shop where we found a woman who spoke French, but there was nothing very
tempting. They all advise us to wait for our furs at Petersburg, all the
best furs are sent there--however we bought a very good fur lining for a
driving coat (each of us) and I a fur couverture--principally I think
because the woman was nice, and it was a pleasure to talk ourselves and
not through the little boy of the Consulate, of whom I am by no means
sure.
At 10 o'clock W. had his farewell audience with the Emperor, but it
wasn't particularly interesting--an insignificant conversation--might
have been any emperor, or any ambassador, of any country.
After breakfast we went out again "en bande" with a new polyglot youth
this time--a young Frenchman whom Lhermite had discovered. He took us to
all sorts of places, small shops and bazaars, where we had never been.
We bought a good many things, Circassian belts and buckles of wrought
silver, some studded with turquoises, some enamelled--pretty
work--Russian chains and crosses, small Madonnas in curious brass
frames--always the black face on a gold ground, and several of those
beautiful, light Orenburg shawls, so fine that they pass through a ring
(we all tried) and yet fairly large and warm when one shakes them out to
the full size. It was rather amusing going in and out of all the
funny little shops. We left the carriage in one of the big streets and
walked about.
Now we have come home. I have had my tea alone to-day. I must dress, as
we dine early, 7 o'clock, on account of our reception afterwards. I went
with Lhermite to see the flowers, fruit, bonbons, petits fours, etc.,
which arrived this morning from Paris. It is extraordinary how fresh
they all look. There are dozens of boxes in the dining-room and office,
and the men are putting the flowers all about the rooms, Lhermite
superintending the whole thing. He is an enormous help--I don't know
what we should have done without him.
I am going to wear my white and silver brocade to-night, the one I wore
at the Palace gala dinner--my last _full dress_ in Moscow. I am rather
shaken by my outing this afternoon--the going in some of those crooked
little old streets was something awful. The holes in the so-called
pavement were appalling, and the paving-stones tapered off generally to
a sharp point. I think nothing but a Russian carriage, driven by a
Russian coachman could have got along. I must say it is a straggling,
queer-looking town once you get out of the Kremlin and the main streets.
The houses are very far apart, generally white and low, with large
gardens, like a big overgrown village.
* * * * *
Well, Dear, our reception is over. It is ended early, as everything does
here--and as I am wide awake I will write at once. People began to come
about 9.30, and at 11.30 everyone had gone. The rooms looked well,
quantities of lights and flowers, everyone noticed the flowers (there
are so few here), which were heaped up everywhere on consoles,
mantelpieces, wherever one could put them. We had a great many
people--all our colleagues in full force, but not so many Russians as we
expected. A good many were de service at the Palace, where there was a
function of some kind for Russians only (the provinces), and I am sure
many never received their invitations, as it is impossible to find out
where anyone lives. I had a talk with General Richter and one or two
others, and then some of the younger members of the party suggested
dancing--of course we had no music, as dancing had not been
contemplated, but various amateurs offered their services, and they had
about half an hour of waltzes. At the end they danced a little the
Russian mazurka, which I was very curious to see. It is quite different
from our cotillon or the Sir Roger de Coverley. There are all sorts of
steps and figures. The gentleman takes his partner by the hand, holding
it rather high (as in the polonaise). They hold themselves very
straight, heads well back, as in a minuet, and do various figures.
The women have a quick, sliding step when they change partners, which is
very effective. I should think none but Russians would dance it
well--one must be born to it.
Prince Orloff stayed on a little after everyone had gone, and we talked
over all the fetes, and principally our own performances. He says he has
heard plenty of talk and criticisms of everything, and is much pleased
with the success of our Mission. I hope the people at home will be
satisfied.
We had a dinner for all the French newspaper correspondents the other
day--and they expressed themselves as quite gratified. They told us that
one of the correspondents (I forget which paper) had accepted W.'s
invitation, but the very day of the dinner there had been such a violent
attack on W. in his paper that he didn't like to come, and sent an
excuse. They say the Times' account is the best--the Figaro also very
good (Wolff).
Saturday, June 9, 1883.
The court is most amusing this morning--all the gentlemen are trying
their horses, superintending the saddling, etc., as most of them follow
the Emperor to-day at the revue. The little Russian horses look very
lively and never stand still an instant. W. and I go together in the
d'Orsay, Corcelle preceding us in another carriage. Benckendorff rides
with all the others. General Pittie is rather bored, he hates riding,
particularly on a horse he doesn't know, so he and Fayet will only mount
at the Champ de Mars. They say the Emperor's suite will be
enormous--over 100. I wore my ecru batiste with the heavy white
embroidery and the ecru bonnet with the wreath of pink and red roses. It
is almost white. (I wonder how I shall ever wear out all these
garments.)
The day is beautiful. We started about 10, as we were invited for 11 to
the Tribune Imperiale. The road out was a sight--the middle alley had
been kept for the swells and Court, and there were quantities of
Imperial and Ambassadors' carriages, aides-de-camp, etc., dashing about.
I didn't see any handsome _private_ equipages. They told me the reason
was that the swells were attached to the Court and went about always in
Court carriages. Our gentlemen passed us riding--they had rendezvous in
the court-yard of the Palace Petrofski, where the Emperor mounted. We
went on to the Tribune. The cortege started fairly punctually. First
came the Empress in a victoria with four white horses. The Arch Duchess
Charles Louis was seated next to her, and on the box the Duchesse
d'Edimbourg and the Grand Duchess Wladimir, I think--at any rate another
Princess. There were 2 postilions, 2 mounted grooms, and a piqueur. Then
came the Emperor riding on the right of the Empress's carriage, always
on his little grey Cossack horse, the Grand Duke Heritier and the Duke
of Edinburgh directly behind him, and then a long, glittering suite of
foreign Princes and officers. The Grand Duke Wladimir commands the
Gardes, and was on the field to receive his brother. It is the first
time I have seen the Emperor without the Grand Duke Wladimir close
behind him. It was striking to see the stern, watchful face always
there. The Empress drove up and down the lines, the Emperor riding
alongside. It was difficult to distinguish any uniforms, as they were
rather far off, and there were clouds of dust. As soon as the Empress
had passed her revue she came up to the Tribune and took up her position
directly in front, _standing_ almost all the time. The Emperor and his
staff remained directly under the Tribune to see the defile. That of
course was long--but we had breakfast, also a sort of gouter always
going on, and servants appearing at intervals carrying trays with tea,
chocolate, orangeade, etc. All the Grand Duchesses (not the Empress)
moved about and talked to us. The Duchesse d'Oldenburg sat down next me
for some time and told me about some of the regiments (Crimean fame),
named some of the generals, etc.
I had tea with the Duchess of Edinburgh. She is easy, clever, and was
much interested in all that was going on, told me I must come to the
front for the cavalry and Cossack charge, and that it would be soon. I
followed her when she made the move--the infantry were just
finishing--and in the distance one saw a movement and a flash of lances
in the sun, which showed that the Cossacks were getting ready. They
passed like a whirlwind--so fast, and in such clouds of dust that one
saw nothing but the glint of the lances, neither colour of uniforms,
horses, flags. All the troops, infantry as well as cavalry, saluted the
Emperor as they passed--a sort of dull sound, more like a groan than a
cheer--nothing like a ringing English hurrah.
That was the end, so I went to the Princess Kotchoubey, Grande
Maitresse, to ask her if I should go and take leave of the Empress, as
she and the Emperor leave Moscow to-morrow. She said the Empress wished
us all, Ambassadrices and femmes de chefs-de-Mission, to stand near the
door, and she would say good-bye to us on her way out, so we moved down,
and after waiting a little she came. She made her circle very prettily,
shook hands with all, and talked a little, but she was evidently tired
and anxious to get away. She was dressed in a curious dress, a sort of
yellow cloth of gold, and gold bonnet with red flowers--always her
splendid pearl necklace.
We had to wait some little time before our carriages could get up, so I
went back to the front of the Tribune to see the troops disperse. It was
a pretty sight as they all filed off in long columns, music playing and
flags flying, and always little groups of Cossacks tearing all over the
place. I had another cup of tea with a very good little cake while I was
waiting. Lady Thornton was tired and wanted one, so we sat there quite
quietly and had our tea. It was a lovely, bright, warm day, and we liked
that better than waiting at the door in the crowd until our carriages
came.
[Illustration: Grand Duc Wladimir
From a photograph by Bergamasco St Petersburg]
We got back to the Embassy for breakfast, but were not very hungry. We
breakfasted alone with Corcelle, as the other gentlemen breakfasted with
all the Emperor's suite at the Petrofski Palace. I am writing this by
fits and starts, as you will perceive. I began at 9 this morning, and am
finishing now at 10.30, after a pleasant dinner at the Jaures--merely
our two Embassies, everyone telling his experiences, amusing enough. The
Jaures are quite ready to go. He wants to go to sea again, and will
command the Mediterranean Squadron, and she is tired of Russia. I have
no idea who will succeed them, but as long as it isn't W. I don't much
care.
Well, our fetes are over. We shall have two days to see Moscow quietly,
and then break up. It has certainly been most interesting, and now that
it is over, and we all have still our heads on our shoulders, I am very
glad we came, for I shall never see such a sight again.
Sunday, June 10th.
Richard and I made an ineffectual attempt to go to the English church
this morning, but after driving half over Moscow and going to various
wrong addresses, which had been given to us, we gave it up, and came
home rather mortified and well jibed at by the whole Embassy. Just as we
were going to breakfast Prince Ourousoff, one of the Chamberlains,
appeared to say that two special trains would start for Petersburg on
Monday and Wednesday to take back the Corps Diplomatique, and asked us
which day would suit us best. W. preferred Wednesday. W. must have a day
or two to send off horses, carriages, huissiers, cooks, etc., and also
to see a little of Moscow, for he has scarcely seen anything. All his
days were so taken up with the visits--those he made and those he
received--and his despatches, that he did little but his morning ride on
his funny little bay horse (which he liked very much and which carried
him well).
This afternoon we have been sight-seeing with Benckendorff, first to the
Kremlin to see the private apartments of the Emperor and Empress. The
Court, with all the foreign Princes and their suites, left last night
after the revue, and already one sees the difference in the streets. The
crowd of peasants has disappeared, there are fewer carriages, flags and
draperies are being removed from all the buildings, and the circulation
is so easy that one can scarcely realize that only yesterday that
brilliant throng was making its way with difficulty through the long,
straight allee to the Champ de Mars. It is very warm, the sun blazing,
and the white dust very trying; however we went about a good deal. We
saw the Romanoff house, an ordinary boyar house, with low, dark rooms
and a funny little winding staircase, but it had evidently been quite
done up (in the style of the epoch of course), and I didn't find it very
interesting.
We went into numerous churches and towers, and wound up with a visit to
the Monastere Siminoff, from where there is a splendid view over the
city. We saw the Director, who came out and showed us everything. We
dined quietly at home with the Embassy only. After dinner, when smoking
in the serre, the soldiers began talking, fighting their battles over
again--all that horrible time between the Commune and Versailles, where
one of our Embassy, Fayet, was wounded. It is always interesting when
they talk seriously like that, but, Heavens, how they shot people at the
end, it makes one shiver.
To-morrow will be a busy day, as all the packing must be done. One of
the French couturieres here will send a packer, and will come herself to
help the maids. Lhermite, with his cooks, footmen, etc., start Wednesday
morning early. They must cook us our last dinner Tuesday night. Hubert,
too, with carriages, horses, etc.
_To H. L. K._
#Ambassade de France a Moscow#,
#Maison Klein, Malaia Dimitrofska#,
Monday, June 11th, 1883.
Well, Dear, this is my last letter from Moscow--you will certainly never
again have any letter from Maison Klein, Malaia Dimitrofska, and I
suppose I shall never see Moscow again. The court is again most lively
(it is certainly an unfailing interest to me, and I am always looking
out of the window). Someone has come from one of the Grand Dukes,
Michel, I think, to see the big horses. Hawes was very anxious we should
sell them in Russia, if we could get a fair price. They have always
excited much attention and admiration, but they are very big, and here
the Russians are accustomed to a much smaller race, prefer three small
ones to one larger pair. I don't know either if they could stand the
climate. There seems to be a perfect army of helpers packing carriages,
saddles, harness, and all the stable equipment. Mdme. Gille (my
couturiere) has arrived. She has made me a very nice little blue foulard
shirt, I couldn't stand my cloth body these hot days, and yet must
travel in that dress, as I have no other. When I think of the furs that
have always remained at the bottom of one of the trunks--so many people
told me that it would be impossible to be in Russia in May and June
without furs. It is fair to say that Mdme. Jaures told me it was
freezing still the morning they left Petersburg--which seems incredible
now. I send back all my big trunks and swell garments with the Huberts.
I shall keep out only one or two dinner dresses for Petersburg. Poor
Mdme. Hubert is rather sad at leaving me, and going back to France
without having seen Petersburg, but of course I don't want two maids any
longer.
This afternoon I went out with Richard for some last shopping. The city
is completely changed--not a creature nor a carriage, nor servants in
livery, nothing but a deserted city. We met the Austrian Ambassador
walking about in a blue flannel vest and a pot hat. The courts of the
Kremlin were meconnaissables, not a soul, hardly a soldier--one or two
small detachments of Cossacks at the gates. It is an extraordinary
change in such a short time. It has become a sleepy little provincial
town.
We had two or three gentlemen to dinner, M. d'Orval, ancien officier de
Chasseurs, just back from a tour in the Caucasus with the Duc de
Chartres, and a Russian merchant for whom Richard had letters--the first
person I have seen in Russia who was neither noble nor peasant. Both men
were interesting enough. The Russian talked prudently, but fairly
openly--said there must be a great change--things couldn't go on as they
did now, there was a young generation to be reckoned with, active,
educated, intelligent, and they must have their say--that when the
uprising came there would be a Revolution such as Europe had never seen.
I wonder.
After dinner we went to the Hermitage, the great public gardens. They
are pretty enough, large, with trees and bosquets, and every variety of
amusement--theatres, concerts, dancing, and even conjurors. Some
shepherds from the Wladimir Government with long yellow cloaks and high
hats were playing a sort of reed pipe, curious enough. At last I heard
some of the Russian national songs--a quartette was singing them in one
of the theatres. They are very pretty, monotonous, with an undercurrent
of sadness. They sang very true, and the voices are rich, not at all the
thin, high northern voice that one expected to hear. We stayed there so
long, looking at the various things, that we didn't get home until
12.30--much the latest entertainment I have been to in Moscow, except
the Palace ball, where the supper of course prolonged the festivities.
Monday, June 11th.
It was so warm to-day and I had so much to do with the
trunks--separating the things--that I only went out after tea, and of
course did a little more shopping. I wanted some photographs and also
some music--however Benckendorff said he would see about that for me.
We dined quite alone with the Embassy--a good dinner perfectly served,
tho' Lhermite leaves to-morrow. He came up to get his last instructions
from W. while we were having tea. His experiences are most amusing--he
says he has learnt a great deal of the language and the Russian ways of
doing business, and if ever he comes back he will know how to take care
of himself. He became quite excited at remembering various occasions
when he had been "roule."
After dinner W. and I went for a last drive, to look at the Kremlin by
moonlight--and beautiful it was--the sky was so blue one could almost
see it like the Italian summer sky, and all the great white buildings
and towers stood out gloriously. The great church of St. Basile was
extraordinary. The colours, pink, green, red, yellow, all so vivid that
even at night one quite made them out. It is a mass of towers, domes,
and cupolas, every one different in shape, work, and colour. It was
planned and executed by an Italian architect, and the story is that the
Czar (of the epoch) was so pleased, and at the same time so afraid he
might make another like it, that he had his eyes put out. It was
curiously dark and quiet inside--scarcel any light; here and there a
glimmer high up in one of the Palace rooms. We met two or three
carriages with colleagues driving about in the moonlight like ourselves.
The river, too, looked beautiful from the terrace--a broad silver band
with moonlight full upon it. I took a last look at the black Madonna in
the gateway, and the little guard of Cossacks. I shall often think
of that last night in the Kremlin when I have returned to civilization
and modern life.
I will send this off by to-morrow's courier. My next letter will be from
Petersburg. My little boudoir still looks very nice. The little Russian
maid is rather sad, and has been in and out 20 times, lighting candles,
opening and shutting doors and windows, and keeping up a stream of
conversation which I can't possibly understand, though the maids say
they do. W. is deep in last despatches, and has departed to his own
quarters. I haven't learnt any Russian, which I think is rather weak
on my part. I thought I would have some lessons at first, but I don't
think I could have learnt much in two weeks. Lagrene was
discouraging--says he knows very little, and his mother is a Russian.
_To H. L. K._
#Hotel Demouth, Petersburg#,
Jeudi, 14 Juin, 1883.
We arrived here last night at 12.30. The journey was comfortable enough,
but long--the Russian trains do not go a terrifying pace. We left Moscow
at 9.30, and the Maison Klein a little before 9. The depart was quite
imposing--all the personnel drawn up at the foot of the stairs, Lhermite
and the three coachmen outside at the door, and a regiment of
understrappers of all kinds. The little Russian maid was weeping and
kissing my skirts. The faithful Benckendorff accompanied us to the
station and saw us safely deposited in our wagon-salon--each Ambassador
had one and a smaller one for the suite. Two Chamberlains, not attired
in velvet and gold lace this time,--I felt rather aggrieved at having
ordinary mortals in plain clothes to look after us--were waiting at the
station to see that everything was well done, and they went with us to
Petersburg. There was a Mongole at the door of our wagon who appeared at
intervals with tea, oranges, and much information of all kinds (in
Russian). We had all our meals en route--breakfast at 11, dinner at
4.30, a nondescript sort of meal, half gouter, half supper, with cold
fish, fowl, mayonnaise, etc., at 8--and a very pretty little tea at
10.30. We all partook of every meal--how we managed to eat chicken and
mayonnaise at 8, having dined at 4.30, seems a mystery, but we did.
It was very hot at starting--the sun pouring down on the plains that are
around Moscow--not an atom of shade, but there was a sharp shower about
2 which cooled the air. They tell us Petersburg too is very hot. The
day passed quickly enough. Many of our colleagues came and paid us
visits. The Nuncio sat a long time. He is most interesting, with that
delightful, simple, easy Italian manner. He asked us a great deal about
the religious ceremony the day of the Coronation. He had only arrived
after that. He is very clever and sympathetic, ready to talk about
anything, and so moderate in his views. I think he would have a great
success in Paris, where people love to discuss and analyze everything.
Our Spanish colleague also came and sat with us. It seems he wanted W.
to come to his carriage and drink champagne and play cards (very high
play too), but it was conveyed to him that these were not exactly M.
Waddington's tastes. Rumour says he was naively surprised, and said,
"Comment, il ne joue pas!--le pauvre homme!" They were certainly a very
merry party--we heard roars of laughter every time the train stopped.
If anyone was losing heavily he took it most cheerfully.
Our last little tea at 10.30 was really very pretty--several round
tables very well arranged with flowers, tea, orangeade, and other
drinks--cakes, petits fours, etc. (but no more solid food). W. struck
and wouldn't get out, but Richard and I and the rest of the men were
quite ready to see what was going on. Do you remember how I always loved
getting out at all the buffets at no matter what time of night, when we
used to go down to Italy every year? I think the buffet at Bologna with
its "fricandeau de veau" is one of my most interesting souvenirs of
travel (not from an artistic point of view).
The arrival at Petersburg was curious. It was quite light, and there
were as many people at the station and in the streets as if it were 12
o'clock in the day. We read distinctly the names and numbers of the
streets and the signs of the shops, and yet it wasn't altogether
daylight--more like a late summer afternoon. We found very comfortable
rooms here--a large salon with large bedrooms on either side, and a room
next to me for Adelaide. I was quite ready to go to bed--the heat and
dust were trying, and yet it seemed funny to go to bed by daylight. They
brought tea of course, but we really couldn't do any more, so I departed
to my own room. There I quite lost the impression of daylight, as there
were double, even triple curtains to all the windows.