PAINTING RUSSIAN ROYALTIES — FESTIVITIES AT COURT — THE PANGS OF WAITING FOR DINNER — "TO KEEP WARM, SPEND THE WINTER IN RUSSIA" — THE HARDINESS OF ITS COMMON PEOPLE — WHO ARE WELL SUITED WITH SERFDOM — AND REMARKABLY HONEST — THE QUAINT CEREMONIAL OF BLESSING THE NEVA — VARIOUS SOCIAL CUSTOMS.

Upon Her Majesty's return from Czarskoiesielo Count Strogonoff came to me with her command to paint the two Grand Duchesses, Alexandrina and Helen. These Princesses might have been thirteen or fourteen years old, and their faces were angelic, though of entirely different expression. Their complexions especially were so tender and delicate that one might have supposed they lived on ambrosia. The eldest, Alexandrina, was of the Greek type of beauty and very much resembled Alexander, but the face of the younger, Helen, was far more subtle. I grouped them together, holding and looking at the Empress's portrait; their dress was somewhat Greek in style, quite simple and modest. As soon as I had done their pictures the Empress ordered me to paint the Grand Duchess Elisabeth, not long married to Alexander. I have already said what a ravishing person this Princess was; I should very much have liked not to represent such a heavenly figure in common dress, and I have always wanted to paint an historical picture of her and Alexander, so regular were the features of both. I painted her standing, in full court dress, arranging some flowers near a basketful of others. When I had done her large portrait she had another done for her mother, in which I painted her leaning on a cushion, with a diaphanous violet wrap. I can say that the more sittings the Grand Duchess Elisabeth gave me, the kinder and more affectionate did she become. One morning, while she was posing, I was seized with a giddy fit and grew so dazed that I had to close my eyes. She took alarm, and herself quickly ran for water, bathed my eyes, tended me with inexpressible kindness, and sent to inquire after me as soon as I had got home. About this time, too, I did a portrait of the Grand Duchess Anne, the wife of the Grand Duke Constantine. She, born as Princess of Coburg, without having a celestial face like her sister-in-law, was nevertheless sweetly pretty. She was probably sixteen, and her features were all life and mirth. Not that this young Princess ever knew much happiness in Russia. If it can be said that Alexander inherited his good looks and his character from his mother, it is equally true that this was not the case with Constantine, who strongly resembled his father, without, however, being quite as ugly, but like him endowed with a marvellously quick temper.

In that era the Russian court usually included such a large number of beautiful women that a ball at the Empress afforded an exquisite sight. I was present at the most magnificent ball she ever gave. The Empress, grandly arrayed, sat at the end of the room, attended by the first personages of the court. Close to her stood the Grand Duchess Marie, and Paul, Alexander and Constantine. An open balustrade separated them from the space where the dancing was going forward. The ball consisted of nothing but repetitions of the dance called "polonaise," in which I had for my first partner young Prince Bariatinski, with whom I went the round of the room and afterward took a seat on the bench to watch all the dancers. I could not tell how many pretty women I saw pass before me, but I cannot help saying that, amidst all these beauties, the Princesses of the imperial family carried off the palm. They were all habited in Greek costumes, with tunics attached at the shoulder with large diamond buckles. I had taken a hand in the Grand Duchess Elisabeth's dress, so that her costume was the most correct. Paul's daughters, however, Helen and Alexandrina, wore on their heads veils of light-blue gauze, strewn with silver, which lent their faces an almost divine appearance. The splendour of all that surrounded the Empress, the gorgeousness of the room, the handsome people, the profusion of diamonds, and the sparkling of the thousand lights made a veritable enchantment of this ball.

A few days later I went to a gala dinner at court. When I entered the room the invited ladies were all there, standing by the table, on which the first dish was already served. A moment after, a large door with two valves was thrown open, and the Empress appeared. I have said that she was short, but nevertheless on state occasions, her erect head, her eagle eye, her countenance so used to command—all was so symbolic of majesty that she seemed to be the queen of the world. She wore the ribbons of three orders. Her garb was plain and dignified, consisting of a muslin tunic embroidered with gold and enclasped by a diamond belt, a pair of wide sleeves being turned back in oriental fashion. Over this tunic was a red velvet dolman with very short sleeves. The cap set on her white hair was not adorned with bows, but with diamonds of the greatest beauty. When Her Majesty had taken her place all the ladies sat down to the table, and, according to universal custom, laid their napkins on their knees, while the Empress fastened hers with two pins, just as napkins are fastened on children. She soon noticed that the ladies did not eat, and suddenly burst out: "Ladies, you do not want to follow my example, and you are only pretending to eat! I have adopted the habit of pinning my napkin, as otherwise I could not even eat an egg without spilling some of it on my collar."

I, in fact, observed her to dine with a very hearty appetite. A good orchestra played during the whole meal, the musicians being in a large gallery at the end of the room.

Relating to dinners, I may say here that certainly the saddest I ever went to at St. Petersburg was at a sister's of Zuboff, where I had neglected to present a letter of introduction. Six months of my sojourn in Russia had gone by, when I met her one evening coming out of the theatre. She stepped over to me and said most politely that she was still waiting for a letter which had been given to me for her. Scarcely knowing what excuse to make, I replied that I had mislaid the letter, but that I would look for it again and hasten to bring it to her. I accordingly went one morning to visit the Countess D——, and she invited me to dine with her the day after the next. It was then the custom all over St. Petersburg to dine at half-past two, and I therefore went to the Countess's at that hour with my daughter, who was also invited. We were conducted to a very melancholy drawing-room, on the way to which I observed no preparations whatever for dinner. One hour, two hours went by, but there was no more question of sitting down to table than if we had just taken our morning coffee. At last two servants came in and opened several card-tables, and although it seemed rather strange to me that any one should eat in a drawing-room, I flattered myself that dinner was now to be served. But I was wrong. The servants went out, and in a few minutes a number of the guests had settled down to play cards. About six o'clock my poor daughter and I were so starved that, when we looked into a mirror, we were frightened and sorry for ourselves. I felt as if I should die. Not until half-past seven were we informed that the meal was ready; but our poor stomachs had gone through too much agony; we were unable to eat anything at all. I then found out that the Countess D—— dined at the hour usual in London. The Countess ought to have notified me, but perhaps she imagined that the whole universe was aware of her dinner hour.

As a rule, nothing was more distasteful to me than to dine in town, but I was sometimes obliged to do it, especially in Russia, where one runs a risk of mortally offending people if one declines their invitations too often. I disliked the dinners the more as there were such a number of them. They were highly luxurious; most of the nobility had very good French cooks, and the fare was incomparable. A quarter of an hour before the guests sat down at table a servant would pass round a tray with all sorts of cordials and small slices of buttered bread. No cordials were taken after dinner, but always superior Malaga wine.

It is the custom in Russia for the great ladies, even at their own houses, to go into table before the guests, so that the Princess Dolgoruki and others would take me by the arm, in order that I might go in at the same time as they, for it would be impossible to exceed the Russian ladies in the urbanities of good society. I will even go so far as to say that they are without the haughtiness chargeable to some of our French ladies.

At St. Petersburg the rigour of the climate would be unnoticed by any one who remains indoors, to such a degree have the Russians perfected the means of keeping their houses warm. From the very porter's door all is heated by such excellent stoves that the fires maintained in the chimney places are purely ornamental. The stairways and corridors are of the same temperature as the rooms, whose communicating doors are left open without any inconvenience resulting. When the Emperor Paul, then Grand Duke only, came to France for the first time, he said to the Parisians: "In St. Petersburg you see the cold, but here you feel it." And when, after spending seven and a half years in Russia, I went back to Paris, where the Princess Dolgoruki was also staying, I remember that on a certain day, on which I had gone to see her, we were both so cold in front of her fireplace that we said, "We must go to spend the winter in Russia to get warm."

For going out, such precautions are taken that even foreigners are hardly affected by the severity of the weather. Every one wears velvet, fur-lined boots in his carriage, and cloaks likewise heavily lined with fur. At seventeen degrees below zero the theatres are closed, and every one remains at home. I am perhaps the only person who, not suspecting how cold it was, ever took it into my head to pay a visit when the thermometer was at eighteen. The Countess Golovin lived rather far away, in the broad street called the Prospekt, and from my house to hers I met not a single carriage, which surprised me considerably. I nevertheless went on. The cold was such that at first I thought my carriage windows must be open. Upon seeing me enter her drawing-room, the Countess exclaimed: "Heavens! How could you go out this evening? Do you not know that it is nearly twenty degrees?" This made me think of my poor coachman, and without taking off my pelisse I at once returned to my carriage, and was driven home as quickly as possible. But the cold had so attacked my head that I was benumbed. My head was treated with Cologne water to restore the circulation; otherwise I should have gone mad. One very astonishing thing is the small effect which this severe temperature has on the common people. Far from their health suffering in consequence, it has been observed that there are more centenarians in Russia than anywhere else. In St. Petersburg, as in Moscow, the great lords and all the notables of the empire drive six-or eight-in-hand; their postilions are little boys of eight or ten, who ride with amazing dexterity. There are from two to eight horses, and it is curious how these little fellows, so lightly clad, with their shirts sometimes open on their chests, cheerfully expose themselves to cold which certainly would kill a French or Prussian grenadier in a few hours. As for me, who was content with two horses for my carriage, I was surprised at the submissiveness and resignation of the coachmen. They never complained. In the most rigorous weather, when waiting for their masters either at the theatre or a ball, they sit still without budging, and only knock their feet against the box to get a little warmth, while the little postilions lie down at the bottom of the staircases. I must acknowledge, however, that the coachmen are provided by their masters with furred coats and gloves, and that, in the event of the cold being unusual, if any noblemen gives a party or a ball he has strong liquor distributed among them, and wood to build campfires in the courtyard and the street.

The common people of Russia are in general ugly, but their behaviour is at once simple and dignified, and they are the best creatures in the world. One never sees a drunken man, although the popular beverage is corn brandy. Most of the Russians of this class live on potatoes and garlic, with oil, which they eat with their bread, so that they always stink, although it is their habit to take a bath every Saturday. But their food does not prevent them from singing loudly when at work or rowing their boats, and they often reminded me of something the Marquis de Chastellux said one evening at my house about the beginning of the Revolution: "If their bonds are taken off they will be much more unhappy!"

The Russians are clever and capable, since they learn all trades with great ease, some of them even gaining success in the arts. One day, at Count Strogonoff's, I saw an architect who had once been his serf. This young man exhibited so much talent that the Count made a present of him to the Emperor Paul, who made him one of his architects and ordered him to build a theatre-hall after the plans designed and submitted by him. I never saw the hall, but was told that it was very handsome. In the matter of artistic serfs I was less fortunate than the Count. As I found myself without a man-servant, after being robbed by one I had brought from Vienna, Count Strogonoff gave me one of his serfs, who was supposed to prepare his daughter-in-law's palette and clean her brushes when she amused herself with painting. This youth, whom I therefore engaged for the same purpose, became persuaded, after serving me for a fortnight, that he was a painter, too, and gave me no rest until I had obtained his freedom from the Count to enable him to work with the Academy students. He wrote me some letters on this subject that were really curiosities of style and ideas. The Count, in yielding to my request, had said, "You may be sure that before long he will want to come back." I gave the young man twenty rubles and the Count gave him at least as much. Accordingly, he at once hastened to purchase the uniform of the students in painting, and thus attired came to thank me with a triumphant air. About two months later he brought me a large family picture, which was so bad that I could not look at it, and for which the poor young man had been paid so little that, after liquidating all his expenses, he had lost eight rubles of his money. As the Count had foreseen, his disappointment made him surrender his wretched liberty and go back to his master.

The servants are remarkable for their intelligence. I had one who knew not a word of French, and although I was equally ignorant of Russian we understood each other perfectly without the agency of speech. By raising my arm I asked him for my easel, or my paint box, or otherwise conveyed to him by gesture what articles I wanted. He invariably seized my meaning, and was of the greatest value to me. Another very precious quality I discovered in him was his honesty, which was proof against all temptations. Frequently bank-notes were remitted to me in payment of my pictures, and when I was busy painting I laid them near me on a table. On quitting work I constantly forgot to take away the notes, which sometimes lay there three or four days without his ever abstracting one. Moreover, he was a man of exceptional sobriety; I never once saw him drunk. This good servant was called Peter; he wept when I left St. Petersburg, and I have always sincerely regretted losing him.

The Russian people in general are honest and gentle by nature. At St. Petersburg or Moscow not only are great crimes never heard of, but one never hears of thefts. This good and quiet behaviour, surprising in men little beyond barbarism, is attributed by many to the system of servitude they are under. As for me, I believe the reason to be that the Russians are extremely religious.

Not long after my arrival at St. Petersburg I went into the country to see the daughter-in-law of my old friend, Count Strogonoff. His house at Kaminostroff was situated at the right of the great highway skirting the Neva. I alighted from my carriage, opened a little wicket giving admission to the garden, and reached a room on the ground floor whose door was wide open. So it was very easy to enter Countess Strogonoff's house. Consequently, when I found her in a little sitting-room, and she showed me her apartments, I was greatly astonished to see all her jewels near a window looking out on the garden and therefore within close reach of the high road. This seemed to me the more imprudent as Russian ladies are in the habit of exhibiting their diamonds and other ornaments under large cases, such as are to be seen in jewellers' shops. "Countess," I asked her, "are you not afraid of being robbed?" "No," was her answer; "there are the best police." And she pointed out, above the jewel-box, various images of the Virgin, and St. Nicholas, the patron saint of the country, with a lamp burning in front of them. It is a fact that, during the seven years and more which I spent in Russia, I on all occasions observed the image of the Virgin, or of a saint, and the presence of a child, to have something sacred for a Russian.

The common people, in speaking to you, never address you otherwise, according to your age, than as mother, father, brother or sister, and in this usage every one is included, even the Emperor and the Empress and the whole imperial family. In the class above the populace there are a number of people in comfortable circumstances and others very well-to-do. The tradesmen's wives, for instance, spend a great deal on dress, without this appearing to impose any restriction on household expenses. Their head-dress especially is always fine and fashionable. On their caps, whose flaps are usually embroidered with small pearls, they wear a broad piece of stuff which falls from the head to the shoulders and down the whole back. This sort of veil throws a shadow on the face, which they assuredly need, seeing that all of them, I know not why, whiten and rouge their faces and pencil their eyebrows in the most absurd manner.

When the month of May comes to St. Petersburg there is no evidence of spring flowers embalming the air, nor of the nightingale's song, celebrated so much by the poets. The ground is covered with half-melted snow. The Doga brings into the Neva ice blocks as large as enormous rocks, heaped on top of each other, and these ice blocks renew the cold which has diminished with the breaking of the Neva. This dissolution might be called a splendid horror; the noise of it is fearful. Close to the exchange the Neva is three times as wide as the Seine at the Pont Royal, and one may imagine the effect of this sea of ice cracking in all its parts. In spite of the officials posted all along the quays to prohibit the people from jumping from floe to floe, the boldest venture upon the moving ice for the purpose of crossing the river. Before undertaking their dangerous expedition they make the sign of the cross, and then rush on, fully persuaded that if they perish it must be because they were predestined to it. The first who crosses the Neva in a boat at the hour of the breaking up presents a silver cup, full of river water, to the Emperor, who in turn fills it with gold.

The windows are still left stuffed up at this season. Russia has no spring, but the vegetation hastens to make up for lost time. One may say with literal truth that the leaves sprout while you watch them. One day at the end of May I went with my daughter for a walk in the Summer Garden, and, wishing to assure ourselves as to the truth of all we had heard concerning the rapidity of vegetable growth, we took note of some shrub-leaves that were only in bud. We took a long turn in the avenue, then coming back to the spot we had started from, we found the buds open and the leaves completely unrolled.

The Russians take advantage of all phases of their climate to enjoy themselves. In the severest cold they indulge in sledging parties, either by day or with torches at night. In some places they throw up mountains of snow, down which they slide at a stupendous rate of speed without any danger. Men versed in their business push you off from the top of the mountain, and others catch you at the bottom.

One of the most interesting ceremonies to be seen is the blessing of the Neva. It occurs once a year, and it is the Archimandrite who bestows the benediction in presence of the Emperor, the imperial family, and all the dignitaries. As at this season the ice of the Neva is at least three feet thick, a hole is made through which, after the ceremony, everybody draws up some of the holy water. Frequently women are seen to dip their little children in, and sometimes the unfortunate mothers let loose their hold of the poor victims of superstition. But instead of mourning the loss of her child, the mother then gives thanks for the happiness of the angel who has gone to pray for her. The Emperor is obliged to drink the first glass of water, it being tendered him by the Archimandrite.

I have already said that in St. Petersburg you must go out into the street to find out how cold it is. And it is likewise true that the Russians are not content with giving their houses a springlike temperature; some of their rooms are lined with windowed screens, behind which are arranged boxes and pots containing the lovely flowers that the month of May gives to France. In winter the rooms are lighted most elaborately. They are also scented with hot vinegar into which bits of mint have been thrown and which yields a very agreeable and healthy smell. All apartments are furnished with long, broad divans for men and women to sit on. I became so used to them that after a time I could not sit on a chair.

The Russian lady's salute is a bow, seeming to me more dignified and graceful than our courtesy. They do not ring for their servants, but signal to them by clapping their hands together, as sultanas are said to do in the harems. Every Russian lady has a man in full livery at the door of her drawing-room; he is always there to open the door for visitors, whom it was at that time the custom not to announce by name. But what seemed stranger still to me was that some of these ladies made a female serf sleep under their bed.

Of an evening I went out into society. There were innumerable balls, concerts and theatrical performances, and I thoroughly enjoyed these gatherings, where I found all the urbanity, all the grace of French company. It seemed as though good taste had made a jump with both feet from Paris to St. Petersburg. Nor was there a lack of open houses, and in all of them one was welcomed with the greatest hospitality. One met at about eight and supped at ten. In the meantime tea was drunk, like everywhere else. But the Russian tea is so excellent that I—with whom it does not agree, and who must abstain from it—was glad to inhale its aroma. Instead of tea I drank hydromel. This tasty beverage is made with good honey and a small fruit picked in the Russian woods; it is left in the cellar for a certain length of time before bottling. I found it far preferable to cider, beer, or even lemonade.