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.