HOMEWARD BOUND
FIRST STATION, NARVA -- THE CATARACT -- RIGA -- HARDSHIPS OF
TRAVEL A HUNDRED YEARS AGO -- OBDURATE CUSTOM-HOUSE OFFICIALS --
A SUMMONS TO POTSDAM -- THE LOVELIEST AND SWEETEST OF QUEENS --
HER UGLY CHILDREN -- AN AMBITIOUS COOK -- THE JOURNEY CONTINUED
-- "REMEMBER YOUR JEWEL-CASE" -- MODELLING IN DIRT FOR A PASTIME
-- LIKEWISE SEWING -- HOME AGAIN.
I left St. Petersburg sad, sick and alone in my carriage, having been
unable to keep my Russian maid. I had nobody but a very old man who
wanted to go to Prussia, and whom I had given a servant's place
through pity, which I had cause to regret, because he got so drunk at
every stage that he had to be carried back to the box. M. de Riviere,
escorting me in his calash, was of no great assistance to me,
especially after crossing the Russian frontier and entering the sandy
district, for his postilions, from whom he did not know how to exact
obedience, were continually taking side roads, while I followed the
main road.
My first stop I made at Narva, a well-fortified but ugly, ill-paved
little town. The road leading there is entrancing; it is edged with
pretty houses and English gardens; in the distance is the sea, covered
with ships, which makes this route extremely picturesque. The women of
Narva wear the dress of ancient times. They are good-looking, for the
people of Livonia in general are splendid. Nearly all the heads of the
old men reminded me of Raphael's heads of Christ, and the young men,
their long hair falling on their shoulders, might have been models to
that great painter.
The day after my arrival I went to visit a magnificent cataract at
some distance from the town. A huge mass of water--you cannot tell
where it comes from--forms a torrent so rapid and powerful that in its
course it runs up enormous rocks, from which it tumbles noisily down
to rush up other rocks. The multitudinous cascades thus shooting after
each other in succession, and swallowing each other up, produce a
terrifying din. While I was occupied in sketching this beautiful
horror some of the inhabitants of Narva who were watching me told me
of a dreadful thing they had witnessed. The waters of the cataract,
swollen by great rains, had carried away some of the bank, and with it
a house that was the home of a family. The cries of distress of the
unfortunates were heard, and their frightful plight was seen, but no
aid could be given them, since it was impossible to steer a boat in
the torrent. The heartrending spectacle was finally followed by one
far more shocking, when the house and the unhappy family were
engulfed, and disappeared before the eyes of those who were now
narrating the catastrophe, and who were still quite affected by it.
Arriving at Riga, I found that this town, like Narva, was neither
handsome nor well-paved, but it is known to be a great commercial
place and has a fine harbour. Most of the men are habited like Turks
or Poles, and all women not of the populace put a gauze veil over
their heads when they go out. I scarcely had time to make other
observations, as I was hastening to reach Mittau, where I still hoped
to find the royal family. But to my annoyance I arrived too late and
did not meet them, so that I made but a short stay in this town, where
I had only gone for the sake of seeing our Princes.
I had taken the post from St. Petersburg, but at Riga we met the
Grand Duchess of Baden, who was on her way to the Empress, her
daughter, and who left not a horse on our route. I was obliged to hire
horses at livery-stables, and the coachman, instead of putting me down
for the night at the posthouses, took me to wretched cabins where
there were no beds and nothing to eat, so that in most cases I spent
the night in my carriage. As for food, the soup I got was made without
meat, but with carrots and bad butter. If I had a fowl killed it was
so lean and so tough that M. de Riviere and I were unable to cut it.
And we barely had time to finish these miserable meals, in so great
haste were the liverymen to resume the journey. We drove through such
deep sand that the horses went at a walk. It was frightfully hot. In
order to get air I was obliged to leave all my windows open, and both
postilions smoked incessantly; the vile odour of their pipes sickened
me so that I preferred to walk most of the time they smoked, although
I was up to my ankles in sand. Fortunately, no robbers are ever met
with on these roads. True, I noticed wolves on the neighbouring
heights, but apparently they were afraid of us, for they always fled
when we drew near, and so did the poor stags, which I frequently saw
crossing the road, when alarmed by M. de Riviere's calash.
In my state of health such hardships were bound to tell upon me. A few
days, in fact, were enough to break me down to such a degree that not
to succumb altogether it needed all my courage and my lively
determination not to interrupt the journey. I became so weak and ill
that I had to drag myself to my carriage, where I remained motionless,
bereft even of the ability to think. The only sensation I had was a
sharp pain in the right side, caused by rheumatism, and intensified
with every jolt. This pain was so unbearable that one day, when we
were driving on a road under repair and full of stones, I fainted away
in the carriage.
A part of my torture ended at Koenigsberg. There I took the post as
far as Berlin, where I arrived about the end of July, 1801, at ten in
the evening. But though I needed rest so badly, I was first to undergo
the ordeal of the custom-house. I was made to enter a large, dark
vault, where I waited a full two hours. The customs officers then said
they wanted to hold my carriage, so as to examine it at night, which
would have compelled me to walk to the inn in the pouring rain. I
argued with these men in French, and they answered me in German. It
was enough to drive one to distraction. They would not even allow me
to take out a nightcap and a little vial containing an antispasmodic,
of which I certainly would stand in great need after such a trial. I
was so hoarse from shouting at the barbarians that I could not speak.
At last I obtained permission to leave the custom-house in my
carriage, and I went to the "City of Paris" inn with a customs
officer, a real demon and dead drunk into the bargain. He opened my
luggage and turned everything pell-mell, appropriating a piece of
embroidered Indian stuff given me by Mme. Du Barry on my departure
from Paris. As I did not wish my "Sibyl" or the studies I had made of
the Emperor and Empress of Russia to be unrolled, my carriage was put
under seal, and at last I was able to get to bed. Early next day I
sent for M. Ranspach, my banker, who settled all my difficulties with
the custom-house.
Three days sufficed to rest me from the fatigues of my journey, and I
was feeling much better when the Queen of Prussia, who was then absent
from Berlin, was kind enough to request my presence at Potsdam, where
she desired me to do her portrait. I went. But my pen is incapable of
rendering the impression which the first sight of that Princess made
upon me. The beauty of her heavenly face, that expressed benevolence
and goodness, and whose features were so regular and delicate, the
loveliness of her figure, neck, and arms, the exquisite freshness of
her complexion--all was enchanting beyond anything imaginable. She was
in deep mourning, and wore a coronet of black jet, which, far from
being to her disadvantage, brought out the dazzling whiteness of her
skin. One must have seen the Queen of Prussia in order to understand
how bewitched I was when I first beheld her.
She made an appointment for the first sitting. "I cannot," she said,
"give it to you before noon, because the King reviews the troops at
ten every morning and likes me to attend." She wanted to lodge me in
the palace, but, knowing that this must inconvenience one of her
ladies, I declined with thanks and took quarters in a neighbouring
hotel, where I was very badly off in every way.
My stay at Potsdam was nevertheless a veritable delight to me, for the
more I saw of that charming Queen the more was I sensible to the
privilege of being in her company. She seemed to wish to see the
studies I had made of the Emperor Alexander and the Empress Elizabeth;
I promptly brought them to her, as well as my "Sibyl," which I had
stretched. I cannot say how graciously she praised this picture. She
was so friendly and so kind that the feeling she inspired was
altogether one of affection. I look back with pleasure upon all the
marks of favour that Her Majesty showered upon me, even in the
slightest matters. For instance: I was in the habit of taking coffee
of a morning, and in my hotel it was always atrocious. Somehow I told
the Queen about this, and the next day she sent me some that was
excellent. Another time, when I complimented her on her bracelets,
which were in the antique style, she at once removed them from her
arms and put them on mine. This gift was more welcome to me than a
fortune would have been; from that day forth those bracelets have
travelled with me everywhere. She was also obliging enough to give me
a box at the theatre quite near hers. From this place of vantage I
enjoyed, above all, looking at Her Majesty, whose lovely face was like
that of a sixteen-year-old girl. During one of our sittings the Queen
sent for her children. To my great surprise I found that they were
ugly. In showing them to me she said, "They are not pretty." I confess
I had not the courage to deny it. I contented myself with replying
that their faces had a great deal of character.
Besides the two pastels I made of Her Majesty, I did two others of
Prince Ferdinand's family. One of the young princesses, Louise, who
had married Prince Radziwill, was pretty and very genial. For some
time I had a delightful correspondence with her; I count her as one of
the people one can never forget. Her husband was a thorough musician.
I remember a surprise he caused me arising solely from a difference in
national customs. During my sojourn at Berlin I was taken to a grand
public concert, and was amazed to the last degree, upon entering the
hall, to see Prince Radziwill performing on the harp! Such a thing
would be impossible with us. Never could an amateur, especially a
prince, play before any one but his own social circle, and certainly
not before people who paid. I suppose in Prussia it was quite usual.
In Berlin I made the acquaintance of the Baroness de Krudener, so well
known for her cleverness and her rhapsodical notions. Her renown as an
author was already established, but she had not yet gained the
reputation of a religious prophet that made her so famous in the
North. She and her husband treated me with great civility. I can say
the same for Mme. de Souza, the Portuguese Ambassadress, whose
portrait I painted at the time.
On first arriving at Berlin I called upon the French Ambassador,
General Bournonville, for I was at last beginning to consider a return
to Paris. My friends, and particularly my brother, urgently suggested
I should do so. They had easily had my name taken off the list of
exiles, so that I was reestablished as a Frenchwoman, which, in spite
of all, I had ever remained in my heart. Although General Bournonville
was the first republican ambassador I visited, I had already seen
others. Toward the end of my stay at St. Petersburg General Duroc and
M. de Chateaugiron appeared at Alexander's court as envoys of
Bonaparte, and I remember hearing the Empress Elisabeth saying to the
Emperor, "When are we to receive the _citizens_?" M. de Chateaugiron
called upon me. I was as polite as in me lay, but that tricoloured
cockade affected me unspeakably. A few days later they both dined at
Princess Galitzin's. At table I found myself next to General Duroc,
who was said to have been one of Napoleon's intimates. He addressed
not a single word to me, and I did likewise with him. The dinner I
speak of gave rise to a rather amusing incident. The Princess's cook,
wholly ignorant of the French Revolution, naturally took these
gentlemen for ambassadors from the King of France. Wishing to honour
them, after much reflection he bethought himself that the lily was the
emblem of France, and accordingly arranged his truffles and fillets
and sweetmeats in that pattern. This so took the guests aback that the
Princess, fearing no doubt she was suspected of a bad joke, called up
the cook, and asked him what all the lilies meant. Said the worthy
soul with an air of proud satisfaction, "I wanted to show Your
Excellency that I knew the proper thing to do on great occasions."
A few days before I said farewell to Berlin the Director-General of
the Academy of Painting most courteously came to me in person with my
diploma as a member of said Academy. The many tokens of good-will
heaped upon me at the Prussian capital and court would assuredly have
kept me longer had my plans not been definitely fixed. Hence, being
resolved to go, I bade good-by to that dear, kind, lovely young Queen,
all unwitting, alas! how few years after I was to be shocked with the
news of her death.
[Illustration: WOMAN PAINTING.]
At starting from Berlin I was threatened with the loss of everything I
owned, and this is how it happened:
My horses were ordered for five o'clock in the morning. My man servant
must have gone to make his adieus to some friends, for he did not
appear, and in Prussia, as every one knows, horses do not wait. I got
up and dressed in a thoroughly sleepy condition. Meanwhile the porter
of my hotel, not seeing my man, took my jewel-case downstairs with my
remaining effects. This jewel-case, which contained all my diamonds
and other ornaments, and my cash--my whole fortune, in fact--I always
had under my feet when travelling. By the greatest luck, as soon as I
got into my carriage, though half asleep, I noticed that my feet were
not supported as usual. The horses were just off. I cried out to have
them stopped, and then called to the porter for my jewel-case,
purposely making enough noise to wake the mistress of the house. And I
was successful, for, after some evasions by the porter, the case was
brought out. It had been found in a stable at the back of the yard,
all covered with hay. The incident had given my man time to arrive,
and I drove away in high spirits, as may well be imagined, at having
recovered both my servant and my jewel-case. I record the adventure
thinking it may be useful as a lesson to absent-minded travellers.
From Berlin I went to Dresden, and then on to Brunswick, where I spent
a few days with the Riviere family. Between Brunswick and Weimar my
postilion lost the way, and we were stuck for hours in the heaviest
soil. I remember that as a truce to my impatience--and more
particularly to my appetite--I gathered up some of that wretched earth
and tried to model a head with it; I really achieved something that
looked like a face. Though furnished with letters for the court at
Weimar, I did not present them, but after a day's rest proceeded to
Gotha. Here I met an old friend I had known in Paris, Baron Grimm, who
very civilly attended to all my wants for the journey, which I did not
again interrupt until I reached Frankfort. We were obliged to wait at
Frankfort six days, during which I was very much bored. To pass the
time I mended my old shirts, and the Lord knows what sort of sewing
that was! On reaching Paris I engaged a chambermaid, who remarked,
when she saw my mending, "Any one can see that Madame has been in a
savage country, for this is sewn like the devil." I laughed and
informed her that it was my own handiwork. The poor girl, quite
embarrassed, was eager to take back what she had said, but I reassured
her by acknowledging that I had never been an adept with the needle.
I will not attempt to describe my feelings at setting foot on the soil
of France, from which I had been absent twelve years. I was stirred by
terror, grief and joy in turn. I mourned the friends who had died on
the scaffold; but I was to see those again who still lived. This
France, that I was entering once more, had been the scene of horrible
crimes. But this France was my country!