the general mark of the Mission). Leroy, Hubert, and
Pontecoulant trying to get the big carriage cases opened (they look like
small houses). Sesmaisons and Calmon fussing over their saddles, which they
apparently had got without much difficulty--quantities of Russian helpers
working, talking, but _not_ loud, nor yelling to each other. How anything
will ever come out of all that chaos I don't know.
However, I must begin at the beginning. We got here about 8.30 yesterday
morning. We were all up early, as the country grew more interesting as
we approached Moscow. We had a confused vision of gilt domes, high
coloured steeples, etc., but nothing stood out very distinctly. There
was a fine confusion at the station--quantities of officials, all in
uniform, detachments of soldiers, red carpets, etc. We were _not_
received officially, not being Princes. The Mission only exists here
_after_ they have presented their lettres de creance. We found our
consul, Lagrene, waiting for us, several members of the French Colony,
and Lhermite. We drove off at once to our Ambassade. The main street,
Tverskaya, looked very gay with quantities of flags and draperies in
every direction, and even at that time in the morning a great many
people. Our house looks well--the entrance isn't bad, and the staircase
marble, handsome. I hardly looked at the reception-rooms, as I was
anxious to get to mine. Lhermite had done them very well, quite as I
wanted, and a nice-looking woman, Russian of course, the femme de charge
left in the house, was there to see if everything was right.
I washed off a little dust, got a cup of tea, and then went with W. and
Pontecoulant to inspect the house. The ballroom, "serre," and 3
drawing-rooms are nice; the dining-room small in comparison and low. Not
a breath of air anywhere, double windows, hermetically sealed, with
_one_ pane opening in each; so the very first thing we did was to send
for someone to take down the extra window, and open everything wide--the
close smell was something awful. The femme de charge was astounded, and
most unwilling. I think she thought we wished to demolish the whole
establishment. W. has a large room opening out of the drawing-room.
Pontecoulant took charge of the distribution of the gentlemen's rooms
(which wasn't easy, as they were generally small, and not particularly
comfortable, but I must say they were all easy going, and not at all
inclined to make difficulties). He chose a room down-stairs for himself
next the Chancellerie, which he has arranged at once very well. The
ballroom is handsome, a parquet floor, and yellow satin furniture; the
other drawing-rooms too are well furnished in silk and satin. The
dining-room is small, but the serre will make a very good fumoir where
the gentlemen can sit and smoke. It has nice cane arm-chairs and tables,
and will be a resource.
I went back to my own rooms and arranged my affairs with the maids.
There is a large room, half lingerie, half debarras, upstairs, with good
placards and closets where I can put my dresses if I ever get hold of
them. They must be unpacked at once, particularly the velvet dresses. Of
course I am always at the window. My Dear, how it would amuse you, so
absolutely unlike anything you have ever seen.
The men seem to work well enough--they all wear red flannel shirts
tucked into their trousers, and high boots--at the present moment they
are all gaping at the horses, who certainly do look enormous (the
Russian horses are all small). It seems ours stand the cannon, and
shouting, and waving flags and draperies very well (so the lessons in
the Ecole Militaire, where they were taken several times after they
arrived in Paris to have cannons and guns fired close to their heads,
and flags waved about, did them good).
A little Russian maid, in a red petticoat, and a blue handkerchief tied
over her head, has just appeared, and I suppose will be a sort of fille
de chambre. She smiles every time I speak to the maids, and watches
every movement I make. I moved a fauteuil just now, and in an instant
she had possession of it, and stood over it looking at me hard to see
where I wanted it put. I daresay we shall get on very well. We
breakfasted at 12.30 all together--a very good breakfast, flowers on
the table, and everything most correct. The gentlemen were amusing, all
giving their experiences. Just as we were finishing we heard someone
coming, with the clank of sabre, and those long, heavy spurs the
Russians wear; and a good-looking officer, Colonel Benckendorff, who
was attached to our Embassy, appeared. He will never lose sight of us
now until the ceremonies are over.
We adjourned to the serre, and he put us au courant of everything. He
told us the crowd and confusion at the Kremlin was indescribable (all
the foreign Princes are lodged there). He had all sorts of papers,
invitations, audiences, cartes de circulation, etc. W. is to present his
lettres de creance and all the Mission en grande tenue at 10.30 to-day.
(I am waiting now to see them start.) W. has just been in, looking very
well, as he always does in full uniform. He wears the Danish Grand
Cordon, he hasn't the Legion d'Honneur nor any Russian decoration. Two
Maitres des Ceremonies, covered with gold lace and embroideries, have
arrived in an ordinary Russian Court coupe--they have also an Imperial
gala carriage for the Ambassador, and two ordinary Court carriages, and
they have just started, quite a crowd of people before the house to see
them depart. First went two Maitres des Ceremonies, their coats covered
with gold embroidery; then W. alone in a gala carriage with four horses,
two footmen standing behind, two mounted, and an ecuyer. The rest of the
Mission followed in two ordinary Court carriages, all with the Imperial
liveries, which are not very handsome, long red cloaks, with a sort of
cocked hat. Benckendorff followed alone in his private carriage.
[Illustration: Colonel Benckendorff From a photograph by Bergamasco St
Petersburg]
Our big footmen figured for the first time--the four in their blue and
silver livery were at the door when the Maitres des Ceremonies arrived,
and Pierson with his chain in the anteroom. They looked very well;
Lhermite and our coachman saw the whole thing, and were not at all
impressed with carriages, liveries, or horses. They said the carriages
were absolutely shabby, the liveries neither well made nor well put on,
and the horses beneath criticism. They do look extraordinarily small
before those great heavy state carriages, rather like rats, as Hubert
says--"Quand on verra les notres ce sera une surprise," for they are
enormous.
What do you think I did as soon as they had all gone? I had rather an
inspiration--I told the maids to bring me my blue court train (they have
unpacked some of the boxes, the jewels are all right, and locked up in a
coffre-fort in W.'s room, but can't find one of Delannoy's caisses; I
suppose it will turn up though, as Pontecoulant says the compte was
quite right when we arrived yesterday, all the boxes here). I then
locked the door of the ballroom, stationed Pierson outside, with strict
orders not to let anyone in, put on my train over my brown cloth dress,
put Adelaide and Mdme. Hubert at one end of the room, and whisked
backwards and forwards, making them low curtseys (they were rather
embarrassed). I have never worn a train in my life, as you know, and I
wanted to see how it would go. It seems perfectly cut, and follows every
movement, and doesn't get twisted around my ankles. The maids were quite
satisfied, and told me it worked beautifully, particularly when I backed
across the room. Madame Jaures, wife of Admiral Jaures, permanent French
Ambassador to Russia, told me such hideous tales yesterday, when she
came to see me, of women getting nervous and entangled in their trains
when they backed away from the Emperor, that I thought I had better take
some precautions. I indulged in those antics for about twenty minutes,
then unlocked the door, released Pierson, and went upstairs to the
lingerie to see how my unpacking was getting on. The missing trunk had
just arrived, and my two women, with the little Russian maid, whose eyes
opened wide when she saw the quantity of dresses being produced, and
W.'s man were putting things to rights.
The gentlemen got back to a late breakfast, much pleased with their
reception. They were received in a small palace outside of Moscow,[4] as
the Emperor makes his formal entree into the town to-morrow only. They
found the Emperor very amiable, talking quite easily, saying something
to everyone. He had on the Grand Cordon of the Legion d'Honneur. They
were all presented also to the Empress. W. said she was very gracious
and charming; remembered quite well having seen us in Paris. We were
presented to her by the Prince of Wales, Exhibition year. He said she
recalled the Princess of Wales, not so tall, and had splendid eyes.
[4] Petrofski.
Benckendorff stayed to breakfast, and we told him his place would be
always ready for him at breakfast and dinner. The hours of standing
apparently will be something awful. About 3.30 Mdme. Jaures came for
me, and we went to see Lady Thornton, who is Doyenne of the Corps
Diplomatique, but didn't find her. The Jaures have just arrived
themselves with all the Corps Diplomatique from Petersburg. They said
the starting from there was frightfully mismanaged, not nearly carriages
enough for the people and their luggage. The Ambassadors furious,
railway officials distracted, a second train had to be prepared which
made a long delay, and a general uproar. The only man who was quite
quiet and happy was Mr. Mackay (Silver King from California). He formed
part of the United States Mission, had his own private car attached to
the train, in which were Mrs. Mackay and Mr. and Mrs. Hunt (U. S.
Minister and his wife), and was absolutely independent.
After leaving our cards we drove through the Tverskaya, the main street.
There were quantities of people, and vehicles of every description, from
the Ambassadors' carriages (all with small, black Russian horses, a
Russian coachman in caftan and flat cap, and a gorgeous chasseur, all
gold braid, and hat with feathers, beside him), to the most ordinary
little drosky or fiacre. Nigra, the Italian Ambassador, passed us going
very quickly with the regular Russian attelage--3 horses, one scarcely
harnessed, galloping almost free on one side.
All the houses are dressed with red and gold draperies, and immense
tribunes put up all along the street, as the procession passes through
it from one end to the other when the Emperor makes his formal entrance
to-morrow. There are crowds of peasants and country people, all the men
in flannel shirts tucked into their trousers, and the women with a
handkerchief or little shawl over their heads. They don't look the least
gay, or excited, or enthusiastic; on the contrary, it is generally a sad
face, principally fair, and blue eyes. They stand, apparently a compact
mass, in the middle of the street, close up to the carriages, which can
scarcely get on--then comes a little detachment of Cossacks (most
curious looking, quite wild, on very small horses, and enormous long
lances), rides into the crowd and over them. They make no resistance,
don't say anything, and close up again, as soon as the carriage
passes--and so it goes on all day.
I was quite excited when we drove into the Kremlin--it is enormous,
really a city, surrounded by a great crenellated wall, with high towers
at intervals, quantities of squares, courts, churches, palaces,
barracks, terraces, etc. The view of the town from one of the terraces
overlooking the river is splendid, but the great interest is the Kremlin
itself. Numbers of gilt domes, pink and green roofs, and steeples. It
seemed to me that pink predominated, or was it merely the rose flush of
the sunset which gave a beautiful colour to everything. We saw of course
the great bell, and the tower of Ivan the Terrible (from where they told
us he surveyed massacres of hundreds of his soldiers), everywhere a
hurrying, busy crowd (though always quiet).
Thanks to our "Carte de Circulation" we pass everywhere, though stopped
at every moment. We crossed, among other things, a procession of
servants, and minor court officials, with quantities of silver dishes,
flagons, etc., some great swell's dinner being sent from the Imperial
Palace. We went from one great square to another, stopping at the Palace
where all the fetes are to be. There we found one or two Court officials
whom Mdme. Jaures knew, and they showed us as much as they could, but
everybody is "sur les dents," and nothing ready; and in spite of all the
precautions one feels that there is a strong undercurrent of nervousness.
We went to the Church de l'Assomption, where the Coronation is to take
place. There too we found officials, who showed us our places, and exactly
where the Court would be. The church is small, with a great deal of gilding
and painting. All the tribunes are ready, and what we shall feel like when
the ceremony is over I am sure I don't know. It will last about three hours
and a half, and we stand all the time. There is not a vestige of a seat in
the Tribune Diplomatique--merely a sort of rail or "barre d'appui" where
one can lean back a little.
We lingered a little on the terrace overlooking the river where there is
a fine view of the town, and came out by the Porte St. Sauveur, where
everyone, Emperor and peasant, uncovers. I was glad to get home and rest
a little before dinner, but I have had a delightful afternoon.
I will finish this evening, as the bag goes to-morrow. We had a pleasant
dinner, our personnel only, and Colonel Benckendorff, who told us all we
had to do these days. The day of the Coronation we meet at the German
Embassy (General Schweinitz, who married Anna Jay, is Doyen of the Corps
Diplomatique), and go all together to the Kremlin. The hour of
rendezvous is 8 there, and as it is quite far off, and the gala
carriages go on a walk, we must leave here at 7, and get up at Heaven
knows what hour. What do you think we will look like in full Court dress
at that hour in the morning? Our dinner was very good--wines, fruit,
etc. W. complimented Lhermite.
To-morrow we start at 11 for the Palace of Prince Dolgourouky, Governor
of Moscow, from where we see the Emperor pass on his way to the Kremlin.
It is not far away, but the streets are so barricaded and shut up that
we must make a long detour. The most stringent measures are taken, all
windows closed, no canes nor umbrellas allowed, and a triple line of
troops all along the route. The maids are much excited. They have places
in one of the Tribunes, and M. Lhermite is going to escort them. In some
marvellous way they have been able to communicate with the Russian
maids, and have given me various pieces of information. I have left the
gentlemen all smoking in the serre, except W., who retired to his own
quarters, as he had some despatches to write. He has had a long talk
with Jaures this afternoon, and has also seen Sir Edward Thornton,
British Ambassador. The house is quite quiet--the court-yard asleep, as
no carriages or horses have been out to-night. We have two ordinary
Russian landaus, with those fast little horses, for our every-day
outings, as the big coupe d'Orsay only goes out on state occasions.
The detective has made his report, and says the Nihilists will do
nothing to-morrow--_perhaps_ the night of the gala at the Opera. It is
curious to live in such a highly charged atmosphere, and yet I am less
nervous--I wonder why--the excitement I suppose of the whole thing.
Well, Good-night, Dear; I would say it in Russian if I could, but so far
all I have learnt is "Tchai," which means tea, and "Karosch," which
seems to be an exclamation of delighted admiration. The little maid says
it every time I appear in a new garment.
_To H. L. K._
#Ambassade de France a Moscou#,
#Maison Klein, Malaia Dimitrofska#,
Mardi, May 22d, 1883.
How shall I ever begin to describe to you, Dear, the wonderful life we
are leading. Everything is unlike anything I have ever seen. I suppose
it is the beginning of the real far-off East. This morning I am sitting
at the window reading and writing, and looking out into the court-yard,
which is a never-failing interest--such quantities of people always
there. The first thing I hear in the morning is Pontecoulant's voice. He
is there every day at eight o'clock, conferring with Leroy and Hubert,
examining the horses and carriages, deciding which ones are to be used,
and giving orders for the day.
Then arrive the two Russian landaus which go all day, and very different
they look from our beautiful equipages and big important servants. Then
comes Lhermite, rattling off, in a low pony cart, with the boy from the
Consulate along-side of him. He goes to market every day, and nearly has
a fit because he can't talk himself, and he knows they are all lying,
and stealing, and imposing upon him generally. In one corner there is a
group of little Russian horses tied to the stable doors, with Russian
soldiers fussing over them. They have been sent from one of the cavalry
barracks for the gentlemen to ride.
In every direction men are cleaning carriages, saddles, harness,
liveries; and with such little noise--they are extraordinarily quiet.
May 22d, 5.30
We have just got back from the Governor's palace; and to-night the
Emperor is safe in the Kremlin.
It was a marvellous day. We started (the whole Mission) at 10.30 this
morning, W. and I alone in the d'Orsay, which looked very handsome. It
is dark blue with white stripes, like all our carriages, and lined with
blue satin of rather a lighter shade. The men were in demi-gala, blue
plush breeches, white silk stockings, and high hats (not tricornes),
with silver bands and cords. Thornton, the English coachman, looked very
smart, and handled his big black horses perfectly. The gentlemen told us
he used very strong language when he got back to the stables over the
abomination of the Moscow pavement. We were preceded as usual by Richard
and Benckendorff in a light carriage. I wore one of Philippe's dresses,
brown gauze embroidered in velvet flowers, all the front ecru lace, and
an ecru straw bonnet, with a vieux rose velvet crown.