One Year at the Russian Court: 1904-1905. Renée Gaudin de Villaine Maud
Laure, which is the ecclesiastical quarter of Petrograd and is an enormous monastery surrounded by walls and ditches full of water, a kind of fortified place—in fact, a town.
It contains a large cemetery, beautiful gardens and no less than seven churches. The monks, of whom there are a great number, wear long and very wide black cassocks with a sort of high hat widening toward the top. All of them let their hair and often their beards grow long; with some the hair reaches to the waist and is an object of great care. At night, the monks stand one behind the other plaiting each other’s hair, which is generally curled and waved.
The popes are the secular and parish priests, and are married. Popes are in a certain degree a race of people apart; their children intermarry, the sons often become popes themselves. They are not generally much esteemed and the common saying is: “Pope, son of a dog!” As I have said, a pope can enter the married state, but only once in a life-time.
The police cordon was drawn as tight as possible. Quite close to us was the officer of the police with a sullen look and a livid complexion who took note of every one.
Presently the remainder of the guests arrived and the funeral procession itself appeared, the uniforms were superb and the coup d’œil a magnificent one.
All the Grand Dukes were there, amongst whom I recognized Alexis, George, Oldenburg, and the Court dignitaries, including my uncle Prince Cherwachidze, in full uniform, all covered with gold, the various Ambassadors, wearing only Russian decorations on this occasion, but such a profusion of them!
The Emperor and his brother—then the heir to the throne, for the Tzarevitch was not born—with the Empress-Dowager entered the church, after the celebration of Mass, for the committal service and took up their positions quite close to me, to the right of the Sanctuary, so close indeed that stretching out my hand I could have touched them.
On the arrival of the Emperor and Empress at the Church the whole congregation bowed as the Imperial pair passed to their seats. There they were duly incensed, the Tzar’s brother only receiving one incensing and accordingly only gave one inclination.
The Emperor appeared very shy and nervous with a somewhat frightened expression. The Empress-Dowager is short and dark, she has nothing of the beauty of her sister, Queen Alexandra. The Tzar’s brother is tall and fair with very blue eyes. He is a great sportsman and so strong that he can lift Prince Cherwachidze up as easily as a feather. He was very popular I believe.
The singing was wonderful, although unaccompanied by musical instruments as is customary in the Russian Church. I was carried away by it. The priests’ vestments were incomparably rich, all white and gold—no trace of black anywhere. It is the custom of the Greek Church for even funeral hearses to be gilded or silvered, but never black as with us. It is also a rule that the corpse should be exposed in an open coffin during the religious ceremony, but in the case of the defunct general, who had died at his wife’s home in France—she being French—this form was dispensed with.
That night, on our return to Peterhof I accompanied my Aunt Cherwachidze to a dinner given at Michaelovka by Grand Duke Michael-Michaelovitch, uncle of the Tzar. At this dinner were present Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, with her daughter Princess Cecilie, now Crown Princess of Prussia, the Grand Duchess Xenia, sister of the Emperor, and others.
The previous evening I had dined with my friends the Saint-Pairs at the famous Ernest Restaurant on the Islands, the other guests including Prince and Princess Kotchoubey, the Prince has a very Turkish appearance and looks extremely flighty, while the Princess possesses a most wonderful figure, but is very made up with her hair dyed gold; she has fine eyes but they lack lustre; the Swedish Minister and Countess Gyldenstolpe, who since then they have been to Paris many years in the same capacity, where I have seen a good deal of them, Countess Gyldenstolpe being a Miss Plunkett, a daughter of a former English Ambassador, both very distinguished looking and charming. Monsieur Lefèvre-Pontalis, Vicomte et Vicomtesse de Guichen and Vicomte de Salignac-Fénelon, all of the French Embassy, made up the party, which took place in a huge recess on the first floor overlooking the restaurant and just opposite the Rumanian orchestra which was playing gaily.
The table was beautifully decorated with pink roses and ilex and lighted by a profusion of prettily-shaded candles and electric lamps.
This was my first large dinner-party in Petrograd, which was to be followed so often by others. I enjoyed it thoroughly.
I returned to Petrograd a few days later with Princess Lise Bagration-Moncransky—a great friend of my Aunt Cherwachidze—then staying with us. After an excellent lunch at the Hôtel de l’Europe, then the smartest in Petrograd, he went off to see a Red Cross train on the point of leaving for Manchuria, everybody being interested at that time in the poignant question of the Russo-Japanese war—especially so, as we only received news from the war zone by way of Japan I was told. Princess Obolensky did the honours of her hospital train, showing us all the details, which were very complete.
The train was entirely painted in white with huge red crosses at intervals. What a good target it would have been for the modern German marksman!
It was immensely long, being able to accommodate 300 people, including doctors, sisters of charity, and hospital attendants, and there was room for twenty-five officers. The medical corps were most comfortably installed, their study being so cosy—the writing-tables covered with green baize—so suitably furnished; charming little holy images with lamps burning in front of them were in every compartment.
The sisters of charity slept two in each room, their beds folded up as in ordinary “sleepers”—simplicity was the order of the day in this department. But the men were thoroughly spoilt, having a club room all to themselves, a fact which often makes me exclaim: “On voit bien que le Créateur était un homme.”
There were four carriages set aside for slightly wounded cases, and I thought to myself the poor soldiers would suffer from being overcrowded—the beds being so close together. On each bed were a pair of leather slippers, a pair of socks and a grey woollen shirt. Crutches were placed at intervals for the use of convalescents.
Then followed the quarters for the serious cases with very fine mosquito nets in front of each window. The train was bomb proof, but I noticed the absence of iron shutters or any shutters at all, which struck me as being a great omission. These cases would enjoy more space and their beds could be easily removed as they were only stretchers.
There were two stories to this part of the train—quite like a house on wheels—icons and pious books were in great profusion. There were also a pharmacy and an operating room well stocked with every modern appliance.
The officers’ beds were entirely covered with white mosquito nets and there were also head nets. We were shown the place where the linen was washed and disinfected. No money seemed to have been spared in the installation of this luxurious train, and I cannot help wondering what has been its destiny and how many poor suffering creatures it helped towards the alleviation of their pains.
The Hun takes as much pleasure in destroying the Red Cross as he does in finishing off the wounded on the battlefield; and I can only hope those who fought and died in 1904 did not encounter the same barbarous treatment at the hands of their enemies as those brave men who are in deadly contest now with the disciples of Kultur.
I was seized with a great desire to accompany Madame Narischkine, a friend of my Aunt de Nicolay, to Irkoutz, where she intended to go in order to nurse convalescents after her cure at the Eaux-Bonnes in France—Russians are always taking cures and they go across Europe as easily as we do from London to Brighton. She was already a middle-aged woman, but very refined-looking. There was only one thing about her which rather spoilt her appearance, and that was that her fingers were very much stained with tobacco, and her teeth, too, from smoking cigarettes. In this she merely followed the example of the majority of Russian ladies, amongst whom smoking often becomes a real passion.
I spent my summer therefore amongst the great ones of the earth.
One day we went to a big luncheon-party at the Palace in honour of the birthday of the Emperor Francis Joseph of Austria.