After sight seeing in the town of Kazan, we were back at Nijni the next day. In the morning Sergy went out to the camp, after which we had dinner on board with champagne and speeches, and were back at Moscow on the following day.
In September my husband was appointed military representative at the celebration of the twelve hundredth anniversary of the famous battle on the “Koulikovo Field.” We had to be separated for more than a week. I profited by the occasion to visit my parents at Dolgik, my dear old home. It had been arranged between us that as soon as the festivals at Koulikovo were over, Sergy would come and join me at Dolgik. We travelled together as far as Toula, where we separated to go each our different ways. I found myself for the first time in my life travelling alone, but managed, however, to get to Dolgik without any adventure. I established myself in the train with pleasant books and papers to amuse me on the way, and never emerged from my compartment till the last station, which stands a few miles only from Dolgik, where I was met on the platform by my brother, who had come to fetch me in his carriage.
I spent such a happy week in my old country home! What a lot of sweet reminiscences! I was in my dear little room again, in which I recalled the old days. I saw myself as a child, a half grown-up girl and a happy bride. The old village people hadn’t forgotten me and seemed glad to see me; as to my parents, one can easily imagine how happy they were to have me with them again.
Fedia, the youngest of my nephews, is such a darling, with a smile which says, “Please love me!” One morning as he was just emerging from a battle-royal with his nurse whilst she was coaxing him into his clothes, she began to threaten him that if he continued to be naughty he would be devoured by all the animals mentioned in his favourite story-book, by the lions, tigers and wolves. Fedia, totally unabashed, his mischievous little face peeping from under the coverlet, burst out suddenly: “And the hippopotamus, you forget him!”
Sergy came to meet me as it had been arranged and brought me back to Moscow.
The director of the “Foundling Hospital” invited us to visit this interesting establishment, one of the largest in the world, founded by the Empress Catherine II. That huge asylum takes charge yearly of fourteen thousand babes. Many rows of cradles fill up the vast halls. About fifty little ones are brought here every day. The wet-nurses, chosen with the greatest care, carry them away to their villages afterwards, and continue to take care of them until they are grown up. These women receive three roubles per month for each child, who, on attaining the age of twenty, remains as workman in the family that has given him shelter. We saw a respectable matron who had been serving in the “Foundling Hospital” for forty years, and whose sole duty is to give the newly-arrived babes their first bath. The poor little things will never see their mothers again, for as soon as they are washed they are carried away to be mixed with thousands of other babies.
A terrible crime has just been committed at St. Petersburg. On the first of March our beloved Emperor, Alexander II., was murdered by the anarchists. This noblest of men has been killed by a bomb in the streets whilst returning from a visit to the Duchess of Oldenbourg. That day we went to a concert given by Marcella Sembrich, the celebrated opera singer. In the middle of the performance an officer came up to say that the Governor-General of Moscow, Prince Dolgorouki, wished to see my husband at once. Something serious must have happened, otherwise the Prince would not have disturbed Sergy who promised to be back soon. But I returned home immediately and would not go to bed before Sergy’s return. I became very anxious at his prolonged absence and couldn’t imagine what was keeping him so long. Eleven o’clock arrived and he had not yet returned. I could not help being very much alarmed, and as the minutes passed, I listened more and more anxiously for the sound of hoofs on the pavement, but still there was no sign of my husband. It was long past midnight when he came home in a great state of excitement, bringing the awful news of the murder of our Tzar. A bomb had been flung at his carriage, the back of which was torn away. His Majesty, luckily, was not hurt, but two Cossacks of his escort, and a boy who was passing in the street at that moment, were severely injured. The Tzar insisted upon seeing the wounded and approached the victims, when a second bomb was flung at him which tore off one of his legs and shattered the other. General Grösser, the Prefect of the Police, who always accompanied the Emperor wherever he went, had him lifted up into his sledge and transported His Majesty in that desperate state to the Winter Palace, where he passed away some minutes after.
The tragic death of Alexander II. filled the world with horror. The inhabitants of Moscow were thrilled by the news of that terrible event; the streets are black with people in mourning, the bells in all the churches are tolling all day long.
The murderers of our Tzar were caught and brought to trial; they were all sentenced to death. The sole executioner existing in Russia had been sent for from Moscow to execute them. Sophia Perovski, the daughter of a high Russian functionary, who had participated in the conspiracy plot, fled to Switzerland and for some time eluded her pursuer, a political spy who had been sent to trace her. The detective craftfully succeeded in making her fall in love with him and follow him to the frontier, where she was arrested and brought for trial to St. Petersburg. Not a very handsome proceeding on his part I must say! When Sophia Perovski appeared before the tribunal, she was told that she would be hanged if she did not denounce all her accomplices; but she absolutely refused to divulge their names, and exclaimed with splendid indifference, “I do not dread your gibbet, I only dread the misfortunes which befall my beloved brethren!” However, when the choice was given to her to be hanged or delivered over to the mercy of her beloved brethren, she threw herself at the Attorney’s feet, imploring him to condemn her to the crudest punishment, but only not to give her up to the mob.
We are living through very troublesome times. Our new Emperor, Alexander III., receives anonymous letters with threats that he too, will be murdered and his son, the heir to the throne, stolen and taken away!