Читать книгу: «Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900», страница 8
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 départ 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 goûter, 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 Adelaïde. 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.
This morning we slept late and breakfasted at 12.30, then W., Richard, and I went off in a carriage to the Hermitage (the great Museum). W. sent in his card to the Director of the Museum and also to the head of the Cabinet des Médailles, as he wants a week's work at the medals. It seems there is a splendid collection here. The gentlemen were very civil, and we made rendezvous for to-morrow, W. for the medals and Richard and I for the pictures. The Hermitage is an immense museum. We shall only be able to have an idea of what is in it. We walked through some of the rooms—Peter the Great's gallery, which is full of course of souvenirs—his clothes, arms, tools, furniture, horse stuffed, etc., and in another there were quantities of bibelots of all kinds, and presents given to Peter and Catherine II—a collection of snuff boxes, crystal flagons, and goblets (some with precious stones encrusted in the glass), jewelled belts and caps—most interesting.
We had our first view of the Neva from the windows of one of the rooms. It rushes past like the sea, so broad and strong, with very fair waves, a splendid river. We stayed about an hour lounging through the rooms, and then went on for a general view of the city. It is very handsome, but has no particular cachet (except the Neva) at this season of the year—one ought to see it in winter when the river is frozen and the real winter life begins. It looks so modern after Moscow. We went to the great cathedral of St. Isaac. It is very big and imposing as a mass, but the architecture not very striking—afterwards to the fortress and church of St. Peter and St. Paul, where all the Emperors are buried—to Peter the Great's house (a most ordinary little wooden building), drove a little along the quais, where the lovely fresh breeze from the river was most welcome and invigorating after the heat and dust of Moscow.
There was a good deal of life on the river, boats of all kinds. We think of going by steamer to Stockholm, all along the coast of Finland. They tell us it is a beautiful journey, particularly at this time of year, with the long, clear evenings. I want to see the boat before we decide, as I have an idea that it wouldn't be very clean (they say the boats on the rivers Volga, etc., are something terrible). We wound up in the Perspective Nevsky—the great shopping street, but didn't get out of the carriage, merely drove through. The shops look handsome and the vitrines well arranged, just like Paris. There was very little animation in the streets and very few carriages. They tell us many people have already gone away for the summer.
We dined quietly at the hotel, and just as we were finishing Admiral Jaurès came in to suggest that we should dine at Peterhof to-morrow afternoon. He says it is a very nice excursion—a short hour on the boat, and we can get a fair dinner there. About 9.30 we started again in the carriage to drive to the Islands or "La Pointe"—the great rendezvous in summer of all Petersburg. It is a long hour's drive, crossing quantities of small islands all connected by bridges, and one finally arrives at the "Pointe," end of the drive, and entrance of the Gulf of Finland. There all the carriages draw up, the people get down and walk about, or sit on the benches at the water's edge—a regular salon—in summer one sees all the people who are still "en ville" there. The place in itself is not at all pretty. The water of the Gulf is grey, the banks low, no trees—but the air was delicious.
We met almost all our Moscow colleagues—also Princess Lise Troubetzkoi, who was delighted to see W. and plunge into Paris politics. She wanted us to go back and have tea with her, but it was 11 o'clock and I was tired, having been going all day—evidently that is what people do, as several of our colleagues too asked us, and expressed great surprise at our wanting to go home so early.
We didn't get back to the hotel until 12, and then loitered a little in the salon, as the windows were open, people walking and driving about the streets, and nothing to make us think it was midnight, or at least the midnight we are accustomed to. They brought us some tea, and a little before one, making many excuses, I retired, rather feeling as if I were going to bed with the chickens.
Friday, June 15th.
We have been all the morning at the Hermitage, and I will write a little now after breakfast, before we start for Peterhof. We took ourselves off early in a droshky (Russian fiacre), the porter telling the coachman where to drive to; and telling us how much to give him. It was a lovely morning, not too warm, and we enjoyed our drive. W. was shown at once to the Cabinet des Médailles, where the Conservateur was waiting for him, and Richard and I were taken in hand by a young man attached to the Museum who knew his work well, and was remarkably intelligent, speaking French quite well. The pictures are beautiful—there are quantities of every possible school. The finest we thought the Van Dycks and the Rembrandts, though some of the Italian Madonnas were lovely too. I like the Italian Madonna face so much—it is so pure and young and passionless. Our guide was very talkative, and very anxious to know what we thought of the Moscow ceremonies. We stayed about two hours, seeing all sorts of things "en passant" besides the pictures. The whole Museum is crowded—I don't think they could get much more in.
Saturday, June 16th.
Our excursion to Peterhof was delightful yesterday afternoon. We took the four o'clock boat, and had a nice sail down of an hour and a quarter. The Jaurès came with us, also Pittié, Fayet, and Calmon. Corcelle went back to Paris from Moscow—also Sesmaisons, so our Mission is decidedly diminished. We met several of our Moscow friends on the boat—General Richter, Comte Worontzoff, and some others. The Court is at Peterhof and they are all established there. They told us the Emperor and Empress were not very tired after the excitement and emotions of the Coronation—very happy that all had gone so smoothly, and now quite pleased to be quietly at Peterhof with their children.
The Russians are very proud of Peterhof, call it a "petit Versailles," and "petit" it certainly is in comparison; but the park is pretty, well laid out, with terraces and gardens, and the water-works really very good indeed. A very good Circassian band was playing, and a good many people walking about. What was lovely and quite unlike Versailles were the glimpses of the sea one had on all sides. We got carriages and drove all about. We went into the big Palace, where the present Emperor never lives. He prefers a small place, half farm, half cottage, close to the sea, and lives there quite contentedly and quietly like an ordinary country gentleman. However we couldn't get anywhere near that villa—the gates and alleys were closed, and guards and soldiers everywhere.
We dined very badly at a restaurant we had been told of on the sea, and took the 10 o'clock boat home. The return was enchanting—a beautiful starlight night, and fresh, soft breeze. I had a nice talk with Mdme. Jaurès, who told me a good deal of Russian ways and life. I think she is glad to go back to France, and "au fond" there are very few French women who care to live abroad altogether. After three or four years they get homesick for their own country. She asked me if I was never homesick for America—but I told her I had been so long away, and my life had been such a full one that I sometimes asked myself was I the same little girl that used to run wild in the country at home with a donkey cart and a big Newfoundland dog. Those years seem so long ago the memory is getting duller. Sometimes I shut my eyes and see quite well the big white house with the piazzas, and the climbing roses, the cherry trees, and the white gate with the sharp turn, and the ditch where we upset so often in the sleighs—all the children tumbling out into the snow drift, and nobody minding.
We got home at 11.30 and found letters, which we read quite easily at the window. It is a wonderful light—no one ever seems to think of going to bed.
This morning we have been again at the Hermitage to finish the pictures. Decidedly the Rembrandts are the gems of the collection. There was one old man in a sort of fur robe and cap, with a wrinkled yellow face, whose eyes seemed quite alive, and followed us all round the room. We left W. with his medals and a sort of clerk attached to the Cabinet des Médailles. It seems they never leave anybody alone in the room with the medals. W. is delighted, he has found some rare coins he had never seen, and he means to have a good day's work, will not come back to breakfast with us.
Our young man, Baron Leeven, is always with us, and meets us at the Winter Palace this afternoon to show us the rooms. Our Mission is dwindling; Fayet went off this morning, Pittié and Calmon go Monday. Richard remains to make the journey with us to Stockholm by sea. We have just come in from a pleasant dinner at the Jaurès'. The Embassy is small, but very well arranged, and we had a very good, handsome dinner. All the personnel of the Embassy, Vannutelli and his two auditeurs, and the French Consul and his wife. Admiral Jaurès was very hospitable and en train—all sailors are, I wonder why? The officers of high rank must have so many lonely hours, and are such swells on their ships, where no one can associate much with them, that one would think it would make them rather silent and reserved from long habit—but it is quite the contrary. In all nations sailors are generally cultivated, and good talkers.
We shall become quite intimate with Vannutelli. We met him at the Winter Palace this afternoon, and went all about together. I can't say I found it very interesting. The rooms are handsome—high, generally white, with quantities of pictures—the portraits, some very old ones, interesting—the large modern pictures of battles by sea and land less so. I like very much the pictures of Peter the Great. He has a keen, striking face, must have had splendid eyes, very intelligent, in some of the portraits almost inspired, hard, not cruel. They were very anxious to show us the rooms where the late Emperor died, but there had been some mistake, and the man who has charge of the room could not be found, nor the key either. I was very glad (not that I should have gone in), for they said it was a horrid sight—the camp-bed and even his clothes left as they were, thick with blood. He was carried there directly after the attentat, and died on the little camp-bed. What I liked best was the splendid view again of the Neva from the windows of the ballroom. It looked a beautiful blue sea, the waves dancing in the afternoon light, and all the white sails standing out well in the sun. The two young men who were with us were most amusing. They showed us all the pictures in detail except those concerning the Grande Armée and the disastrous retreat. We were hurried past them, "rien de très intéressant, Madame—pas la peine de s'arrêter–."
Sunday, June 17th.
This morning we went to the French Protestant Church—a large room with white walls, and benches. There were very few people, but they tell us it is fairly full in winter. There is a large French colony—shopkeepers, theatre people, etc., and a great many Protestants. The Pasteur preached a very fair, sensible sermon.
After breakfast we had some visitors—Sir Edward Thornton, who wants us to dine one night; and a nice man, a Russian (whose name I never knew), but who told us to come to this hotel in which he is interested, and who has offered to go shopping with us one day, and show us the best fur-shops. We went for a drive in the afternoon to the Park Catherine, where a sort of fête populaire was going on. There were a great many people, and a great many policemen (as there always are here), one would think they lived in perpetual fear of an émeute, and yet the people all looked so subdued and repressed—I haven't seen one fierce face. The quantity of moujiks in their red shirts made a good effect of colour, but the women are not attractive, nor pretty. All are wrapped up in shawls, with a handkerchief over their heads.
We had a pleasant dinner at the Hunts' (United States Legation), all their people, including of course George Wurts, whom I was very pleased to see again—Admiral Baldwin and his two Aides-de-camp Rogers and Paul, and M. et Mdme. de Struve. They are just going to America—he is named Minister there. They have been in Japan, and didn't seem very keen about America. I should think they would like it better than Japan, but I believe he hoped for some post in Europe. She was very amusing, and from her account life in Japan must still be very primitive.
We came away early—about 10.30—and have been poring over guide-books ever since, making out our journey, always at the window (11 o'clock at night, and with no lamps).
Tuesday, June 19th.
We had a charming afternoon yesterday at Cronstadt on the Lancaster, Admiral Baldwin's flag-ship. He had invited all the Corps Diplomatique, and the few Russians who are still in Petersburg, Jomini, Struve, Benckendorff, etc. We started about 3.30 in the regular Russian steamer, and once under way the breeze was delicious. I wore my white batiste with Valenciennes, and a big black hat (which wasn't very practical on the steamer, as the wind blew the feathers about considerably, but I thought it looked so nice with the white dress). The American ship looked beautiful as we drew near—an old-fashioned frigate, all dressed with flags. The getting on board was not very easy, as she lay far out, and we had to get into small boats from our steamer and go out to her. It didn't look very pleasant when they put the steps down and told us to jump. There were fair waves, and when they told us to jump the boat was apparently nowhere near, but of course swung under the steps on the top of the wave at the right moment. Lady Thornton got down all right, so did I; but one of our colleagues had a most trying time. She was stout and nervous, looked wretched when she was standing on the steps between two strong sailors who told her to jump. She did her best, poor thing, and several times we in the boat below saw a stout white leg suddenly descend, but it was immediately drawn back, and she never let go of her sailors. Her husband, man-like, was furious, which of course made her much more nervous; however, after several attempts she gave it up, and they lowered her in an arm-chair, which didn't look quite comfortable either when it was suspended in the air waiting for the boat to arrive.
We danced about well in the little boat, for every time it came up, and she didn't come down, we had to go back and repeat the performance. The American Legation got off first and were received by a salute of 15 guns, and then we followed. The Admiral with all his officers received us at the top of the ladder, and the band played our national airs, and they gave the Ambassador's salute, 17 guns, and a great noise it made just over our heads as we were mounting the ladder. Lady Thornton and her husband were in front of me, and I heard the "God Save The Queen"—then came the "Marseillaise," and for a moment I forgot I was a Frenchwoman and looked to see whom the "Marseillaise" was for (W. hadn't come in the boat with me, waited for the second one), but I recovered myself in time to bow and smile my thanks.
I was delighted to find myself on an American ship, I so rarely see American officers of any kind. The ship was in splendid condition, so beautifully clean. We had a very handsome dinner in the Admiral's cabin. He took me down to see the table before all the guests came, and very pretty it looked, quantities of flowers and some handsome silver. No one enjoyed the day more than Mgr. Vannutelli. He had a little doubt about coming, as he heard there was to be dancing, and consulted us about it. We told him the dancing would be mild, and he might never have a chance to see a big American ship again, and strongly advised him to come.
While Lady Thornton and I were sitting together one of the young officers came up to her (she knew several of them, as they were some years in Washington) saying he heard one of the Ambassadresses was an American, did she know which one, and could she introduce him. "Certainly," she said, "it is Madame Waddington, wife of the French Ambassador, who is sitting next to me now," and immediately presented the young man, who said he had been looking at all the ladies to see which was the American, but hadn't placed me, he supposed because he heard me speaking French. We became great friends, and he took me all over the ship. We danced a little on deck—a quadrille d'honneur—I with my friend Schimmelpenninck, Lady Thornton with Jaurès, Madame Jaurès with Admiral Baldwin. Then we left the dancing to the young ones and sat quietly on deck till it was time to go. Just as we were starting the Admiral asked me if I would say a few words to the band—they were almost all Italians. I went over at once and talked to them, so did the Nuncio, which of course delighted them.
We started back about 9 in a special Russian steamer. The sea was much calmer, and the getting off one boat and on another was not such a difficult operation even for poor Mdme. A–. The sail back was about two hours—quite enchanting in that beautiful northern twilight, and we were all sorry when it came to an end.
This morning it is very warm, and I am rather seedy, so I have stayed quietly at home. Richard and I breakfasted tête-à-tête, as W. was off at an early hour to his medals, and won't be back until dark. I wonder if the Russian officials will be as astonished at his capacity for a long spell of work as the Italians were. They struck after two days of such work, and then took it in turns. One day at Milan I went to get him at the end of the day, as we were going to drive somewhere in the country, so the Italian smiled all over, and almost winked, saying, "Ah, Madame est venue voir si Monsieur était vraiment aux Médailles toute la journée." I suppose he felt that he wouldn't have stayed working all those hours, and also quite understood that I suspected W. of doing something else.
We have had a nice visit from Benckendorff, who has told us all about the boat we want to take to go to Stockholm. He says they are Swedish boats, very clean, and very good food; also very few people at this time of the year.
Now I must dress and go with Richard to pay some visits. Calmon will go and see you and give you all our news. He won't tell you what I will, that he had a great success in Moscow—his artillery uniform, the astrakhan tunique, was very becoming—all the ladies found him "très beau garçon." I must add too that Richard also had a great success—evidently artillery uniform is becoming. It was rather amusing to see the face of one of the young ladies when I made some reference to Madame Richard Waddington. "M. Waddington married—I never should have dreamed of it"—and after a moment, "What is his wife like?" doubtfully. "Is she pretty?" "Well, yes, she is very pretty." Richard won't tell you that either when he comes back, but I shall tell Louise.
How curious all the Moscow life will seem when I am settled again at Bourneville—walking in the park with the children, riding all over the country with W., and leading an absolutely quiet life. I hope I shall remember all I want to tell you.
