Court And Society

( Originally Published 1921 )

IN Russia the diplomatic corps was very large, and most countries sent us their best representatives. The American Ambassador, Mr. Tower, who was there when I married, lived in a palace on the Neva's bank, where he entertained with a series of quiet dinners the élite of the capital's intellectuals, as well as the court group. The other embassies were then all rather quiet, save for an occasional dinner or soirée. One shone above all others during the period between my arrival and the Japanese War. It was the French, which in riches surpassed all its colleagues, and held a place second to none in St. Petersburg as Russia's friend and ally. The French Ambassador had quarters which occupied a large space on the French quay, and commanded a fine view of the Neva. He used lovely furniture, tapestry, silver, and works of art from the royal collections of France. As a peevish rival of the Marquis de Montebello said to me once at a banquet given by the latter: "We have kept our King, so our ambassadors can't be using royal property !"

The inspiration of the feasts, receptions, and balls which succeeded one another at this embassy was the Marquise de Montebello, a woman of exceptional beauty and wit, with a large personal fortune which she spent lavishly; a brilliant talker and very "enfant terrible," she amused even the most blasé. She had a gift of arranging successful parties, and putting the right people together. She grew to be the intimate friend of various prominent or smart Russians, especially various members of the imperial family. She gave a large formal party for the sovereigns, small suppers with the older grand dukes, pretty cotillions with but thirty or forty couples, well chosen, for the younger royalties, especially for the Emperor's brother Michael, who was very fond of dancing. An extremely unpretentious youth he was at that time, admirable at all kinds of sport, and always ready to enjoy an informal gathering. His riding was exceptional, both in races and in the horse-show ring, and he saw quite a lot of my husband, who was then one of the best horsemen in Russia. I had met Michael Alexandrovitch at a dinner the Grand Duke Wladimir gave, very soon after I made my debut in Russian society. Andrew-Wladimorovitch, a son of the house, brought up the stranger and said something which sounded vaguely like an introduction. I was talking in another direction and stretched out my hand, which the stranger took and bowed over; then as I turned again to my conversation the smart-looking young officer withdrew. I noticed he had a well-set-up look, and wore the aiguilettes of an aide-de-camp to the Emperor.

After I finished talking with the man near me, I turned to a woman at my side, saying, in all innocence: "Who was that trim aide-de-camp the Grand Duke Andrew just introduced to me ? "

She looked astounded. "You don't mean to say, Julia, you really don't know ? It is no less a person than the Czarevitch, heir apparent to the throne of all the Russias, and you treated him in such a casual manner; I wondered what on earth' was the matter !"

"There wasn't anything the matter. He looked exceptionally nice, and I couldn't possibly tell his name by looking at him. I hope he won't mind my liking his modest way of going about, getting introduced to strangers properly, instead of exacting official curtseys due his position."

Michael asked me for the mazurka and supper when dancing began that evening. He liked my treating him simply, it turned out, and always after we were frequent partners—in fact, at the court balls I was invariably his partner, either for the mazurka or for supper, or both. My husband and I were generally invited to his table, and were also included in any little fête given for him.

St. Petersburg was probably, during those years, the most brilliant capital in Europe. Besides the embassies, there were a lot of aristocrats, rich, lavish, highly cultured, who were fond of entertaining. Good taste and money had created ideal frames for dinners, theatricals, dances, suppers, and music. Our women were hand-some and well gowned, and both men and women were most unpretentious, cultivated, and clever. I liked them thoroughly, and I felt immensely at home among them; also, I liked their occupations and amusements. Every one had serious duties, fulfilled with great success, but they also possessed a rare faculty of putting aside their work and plunging into any pleasure with a zest no other race can boast, I think. It is a rare quality, especially as their unfeigned enthusiasm led to no excess. In all the years I was in Russia I never met in society any man who had had more to drink than was good for him, nor did any act or word ever go beyond good form and good taste. It was all instinctive breeding, as was the invariable kindness shown a young stranger who had dropped into their midst. They helped me in every way to make good, in spite of my ignorance of their customs and their etiquette.

Aside from the ordinary run of parties, there were often rather unusual and unexpected picnics—when at a dinner or after the play some one would say: "Let us go troika-driving to the gypsies to-night." Then the men would begin to plan and telephone. Troika sleighs would arrive, we would all bundle up warmly and sit in these gay, carpet-covered, bell-bedecked vehicles with their prancing horses three abreast. We would skim over the river's ice and the hard, smooth snow on the islands, go far out of town, with the moon creating a deep-blue fairy-land about us, and the air nipping any part of one's face left exposed. Ten miles or more we drove out, one horse trotting at such a rate that the others on either flank must gallop to keep up. We felt dizzy with intense cold, rapid motion, mounting excitement, and the winter's beauty.

Suddenly we pulled up. It was the gypsies' settle-ment we had reached, and there, though all looked so quiet in the low-ceilinged, dull, badly lighted house, we found an excellent supper, as if by enchantment, waiting for us. Smoking dishes—Russian; fruits from far away, champagne and tea. It seemed delicious, for our appetites were sharpened by the air. Soon we passed from the supper-table to long benches ranged about the walls of another room, equally low, dingy, and ill lighted. In trooped the gypsy singers, two-thirds of them women, dressed in crude colors which seemed violent contrasts even in the semigloom. As they settled themselves, every one lighted cigarettes and our glasses were filled. The health of each guest in turn was drunk, with a little verse sung to her or him by the gypsies—a pretty initiation. These strange people, who came from no one knew where originally, whose voices had a wail of the Orient which deeply stirred one's heart with things left unsaid, had wonderful répertoires of weird songs. Most foreigners were bored after a time, but I always loved expeditions to these gypsies, who were so different from their race in other countries. About five in the morning we drove home again through the early, freezing air.

Besides gypsy parties, there were many other original, gay, curious affairs. Supper at some palace, where, asked at half after midnight, we sat at table till five or six o'clock in the morning, listening to a fine Russian singer. She was installed generally at the table with us, her accompanist, a man with a guitar, standing behind her chair. Between courses and when the meal was ended, she would sing old Russian legends, popular folk-songs, anything any guest asked for. The singer had no caprices, and the guests were all sympathetically vibrating and would join in the different refrains. Strangely enough, most of the music was sad; at least I felt as if a scintillating pattern of golden sound was woven into a background of sombre gray, with just a recurrent note which aroused one's wildest energies before it died away. The Russians seemed to bare their national soul in their peculiar, lovely music.

We danced the whole night through, if we danced at all, and balls had a vim I never saw elsewhere. Beautiful flowers, perfect floors, rarely too crowded for comfort, stunning jewels, brilliant uniforms—every one certain enough of his position to be quite natural. Night after night one danced, till hot coffee was served—the Russians' usual morning meal—and many an officer went straight to early drill with his regiment without going home to sleep at all.

Irregular sleep apparently did no one any harm in Russia. I found it did not at all disagree with me to come home with my arms full of flowers and my dress ragged at the lower edge from spurs, about the time our children were getting up. One could rest three or four hours, then walk on the quay and feel as fresh as ever for the new effort of the evening to follow.

But the season was short—only a few weeks—and most of the year one led a very simple life in the bosom of one's family, or with only a circle of intimate friends gathered about one's hearth.

Of course the greatest functions were at court, and I am glad the three or four early years of my married life were during a time when the Russian court was arrayed in all its glory. About eight such functions were given by Their Majesties each season at the Winter Palace or the Hermitage. The court ball which opened the season occurred soon after the New Year. People came from all over the vast empire, wearing the quaintest clothes. At least once in a lifetime the effort was made to go to court by provincials, and, doubtless, patriots who travelled so far, after many years of service, to gaze on their "Little Father" and his beautiful consort, put an almost religious spirit into their pilgrimages. But I think they must have felt repaid for their effort and expense, as they looked on the most magnificent party in Europe. They carried memories back to Caucasian mountainside or Siberian plains, which were akin probably to fairy-land. They had walked through kilometres of great halls, filled with art treasures; they had seen three thousand people assembled, the women's gowns and jewels or men's uniforms of gold and furs of such richness as no other empire could boast. The frame was worthy of the picture and the picture of its frame. Surely Solomon in all his glory could not have equalled this great sight.

Nicolas II, alone of all European sovereigns, could give his three thousand guests dancing space enough in a single ballroom; he alone had room to seat them all at a well-served hot supper, with plate and rare china, napery and food from his own kitchens and storerooms. At these feasts and in all his gorgeous surroundings the Emperor always seemed most simple. His uniform was generally that of a colonel in one of the infantry regiments of which he was fond, or that of his own Hussars. Small of stature, with a painfully shy manner, His Majesty showed constantly how difficult was his rôle as the centre of these celebrations. I always thought as I saw him watch longingly some gay guardsman pass with a pretty partner hanging on his arm, how the Ruler of all the Russias must envy an ordinary young chap's freedom.

I dressed for these parties with feelings of elation, donning my best clothes and knowing it was all pleasure for me. We drove through the freezing night, toward a magnificent feast for eyes and ears, as well as a joy to light and frivolous feet like mine. On arriving I could not throw off my cloak quickly enough, and already be-fore the staircase the excitement of the hours to come made my blood tingle. We climbed a long flight, lined with guardsmen picked for their beauty and size, and if it was the night when the Emperor's "own horse-guards" were on duty, they were surely all brunettes. Should one man be less black of hair he was dyed for the occasion to match his fellows. They wore helmets of gold, with metal imperial eagles spreading silver wings over them; their uniforms, red and gold and blue, were the best cut and fitted I have seen. The three or four palace en-trances were guarded by different regiments, each lending a bright note of color to the scene. One door was for the military and naval guests; another received the diplomats; a third the imperial family; a fourth civilians. The crowds moved forward from each through hall after hall, greeting friends until they reached the grand ballroom. There we stood about in groups, more or less marshalled into the right space by the head master of ceremonies, Count Hendrikoff, and some fifty of his aides, all in much gilded but ugly heavy uniforms; each of these men carried a long cane with ivory handle.

Rapidly guests gathered; then three taps were heard on the floor, and silence fell. A last quick arrangement of one's train or one's sleeves was possible before the double doors opened. In the frame stood His Majesty, looking as shy as possible, as if dreadfully sorry to interrupt. Behind him his adjutant-general, the general of his suite, and His Majesty's aide-de-camp; one man of each rank was on duty daily for the twenty-four hours. Count Frédéricksz, in those days a baron still, extraordinary for good looks, with Count Benkendorff, grand marshal of the court, also stood there. These two large men accentuated the Emperor's shortness, though the sovereign was of fairly heavy build and had broad shoulders, which he held quite straight. Usually he bowed quickly, and then stood quietly gazing at the great crowd with very patient eyes—a look of something like deep sadness in them. His face was typically Russian—broad, with an effect of flat surfaces. He had deep, earnest, handsome eyes, dark gray-blue, with a charm all their own ; a rather short, heavy nose and high cheek-bones; a mustache and beard covered what seemed to be a rather large mouth, but was perhaps only thick-lipped. A short neck and very short hands were his other marked traits. His Majesty was altogether a sympathetic figure, had one met him casually as a private person, and I always found myself feeling sorry for him. To his right stood—when she came at all—the Empress-Mother, graceful and gracious, smiling, glancing about at people, with a nod to those she knew, or turning to speak in friendly fashion with her own gentlemen and ladies in waiting. The Empress-Mother wore black, and her perfect neck and shoulders could well bear the trying full court décolleté. Nearing sixty, she was still able to hold her own in the eyes of her subjects. She did not stand long in the doorway, but moved off somewhere and settled down almost at once, having those with whom she wished to converse brought to her. Her chosen corner was usually the gayest of the ball.

Going through the room she had a pleasant intimate word for many a person. "What a pretty gown!" or "Is that the new diadem I heard about ? It is lovely," and so on.

Some old man, receiving a gentle, winning glance, would bow low, then straightening he would preen him-self and say to his neighbors : "It It is twenty years since Her Majesty saw me last, yet did you see how she remembered my face ? And how young she looks! As graceful, too, as ever." A great gift this in the sovereign who still reigned in Russian hearts by her womanly softness.

When the Empress-Mother did not come to court the opened doors disclosed the young Empress Alexandra standing on her husband's right. The elder woman was given first place, and if both were there the Emperor's consort stood at his left. Doubtless this was hard for her pride. There were many difficulties in her life be-sides. She had no son to follow Nicolas II, and it was said at court this preyed on the young Empress's mind and heart continuously, and drove her to cultivating charlatan doctors and saints. She found in the constant presence of Michael, her husband's brother and heir, a reminder that her children were all girls. When-ever she received a woman in audience she asked: "Have you children ?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Girls or boys ?"

"A boy, madam."

Instantly Her Majesty's face was strained, and there came a pause in the conversation. This happened to me every year, so I know; and I never was so happy as when in 1904 my elder daughter was born in the spring, and that same summer brought our Empress the little lad whose life and early death were to be such a tragedy.

That next winter the empress's first words were: "I hear you have another child."

"A girl, Your Majesty—while we all congratulate you on the birth of the heir !"

After that year the manner of the Empress was quite different to me, and we had a long and very pleasant chat each time I was received by her in audience.

The young Empress was exceptionally well-read and could talk on a number of subjects. Seemingly also with her own circle she could laugh and be gay, and she was devoted to her husband, her children, and her few intimate friends. She was full of compassion for those who were in trouble, but apparently she hated her surroundings and the people whom she should have found con-genial. She hated, also, the ways of court life and every tradition of the old palaces. She drove away those who wanted to help her, drove away, little by little, the Emperor's few trusted and tried comrades, reduced the pal-ace life almost to a tête-à-tête, the fakers who captured her imagination being the only people outside the family circle Her Majesty tolerated. Even in early days, in-stead of leaving all court housekeeping arrangements to various officials who had previously attended to such matters, she wanted parlor-maids introduced into the Winter Palace, instead of the old men servants. This hurt the servitors' feelings, and Her Majesty's newly formed corps of maids could not or would not do the work. Everything had to be changed back, while it was said the Empress tried to introduce the "ways of the German and English bourgeois houses" to Russia's court !

I heard this story from my mother-in-law, and it was typical of the kind of thing constantly being told. Al-ways some unfortunate little remark or act, attitude or expression, marred the effect of what one was anxious to believe—that our Empress wished to do right by her subjects and to please them, just as they were anxious to act nicely toward her and love her, as they did the Dowager Empress. Everything miscarried, though, and left disappointments. Explanations were not possible, because of her rank and her rather forbidding attitude. Often I have thought this sad woman was the victim of a huge misunderstanding, yet undoubtedly her own words and acts built it up.

I had several personal experiences of this. First, at the very beginning, her unnecessary criticism of a pretty and correct enough gown on a stranger who was anxious to please, roused the animosity of a large group of young women. Then her attitude of sitting in judgment on society and its gay ways, which was sure to offend the court circle, was unwarranted, since the Russian aristocracy was as well behaved as any in Europe, and many a diplomat exclaimed over our virtue as compared with society at other posts. Later came the gradual estrangement of herself and the Emperor from the warm, loyal men and women, who had been ready to give the young sovereign the same devotion they had dedicated to his father. It was curious how differently the Empress acted from others trained to the same role.

I have seen the Empress-Mother or the Grand Duchess Marie thank some woman or even some child with touching words and smiles for a little gift brought to their war charities. This effort of smiling was made often when they were weary physically and mentally, or worn down with responsibility. Whether my baby girl brought a knitted scarf for a sick soldier, or some rich man gave a thousand pairs of boots, or I carried to them a donation in money from sympathetic Americans, their pleasure at least seemed hearty and genuine. But the young Em-press received a check one day for six thousand roubles to help her sewing-circle for the wounded, at the beginning of the Russo-Japanese War, and Her Majesty only said : "Thank you, every little bit helps somewhat !" The donor explained this money came from a group of foreign women who had raised the gift by their own work, and afterward a lady in waiting was begged to see if she could not obtain a few words of thanks, signed by the Empress, to send to the far-away sympathizers, so they would not imagine the fund had been lost, or was not appreciated. After a whole year a typewritten note of stiff thanks was sent, bearing the signature of Her Majesty's secretary ! It was reported the sovereign had said: "It will be quite sufficient if A signs !"

In spite of this strange way of doing and of her manner with nearly every one who came near her, one could not look at the beautiful apparition in the palace ball-room doorway without feeling sorry for an evidently unhappy woman. Much taller than the Emperor, she was of heavy build, especially when I first knew her. The head with its proud pose was classic and stood out splendidly in the throng about her at court. The Em-press had a wonderful cameo-like profile, made for sculptors to copy on coins. Her features were regular, her blond hair abundant, though drawn back tightly and rolled into a bun with the utmost simplicity. The court hair-dresser, Delcroix, was in despair. "Her Majesty does not wear a coiffure—it is merely a hard lump and everything must be only tight. Yet she is so beautiful !" he would exclaim. Nearly always dressed in white, her complexion was soft and pretty. The eyes were deep and tragic or desperately bored, or very cold and severe; one felt held at a distance and as if one were clumsy or lacked understanding. The Empress loved jewels, and wore a great many large and magnificent stones. In her diadems , or small round crowns, with row after row of pearls and diamonds from throat to waist, hanging and flashing, she looked her best. Also, in .Russian court dress she was magnificent, and I admired her extremely during the last war years in the Sister of Mercy costume she invented for herself.

In 1900 already there was much discussion about the Empress, especially as to her complaints of Russian society, which were rather resented. Her criticism of this or that custom or person, her strange tastes and ways, like Her Majesty's attitude at a court ball, seemed to fit into the tales which were spread about. A very small bow, without a smile, was vouchsafed her curtseying subjects; then she stood or sat wherever etiquette put her, looking straight to the front; painfully intimidated, militantly on the defensive, doing whatever was her official duty, but under protest, as it were, she spent much of the evening standing or sitting alone, while those near her felt rather uneasy, fearing her critical eye or comment. I believe she thought she was disliked and that she suffered an agony of shyness. Meantime, between sorrow and resentment, most of St. Petersburg society vacillated, while the breach widened. Those on one side made an occasional advance, only to be rebuffed—she, on the other, wanted the sympathy which her pride prevented her accepting, and she brooded on her troubles always. The whole situation was encouraged, of course, by the least desirable people at court, since they hoped to fish in troubled waters.

At a court ball, after some time of dancing, our long, sweeping trains on the floor were a good deal damaged usually by the officers' spurs. The latter could not be left off, and we might not hold our trains up--etiquette forbid ! I managed never to care if I was torn and ragged, because I was so keen about dancing. I loved the space, music, and order of these functions. The scene as we moved in to supper was even more perfect than in the ballroom. Often, when the Grand Duke Michael was my partner, we went in to supper the second couple, following Their Majesties directly, and the great stretch of the hall filled with enormous palm-trees, a bed of hyacinths or roses at their bases, with each palm the centre of a supper-table for ten, created a sylvan picture of the South in the Palace of the Czars. This with a thermometer fifteen to thirty-five below zero outside ! Every stranger gasped when he saw that room for the first time, and even Russians—of all people the least given to bragging !—felt rather proud of this fairy-land of flowers and tropical trees.

The Empress presided at her table, lovely but saying little to those who occupied places of honor on her left and right. Following supper, after a further wait, she and the Emperor (and, when there, the Empress-Mother) moved toward their door and gave the final signal. The music stopped ; Their Majesties smiled and bowed ; we bowed and curtseyed low in return and then they disappeared. The ball was over and we all wandered off to our distant carriages.

On Carnival Sunday a small party of two or three hundred guests was always given. It was the prettiest and smallest court affair of the year. There was a dinner in the art galleries of the Hermitage first, and dancing in the small ballroom of the most ancient part of the palace. The conservatory, full of singing birds, was thrown open. There was a very elegant cotillion, with flowers in quantities from the imperial greenhouses, and no one but the young dancing group (and only Russians of that) were guests. Twice only exceptions were made in my time : once, on the eve of their departure, Prince Kinsky, of the Austrian Embassy, and his lovely wife were asked; and another time the two daughters of the British Ambassador, Sir Charles Scott, were invited as a last compliment to their father before he retired from diplomatic life.