Kitabı oku: «Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900», sayfa 2

We went round by the Zoo to show Pontécoulant the big lion. Pontécoulant was most amusing over their journey, and said he was nearly driven out of his mind the day before they started with all the people who came to see him. He says Philippe, the coiffeur, has never left him, that it won't be his fault if my diadem is not perfectly posé, and that he plied him with beer all along the route. He is here supping and living at the hotel with all our suite, and sent word to me this morning that he was at my disposition to make me a "coiffure de circonstance" for the night journey. What do you suppose it would have been?

Pontécoulant had seen Henrietta and Francis the day he left, and had left orders at the Foreign Office that the Havas telegrams which will keep her au courant of our movements shall always be sent to her. All the personnel except W. and me dine at the Embassy to-night. I am not sorry to have a quiet evening. We leave at 11 to-night, and get to Alexandrownow about 7.30 to-morrow. That is the Russian frontier, and there we shall have some sort of official reception.

W. has been riding these last two days with Sancy, the military attaché, and that always does him good. I couldn't find any sort of silk blouse, so I trust it won't be very warm travelling to-night. When we cross the frontier I shall feel as if our journey had begun. Here we have lived so with the Embassy that I hardly feel as if I was abroad, only the cadre is different, and the Prussian uniforms a disagreeable reminder. I don't think it is an easy post to be Ambassador here, and I should think M. de Courcel's succession would be a very difficult one. He knows German well, and has always lived with diplomatists, but if they send a political man, I think he will have a hard time; though as Bismarck said to W. when they were talking about any possible war in Europe—"Je désire la paix, je suis un homme satisfait," which wasn't very pleasant for the French Ambassador to hear, as I suppose what has largely contributed to his satisfaction is the possession of Alsace-Lorraine.

We have had our dinner, and W. smoked on the balcony, and we saw all the gentleman-servants, omnibuses and baggage start. We shall only go just in time to have 5 minutes talk on the platform with M. de Courcel, who is coming to say good-by. The gérant of the hotel has just been up to hope we were satisfied—would we telegraph when we came back, as of course he would give us the same rooms, and presented me with a large bouquet.

Did I say that the Malagache Embassy was at the hotel, on the same floor with us. Every time I go down the corridor I see two or three tall, dark men, dressed in white flowing garments and white turbans, who make me low salaams. They are not going to the "Kronung," as they call it here.

My next letter will be from Warsaw, where we should arrive at 4 to-morrow afternoon.

To H. L. K

Hôtel de l'Europe, Varsovie,

Thursday, May 17th, 1883.

Here we are, Dear, having arrived from Berlin at 3.30 this afternoon. We started at 11—it was very hot even at that hour of the night, and the coupé-lit stuffy and uncomfortable. M. de Courcel and all his staff were at the station to see us off, and the two Embassies united made quite a gathering. I had a little talk with Princess Guillaume Radziwill, who is starting for the Coronation. It seems she has splendid jewels, and was rather bothered to know how to carry them. She has got them all on, in little leather bags around her waist, and she thinks she won't be very comfortable all night, with pins, brooches, etc., running into her. She was horrified when I told her where mine were.

The night was long, we were not very comfortable, and the gentlemen were decidedly squeezed in one little carriage. We stopped somewhere, I don't remember the name, about 6. The men all got out and had coffee. I didn't move, but they sent me in a cup. We got to Alexandrownow, the Russian frontier, about 8. The station had a decidedly festive appearance—flags, greens, soldiers, music, etc. They were evidently preparing a salute and a national anthem of some kind. We all thought it was for us, and were proceeding to emerge to the strains of the "Marseillaise," when we heard the "Wacht-am-Rhein." It seems there was a Hessian Prince, nephew of the Emperor, on board, who was also going to the Coronation, so we rentréed our heads, and remained quietly in our carriages until they had disposed of him.

Then came our turn. We were received with all ceremony—a tall Russian officer took charge of me, saying, in very good French, he was sure I would like to brush off the dust, and have some tea, etc. He took me upstairs to a very nice room, where a little maid was waiting with hot water, towels, brushes, tea, and little rolls. I took off my dress to have it brushed, and while I was standing in my petticoats several gentlemen came to the door (which wouldn't shut), and made various perfectly unintelligible remarks to me. The little maid laughed and made signs, and carried off my dress, which I thought was dangerous—however I couldn't say anything, so I put myself behind the door, and Adelaide arranged my hair; and I was just thinking of having a cup of tea when the maid reappeared with my dress, accompanied by another officer, who told me in French, from the other side of the door, that his Royal Highness of Hesse hoped I would do him the honour of breakfasting with him. I said I would come with pleasure, but begged they wouldn't wait, as I was not quite ready. As soon as I was dressed I sallied out, found my officer waiting, who conducted me to a private room, where were the Prince and his party, including W. and a Russian general, who had been sent from Varsovie to meet the Hessian Prince.

They were all at table—the Prince put me next to him, introduced the Russian general and all his suite, and we had rather a pleasant hour. We had excellent tea in glasses (the first time I ever saw it), delicious little rolls, eggs, and cold meat. The Prince is a tall, broad-shouldered, good-natured German, speaking French quite well.

We had the same ceremony at starting, first the "Wacht-am-Rhein" for the Germans, then the "Marseillaise" for us. The journey was not particularly interesting from the frontier here, but Varsovie itself most curious. We found the same bustle and preparation at the station here—the Governor of Varsovie, and Préfet de Police en tenue, and our Consul, M. Bérard.

We drove at once to the hotel, looked at our rooms, which are comfortable, and started again for a little drive through the town before dinner. Anything so unlike the cities one has been accustomed to see can't be imagined, long, straggling streets, enormous spaces, many houses tumbling down, and abominable pavement, deep holes, and paving stones as big as ordinary rocks—why the carriage ever got along was a mystery to us all. The Russian coachman, a perfect type with his long caftan and flat cap. Why the horses remain attached to the carriage is a problem, as they apparently have no harness of any description. I used to think we didn't use much in America. Will you ever forget Coligny's face at Oyster Bay when we started trotting down hill without any breeching?

There were quantities of dirty Polish Jews in every direction, all with their long caftans, greasy, black curls, and ear-rings. I had time to rest a little before dinner. We all dined together, also Bérard the Consul, all the men in their dress clothes, and I in my grey moiré with white lace, and a big, black velvet bow, one string of pearls which I had on under my corsage. Pontécoulant, who is the next man to W., took me in, and I had General Pittié on the other side. The dinner was handsome and well served. Pontécoulant had attended to that while we were driving about.

After dinner the men all went off to the theatre in the Governor's box to see a famous ballet. I was rather tired, and as we start again to-morrow, and have two nights in the train, I sha'n't mind going to bed early. I was interrupted, as we have had a visit, pleasant enough, from Mavrocordato (Greek), who is also on his way to Moscow to represent his country, and now I am going to bed. We leave to-morrow at 4, and I will try and write a little en route. They say I can probably, as the Russian roads (railroads) are smooth, and they go very slowly.

Friday, 2 o'clock.

I will go on a little and send this letter also from here. We had an expedition this morning to one of the châteaux belonging to some member of the Sobieski family, or rather belonging to a Potocki quelconque, where there are many souvenirs of Sobieski. I never was on such a villainous pavement (they tell me Moscow is worse), and the road long and straight through flat country, not very interesting. The château was full of pictures and bibelots of all kinds, and every possible souvenir of Sobieski, flags, swords, snuff-boxes, etc., and quite worth seeing. I enjoyed the outing, as everything was absolutely unique, carriages, costumes, carts, people, language, houses, a poor tumble-down little hovel next to a great palace with gates and courts and gardens.

We lunched again with all the Embassy, and then I went to see what was happening to the maids. I had left them in such a dejected condition on the landing when I went out. They couldn't get hold of any servant (couldn't make them understand when they did), couldn't get my boots or travelling skirt, or hot water, or anything, in fact. The hotel is full of people, all starting this afternoon, and there is a fine confusion, but they really must learn to get along without all modern conveniences.

Entre Varsovie et Moscou,

en wagon, Samedi soir, 19.

I will try and write a little, Dear, while we are stopping at Smolensk for tea. It is rather difficult when we are moving (though we go slowly) as you will see by the writing, as the train shakes a great deal. As soon as it stops we all tumble out, are received by railway officials in uniform, and conveyed to a private room decorated with greens and flags, where most elaborate repasts are provided. We got off from Varsovie yesterday most comfortably about 4 o'clock. Various officials, our Consul Bérard, were at the station to see us off, and an engineer of the company, who goes with us to Moscow to interpret and look after us generally. The train is most luxurious—for W. and me one long saloon carriage lined with grey satin, and with every variety of easy chair, sofa, table, writing-table, lamp, etc. Flowers on one of the tables and maps of the route on another. Communicating with it and directly behind are two bedrooms for us—mine is capitonné in blue satin, a very good-sized bed, glass, chairs, table, etc., also a dressing-room with every modern convenience. W.'s is grey satin, equally comfortable, with dressing-room, bath, etc.—behind these again a coupé for the maids—then a long carriage for the rest of the Mission with chairs, tables, etc, and small coupés. The engineer showed us all the arrangements, hoped we were satisfied, and also told us that two employés would be stationed at each end of our carriage always for whatever we might want.

We got off fairly punctually. I wonder if I shall ever see Varsovie again. We stopped somewhere about 5.30, and found a charming little tea waiting for us in a private room, served of course in glasses with pieces of lemon, and excellent rolls and cakes. There we fraternized with the Dutch Mission, who are also on the train. M. Schimmelpenninck, a tall, stylish-looking man, with his son and gendre. The young men had recognized W., having seen him at the Congrès de Berlin; so they recalled themselves, and we made friends. We agreed to take all our meals together, and as apparently we shall have about 6 in the day we shall probably see a good deal of each other.

We had rather a pleasant evening, dined (very well) at Brest, always the same ceremonial; and after dinner some of the gentlemen came and paid us visits. We talked of course about "La Grande Armée" and Napoleon's campaigns, as we are passing over the same ground that they followed. The two moujiks at the doors are most attentive and intelligent; as soon as they hear any noise in our carriage, opening or shutting a window, or anything falling (some of the heavy books slipped off a table just now), they seem to divine it, and appear instantly and ask, I suppose, what we want. We have no means of communication, but they evidently understand.

I was very comfortable last night in my little blue room, and had been sleeping quietly, when I seemed to divine that someone had come in. I didn't stir, and half opened my eyes, and for a moment was rather startled. The lamp, shaded, was burning, and in came one of the moujiks quite quietly. He moved very softly about the room, rather an appalling figure, with his high boots, fur cap, and curious half-savage face (gentle too), touched door and windows, fussed over the lamp, drew the curtain of the dressing-room a little closer to keep out any draught (didn't come up to the bed), and went out again just as quietly. It was a curious experience, flying through the darkness of the night, and wakening to see that strange figure prowling about.

About 7, I think, in the morning he reappeared, this time standing at the door, and making many perfectly unintelligible remarks. It was so evident I didn't understand that he smiled, made a despairing gesture with his hand, and disappeared. As I was quite sure he would come back I got up and fastened the door. In a few moments I heard a colloquy outside, and then the voice of the engineer asking when I would like my maid and my tea—also saying they would stop in about an hour for early breakfast, and that mine and the Ambassador's would be brought to our carriage.

I asked to have the maid at once—so Adelaïde appeared with hot water and a cup of tea, and I dressed as comfortably as if I was in my dressing-room at the Rue Dumont d'Urville. As soon as I was ready I went into the big carriage, which looked very nice and clean, had been swept and dusted, window-panes washed (Adelaïde saw the men doing it); a very nice little breakfast tray was brought, tea, every variety of good little rolls, and some fish. We contented ourselves with the rolls, didn't experiment upon the fish. The table was close to the window—all the gentlemen came up and talked to us, and as usual there were quantities of people about.

We have passed through most desolate country, miles of plains, with scarcely any traces of human habitation. The cottages are very few and far between—generally a collection of little wood hovels, or "isbas," as they are called. We go long distances without seeing houses, fences, gates, or even a road. At all the stations there are people—the big ones crowded—and at the smaller ones, where we hardly stop, merely slacken, peasants—and such objects, one can hardly tell the men from the women; long, unkempt hair, all barefooted, and all wearing a sort of fur garment with a hole in the middle to pass the head through, and which falls low down to their knees.

We have just had tea at Smolensk, which is very Russian looking, with gilded domes and pink and green painted roofs. The gentlemen are smoking and walking up and down the platform, always exciting great attention. There are two rather pretty girls, with fair hair and red blouses, who are giggling and looking, and evidently wish to be remarked.

We have gone on again now and are settled for the evening. The carriage looks so comfortable, curtains drawn, lamps lighted, flowers on the tables, and quantities of books and maps. Sesmaisons and Corcelle have just been in with their maps and Napoleon's Memoirs. It is most interesting to follow it all. They read out bits here and there as we passed through some well-known locality. At the Beresina, I think, where the passage of the river was so awful—some of the men quite exhausted, and yet not wanting to lie down on the snow, made themselves seats out of the dead bodies of their comrades. What an awful retreat!

We have crossed the Beresina, where we saw a long procession of wood rafts. They are of the most primitive description—long logs lashed together, and in the middle a sort of cabin or hovel, where the women and children live. They were floating slowly down with the tide as we passed, and singing a sort of sad, monotonous chaunt, which sounded weird and pathetic, but impressionnant. They say all the Russian National songs have that undercurrent of sadness.

Our dinner to-night was very gay. Schimmelpenninck is most attractive. We have become great friends—I have even confided to him where my jewels are, as he thought I had left a bag in one of the stations, and was convinced it held my diamonds. I told him what dress I was going to wear at the Coronation, also my difficulty in finding out what the French Court dress was. The Empress never wore a regular Court train—her presentations in the Tuileries were always in the evening, in ordinary ball dress. I didn't think Queen Marie Amélie's would have been very pretty, so we concocted a Court dress from pictures, other people's souvenirs, etc.

I was glad to walk up and down a little—one gets cramped sitting so long, even with our outings for food, which are frequent. The tea is extremely good always, a sort of greenish flavour, but very delicate, and I should think very strong. Pontécoulant showed me Monsieur Philippe in the distance, talking and gesticulating, evidently considering himself a most important feature of the Mission—also the detective, who looks like an amiable well-to-do bourgeois travelling for his pleasure, until you meet his eyes, and there is a quick, keen look which tells you he is very much on the alert. He has again just given W. the pleasing piece of information that all the well-known Nihilist leaders will be at Moscow.

Hubert came up and says the horses are quite well—their rest at Berlin did them good. He is very much impressed with the absolute solitude of the country—"pas de villages—pas de barrières, pas même de chemins." We have also a telegram from M. Lhermite saying the house is quite in order, he and his cooks and attendants installed, and he will have breakfast ready for us to-morrow morning. We arrive about 8. We must be ready early, as they say the approach to Moscow is very fine. It stands low in a plain, but one sees the gilt domes and coloured steeples from a great distance.

Our engineer tells us the railway officials are out of their minds. He says the special envoys—Princes particularly—change their minds and their routes all the time. They all have special trains, and the confusion will be something awful. The Hessian Prince is just ahead of us. We haven't crossed many trains, and yet there must be frequent communication between Varsovie and Moscow.

I still feel rather in a dream, but not tired. I must stop now as it is nearly eleven—my next letter will be from Maison Klein, Malaia Dimitrofska, Moscow. Richard came in just now, and we have been talking over our future—Russia is a "terra incognita" to all of us. It has been certainly most novel and interesting so far. Just now we stopped for a few moments at a little station, quite alive with people and lights, as of course trains are going all night. The people look so different—generally fair, with flat features, and a repressed look, as if they had always been kept down.

This long effusion will go early to-morrow morning, as they send off a valise at once from Moscow.

To H. L. K

Ambassade de France, Moscow,

Maison Klein, Malaia Dimitrofska,

Monday, May 21st, 1883.

We arrived quite safely and comfortably yesterday morning—34 people, counting servants, policemen, etc. I hadn't time to write, but you will have had the Havas telegram announcing our arrival. I am writing in my little boudoir, which looks on a large, square, light courtyard, and I wish you could see the wild confusion that reigns there. Quantities of boxes and "ballots" of every description. Mdme. Hubert, with a veil tied over her head, struggling to get at some of my trunks, which are all marked with an enormous M. K. W. in white letters (a private mark, so as not to confound them with the general mark of the Mission). Leroy, Hubert, and Pontécoulant trying to get the big carriage cases opened (they look like small houses). Sesmaisons and Calmon fussing over their saddles, which they apparently had got without much difficulty—quantities of Russian helpers working, talking, but not loud, nor yelling to each other. How anything will ever come out of all that chaos I don't know.

However, I must begin at the beginning. We got here about 8.30 yesterday morning. We were all up early, as the country grew more interesting as we approached Moscow. We had a confused vision of gilt domes, high coloured steeples, etc., but nothing stood out very distinctly. There was a fine confusion at the station—quantities of officials, all in uniform, detachments of soldiers, red carpets, etc. We were not received officially, not being Princes. The Mission only exists here after they have presented their lettres de créance. We found our consul, Lagrené, waiting for us, several members of the French Colony, and Lhermite. We drove off at once to our Ambassade. The main street, Tverskaya, looked very gay with quantities of flags and draperies in every direction, and even at that time in the morning a great many people. Our house looks well—the entrance isn't bad, and the staircase marble, handsome. I hardly looked at the reception-rooms, as I was anxious to get to mine. Lhermite had done them very well, quite as I wanted, and a nice-looking woman, Russian of course, the femme de charge left in the house, was there to see if everything was right.

I washed off a little dust, got a cup of tea, and then went with W. and Pontécoulant to inspect the house. The ballroom, "serre," and 3 drawing-rooms are nice; the dining-room small in comparison and low. Not a breath of air anywhere, double windows, hermetically sealed, with one pane opening in each; so the very first thing we did was to send for someone to take down the extra window, and open everything wide—the close smell was something awful. The femme de charge was astounded, and most unwilling. I think she thought we wished to demolish the whole establishment. W. has a large room opening out of the drawing-room. Pontécoulant took charge of the distribution of the gentlemen's rooms (which wasn't easy, as they were generally small, and not particularly comfortable, but I must say they were all easy going, and not at all inclined to make difficulties). He chose a room down-stairs for himself next the Chancellerie, which he has arranged at once very well. The ballroom is handsome, a parquet floor, and yellow satin furniture; the other drawing-rooms too are well furnished in silk and satin. The dining-room is small, but the serre will make a very good fumoir where the gentlemen can sit and smoke. It has nice cane arm-chairs and tables, and will be a resource.

I went back to my own rooms and arranged my affairs with the maids. There is a large room, half lingerie, half débarras, upstairs, with good placards and closets where I can put my dresses if I ever get hold of them. They must be unpacked at once, particularly the velvet dresses. Of course I am always at the window. My Dear, how it would amuse you, so absolutely unlike anything you have ever seen.

The men seem to work well enough—they all wear red flannel shirts tucked into their trousers, and high boots—at the present moment they are all gaping at the horses, who certainly do look enormous (the Russian horses are all small). It seems ours stand the cannon, and shouting, and waving flags and draperies very well (so the lessons in the École Militaire, where they were taken several times after they arrived in Paris to have cannons and guns fired close to their heads, and flags waved about, did them good).

A little Russian maid, in a red petticoat, and a blue handkerchief tied over her head, has just appeared, and I suppose will be a sort of fille de chambre. She smiles every time I speak to the maids, and watches every movement I make. I moved a fauteuil just now, and in an instant she had possession of it, and stood over it looking at me hard to see where I wanted it put. I daresay we shall get on very well. We breakfasted at 12.30 all together—a very good breakfast, flowers on the table, and everything most correct. The gentlemen were amusing, all giving their experiences. Just as we were finishing we heard someone coming, with the clank of sabre, and those long, heavy spurs the Russians wear; and a good-looking officer, Colonel Benckendorff, who was attached to our Embassy, appeared. He will never lose sight of us now until the ceremonies are over.

We adjourned to the serre, and he put us au courant of everything. He told us the crowd and confusion at the Kremlin was indescribable (all the foreign Princes are lodged there). He had all sorts of papers, invitations, audiences, cartes de circulation, etc. W. is to present his lettres de créance and all the Mission en grande tenue at 10.30 to-day. (I am waiting now to see them start.) W. has just been in, looking very well, as he always does in full uniform. He wears the Danish Grand Cordon, he hasn't the Légion d'Honneur nor any Russian decoration. Two Maîtres des Cérémonies, covered with gold lace and embroideries, have arrived in an ordinary Russian Court coupé—they have also an Imperial gala carriage for the Ambassador, and two ordinary Court carriages, and they have just started, quite a crowd of people before the house to see them depart. First went two Maîtres des Cérémonies, their coats covered with gold embroidery; then W. alone in a gala carriage with four horses, two footmen standing behind, two mounted, and an écuyer. The rest of the Mission followed in two ordinary Court carriages, all with the Imperial liveries, which are not very handsome, long red cloaks, with a sort of cocked hat. Benckendorff followed alone in his private carriage.

Our big footmen figured for the first time—the four in their blue and silver livery were at the door when the Maîtres des Cérémonies arrived, and Pierson with his chain in the anteroom. They looked very well; Lhermite and our coachman saw the whole thing, and were not at all impressed with carriages, liveries, or horses. They said the carriages were absolutely shabby, the liveries neither well made nor well put on, and the horses beneath criticism. They do look extraordinarily small before those great heavy state carriages, rather like rats, as Hubert says—"Quand on verra les nôtres ce sera une surprise," for they are enormous.

What do you think I did as soon as they had all gone? I had rather an inspiration—I told the maids to bring me my blue court train (they have unpacked some of the boxes, the jewels are all right, and locked up in a coffre-fort in W.'s room, but can't find one of Delannoy's caisses; I suppose it will turn up though, as Pontécoulant says the compte was quite right when we arrived yesterday, all the boxes here). I then locked the door of the ballroom, stationed Pierson outside, with strict orders not to let anyone in, put on my train over my brown cloth dress, put Adelaïde and Mdme. Hubert at one end of the room, and whisked backwards and forwards, making them low curtseys (they were rather embarrassed). I have never worn a train in my life, as you know, and I wanted to see how it would go. It seems perfectly cut, and follows every movement, and doesn't get twisted around my ankles. The maids were quite satisfied, and told me it worked beautifully, particularly when I backed across the room. Madame Jaurès, wife of Admiral Jaurès, permanent French Ambassador to Russia, told me such hideous tales yesterday, when she came to see me, of women getting nervous and entangled in their trains when they backed away from the Emperor, that I thought I had better take some precautions. I indulged in those antics for about twenty minutes, then unlocked the door, released Pierson, and went upstairs to the lingerie to see how my unpacking was getting on. The missing trunk had just arrived, and my two women, with the little Russian maid, whose eyes opened wide when she saw the quantity of dresses being produced, and W.'s man were putting things to rights.

The gentlemen got back to a late breakfast, much pleased with their reception. They were received in a small palace outside of Moscow,⁴ as the Emperor makes his formal entrée into the town to-morrow only. They found the Emperor very amiable, talking quite easily, saying something to everyone. He had on the Grand Cordon of the Légion d'Honneur. They were all presented also to the Empress. W. said she was very gracious and charming; remembered quite well having seen us in Paris. We were presented to her by the Prince of Wales, Exhibition year. He said she recalled the Princess of Wales, not so tall, and had splendid eyes.

Benckendorff stayed to breakfast, and we told him his place would be always ready for him at breakfast and dinner. The hours of standing apparently will be something awful. About 3.30 Mdme. Jaurès came for me, and we went to see Lady Thornton, who is Doyenne of the Corps Diplomatique, but didn't find her. The Jaurès have just arrived themselves with all the Corps Diplomatique from Petersburg. They said the starting from there was frightfully mismanaged, not nearly carriages enough for the people and their luggage. The Ambassadors furious, railway officials distracted, a second train had to be prepared which made a long delay, and a general uproar. The only man who was quite quiet and happy was Mr. Mackay (Silver King from California). He formed part of the United States Mission, had his own private car attached to the train, in which were Mrs. Mackay and Mr. and Mrs. Hunt (U. S. Minister and his wife), and was absolutely independent.