Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900

After supper we went back to the ballroom for about half an hour. Then the Court retired and we followed them at once. We got our carriages fairly quickly. There are always crowds in the streets waiting to see the grand-monde pass. The Kremlin looks fairy-like as we drive through—lights everywhere, some high, high up in a queer little octagon green tower—then a great doorway and staircase all lighted, with quantities of servants and soldiers standing about; then a bit of rough pavement in a half dark court and under a little low dark gate with a shrine and Madonna at one end—all so perfectly unmodern, and unlike anything else.

I began my letter this morning before breakfast, but didn't finish, as I was called off by some visits, and now I will try and send this off by to-night's courier. We have had a nice afternoon looking at the Trésor. Of course it was very hurried—it would take weeks to see everything. The collection of state carriages and sleighs is interesting. Almost all the carriages are French—either given to the various Russian Sovereigns by French Kings, or ordered in France by the Sovereigns themselves. The great sledge in which Catharine II. made all her long voyages is comfortable enough, and not unlike the "wagons impériaux" in which we travelled from Varsovie to Moscow.

Then we saw all the Coronation robes, crowns, sapphires, swords, jewelled belts and collars, furs, etc., of all the old Emperors from Ivan the Terrible down to the late Emperor. Some of the crowns of the first Ivans and Peters are extraordinary—a sort of high fur cap covered with jewels, but heavy and roughly made—the jewels always beautiful, such large stones, particularly sapphires and rubies. There were vitrines full of splendid gold and silver cups and dishes, presents to the Emperor from all the different provinces.

They tell us the present Emperor has had magnificent things given to him, but we have not seen them yet. We met various people also going through the Museum, and I had quite a talk with Radziwill (you know which one I mean, who married Countess Malatesta's daughter). It seemed funny to go back to the old Roman days, and the evenings (prima-sera) in the Malatesta Palace. He says everybody is worn out with the ceremonies and the standing—however, to-night is the end, with our dinner at the Palace.

I have again been interrupted—this time by a visit from the Duc d'Aoste, whom I always find charming. He is not at all expansive and very shy, but when one breaks the ice he is interesting. He doesn't look like anybody else, nor as if he belonged to this century. It is quite the face one would see in any old Spanish picture—a soldier-monk of Velasquez. He talked about the Exhibition of '78, when W. was at the Foreign Office, and I was almost tempted to tell him how embarrassed we all were on the opening day when there were so many Ex-Spanish Sovereigns—King François d'Assises, Queen Isabella, and King Amédée. There was a big reception in the evening at the Elysée, and the Maréchal6 was rather bothered with all his Spanish Royalties. However, Queen Isabella and the Duc d'Aoste were evidently on the best of terms. I saw them talking together, and I believe all the Spaniards liked d'Aoste, though naturally they wanted a King of their own race.

Here is Monsieur Philippe for his last coiffure, as he says somewhat sadly. To-night's dinner is our last function. We have then the revue, by daylight, of course, and leave on Sunday for Petersburg.

Wednesday, June 6th.

The gala dinner was handsome and short last night. W. and I went off alone (none but chefs de mission were invited) in the coupé d'Orsay, always with Benckendorff in his carriage in front—W. in uniform, I in my white and silver brocade, white feathers and diamonds in my hair, no colour anywhere, not even on my cheeks, which reduces Philippe to a state of prostrate stupefaction—"Madame qui pourrait être si bien."

We were received at the foot of the staircase and at the doors by all the Chamberlains as usual and taken at once to the same Salle St. George where we were to dine—all at the Imperial table this time—about 500 couverts. We were shown at once our seats—all the places were marked, and we stood waiting behind our chairs (like the footmen) for the Court to appear. I found myself seated between the Duc d'Aoste and the young Crown Prince of Sweden, so I was quite satisfied. One of my colleagues was very anxious I should change the papers—give her my Duke and take her's, who was never civil to her, but would be perhaps to me, but I demurred, as I knew mine would be nice, and I didn't know her's at all. I don't think he was very nice to her, certainly didn't talk much, but perhaps he never does.

We didn't wait very long. The Court was fairly punctual—the Empress looked very nice, all in white with diamonds. She had on her right the Duc d'Edimbourg (who always had the place of honour), and on her left the Prince Waldemar de Danemark, her brother. The Emperor had the Queen of Greece on his right, the Arch Duchess Charles Louis on his left. The dinner wasn't bad, and was quickly served. The fish were enormous, served on large silver dishes as big as boats. There was always that curious Russian soup with all sorts of nondescript things floating about on the surface. The Duc d'Aoste was as nice as possible—said the Court officials would be enchanted when everything was over, and all the foreign Princes safely back in their own countries, that the question of etiquette was something awful. As soon as the Russian Court decided anything all the others immediately protested—used all sorts of precedents, and complicated matters in every way. I suggested that he himself was difficult to place on account of the Duc de Montpensier, who was here as a Spanish Prince, husband of the Infanta. He replied "Absolument pas—je suis ici comme prince italien, frère du roi," declining any sort of Spanish souvenir.

When dinner was over we passed into the salle St. André for coffee, and that was funny too. As soon as the Emperor and Empress made the move all our Dukes and Princes got up at once, and joined the Imperial procession, and we followed all in a heap. There we had a pleasant half hour, the Empress and the Grand Duchesses came over and talked to us, hoped we were not tired, that we had been interested, etc. I said to the Grand Duchess Constantine that they must be enchanted to be at the end of their functions, and to get rid of us all—but she said not at all. She herself was much less tired than when she began. She asked me what I had found the most striking in all the ceremonies. I said certainly the Coronation—first the moment when the Emperor crowned himself—the only figure standing on the dais, and afterwards when he crowned the Empress, she kneeling before him.

The Empress asked me if I was going straight back to France, but she didn't say, as so many of the others did, "Ce n'est pas adieu pour vous, Mdme. Waddington, mais au revoir, car vous reviendrez certainement." Admiral Jaurès having already resigned many people think W. will be the next Ambassador, but he certainly won't come.

About 9 the Court retired. We had dined at 7, so the whole thing took about two hours. It was quite light when we came out of the Palace, and when we got back to the Maison Klein we found the Embassy just finishing dinner, still in the dining-room. We sat a few minutes with them telling our experiences. W. had been next to the Grand Duchess Michel, who was very animated and intelligent, and extremely well posted in all literary and political matters, and fairly just for a Princess speaking about a Republic.

Poor Pontécoulant has had a telegram telling him of his brother's death. He is very much upset, and goes off to-night. W. will miss him extremely—he was his right-hand man. I have been out this morning shopping with François de Courcelle. It isn't easy, as our Russian is not fluent, but still we managed to find a few things.

This afternoon I have been with Lagrené (Consul), Sesmaisons, Corcelle, and Calmon to the great institution of the "Enfants Trouvés" fondée par l'Impératrice Cathérine II. There we found Admiral Jaurès and all his staff, and a director who showed us all over the establishment—of course everything was in perfect order, and perfectly clean (and I believe it always is), but I should have preferred not having our visit announced, so as to see the every-day working of the thing. We went through quantities of rooms. In all, the Russian nurses with their high head-dress (kakoshnik), the colour of the room, were standing, and showed us most smilingly their babies. The rooms are all known by their colours and the nurses dressed to correspond. All pink kakoshniks, for instance, in the pink room, blue in the blue room, etc. It was rather effective when all the women were standing in groups. The nurses were decidedly young, some rather pretty faces, almost all fair. The surveillante is a nice, kindly looking woman. We saw the whole ceremony. In one of the rooms of the rez-de-chaussée we saw several women waiting to take the children. The operation is always the same—one writes down at once the name and age of the child (which is generally written on a piece of paper pinned on to the clothes), they are always very young, 5 or 6 days old. Then they are undressed, weighed, and carried off by one of the nurses, wrapped up in a blanket, to a bath. After the bath they are dressed in quite clean, nice garments, and the nurse gives them the breast at once. All the rooms, dortoirs, salles-debain, laundries, kitchens, are as clean as possible, plenty of light and air, and no smells. We met Countess Pahlen going out as we came in, also the Arch Duke Charles Louis.

As we still had time before dinner we went to see the new church of St. Sauveur, where there is to be a great ceremony of consecration to-morrow; but as it is principally to celebrate the retreat of the French Army from Moscow the two French Embassies abstain from that function. We met there Prince Dolgourouky, Governor of Moscow, who did the honours, and showed us the marbles, which are very varied and handsome, all from the provinces of the Empire. The place was full of workmen putting up tribunes, red and gold draperies, etc., but the Prince, with much tact, made no allusion to to-morrow's function—so we apparently didn't notice anything unusual in the church, and concentrated our attention on the beautiful Russian marble.

11 o'clock.

I will finish to-night. We have had our second diplomatic dinner, and I found it pleasant, I hope the guests did. I had Mgr.7 Vannutelli, the Nonce, next to me. He is charming—such an easy talker. He arrived after the sacre, as of course he could take no part in the ceremony. He told me the dream of his life was to come to Paris, and I think he would have a great success. He and Prince Orloff talked very easily together, and Orloff told him he ought to come to Paris. Orloff also says that W. ought to come back here as Ambassador, that he would be decidedly a "persona grata," but that isn't W.'s impression. He has talked to a good many men who are about the Court and the Emperor, and he thinks a soldier, not a political man, would be a much better appointment. We shall miss Pontécoulant awfully. He is so easy-going and looks after everything, always smoothing things over—very necessary in a temporary Embassy like this where all pull apart a little, and there is a sort of dull friction and rivalry between the soldiers and the diplomatists. It is funny to live entirely with a quantity of men, but they are all charming to me.

To H. L. K

Ambassade de France, Moscow,Maison Klein, Malaia Dimitrofska,Thursday, June 7th, 1883.

W. and I have had such a quiet conjugal day that we can hardly believe we are still "Ambassadeur Extraordinaire." We breakfasted tête-à-tête, as all the gentlemen have gone off to the Convent of St. Serge, which is one of the things to see here. They have a very fine trésor. The Emperor and Empress made retraite there before the sacre. After breakfast W. looked over his despatches, and I played a little some Russian music which Benckendorff had given me.

About three we started off for "les Moineaux," a hill near Moscow from which Napoleon had his first view of the city. There was no sun, which was a pity, as all the colour of Moscow makes it so original and different from everything else—however the city looked mysterious and poetical in a sort of pink brume. We met various colleagues going the same way—Nigra always in his "Troika" (Russian attelage) and the Hunts. Nigra came and joined us on the terrace, and we had tea together. They offered us a great many things, but we declined experiments, and kept on saying "Tchai" (which means tea), until they brought it. Nigra told W. he should taste the peculiar brandy of the country which all drink—prince and peasant—but I think W. did not like it much. Nigra was most agreeable. He is Italian Ambassador to Petersburg, and knows everybody. He says Russian Society is rather fermée, unless you take their ways and hours. All the ladies receive late, after the theatres, every evening. It is quite informal—a cup of tea, very often music, and really interesting talk. He says the women are remarkably intelligent and cultivated—en masse cleverer than the men. I wonder if he would go as far about them as Lord Lyons did about American women. When he came back from America he said he had never met a stupid American woman. We had a pleasant hour on the terrace, and then started home again.

We crossed the Empress driving with her brother, Prince Waldemar, in an ordinary open carriage (harnessed Russian fashion—the three horses) and with no escort nor apparent policemen of any kind. She looked very well and smiling, and so young. There was not much movement on the road—a few carriages and peasant's carts. As soon as we got into Moscow we fell at once into the same staring, quiet crowd; but I fancy many people have already gone. The streets were not nearly so full.

I had just time to dress, and dined alone with the gentlemen. W. and Général Pittié dined with the Nonce, Mgr. Vannutelli, and were to go to Countess Pahlen's reception afterwards. The expedition to the Convent seems to have been very successful, but long. They gave them breakfast in the refectory—a very frugal meal—and showed them all their treasures. I stayed a little while in the serre while they were smoking. Now they have all gone out and I am not sorry to finish my evening quietly in my little boudoir. I am getting quite accustomed to my little room, with its ugly green and gold silk furniture (quite hideous, such a bright, hard green). The chairs and sofa are so heavy it takes two of us to move them. There are quantities of tables and candles (40 or 50 at least, no lamps of any description), in branches, double candlesticks, etc. I have great difficulty in persuading the little Russian maid not to light them all, all the time; and when I have about 12 to dress by she evidently considers me in the dark absolutely. I think I have dressed sometimes with two, quite contented, in the old days.

Friday, June 8th.

I walked about a little with Corcelle this morning. We went into one fur shop where we found a woman who spoke French, but there was nothing very tempting. They all advise us to wait for our furs at Petersburg, all the best furs are sent there—however we bought a very good fur lining for a driving coat (each of us) and I a fur couverture—principally I think because the woman was nice, and it was a pleasure to talk ourselves and not through the little boy of the Consulate, of whom I am by no means sure.

At 10 o'clock W. had his farewell audience with the Emperor, but it wasn't particularly interesting—an insignificant conversation—might have been any emperor, or any ambassador, of any country.

After breakfast we went out again "en bande" with a new polyglot youth this time—a young Frenchman whom Lhermite had discovered. He took us to all sorts of places, small shops and bazaars, where we had never been. We bought a good many things, Circassian belts and buckles of wrought silver, some studded with turquoises, some enamelled—pretty work—Russian chains and crosses, small Madonnas in curious brass frames—always the black face on a gold ground, and several of those beautiful, light Orenburg shawls, so fine that they pass through a ring (we all tried) and yet fairly large and warm when one shakes them out to the full size. It was rather amusing going in and out of all the funny little shops. We left the carriage in one of the big streets and walked about.

Now we have come home. I have had my tea alone to-day. I must dress, as we dine early, 7 o'clock, on account of our reception afterwards. I went with Lhermite to see the flowers, fruit, bonbons, petits fours, etc., which arrived this morning from Paris. It is extraordinary how fresh they all look. There are dozens of boxes in the dining-room and office, and the men are putting the flowers all about the rooms, Lhermite superintending the whole thing. He is an enormous help—I don't know what we should have done without him.

I am going to wear my white and silver brocade to-night, the one I wore at the Palace gala dinner—my last full dress in Moscow. I am rather shaken by my outing this afternoon—the going in some of those crooked little old streets was something awful. The holes in the so-called pavement were appalling, and the paving-stones tapered off generally to a sharp point. I think nothing but a Russian carriage, driven by a Russian coachman could have got along. I must say it is a straggling, queer-looking town once you get out of the Kremlin and the main streets. The houses are very far apart, generally white and low, with large gardens, like a big overgrown village.

Well, Dear, our reception is over. It is ended early, as everything does here—and as I am wide awake I will write at once. People began to come about 9.30, and at 11.30 everyone had gone. The rooms looked well, quantities of lights and flowers, everyone noticed the flowers (there are so few here), which were heaped up everywhere on consoles, mantelpieces, wherever one could put them. We had a great many people—all our colleagues in full force, but not so many Russians as we expected. A good many were de service at the Palace, where there was a function of some kind for Russians only (the provinces), and I am sure many never received their invitations, as it is impossible to find out where anyone lives. I had a talk with General Richter and one or two others, and then some of the younger members of the party suggested dancing—of course we had no music, as dancing had not been contemplated, but various amateurs offered their services, and they had about half an hour of waltzes. At the end they danced a little the Russian mazurka, which I was very curious to see. It is quite different from our cotillon or the Sir Roger de Coverley. There are all sorts of steps and figures. The gentleman takes his partner by the hand, holding it rather high (as in the polonaise). They hold themselves very straight, heads well back, as in a minuet, and do various figures. The women have a quick, sliding step when they change partners, which is very effective. I should think none but Russians would dance it well—one must be born to it.

Prince Orloff stayed on a little after everyone had gone, and we talked over all the fêtes, and principally our own performances. He says he has heard plenty of talk and criticisms of everything, and is much pleased with the success of our Mission. I hope the people at home will be satisfied.

We had a dinner for all the French newspaper correspondents the other day—and they expressed themselves as quite gratified. They told us that one of the correspondents (I forget which paper) had accepted W.'s invitation, but the very day of the dinner there had been such a violent attack on W. in his paper that he didn't like to come, and sent an excuse. They say the Times' account is the best—the Figaro also very good (Wolff).

Saturday, June 9, 1883.

The court is most amusing this morning—all the gentlemen are trying their horses, superintending the saddling, etc., as most of them follow the Emperor to-day at the revue. The little Russian horses look very lively and never stand still an instant. W. and I go together in the d'Orsay, Corcelle preceding us in another carriage. Benckendorff rides with all the others. Général Pittié is rather bored, he hates riding, particularly on a horse he doesn't know, so he and Fayet will only mount at the Champ de Mars. They say the Emperor's suite will be enormous—over 100. I wore my écru batiste with the heavy white embroidery and the écru bonnet with the wreath of pink and red roses. It is almost white. (I wonder how I shall ever wear out all these garments.)

The day is beautiful. We started about 10, as we were invited for 11 to the Tribune Impériale. The road out was a sight—the middle alley had been kept for the swells and Court, and there were quantities of Imperial and Ambassadors' carriages, aides-de-camp, etc., dashing about. I didn't see any handsome private equipages. They told me the reason was that the swells were attached to the Court and went about always in Court carriages. Our gentlemen passed us riding—they had rendezvous in the court-yard of the Palace Petrofski, where the Emperor mounted. We went on to the Tribune. The cortége started fairly punctually. First came the Empress in a victoria with four white horses. The Arch Duchess Charles Louis was seated next to her, and on the box the Duchesse d'Edimbourg and the Grand Duchess Wladimir, I think—at any rate another Princess. There were 2 postilions, 2 mounted grooms, and a piqueur. Then came the Emperor riding on the right of the Empress's carriage, always on his little grey Cossack horse, the Grand Duke Héritier and the Duke of Edinburgh directly behind him, and then a long, glittering suite of foreign Princes and officers. The Grand Duke Wladimir commands the Gardes, and was on the field to receive his brother. It is the first time I have seen the Emperor without the Grand Duke Wladimir close behind him. It was striking to see the stern, watchful face always there. The Empress drove up and down the lines, the Emperor riding alongside. It was difficult to distinguish any uniforms, as they were rather far off, and there were clouds of dust. As soon as the Empress had passed her revue she came up to the Tribune and took up her position directly in front, standing almost all the time. The Emperor and his staff remained directly under the Tribune to see the défilé. That of course was long—but we had breakfast, also a sort of goûter always going on, and servants appearing at intervals carrying trays with tea, chocolate, orangeade, etc. All the Grand Duchesses (not the Empress) moved about and talked to us. The Duchesse d'Oldenburg sat down next me for some time and told me about some of the regiments (Crimean fame), named some of the generals, etc.

I had tea with the Duchess of Edinburgh. She is easy, clever, and was much interested in all that was going on, told me I must come to the front for the cavalry and Cossack charge, and that it would be soon. I followed her when she made the move—the infantry were just finishing—and in the distance one saw a movement and a flash of lances in the sun, which showed that the Cossacks were getting ready. They passed like a whirlwind—so fast, and in such clouds of dust that one saw nothing but the glint of the lances, neither colour of uniforms, horses, flags. All the troops, infantry as well as cavalry, saluted the Emperor as they passed—a sort of dull sound, more like a groan than a cheer—nothing like a ringing English hurrah.

That was the end, so I went to the Princess Kotchoubey, Grande Maîtresse, to ask her if I should go and take leave of the Empress, as she and the Emperor leave Moscow to-morrow. She said the Empress wished us all, Ambassadrices and femmes de chefs-de-Mission, to stand near the door, and she would say good-bye to us on her way out, so we moved down, and after waiting a little she came. She made her circle very prettily, shook hands with all, and talked a little, but she was evidently tired and anxious to get away. She was dressed in a curious dress, a sort of yellow cloth of gold, and gold bonnet with red flowers—always her splendid pearl necklace.

We had to wait some little time before our carriages could get up, so I went back to the front of the Tribune to see the troops disperse. It was a pretty sight as they all filed off in long columns, music playing and flags flying, and always little groups of Cossacks tearing all over the place. I had another cup of tea with a very good little cake while I was waiting. Lady Thornton was tired and wanted one, so we sat there quite quietly and had our tea. It was a lovely, bright, warm day, and we liked that better than waiting at the door in the crowd until our carriages came.