_EKATERINA AT MOSCOW._
The Empress Ekaterina spent the summer of 1775 in the _alentours_ of
Moscow, honouring with her presence the village of Kolomensk, and then
that of Chërnaya-griaz, which she had bought from Prince Kantomir. It
had been named in honour of its new mistress Tzaritzin. She, in buying
it, intended it to take the place of the Muscovite Tzarskoë-selo.
On the borders of a dark forest, in the midst of fallen maples,
a two-storied wooden palace had been hastily erected, with a few
outhouses, some stables and a poultry yard.
From the windows of her new palace the empress could admire the
extensive and deep clear lakelets shaded by wooded hills, the boundless
newly-mown plains, with, scattered here and there, the white shirts
of the mowers, and the blue and red _sarafans_ of the hay-makers.
Beyond these plains others could be seen, yet untouched by the sickle,
sparkling in all their emerald beauty; and again, beyond these, the
newly-ploughed corn-fields, and behind these, as far as the eye could
reach, green plains and wooded hills; all this coloured and warmed by a
lovely sun in a blue cloudless sky.
Life here was simple and free. Through the constantly open windows
the scent of the newly-mown hay and of the forest depths penetrated
everywhere. Often would a blackbird fly in from the river, and from the
plains came the grasshoppers and the moths. From the early morning the
whole Court would be scattered in the forest, picking flowers, looking
for mushrooms, fishing or sailing on the lakes, riding and driving in
the neighbourhood. Ekaterina, for the time being clothed in a simple
white morning robe, and wearing a cap over her simply twisted hair,
would be seated at her writing table, writing out schemes and drafts of
various ukases, or letters to the Parisian philosopher and _publiciste_
Baron Grimme. She complained to him that her servants would not give
her more than two quills a day, as they knew very well that she could
not regard with indifference a piece of white paper and a well-trimmed
quill, but must sit down and indulge her mania for paper soiling.
At the very time when all the world were tiring their brains over
the politics of the Russian empress, as to what she would undertake
in regard to Turkey, which she had desolated, or were discussing the
delayed news of that recently-stifled insurrection on the Volga, the
late execution of Pougachoff, and of the mysterious Princess Tarakanova
arrested lately at Livorno, Ekaterina was describing to the Baron
Grimme the lives of her pet dogs.
These dogs were called at Court “Sir Tom Anderson, and his consort” (by
second marriage) “Mimi, Lady Anderson.” They were such tiny, shaggy
little things, with sharp, intelligent noses, and comical wiry tails,
just like brooms. These dogs had nice little soft mattresses and wadded
silk counterpanes, stitched by the hands of the Empress herself.
Ekaterina wrote to Grimme, how fond she and Sir Tom were of sitting at
the open window, and how Tom, with his fore-paws on the window-sill,
notwithstanding his contemplation of nature, would bark and snarl
at the horses towing the barges up the river. “The views around are
lovely, though a trifle monotonous, and Sir Tom is delighted with
the woods, the hills, and with the lovely quiet gardens and manors,
half buried in bright green, beyond which, in the far-off blue, you
can just distinguish the tops of the golden Muscovite churches. This
village wilderness and solitude just suit the hearts of Sir Anderson
and his consort. Forgetting the noise of the city and its gaiety,
they admire the beauties around them, and it is only at a late hour
that they allow themselves to be persuaded to seek their warm wadded
coverlets. The mistress of the house also likes these solitary Russian
hamlets, forests and plains. I love these unploughed new places,” wrote
Ekaterina to Grimme, “and I must say that I feel from my heart that I
only fit in where all is untouched and unspoilt.”