Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900

One of the chamberlains showed me some of the most curious old bowls and flagons. The work is rather rough, and the stones enormous—not well cut—but the effect is good, half barbaric. The Court appeared always with the same brilliant suite—the Empress looked charming in a pink velvet train, embroidered in silver. All the Grand Duchesses in drap d'argent, bordered with beautiful black sable.

As soon as the Court arrived the polonaise began; the Emperor making the first with Queen of Greece, the Empress with Schweinitz. It was a charming sight. All the trains were étalées their full length. The gentleman takes his partner's hand, holding it very high, and they make a stately progress through the rooms. I didn't dance the first one. We had a very good view of the whole thing. It was a beautiful sight—the men all in uniform, with orders, and broad ribbons; and the women with their trains down the full length. The Russian trains, of white and silver bordered with fur, made a great effect.

The Emperor danced (which is a façon de parler only, as one walked through the rooms) with the Queen of Greece, Arch Duchess Charles Louis, and the Ambassadrices Lady Thornton, Mdme. Jaurès, Countess Dudzeele, and me—the Empress with the 6 Ambassadors. I danced the second polonaise with the Grand Duke Wladimir, who is handsome and spirited looking. He told me who many of the people were. In one of the rooms were all the Russian women, not in costume, but in ordinary ball dress, all, however, wearing the Kakoshnik studded with jewels, and most becoming it was.

I was much interested (before my turn came) to see how the ladies got back to their places after having been deposited by the Emperor in the middle of the room. He doesn't conduct his partner back as all the others do. He goes back to his own place, the lady makes a curtsey, and gets back to hers across the room backwards as well as she can. They seemed to get through all right. I rather enjoyed my polonaise with the Emperor. He showed me quantities of people—a splendid man from some part of Asia dressed in white, with jewels, coloured stones mostly, all down the front of his coat, and pistols in his belt with jewelled hilts. Also the Khan of Khiva, with all the front of his high fur cap covered with jewels, also his belt, which seemed made entirely of diamonds and rubies.

The music was always the march from Glinka's opera; each band in turn taking it up as the cortége passed through the rooms. The last Polonaise finished about 11.30, and the Court immediately retired. We had no refreshments of any kind, and made the same rush for the carriages.

Our rentrée to the Embassy is most amusing—the whole Mission precedes us, and when we arrive we find them ranged in a semicircle at the foot of the staircase, waiting to receive us. Richard says he never understood the gulf that separates an Ambassador Extraordinary from ordinary mortals until he accompanied his brother to Moscow.

    5 o'clock.

We had rather an interesting afternoon. We met one of the committee at the place, sort of great plain, or meadow, where the Fête Populaire is to be, near the Petrofski Palace, where the Emperor stayed before he made his public entrée into Moscow, who showed us everything. There are quantities of little sheds or baraques, where everybody (and there will be thousands, he tells us) will receive a basket with a meat pâté, a pâté of confitures, a cake, and a package of bonbons. There are also great barrels of beer, where everyone can go with a mug and drink as much as he can hold.

We asked M. (I forget his name) how it was possible to take precautions with such a crowd of people, but he said they anticipated no danger, it was the "people's day," which sounded to us rather optimistic. It was rather nice driving about.

Now I have just been, at the request of Lhermite, to look at his table, as we have our first big dinner to-night (all Russians); all the flowers, "Roses de France," have just arrived from Paris—three nights on the road; they look quite fresh and beautiful,—were packed alone in large hampers. I shall wear my blue tulle ball-dress to-night, as we go to the ball at the Governor's Palace after dinner.

    Wednesday, 30th.

Our dinner was pleasant last night. As it was entirely Russian we had the curious meal they all take just before dinner. A table was spread in the small salon opening into the dining-room, with smoked and salted fish, caviare, cucumbers, anchovies, etc. They all partook, and then we passed into the dining-room, where the real business began. I sat between M. de Giers, Foreign Minister, and Count Worontzoff, Ministre de la Cour. They were very pleasant, and rather amusing over the exigencies of the suites of the foreign Princes; the smaller the Power the more important the chamberlains, equerries, etc.—rather like our own experience the year of the Exhibition in Paris, where a Baden equerry, I think, was forgotten (which of course was most improper at the Quai d'Orsay), and most delicate negotiations were necessary. Both gentlemen were very complimentary over the dinner and the flowers—asked where in Moscow we had been able to find them, and could hardly believe they had arrived this morning, three nights and three days on the road. They were beautiful, those lovely pink "Roses de France," which looked quite charming with the dark blue Sèvres china.

The guests went off about 10; and we half an hour later to the great ball. I wore my light blue tulle with silver braid; and I will add that I left the greater part of the tulle at the Palace. Happily the silk under-skirt was strong, or else I should have stood in my petticoats. The crowd and heat was something awful—the staircase was a regular bousculade, and I was thankful those big Russian spurs merely tore my flounces, and didn't penetrate any further. We finally arrived, struggling and already exhausted, in the ballroom, where we found all the Grand Dukes and Grand Duchesses already assembled to receive the Emperor.

We had some little time to wait, so they all came over and talked to us. The Queen of Greece is most attractive—so simple. She noticed that my dress was torn and flowers crushed, but said, what was quite true, that no one would remark it in the crowd. We soon heard the sound of the March, and then there was such a rush towards the door by which the Emperor and Empress were to enter that we quickly withdrew into the embrasure of the window, and let the torrent pass. They tried to make a circle, but it was impossible. The crowd was dense. W. and I made our way quickly to the head of the stairs and waited there, as they had told us the Emperor would not stay long—merely make a tour through the rooms.

They appeared very soon, shook hands with us both, and seemed very glad to get away. The Empress was in light blue, with a beautiful diamond tiara. It is rather pretty to see the Grand Duke Wladimir always close to his brother, to shield him from any danger. We were all rather cross when we got home.

This morning I have been shopping with W., Richard, and Pontécoulant. It is rather an unsatisfactory performance, as we can't either speak or understand Russian. In the bazaars and real Moscow shops they know nothing but Russian. We take the little polygot boy with us (always ahead in his little droshky) but as he invariably announces "la grande Ambassade" we see the prices go up. Some of the enamel and gold and silver work is beautiful. Richard was quite fascinated with the Madonnas, with their black faces and wands, set in a handsome frame of gold, with light blue enamel. He bought two, one for Louise and one for me, which I am delighted to have. We bought various little boxes, some of lacquer, others in silver, rather prettily worked, and a variety of fancy spoons, buckles, etc.

I must stop now and dress. We dine at 6, so as to be at the Opéra at 9. We shall go "en gala," our three carriages, as it is a fine warm night. The detective is a little anxious for to-night (it would be such a good opportunity to get rid of all the Russian Princes, to say nothing of the foreigners). He and Pontécoulant suggested to W. that I should be left at home, but I protested vigorously. If they all go, I am going too. I don't feel very nervous, I wonder why; for it really is a little uncomfortable—unusual to hesitate about going to the Opéra because one might be blown up.

To H. L. K

    Jeudi, May 31st, 1883.

I was too tired to write last night, though the opera was over fairly early. It was a beautiful sight, the house brilliantly lighted and crowded, nothing but uniforms, orders, and jewels. There was one dark box, which of course attracted much attention; the Americans—all the men in black, except the three naval officers—(we were acclamés all along the route, and I must say Leroy and Hubert looked very well in their tricornes and powdered wigs). I wore the crème embroidered velvet with blue satin front, tiara, and blue feathers in my hair. I fancy Philippe had made a sort of tower on the top of my head, but he again assured me I must have a "coiffure de circonstance."

The square before the Opéra was brilliantly lighted (they certainly light most beautifully in Russia—thousands of candles everywhere), a red carpet down, and quantities of palms and flowers—always also quantities of gilded gentlemen. We didn't wait very long for the Court to appear—about a quarter of an hour—and were much taken up looking at everything, and everybody, and trying to recognize our friends. A large box at one end of the house, opposite the stage, was reserved for the Royalties, all draped of course in red and gold.

Everyone rose when the Emperor and Empress arrived, always with their brilliant cortége of Princes. One of the most striking uniforms was the Prince of Montenegro's, but they all made a fine show, and a most effective background for the women—the orchestra playing the Russian Hymn, the chorus singing it, all the house applauding, and all eyes fixed on the Royal box.

It was really magnificent, and the Emperor looked pleased. They gave the first act of Glinka's opera "La Vie pour le Czar." When the curtain fell the whole house rose again; when the Emperor and Empress left their box there was a general movement among the people, and some of our colleagues had come to pay us a visit when Count Worontzoff (Ministre de la Cour) appeared and said, "Sa Majesté" hoped we would come and have tea with her, and he would have the honour of showing us the way; so he gave me his arm and took me to the foyer, which was very well arranged with flowers, plants, and red carpets.

There were several round tables. He took me to the Empress' table, where were the Queen of Greece, Grand Duchesses Constantine and Wladimir, Lady Thornton, and Madame Jaurès; also Nigra, Schweinitz, and a brother of the Shah de Perse. The Empress looked so young, in white, with a broad red ribbon, and splendid diamonds. The Queen of Greece was charming, asked me if I ever found time to write to Francis. The Emperor didn't sit down—he walked about between the tables, and talked to everybody.

We stayed, I should think, about half an hour at the tea-table, and then went back to the theatre. The ballet was long, but interesting, all the mazurkas of the Empire were danced in costume. We got our carriages easily enough, and the arrangements were good. The younger members of the Mission who didn't go for tea with the Empress found the entr'acte long.

    Saturday, June 2d.

I couldn't write yesterday, Dear, for I was in bed until dinner-time, thoroughly tired out. Neither W. nor I went to the ball on Thursday night given by the "Noblesse de Moscou." I hoped to be able to go to the ball of the German Embassy last night, but I couldn't do that either. I felt rather better about 6 o'clock, and sent for my dress, as W. particularly wanted me to go, but the minute I stood up and tried to dress I was half fainting, so there was no use persisting.

The fatigue has been something awful, and the hours of standing have made it impossible to put on my Paris shoes, and I have been obliged to buy white satin boats at one of the Moscow shoemakers. The bootmakers will make his fortune, as it seems everybody is in the same state. The Empress even can't wear her usual shoes, and all the women have left off coquettish little shoes that match their dresses, and taken to these rather primitive chaussures.

W. and all the gentlemen went to the ball, and said it was very handsome—everything, silver, supper, servants, etc., had been sent from Berlin. Madame Schweinitz, who has a young baby, arrived from Petersburg the morning of the ball. Count Eulenbourg—one of the German Emperor's Maîtres des Cérémonies—had also arrived to decide about the questions of precedence, place, etc. The Court remained to supper, so of course the Ambassadors were obliged to stay. W. got home at 2 o'clock, very late for this country, where everything begins early.

Richard and Pontécoulant are getting great friends. Pontécoulant blagues[5 - Teases.] him all the time—says he is getting a perfect courtier, and that his electors in the Seine Inférieure would be scandalized if they could see him. I must dress now for the "Fête Populaire," and will write more when I get back.

    9 o'clock.

I have retired to my own quarters. W. dines with Nigra, so I have remained in my dressing-room, as I have still a "fond de fatigue." The Fête Populaire was interesting. The day has been beautiful, and there was not a hitch of any kind. The drive out was interesting, on account of the people, a steady stream of peasants of all ages going the same way. We went at once to the Loge Impériale, a large pavilion erected at the entrance facing the great plain. The space was so enormous that one hardly distinguished anything. The booths and towers looked like little spots, and they were very far off. The Emperor and Empress never left the Loge. He certainly didn't go down and walk about among the people, as some enthusiastic gentlemen had told us he would. Of course all the same people were assembled in the Loge—Diplomatists, Court officials, officers, etc. There was a cold lunch always going on.

There were many white dresses—all Russian women wear white a great deal at any age. The Princess Kotchoubey—78 years old—who put the Imperial mantle on the Empress the day of the sacre, and who had done the same thing for the late Empress, was dressed entirely in white, bonnet, mantle, everything.

The Court remained about an hour, and we left as soon as they did. There was some little delay getting our carriages, but on the whole the thing was well managed. Already some people were coming away looking very smiling, and carrying their baskets most carefully. I will bring you one of the mugs they gave me with the chiffre of the Emperor and Empress, and the date.

    Sunday, June 3d.

I stayed at home all the morning, quite pleased to have nothing to do. This afternoon W., Pontécoulant, and I went for a little turn. We got out of the carriage at the Kremlin, and walked about, having a quiet look at everything. The view from the terrace was enchanting, the afternoon sun lighting up all the curious old buildings, and bringing out the colours of everything.

This evening we have had a diplomatic dinner. I was between Schweinitz and Sir Edward Thornton. Both of them talked a great deal. After dinner I talked some time to Hunt, whom I like very much. He says many people, Russians particularly, couldn't understand why he didn't wear his uniform—"ce n'est pas très poli pour nous." They can't conceive that the representative of a great Power shouldn't be attired in velvet and gold like all the rest of the Embassies.

The table was again covered with pink roses. They just last through the dinner, and fall to pieces as soon as they are taken out of the vases. Some of them looked so fresh, not even in full bloom, that I thought I could send some French roses to Countess Pahlen, and the moment we left the dining-room Lhermite took them off the table, but they fell to pieces in his hands, covering the floor with their petals.

    Monday, June 4th.

This morning we have been photographed in the court-yard—the whole establishment, gala carriages, servants, horses, moujiks, maids, cooks, etc. First there was the "classic" group of the Mission, W. and I seated in front, with all the gentlemen standing around us. It was very long getting the poses all right so as to show everybody in an advantageous light; and as it is (judging from the cliché) François de Corcelle looks as if he was throttling me. Then came the group of the whole party, and it was amusing to see how eager the Russian maids and the stable-men were to be well placed. They stood as still as rocks. We waited a little to see the gala carriages and horses taken, but that was too long. The horses were nervous, and never were quiet an instant. Now someone has gone to get a drum—they think the sudden noise may make them all look in the same direction for a moment.

W. and I have been out for a turn—to the Kremlin of course, which is really the most interesting part of Moscow. There is always the same crowd hurrying and jostling each other. We went all over St. Basile. The inside is curious, with a succession of rooms and dark recesses, but the outside is unique; such an agglomeration of domes, steeples, bell-towers; all absolutely different in shape and colour—perfectly barbarous, but very striking.

W. enjoys our quiet afternoon drives, the perpetual representation, seeing always the same people, and saying and hearing the same things, is beginning to tire him. It is a curious life. We see nothing but the Court and the people—no haute bourgeoisie nor intermediate class, and yet they exist, people in finance and commercial affairs. They certainly have had no part in the show—I should think there must be great discontent. The young generation certainly will never be satisfied to be kept entirely out of everything. Some of them have travelled, been educated in England, have handsome houses, English horses, etc., but apparently they don't exist—at least we have never seen any.

I must stop, as we dress and dine early for the Palace Ball. My Dear, my dress is frightfully green (Delannoy's green velvet coat over pink tulle). Of course we chose it by candle-light, when it looked charming; but as we dress and start by daylight I am rather anxious. I consulted Pontécoulant, who came in just as the maids were bringing it in. He said, "C'est bien vert, Madame." Let us hope that the light of thousands of wax candles may have a subduing effect.

To G. K. S

    Ambassade de France, Moscow,

    Maison Klein, Malaia Dimitrofska,
    June 5, 1883.

The Palace ball was quite beautiful last night. I had some misgivings as to my dress until we got to the Palace, as the gentlemen of the Embassy had evidently found me very green when we assembled in the great hall before starting; however as soon as we arrived in the big room of the Palace where we were all marshalled, Countess Linden (an American born) said to me at once "Oh, Mdme. Waddington, how lovely your pink roses look on the dark blue velvet," so I knew it was all right. I wore that dress of Delannoy's which she was sure would be most effective—pink tulle skirts—with a green velvet habit (chosen of course by candle-light) so that it did look very green by daylight, and a wreath of pink roses round the décolleté. I remember both Henrietta and Pauline were a little doubtful—but it certainly made more effect than any dress I wore except the blue manteau de cour. I will tell Delannoy. We always go in by a special side entrance to these Palace functions, which is a pity, as we miss the grand staircase, which they told us was splendid with red carpets, soldiers, and gold-laced gentlemen to-night. We waited some time, an hour certainly, before the Court came, but as all the Corps Diplomatique were assembled there it was pleasant enough, and we all compared our experiences and our fatigue, for everybody was dead tired—the men more than the women.

The rooms are magnificent—very high, and entirely lighted by wax candles—thousands; one of the chamberlains told me how many, but I would scarcely dare to say. The Court arrived with the usual ceremony and always the same brilliant suite of officers and foreign Princes. The Emperor and Empress looked very smiling, and not at all tired. She was in white, with splendid diamonds and the broad blue ribbon of St. André. He always in uniform. As soon as they appeared the polonaises began, this time three only, which the Emperor danced with the ladies of the family. I danced the first with the Grand Duke Wladimir. He is charming and amiable, but has a stern face when he isn't smiling. I think if the Russians ever feel his hand it will be a heavy one. I danced the second with the Grand Duke Alexis, and looked on at the third. It was not nearly so fine a sight as the Court ball at the old palace. There the mixture of modern life and dress and half barbaric costumes and ornamentations was so striking; also the trains made such an effect, being all étaléd one was obliged to keep a certain distance, and that gave a stately air to the whole thing which was wanting last night when all the women were in ordinary ball dress, not particularly long, so that the cortége was rather crowded and one saw merely a mass of jewelled heads (the dress was lost). Also they merely walked around the ballroom, not going through all the rooms as we did at the old palace.

When the polonaises were over there were one or two waltzes. The Empress made several turns, but with the Princes only, and we stood and looked on.

While we were waiting there until someone should come and get us for some new function I heard a sort of scuffle behind me and a woman's impatient voice saying in English "I can't bear it another moment," and a sound of something falling or rolling across the floor. I turned round and saw Mdme. A– (a secretary's wife, also an American) apparently struggling with something, and very flushed and excited. I said, "What is the matter?" "I am kicking off my shoes." "But you can never put them on again." "I don't care if I never see them again—I can't stand them another minute." "But you have to walk in a cortége to supper with the Imperial party." "I don't care at all, I shall walk in my stockings," then came another little kick, and the slipper disappeared, rolling underneath a heavy damask curtain. I quite sympathized with her, as my beautiful white slippers (Moscow manufacture) were not altogether comfortable, but I think I should not have had the strength of mind to discard them entirely. When I was dressing, Adelaide tried to persuade me that I had better put on the pink satin slippers that matched my dress; but my experience of the hours of standing at all Russian Court functions had at least taught me not to start with anything that was at all tight.