Letters of a Diplomat's Wife, 1883-1900

When we finally arrived we were received by the Governor's two nieces, Madame Mansouroff and Princess Obolenski. The Prince, like all the other Russian noblemen, took part in the cortége. All our colleagues were there, but the Duc de Montpensier was the only special envoy. All the other foreign Princes were riding with the Emperor's suite. It was almost a female gathering, though of course all the men of the Corps Diplomatique were there. We waited some little time in the large drawing-room, where many presentations were made; and then had a very handsome breakfast, people talking easily, but the Russians visibly nervous and preoccupied. As soon as it was over we went out on the balconies, where we remained until the cortége had passed. They brought us tea at intervals, but I never stirred from my chair until the end.

It was a beautiful sight as we looked down—as far as one could see, right and left, flags, draperies, principally red and gold, green wreaths, flowers and uniforms—the crowd of people well kept back behind a triple row of soldiers, the middle of the street perfectly clear, always a distant sound of bells, trumpets, and music. A salute of cannon was to let us know when the Emperor left Petrofski, the small palace just outside the walls where he has been all these days. As the time drew near one felt the anxiety of the Russians, and when the first coup sounded, all of them in the Palace and in the street crossed themselves. As the procession drew near the tension was intense. The Governor's Palace is about half way between the gate by which the Emperor entered and the Kremlin. He had all that long street to follow at a foot's pace. As soon as he entered the Kremlin another cannon would tell his people he was safe inside.

At last the head of the gorgeous procession appeared. It was magnificent, but I can't begin to tell you the details. I don't even remember all I saw, but you will read it all in the papers, as of course all their correspondents are here. There were quantities of troops of all descriptions, the splendid chevaliers-gardes looked very imposing with their white tunics and silver cuirasses; both horses and men enormous. What I liked best were the red Cossacks (even their long lances red). They look perfectly wild and uncivilized and their little horses equally so, prancing and plunging all the time.

The most interesting thing to me was the deputations from all the provinces of this vast Empire—Kirghis, Moguls, Tartars, Kalmucks, etc. There was a magnificent chief from the Caucase, all in white, with jewelled sword and high cap (even from where we were, so high above the crowd, we saw the flash of the diamonds); the Khan of Khiva, and the Emir of Bokhara, both with high fur caps, also with jewels on cap and belt. A young fellow, cousin I think of Prince Dolgourouky, came and stood near me, and told me as well as he could who the most important people were. Bells going all the time (and the Moscow bells have a deep, beautiful sound), music, the steady tramp of soldiers, and the curious, dull noise of a great crowd of people.

Then a break in the troops, and a long procession of gala court carriages passed, with six horses and six runners, a man to each horse, with all the grands-maitres and high officials of the Court, each man covered with gold lace and embroidery, and holding his staff of office, white with a jewel at the top. After that more troops, the Emperor's body-guard, and then the Emperor himself. He was in full uniform, riding quite alone in front on his little white horse which he had ridden in the Turkish campaign. He looked quite composed and smiling, not a trace of nervousness (perhaps a little pale), returned all the salutations most graciously, and looked up, bowed and smiled to our balcony. A little distance behind him rode his two sons, and close up to him on the left rode the Duke of Edinburgh in red; any bomb thrown at the Emperor must have killed the English Prince.

Then followed a long suite of Princes—some of their uniforms, Austrian, Greek, and Montenegrian standing out well. From that moment there was almost silence on the balcony; as the Emperor disappeared again all crossed themselves, and everyone waited for the welcome sound from the Kremlin.

After a long interval, always troops passing, came the Empress. She was with her daughter, the little Grand Duchess Xenia, both in Russian dress. The carriage was shut, a coupé, but half glass, so we saw them perfectly, and the high head-dress (Kakoshnik) and white veil, spangled with silver was very becoming. The carriage was very handsome, all gold and paintings; six white horses led, and running footmen. The Empress and her daughter were seated side by side, and on a curious sort of outside seat, on one side of the coupé, was a page, dressed in red and yellow, a sort of cloth of gold, with high feathers in his cap. The Empress looked grave and very pale, but she smiled and bowed all the time. It must have been an awful day for her, for she was so far behind the Emperor, and such masses of troops in between, that he might have been assassinated easily, she knowing nothing of it.

There was again a great sound of bells and music when the Empress passed, all the people crossing themselves, but the great interest of course was far ahead with the Emperor. A great procession of Court carriages followed with all the Princesses, Grandes-Maîtresses, etc., and endless troops still, but no one paid much attention; every ear was strained to hear the first sound from the Kremlin. When the cannon boomed out the effect was indescribable. All the Russians embraced each other, some with tears running down their cheeks, everybody shook hands with everybody, and for a moment the emotion was contagious—I felt rather a choke in my throat. The extraordinary reaction showed what the tension had been.

After rather a whirl of felicitations we went into the drawing-room for a few minutes, had tea (of course), and I talked to some of the people whom I had not seen before. Montpensier came up, and was very civil and nice. He is here as a Spanish Prince. He told me he had been frightfully nervous for the Emperor. They all knew that so many Nihilists were about—he added, "Il était superbe, leur Empereur, si crâne!"

We had to wait a few moments for the carriage and got home about 5, having been standing a long time. We were almost as long getting back to the Embassy as we were coming. There was a dense crowd everywhere, and the same little detachments of Cossacks galloping hard into the midst of the people, and apparently doing no harm to anyone.

I will finish now before going to bed—happily all our dissipations finish early. We dined quietly with only our own Embassy and Benckendorff, and then drove about for an hour or so looking at the illuminations, which were not very wonderful. We met all our colleagues doing the same thing. W. has just had his report from the detective. He said all the Nihilists were scattered along the route to-day, but evidently had no intention of doing anything. It seems curious they should be allowed to remain, as of course the Russian police know them quite as well as our man does.

I have just had a notice that the Empress will receive me to-morrow. I will try and write a few lines always late before going to bed, and while the whole thing is still fresh in my memory. If this letter is slightly incoherent it is because I have had so many interruptions. The maids can hardly undress me, they are so anxious to tell me all they have seen. It certainly was a magnificent sight to-day, and the fears for the Emperor gave such a dramatic note to the whole thing. My eyes are rather tired, looking so hard, I suppose.

    Wednesday, May 23d.

Well, Dear, I have had my audience. It was most interesting. I started at 11 o'clock in the gala carriage, Hubert driving me, as he wanted to go once to the Kremlin with the carriage before the day of the Coronation. It seems there is a slight rise in the road just as one gets to the gate, which is also narrow. I wore the blue brocade with bunches of cherries, the front of moussé velvet, and a light blue crêpe bonnet, neither gloves nor veil. Benckendorff and Richard, as "officer de service," went ahead in a small carriage. Benckendorff said I must have one of my own Embassy, and Richard thought it would amuse him to come. W. rather demurred—was afraid we wouldn't be serious enough, but we promised him to be absolutely dignes. Do you remember at the first official reception at the Instruction Publique he never would let you and Pauline stand behind me—he was afraid we would make unseemly jokes, or laugh at some of the dresses.

Our progress to the Kremlin was slow. The carriage is heavy, goes always at a foot's pace, and has a swinging motion which is very disagreeable. I felt rather shy, sitting up there alone, as of course there is a great deal of glass, so that I was much "en évidence." Everybody looked, and the people in the street crowded close up to the carriage. We found grand preparations when we got to the Palace—the great staircase covered with a red cloth, and every variety of chamberlain, page, usher, and officer on the stairs and at the door. Benckendorff and Richard helped me out of my carriage, and Richard's impulse was to give me his arm to go upstairs, but he was waved back imperatively, and a magnificent gentleman in a velvet coat, all lace and embroidery, advanced, and conducted me up the grand staircase, always a little behind me. I passed through a hedge of uniforms and costumes. When we came to the landing where there was a piquet of soldiers my attendant said—"La France," and they presented arms.

At the top of the staircase, at the door of the first of a long enfilade of salons, I was handed over, with a very low bow, from my first gentleman to another of the same description, equally all gold lace, and embroidery; and so I passed through all the rooms, always meeting a new chamberlain in each one. The rooms are large and high, with vaulted roofs like a cathedral, little or no furniture (I believe the Russian Court never sits down except at meals). We made a halt in one of the salons, where we found several maids of honour of the Empress, who were presented to me. They were all dressed much alike in long, light dresses, and wore their badge—the Empress's chiffre in diamonds on a blue ribbon. While I was talking to them a procession of diplomats and special envoys passed through the room. They had just been received by the Empress.

Presently appeared Prince Galitzin—Grand Maître des Cérémonies, attired in red velvet and lace, and embroidery, who said, "Sa Majesté sera bientôt prête." I continued my progress with the same ceremonial, passed through the salle du trône, which is handsome, white and gold; and came to a standstill in the next salon, evidently the ante-chamber of the room where I was to be received, as the two colossal negroes who always accompany the Emperor and Empress were standing at the door. They were dressed in a sort of Asiatic costume, cashmeres, turbans, scimitars, etc. I was received by the Princess Kotchoubey and Count Pahlen, Arch Grand Maître des Cérémonies. The Princess K. is the mother of Princess Lise Troubetzkoi (whom you will remember in Paris as having a salon the first days of the Republic where political men of all opinions assembled—Thiers was her great friend). She was a little old lady, dressed entirely in white, with a jewel low on her forehead. Count Pahlen was dressed in blue velvet and embroidery, and carried his staff of office, white, with a large sapphire on the top.

We talked a few minutes, when apparently there came a signal from the Empress. The doors flew open, and the Princess advanced to the threshold, making a beautiful curtsey (I am sure mine was not half so good), she seemed to go straight down to the ground, said—"J'ai l'honneur d'annoncer l'Ambassadrice de France." She then withdrew to one side—I made a curtsey at the door, which was instantly shut, another, a little farther on (the regulation is 3), but hadn't time for my third, as the Empress, who was standing in the middle of the room, advanced a few steps, shook hands and begged me to sit down. I hadn't seen her for some years, since she came to Paris with her husband, then Grand Duke Héritier (his father was still alive), and I didn't find her changed. She recalls the Princess of Wales, but is not so tall; has beautiful dark eyes, and a very gracious manner. She was dressed almost as I was, but in a different color, yellow brocade with bunches of plums, splendid lace in front, and a beautiful pearl necklace, three rows of large stones (my one row of fairly large ones was nowhere). I think I stayed about 20 minutes.

We talked easily enough. She said the long day yesterday had been very fatiguing, the going at a foot's pace all that long distance with the peculiar swinging motion of the heavy gala carriage had tired her very much; also the constant bowing right and left, and the quantities of flags and draperies waving under her eyes. She didn't say anything about being nervous, so of course I didn't. She gave me the impression of having extraordinary self-control. I asked her what the little Grand Duchess thought of it all. She said that she really didn't know—that she didn't speak, but looked at everything and bowed to all the people exactly as she did.

She said the day of the sacre would be very long and tiring, particularly beginning so early in the morning; that she was very matinale, quite accustomed to getting up early—was I? "Fairly—but I hadn't often been up and dressed in full dress and diamonds at seven in the morning." "You would prefer a ceremony by candle-light." "I think we should all look better at 9 o'clock in the evening." She laughed, and then we talked a little; Paris, chiffons, etc. She said some of her dresses had come from Philippe. We talked a little about Moscow and the Kremlin. She asked me what I had seen. When I spoke of the church and the tribunes for the Corps Diplomatique with no seats, and a very long ceremony, she was quite indifferent; evidently didn't think it was of the slightest consequence whether we were tired or not; and I don't suppose it is.

When she congédied me the door flew open (she evidently had a bell under her chair which she touched with her feet); she shook hands, and walked immediately to a door at the other end of the room; so I didn't have to back out all the way. Princess Kotchoubey and Count Pahlen were waiting for me. The Princess said, "Sa Majesté vous a gardé bien longtemps, Madame l'Ambassadrice. J'espère que vous avez été contente." Pahlen also made me a polite phrase. They both accompanied me across the room, and then the door opened, and another chamberlain took possession of me. Just as we got to the door the Princess was saying something about her daughter "devenue absolument une Parisienne," when it opened; she stopped short in the middle of her phrase, and made me a little curtsey—her function was over once I passed into the other room. It was too funny.

I was conducted through all the rooms and down the great staircase with the same ceremony. I found Richard waiting in one of the big rooms, with the "Dames du portrait," but this time he didn't venture to offer his arm to the Ambassadress, and followed with Benckendorff at a respectful distance.

I found my carriage surrounded by an admiring crowd. The horses are handsome and enormous, particularly here where the race is small, also the French gala liveries are unlike anything else. Hubert, my own coachman, sits up so straight and pompous on his box, and looks so correct I hardly know him. The movement of the gala carriage is something awful, makes me really ill.

    May 23d, 10 o'clock.

We have had a quiet evening—some of the gentlemen have gone off to hear the famous Bohémiennes in one of the public gardens. They have been leaving cards all day on the special envoys, Princes, etc. W. and Pontécoulant are having a conference, and I have got into my tea-gown, and am reading a little, writing a little, and being generally lazy. W. and I also did a round of visits this afternoon.

As naturally none of our servants know either a word of Russian, or the streets of Moscow, we took with us the little polygot youth from the Consulate, who knows equally well French, Russian, and German. We gave him our list, and he went ahead in a drosky.

We found no one but the Princess Obolenski, who spoke at once about the Emperor's entrée; said no one could imagine the relief it was to all of them to know that he was actually safe in the Kremlin. They had evidently all dreaded that day, and of course notwithstanding all the precautions a bomb could have been thrown. The thrower, par exemple, would have been torn to pieces by the crowd; but what makes the strength of the Nihilists is that they all count their lives as nothing in what they consider the great cause.

How hideous the life of the Emperor and the Empress must be. They say they find letters on their tables, in their carriages, coming from no one knows where, telling them of all the horrors in store for them and their children.

To H. L. K

    Ambassade de France, à Moscou,

    Maison Klein, Malaia Dimitrofska,
    Thursday, 24 Mai, 1883.

I am having a quiet morning. We have no particular function to-day. Madame Jaurès is coming to get me after breakfast, and we are going to do a little sightseeing. The first thing I hear in the morning always is Pontécoulant's voice in the court talking to Leroy and Hubert, and examining the horses. The pair we had in the gala carriage yesterday went beautifully. Hubert was rather nervous, as there is a steep little bit just as one passes through the gates of the Kremlin—it is also narrow, and those big, unwieldy carriages are not easily handled. The pavement is so rough that I was actually a little sick yesterday after I came in.

I was called off by a visit from Prince Orloff (Russian Ambassador in France). He comes almost every day, and is much interested in all our doings—said the carriage and general style of everything was much admired yesterday. About two Madame Jaurès came, and we started off sight-seeing. The admiral, Jaurès, and one or two of the young men met us at the Kremlin, and we went over the two palaces—new and old. The old one is most curious; small, dark, low rooms, vaulted ceilings, all most elaborately ornamented in Byzantine style; a small steep, twisting staircase; large porcelain stoves, and absolutely uncomfortable. We saw the dining-room where the Emperor and Empress will dine in state the day of the Coronation. The new palace is quite different—high, light, large rooms, white, which must look beautiful at night lighted by thousands of wax candles. In the great ballroom the two Throne chairs are on a gold dais with great curtains of purple velvet and ermine—very royal looking.

(I wonder if the sight of all this splendour will destroy my mental equilibrium—I assure you I felt rather like a queen myself yesterday, seated up alone in the great gala carriage, with everybody bowing and gaping.) There is a splendid view over the Kremlin, the river and the town from all the palace windows. We went again to the church of the Assomption, where we found Count Pahlen superintending. He showed us some of the famous paintings—among others a Madonna with a black face, a splendid diamond necklace, and large sapphires and emeralds disposed about her person. There are jewels about everywhere; on pictures, brackets, etc. Pahlen told me, when I was noticing them, that the Russian Court was famous for coloured stones, particularly emeralds and sapphires—told me to notice the Grand Duchess Constantine's emeralds, and the Empress's sapphires. I will, if ever I get time to go into details, but everything is on such an enormous scale here.

He also asked me if I was accustomed to standing three or four hours, and if not he would suggest a pliant "dissimulé sous les plis de la traine," and showed me with pride the rails, covered with red velvet, in our tribune, which he had had put there so we should be comfortable! It will really be an awful day, particularly as we have to begin it so early, but I suppose we shan't die of it.

I came back about 4, changed my dress for something more élegant (the blue silk with long blue redingote and white lace), and started off again in the d'Orsay for some visits (the little boy in the drosky going in front). I found the Princess Radziwill in two small rooms (she received me in her bedroom), all she could find for herself and her husband in Moscow—and that at an awful price (and she is Russian born). I also found Countess Pahlen, wife of the Grand Master, who was very smiling, and suggested that we should have an evening reception, which would be much appreciated. Of course we shall be delighted, and had even thought of a ball, but all those things had been settled in Russia before we left Paris. The Russian Court wished to have one ball only, as the Coronation functions were numerous and fatiguing, and that is to be at General Schweinitz's (Doyen of the Corps Diplomatique).

After leaving Countess Pahlen I went again to the Kremlin, the d'Orsay always exciting much attention. I had the greatest difficulty in finding out the Duchesse d'Edimbourg, for whom I had to write myself down, and could find no servant who spoke either German, French, or English. The crowd and confusion was something awful; apparently the whole of Moscow was going wherever I was—Ambassadors, Generals, Chamberlains, maids-of-honour, servants with tea, crowding in all the corridors. You never saw such a sight, and just as many more in the court-yards—carriages, soldiers, work-people, carpenters, bales of stuffs, and planks for stands, and all in that beautiful cadre—the old gray walls looked so soft, and the marvellous effects of colour everywhere. I was well shaken up, such a pavement. I met the Duc de Montpensier at every turn, sight-seeing too. We had a quiet dinner, the personnel only with Benckendorff. The gentlemen had been going all around too all the afternoon leaving cards. They all say the pavement is most trying.

W. and Pontécoulant have come in late as usual for a last little talk. I told them what Countess Pahlen had said about an evening reception. W. had had the same idea. I think the house is large enough—the ballroom ought to light well, all white with yellow satin furniture. We must have a talk with Lhermite about flowers; he says there are none here, his come from Paris.

    Friday, 25th.

The men of the Embassy went off early, as they had no end of audiences with all the Grand Dukes; uncles and brothers of the Emperor. I walked about a little with Adelaïde, but I didn't find that very pleasant. It is curious I never see a lady of any kind walking, and we always attract attention. It is very warm, the sun really powerful. I breakfasted alone in the big dining-room, an elaborate meal, one maître d'hôtel and two tall footmen waiting upon me—I was rather sorry I hadn't asked for tea and cold chicken in my dressing-room.

At 3.30 the gentlemen all reappeared, put on their Austrian decorations, and we started for the reception of the Arch Duke and Arch Duchess Albert of Austria. We found quantities of people, as all the Corps Diplomatique had been convoked. W. and I went as usual in the d'Orsay. I wore my crème voile with lace and embroidery, straw bonnet with crème feathers, lined with dark blue velvet. We waited some little time in a large hall or anteroom where was Count Wolkenstein, Austrian Ambassador, who presented all the suite of the Arch Duke. Then appeared the Arch Duke alone—said his wife was coming in a few moments. We had known him in Paris—he had dined with us at the Quai d'Orsay when W. was Foreign Minister, our Exhibition year. He is a tall, distinguished looking man. It was when he was dining at the Elysée one night with Maréchal MacMahon that such a funny contre-temps occurred. Their dinners were always very good and soignés, but evidently they had not thought about the names of the dishes, and when we were well on with the dinner we suddenly realized that something was wrong. My neighbour said to me "Look at your menu," and what did I see—"Glace à la Magenta"—"Gateau Solférino," and I forget the third thing—all battles where the Austrians had been beaten. I spoke to one of the household about it afterwards who said "J'ai froid dans le dos en pensant à ce que le Maréchal me dira." It seems that when he was angry the Maréchal didn't mince matters, and used most emphatic expressions. You can imagine how carefully we studied the menu of our dinner which came two days after—"Glace à la Régence," "Gâteau Moka," etc., nothing compromising.

While the Arch Duke was talking there was suddenly a move, and he went to meet the Arch Duchess who came in, crossed the room quickly, and asked us to follow. We did, into a smaller room, W. and I alone. She is very handsome, younger than he is, tall and slight, dressed in a black dress with a great deal of lace, a very long train, a handsome pearl necklace, and a high comb of diamonds. She said she would like to make a stay in Paris. After they had congédied us W. asked if he might present the rest of the Mission, so I returned to the large salon and saw various people to talk to, including Count Apponyi, whom I had known in Paris, where his father was Ambassador for years.

We dined at home and went in the evening to a reception at M. de Giers'—Foreign Minister. The rooms were not large, and there were a great many people, I should think more foreigners and diplomatists than Russians. Princess Kotchoubey and Countess Pahlen did the honours. Quantities of people were presented to me—I shall never remember their names or their faces. I wore fraise-écrasé velvet, the front covered with white "point à l'aiguille." General Wolseley, who is here with the Duke of Edinburgh, was presented. He is not at all the real British type, small and dark, but very bright eyes. I also had quite a talk with my Dutch friend Schimmelpenninck, who assured me my toilettes were très réussies, particularly the white one, this afternoon. I had quite a talk too with the Hunts, who are very nice. Both are tall and fine-looking, she always very well dressed. The U.S. Mission is very distinguished—they have Mr. and Mrs. Mackay with them, both very natural and quiet; she of course has splendid jewels (they tell me her sapphires are beautiful), but she wears them quite simply, without any ostentation. There is also Admiral Baldwin, who has his ship at Cronstadt, and two charming young aides-de-camp, Rogers and Paul.

To H. L. K

    Saturday, May 26, 1883.

Well, Dear, I am just alive, but nothing more, having performed 5 Grand Duchesses. The gentlemen all went off in full uniform at 11 to begin their audiences. I followed later alone (they always go en bande) with Richard going in the small carriage in front as officier de service (which amuses us both perfectly). I wore the white soft silk with Valenciennes that you liked, and the flower hat. Benckendorff complimented me on my toilette. It was a long affair getting to our different Princesses. They are all lodged in the Kremlin, and the various palaces connect with all sorts of passages and staircases, but the corridors are narrow and the block something awful. My first audience was with the Grand Duchess Michel. Her husband is an uncle of the Emperor, and was for a long time Governor of the Caucasus. When we finally got to the door of the apartments I was received by 2 Chamberlains (all gold and embroidery), who never left me until they deposited me in the carriage at 5 o'clock—I had started at 1.30. The ceremonial was always exactly the same, one or two ladies-in-waiting were in the room communicating with the one in which the Grand Duchess was waiting. They announced "L'Ambassadrice de France," I got through as many of my three regulation curtseys as I could—I never really had time to make the third, as they all advanced a few steps and shook hands. The Grand Duchess Michel is a Baden Princess, tall, slight, very intelligent, simply dressed in black velvet, and of course a pearl necklace. She spoke to me in English, French, and German, but the conversation was mostly in French. She seemed well up in French literature, and asked me what I thought of Zola's "L'Assommoir," was really surprised when I said I hadn't read it, nor in fact scarcely anything he wrote. She considered it a marvel, and couldn't understand any French woman not reading every word that came from "un des plus puissants cerveaux du siècle." She knew too all the pieces de théâtre, and when I expressed surprise that she had had time to read so much, said her life in the Caucasus was so lonely—no society of any kind, and no resources outside of her own palace. I should think she was a maïtresse femme.

After leaving her I was taken in hand again by my two chamberlains, and walked some distance across one or two courts, always meeting more chamberlains escorting colleagues, principally men, all in uniform and orders, doing the same thing, and trying to get on as fast as they could. My next visit was to the Grand Duchess Constantine. When we got to the anteroom and small salon we found them full of gentlemen, who proved to be our Mission, who had arrived a few minutes before. That made a slight change of programme, as the Grand Duke decided to receive W. and me together with the Duchess—accordingly we were received first, alone, in a small room. The Grand Duke was standing close to the door; the Grand Duchess in the centre of the room. He is a sailor, looks very intelligent. She has been very handsome, carries herself beautifully, and has a splendid figure. He was in uniform—she in red velvet (she didn't have on her emeralds—I suppose we shall see them all to-morrow). They both talked very easily about all sorts of things; Greece of course and the Schuylers, of whom she spoke very warmly. Her daughter is the Queen of Greece—I hope we shall see her, as I have heard Gert talk so much about her. The Grand Duchess said she was tired already, and the Ceremonies haven't begun yet. She had received yesterday 100 ladies of Moscow. They came in groups of 10, and she had to find something to say to each one.

As soon as the audience was over W. asked permission, as usual, to present the rest of the Mission. I remained in the outer salon talking to the ladies-in-waiting. The apartment is high, with a splendid view over Moscow. They pointed me out several churches and curious roofs—were much interested in all my visits and my clothes, supposed I had quantities of trunks.

After that I departed again alone, and saw the Grand Duchess Catherine, who was very amiable, but kept me a few minutes only, as she had so many people to receive. Then I took another long walk, and up several flights of narrow, turning stairs (the chamberlains in front and Richard behind) to the Duchesse d'Oldenburg. The Belgian Mission was being received, so I waited in the outer salon, and again W. and the gentlemen arrived, and he and I were received together. Evidently they like it better when we can go together, as it saves time for them—and if we are tired, think what they must be. I went off again alone, and was received by the Grand Duchess Wladimir, who is charming—a German Princess. She is young, a pretty figure, very well dressed in white. She looked rather delicate, having just got over a rather bad attack of measles. She dreads the fatigue very much to-morrow, and had asked the Empress if she might have a folding-chair, a pliant of some kind, but her "demande n'a pas été accueillie favorablement. L'Imperatrice elle-même sera debout tout le temps. Il faudrait absolument que nous fassions comme elle." I didn't mention my pliant, as I am quite sure no one will notice to-morrow anything I do.

That finished my audience, and I had been standing or walking since I left the Embassy, so I was glad to find the carriage, which was by no means easy. There were quantities at the Kremlin, and as we never by any chance came out at the same door by which we went in, and the coachman was told to follow, he naturally had some difficulty in getting it. Also it is raining hard, which complicates matters. There are carpets down to the doors, but so many people have passed over them that they are just as wet and muddy as the streets. We met all the rest of the Mission at the Embassy door, and then there was a general détente, the men all calling for their servants to get them out of their uniforms, and to bring beer and cigars.