Love of Russians for children's games—Peculiarities of Petrograd balls—Some famous beauties of Petrograd Society—The varying garb of hired waiters—Moscow—Its wonderful beauty—The forest of domes—The Kremlin—The three famous "Cathedrals"—The Imperial Treasury—The Sacristy—The Palace—Its splendour—The Terem—A Gargantuan Russian dinner—An unusual episode at the French Ambassador's ball—Bombs—Tsarskoe Selo—Its interior—Extraordinary collection of curiosities in Tsarskoe Park—Origin of term "Vauxhall" for railway station in Russia—Peterhof—Charm of park there—Two Russian illusions—A young man of 25 delivers an Ultimatum to Russia—How it came about—M. de Giers—Other Foreign Ministers—Paraguay—The polite Japanese dentist—A visit to Gatchina—Description of the Palace—Delights of the children's play-room there.
The lingering traces of the child which are found in most Russian natures account probably for their curious love of indoor games. Lady Dufferin had weekly evening parties during Lent, when dancing was rigidly prohibited. Quite invariably, some lady would go up to her and beg that they might be allowed to play what she would term "English running games." So it came about that bald-headed Generals, covered with Orders, and quite elderly ladies, would with immense glee play "Blind-man's buff," "Musical chairs," "Hunt the slipper," and "General post." I believe that they would have joined cheerfully in "Ring a ring of roses," had we only thought of it.
I think it is this remnant of the child in them which, coupled with their quick-working brains, wonderful receptivity, and absolute naturalness, makes Russians of the upper class so curiously attractive.
At balls in my time, oddly enough, quadrilles were the most popular dances. There was always a "leader" for these quadrilles, whose function it was to invent new and startling figures. The "leader" shouted out his directions from the centre of the room, and however involved the figures he devised, however complicated the manoeuvres he evolved, he could rely on being implicitly obeyed by the dancers, who were used to these intricate entanglements, and enjoyed them. Woe betide the "leader" should he lose his head, or give a wrong direction! He would find two hundred people inextricably tangled up. I calculate that many years have been taken off my own life by the responsibilities thrust upon me by being frequently made to officiate in this capacity. Balls in Petrograd in the "'eighties" invariably concluded with the "Danse Anglaise," our own familiar "Sir Roger de Coverley."
I never saw an orchestra at a ball in Petrograd, except at the Winter Palace. All Russians preferred a pianist, but a pianist of a quite special brand. These men, locally known as "tappeurs," cultivated a peculiar style of playing, and could get wonderful effects out of an ordinary grand piano. There was in particular one absolute genius called Altkein. Under his superlatively skilled fingers the piano took on all the resonance and varied colour of a full orchestra. Altkein told me that he always played what he called "four-handed," that is doubling the parts of each hand. By the end of the evening he was absolutely exhausted.
The most beautiful woman in Petrograd Society was unquestionably Countess Zena Beauharnais, afterwards Duchess of Leuchtenberg; a tall, queenly blonde with a superb figure. Nature had been very generous to her, for in addition to her wonderful beauty, she had a glorious soprano voice. I could not but regret that she and her sister, Princess Bieloselskava, had not been forced by circumstances to earn their living on the operatic stage, for the two sisters, soprano and contralto, would certainly have achieved a European reputation with their magnificent voices. How they would have played Amneris and the title-rôle in "Aïda"! The famous General Skobeleff was their brother.
Two other strikingly beautiful women were Princess Kitty Dolgorouki, a piquant little brunette, and her sister-in-law, winning, golden-haired Princess Mary Dolgorouki. After a lapse of nearly forty years, I may perhaps be permitted to express my gratitude to these two charming ladies for the consistent kindness they showered on a peculiarly uninteresting young man, and I should like to add to their names that of Countess Betsy Schouvaloff. I may remark that the somewhat homely British forms of their baptismal names which these grandes dames were fond of adopting always amused me. Our two countries were in theory deadly enemies, yet they borrowed little details from us whenever they could. I think that the racial animosity was only skin-deep. This custom of employing English diminutives for Russian names extended to the men too, for Prince Alexander Dolgorouki, Princess Kitty's husband, was always known as "Sandy," whilst Countess Betsy's husband was invariably spoken of as "Bobby" Schouvaloff. Countess Betsy, mistress of one of the stateliest houses in Petrograd, was acknowledged to be the best-dressed woman in Russia. I never noticed whether she were really good-looking or not, for such was the charm of her animation, and the sparkle of her vivacity and quick wit, that one remarked the outer envelope less than the nimble intellect and extraordinary attractiveness that underlay it. She was a daughter of that "Princesse Château" to whom I referred earlier in these reminiscences.
In the great Russian houses there were far fewer liveried servants than is customary in other European countries. This was due to the difficulty of finding sufficiently trained men. The actual work of the house was done by hordes of bearded, red-shirted shaggy-headed moujiks, who their household duties over, retired to their underground fastnesses. Consequently when dinners or other entertainments were given recourse was had to hired waiters, mostly elderly Germans. It was the curious custom to dress these waiters up in the liveries of the family giving the entertainment. The liveries seldom fitted, and the features of the old waiters were quite familiar to most of us, yet politeness dictated that we should pretend to consider them as servants of the house. Though perfectly conscious of having seen the same individual who, arrayed in orange and white, was standing behind one's chair, dressed in sky-blue only two evenings before, and equally aware of the probability of meeting him the next evening in a different house, clad in crimson, it was considered polite to compliment the mistress of the house on the admirable manner in which her servants were turned out.
There is in all Russian houses a terrible place known as the "buffetnaya." This is a combination of pantry, larder, and serving-room. People at all particular about the cleanliness of their food, or the nicety with which it is served, should avoid this awful spot as they would the plague. A sensitive nose can easily locate the whereabouts of the "buffetnaya" from a considerable distance.