I am going to tell you about a _fête_ at which I was present
without being there, from which my body was absent but to which my eye
was invited--a court ball! Invisible, I saw everything, and, moreover,
I did not have upon my finger the Ring of Gyges, nor upon my head the
green felt cap of a Kobold, nor any other talisman.
Upon the Alexander Square, covered with its carpet of snow, numerous
carriages were stationed although the cold would freeze Parisian
coachmen and horses, but which did not seem sufficiently rigorous
for the Russians to have the braziers lighted under the iron kiosks
with Chinese roofs in the vicinity of the Winter Palace. The trees
of the Admiralty, diamonded with hoar-frost, looked like great white
plumes planted in the earth, and the Triumphal Column had candied its
rose granite with a layer of ice resembling sugar; the moon, that
rose pure and bright, poured its dead light upon all this nocturnal
whiteness, turned the shadows to blue, and gave a fantastic appearance
to the motionless silhouettes of the equipages whose frosted lanterns
punctuated the immense expanse with yellowish points like polar stars.
In the background, the colossal Winter Palace flamed at all its
windows, like a mountain pierced with holes and lighted by an internal
fire.
[Illustration: THE WINTER PALACE, ST. PETERSBURG.]
Absolute silence reigned over the square; the rigour of the temperature
kept away the curious, who in Paris would not have neglected flocking
together for the spectacle of such a _fête_, although watched from
a distance and from the outside; and if there had been a crowd, the
approaches to the palace are so vast that it would have been scattered
and lost in that enormous space which only an army could fill.
A sleigh crossed diagonally the great white cloth upon which was
extended the shadow of the Alexandrine Column and lost itself in the
dark street that separates the Winter Palace from the Hermitage, and
that gains from its aërial bridge some resemblance to the Canal della
Paglia at Venice.
A few minutes later, an eye, which you may consider as separated from
the body, sped along a cornice supported by the portico of a gallery
of the palace; rows of wax-candles planted in the mouldings of the
entablature hid it behind a hedge of fire and allowed no one from below
to perceive its feeble gleam. The light hid it better than shadow could
have done; it was lost in the dazzling brilliancy.
The gallery seen from there extended long and deep with its polished
columns, its mirror-like inlaid floor full of gliding reflections
of gold candlelight, its pictures filling the spaces between the
columns, the foreshortening of which prevented the subjects from being
discerned. Already brilliant uniforms were promenading and ample court
robes were trailing their waves of material there. Little by little,
the crowd increased and, like a river, variegated and shining, filled
the bed of the gallery which, notwithstanding its great width, had
already become too narrow.
Every eye of this crowd was turned towards the door through which the
emperor must enter. The folding doors opened: the emperor, the empress,
and the grand-dukes traversed the gallery between two suddenly-formed
hedges of the invited guests, addressing a few words with gracious and
noble familiarity to personages of distinction stationed along their
way. Then the imperial group disappeared through the door directly
opposite, followed at a respectful distance by the grand dignitaries of
State, the diplomatic body, the generals, and the courtiers.
The procession had scarcely entered the ball-room before the eye was
installed there, equipped this time with a good opera-glass. It was
like a furnace of light and heat, a blaze so intense as to seem almost
like a conflagration. Cordons of fire ran along the cornices; in the
spaces between the windows high stands, with a thousand arms each,
blazed like burning bushes; hundreds of chandeliers hung from the
ceilings, like fiery constellations in the midst of a phosphorescent
fog. And all these lights, interlacing their rays, made a most dazzling
illumination.
The first impression, especially at this height on leaning over this
gulf of light, is a sort of vertigo; at first, across the waves of
light from the mirrors, the glitter of the gold, the sparkle of the
diamonds, the flash of the jewels, and the sheen of rich material,
nothing can be distinguished. A swarmlike scintillation prevents
you from seizing any forms; then soon the pupil grows accustomed to
the dazzle and chases the black butterflies that flutter before it
as after looking at the sun; from one end to the other, it embraces
this gigantic hall all in marble and white stucco, the polished walls
of which shine like the jaspers and porphyries in the Babylonian
architecture of Martin’s engravings, vaguely reflecting lights and
objects.
The kaleidoscope, with its falling apart of coloured particles that
ceaselessly re-form in new figures; or the chromatrope, with its
expansions and contractions, where a painting becomes a flower, then
changes its petals for the points of a crown, and ends by whirling into
a sun, passing from a ruby to an emerald, from a topaz to an amethyst
around a diamond centre, can alone, thousands of times enlarged, give
an idea of this moving parterre of gold, precious stones, and flowers,
changing its glittering arabesques by means of its perpetual agitation.
At the entrance of the imperial family, this moving effulgence came to
rest, and you could distinguish faces and persons across the subdued
scintillation.
In Russia, the court balls open with what is called a polonaise:
this is not a dance, but a sort of a parade, a procession, a
_torch-march_. Those who take part in it divide in such a way as
to leave in the centre of the ball-room a sort of avenue of which they
form the hedges. When everybody is in place, the orchestra plays an air
in a majestic and slow rhythm, and the promenade begins; it is led by
the Emperor, who gives his hand to a princess, or a lady whom he wishes
to honour.
Behind the imperial family, come the high officers of the army and
palace, the grand dignitaries each giving a hand to a lady.
The procession continues to march and is recruited on the way: a
gentleman leaves the hedge and offers his hand to a lady placed
opposite to him, and this new couple joins the others and takes its
place in the line, with rhythmic steps slowing up or accelerating
according to the movement of the head. It cannot be an easy thing
to march thus, holding merely by the finger-tips under the fire of
a thousand readily ironical glances: the least _gaucherie_ of
countenance, the slightest awkwardness with the feet, an almost
imperceptible fault in the time would be noticed. Military habits help
many of the men, but how difficult for the women! The majority of them
acquit themselves admirably, and of more than one of them you could
say: _Et vera incessu patuit dea!_ They pass along lightly beneath
their plumes, their flowers, and their diamonds, modestly lowering
their eyes or letting them wander with an air of perfect innocence,
manœuvring their waves of silk and lace with a movement of the body or
a little stroke of the heel, refreshing themselves with a flutter of
the fan, as much at ease as if they were walking in the solitary avenue
of a park.
More than one great actress has never learnt how to move in so noble,
graceful and simple a manner while the world is gazing at her.
When the polonaise has traversed the salon and the gallery, the ball
begins. The dances have nothing characteristic in them; they are
quadrilles, waltzes, and redowas as in Paris, London, Madrid, Vienna,
and everywhere else in the fashionable world; except, however, the
mazourka which is danced at St. Petersburg with a perfection and
elegance unknown elsewhere. Local customs are everywhere disappearing
and first of all they desert the upper ranks of society. To find them
anew, one must withdraw from the centres of civilization and descend to
the depths of the people!
The general effect, however, was charming: the dance formed amid the
splendid crowd which arranged itself symmetrically to make room for it;
the whirl of the waltz distended the robes like the skirts of whirling
dervishes, and the rapid motion lengthened out the strings of diamonds
and the swords of gold and silver in serpentine gleams like flashes of
lightning; and the little gloved hands resting on the epaulettes of the
waltzers looked like white camellias in vases of massive gold.
After an hour or two of bird’s eye observation, the eye transported
itself beneath the arches of another hall through mysterious and
labyrinth-like passages, where the distant sounds of the orchestra
and the _fête_ died away in indistinct murmurings. A comparative
darkness reigned in this enormous hall: it was here that the supper
was to take place. Many cathedrals are less vast. In the background,
through the shadows, the white lines of the tables were outlined;
in the corners vaguely glimmered gigantic blocks of indistinct
_orfévrerie_ sharply spangled flashing back a ray coming I know
not whence: these were the sideboards. A velvet platform revealed
steps leading to a table formed like a horseshoe. In silent activity
came and went lackeys in full livery, major-domos, and gastronomic
officials, putting the last touch to the viands. A few stray lights
spotted this dark background, like sparks upon burning paper.
However, innumerable candles filled the chandeliers and followed the
cordons of the friezes and the outlines of the arcades. They sprang
up white from their bunched candelabra like pistils in the calixes
of flowers, but not the slightest luminous star trembled at their
tips. One might have called them frozen stalactites; and already was
heard, like the rush of overflowing waters, the heavy sound of the
approaching throng.--The Emperor appeared at the threshold: it was like
a _fiat lux_. A subtle flame ran from one candle to another, as
quick as lightning: everything became illuminated at a single stroke
and a flood of light suddenly filled the immense hall, aglow as if
by magic. This sudden transition from penumbra to the most brilliant
light was truly fairy-like. In our prosaic century every wonder must be
explained: threads of gun-cotton connected all the wicks soaked with
an inflammable essence, and a light applied in seven or eight places,
propagated itself instantly. With gas-lights lowered and raised one
could produce an analogous effect; but gas, as we know, is not used at
the Winter Palace. They burn nothing but candles of the purest wax. It
is in Russia only that the bees now contribute to illumination. The
Empress took her place with several personages of high distinction upon
the platform where stood the horseshoe table. Behind her gilt arm-chair
unfolded, like a gigantic floral firework, an immense sheaf of white
and pink camellias piled against the marble wall. Twelve negroes of
large size chosen from among the best specimens of the African race,
dressed _à la mameluk_,--a white turban twisted and rolled, a
green round jacket with golden coins, full trousers of red held by a
belt of cashmire, the whole braided and embroidered on all the seams,
descended and mounted the steps of the platform, handing the plates to
the lackeys or taking them from their hands with movements full of the
grace and dignity peculiar to Eastern races, although their employment
was servile. These Orientals having forgotten Desdemona, did their
duties with a majestic air and gave to this European _fête_ an
Asiatic _cachet_ in the best taste.
Without being shown to their places, the invited guests placed
themselves at the tables intended for them. Rich _épergnes_,
silvered and gilt, representing groups of figures, or flowers, or
mythological or fantastical ornaments, garnished the centres; and
candelabra alternated with pyramids of fruits and set pieces. Regarded
from a height, the brilliant symmetry of the crystals and porcelains,
the silver and the flowers, was understood better than from below. A
double row of women’s necks glittering with diamonds, and framed in
lace, ranged the whole length of the tablecloths, disclosing their
beauties to the invisible eye, whose glance could also wander among the
flowers, the leaves, the feathers, and the jewels.
The Emperor visited the tables, addressing a few words to those he
wished to distinguish, sitting down sometimes and moistening his lips
with a glass of champagne, then withdrawing to do the same elsewhere.
These stops of a few moments are considered a great mark of favour.
After supper, the dances were resumed; but the night was drawing on.
It was time to leave; the _fête_ could only repeat itself, and
for a purely ocular enjoyment it no longer offered the same interest.
The sleigh that had crossed the square to stop at a little door in the
alley separating the Winter Palace from the Hermitage, reappeared,
making its way to the side of St. Isaac’s Church, and bringing a
_pelisse_ and a fur cap which completely covered the face. As if
the sky wished to rival the splendours of the earth, an aurora borealis
threw into the night its polar fireworks with rockets of silver,
gold, purple, and mother-of-pearl, extinguishing the stars with its
phosphorescent irradiations.