URING the winter of 1887 we went

DUR

The

to Russia, where we spent a most interesting and delightful month. The Marquis de Breteuil, an old friend of ours, whose ancestor had been French ambassador to the court of the great Catharine, and Mr. Trafford made up our party. Everything was new and attractive to us. The people were charming and hospitable, and seemed full of bonhomie, and we saw no signs of that grinding despotism and tyranny which is supposed to be synonymous with Russian life. My first impression of the scenery was one of disappointment, the country between Berlin and St. Petersburg, or rather the part beyond the Russian frontier, being flat and uninteresting. waste and dreary expanse, when covered with snow, inspires a feeling of deep melancholy. To live for months every year buried in that cold, monotonous silence is quite enough, I should imagine, to account for the vein of sadness which seems to be the basis of the Russian character, and which betrays itself in all Russian music and painting. As our snowladen train crawled into the station in St. Petersburg, and we stepped out joyfully and stretched our cramped and tired limbs, the broad streets, full of life and animation, and as bright as day with electricity, seemed a delightful contrast. I do not know what I expected to see, but the city disappointed me with its modern appearance. Looking at the

houses of rather mean exterior, with their small double windows and tiny doors, lit

tle did I dream of the splendor within. Space, however, seemed to be immaterial, and this struck me the more forcibly, accustomed as I was to London, with its narrow streets and considered inches.

The French system of apartments is common in St. Petersburg, although not so general as in Paris; but where it exists, the entrance and staircases are much more decorated and cared for than is usual where several families live under the same roof, and this gives the appearance of a private dwelling. In the great houses I was struck by the very large number of servants, and was told that in the cases of some rich noblemen whole families of useless dependents-muzhik, with their wives and children-were installed in the lower regions. If this was the case in town, what must it have been in the country? Such generosity, combined with the utter absence of real supervision in the financial management. of the establishment, must have been a heavy burden on the largest fortune, and it is not surprising that the Russian nobility of to-day, with the added burden of the late war and the internal dissensions of their unhappy country, are in an impoverished state.

However, we saw nothing of this, and all the entertainments and functions to which we went, whether private or public, were extremely well done. Russians dearly love light, and on these occasions made their houses as bright as day with a profusion of candles as well as electric light. Masses of flowers, notwithstand

ing their rarity in such a rigorous climate, decorated every available place, and the staircases were lined with footmen in gorgeous liveries. Although many of the houses were very smartly furnished with all that money could buy and modern art suggest, they struck me as lacking in the real refinement and true artistic taste that one sees in Paris; but the French are born connoisseurs, and think of little else than artistic comfort.

room,

In those days the average Russian drawing-room was superior to the ordinary English one. If there was a lack of imagination, there was also an absence of tawdriness, which contrasted favorably with the overcrowded London where, at that time, the esthetic and Japanese craze reigned supreme-where evenly balanced structures of paper fans, Liberty silks, and photographs were thought decorative, not to speak of labyrinths of tiny tables, chairs, and screens. I was prepared to suffer a great deal from the cold, but found, as in most Northern countries, that the houses were heated to suffocation, and the windows were rarely

opened, a small ventilator being thought quite sufficient. Russians assert that all foreigners bring so much caloric with them that they do not feel the cold at first. This may be so, but there is no doubt that they feel the want of air and the stuffiness of the rooms, which dries up the skin and takes away the appe

tite.

On the other hand, I thoroughly enjoyed the outdoor life of sleighing and skating. Comfortably seated in a sleigh, behind a good, fat coachman to keep the wind off, I never wearied of driving about. The rapidity with which one dashes noiselessly along is most exhilarating, notwithstanding a biting wind or blinding snow. The ordinary Russian sleigh, smaller than the American cutter, barely holds two, but the thick fur rug, even in a common droshky, or cab, is so well fastened down that it helps to keep one from falling out, besides protecting from the cold. The troikas, wide sleighs with three horses, of which the middle one trots while the other two gallop, have become rather rare, and are used princi

pally for traveling or for expeditions in the country. Nothing is prettier than a really smart sleigh with two horses, one trotting and the other galloping, covered with a large net of dark blue cord fastened to the front of the sleigh, to keep the snow from being kicked into the face of the occupant. The coachman, with his fur-lined coat gathered in at the waist, and his bright red or blue octagonal cap, with gold braid, drives with his arms extended in order to preserve his circulation. I was much impressed with the fact that the coachmen hardly ever seemed to use their short, thick whips, which they kept carefully hidden. Α footman stood on a small step behind, his tall hat and ordinary great coat looking a little incongruous, I confess, and marring an otherwise picturesque sight. The horses are so beautifully broken that a word will stop them. The whole time I was in Russia I never saw a horse illused. No need for a "Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals" there. The Isvoshnik who owns his cab-horse looks upon him as his friend, and very often shares the animal's stall at night.

Among the many acquaintances we made were M. and Mme. Polovstow, who showed us a great deal of hospitality. He was President of the Council, a very important post, and was high in the favor of the Czar. His early history was rather romantic. As private secretary to the millionaire Steiglitz, Polovstow won the affections and the hand of his adopted daughter, to whom Steiglitz left the whole of his fortune.

Many institutions were founded by Madame Polovstow's adopted father, and she took us to see the "Steiglitz School of Art," which was kept up at her own expense. I was much interested to find in the museum a certain Italian cabinet which the late Duke of Marlborough had sold from Blenheim, and the destination of which had always been a mystery.

One night we went to the opera with them to hear "A Life for the Czar" by Glinka, charming music, stamped with all the national characteristics of sadness and wild, boisterous gaiety. The orchestration, however, seemed rather feeble. All the ladies wore high dresses, which took away from the brilliant appearance one is accustomed to in other opera-houses. Some

times the performance was entirely ballet,-no singing,-and one night I had the opportunity of seeing the famous dancer Zucchi in "Esmeralda." She was then in her prime, and she certainly was a marvelous dancer of the old school.

After the opera, enveloped in great fur coats and caps, we drove in troikas to the islands in the Neva, where the Polovstows had a charming pavilion. We were ushered into a large conservatory brilliantly lighted and full of orchids and rare flowers, a dazzling and wonderful contrast to the snow-clad scenery outside, on which "the cold, round moon shone deeply down," turning everything to silver. Hidden by palms, a band of Tziganies was playing inspiriting melodies, while in the dining-room an excellent supper was served on genuine Louis XV plate. We did not get back to our hotel until the small hours of the morning. Russians, I found to my cost, love late hours and seem never to go to bed, the evening generally beginning for them at midnight.

On one occasion I was taken for a spin on the Neva with a fast trotter, a ride which I did not greatly enjoy, owing to the end of my nose being nearly frozen. When we returned, my host rushed up to me and rubbed my nose violently with snow, as it looked ominously white. As long as your nose keeps a glorious red, you are safe.

While in St. Petersburg I was able to indulge to my heart's content in my favorite pastime of skating, which I did on the lake of the Palais de la Tauride, a royal palace where Russian society congregated. But great was my disappointment to find that the Russians did not care for figure-skating, and, in fact, did not skate well. I was told that had it not been for the Czarina (Marie), who was an adept in the art, people would not have appreciated skating at all. As it was, they much preferred tobogganing down the ice-hills, half a dozen or more persons in a sleigh. It was in one of these that I had my first experience of this sport, and was duly "blooded" (if one may call it so) by being placed in the front seat of the sleigh and shot into a bank of snow. The ice-hills, which are built on the lake, are merely blocks of ice placed on a wooden path raised to a

is experienced in getting over a big fence, leaving the field a bit behind. It is not an easy matter, as the pace is terrific, and in coming to the level again at the foot of the hill it is very difficult to keep your feet; but if you do, you shoot across the whole lake. Many were the accidents, and I saw one poor lady break her

arm.

have an audience with the Czar and the Czarina. Gatchina, about an hour by train from St. Petersburg, is the Windsor of Russia. It is a curious mixture of splendor and unpretensiousness, and is approached from the station through at series of small parks, which must be lovely in summer. I was surprised to see so few sentries: to all appearance the

even spied a swing. In that room their Majesties often dined, I was told, even when they had guests, and after dinner the table would be removed, and they would spend the remainder of the evening there. This seemed strange to me when I thought of the many hundred rooms in the enormous building. But their tastes were of the simplest, and the Czar particularly affected tiny rooms, though they were much at variance with his towering

audiences. Randolph stayed quite an hour with the Czar, who discussed all the political questions of the day. The Czarina, whom I had had the honor of knowing as Czarevna at Cowes some years before, was most gracious and charming, reminding me of her sister, Queen Alexandra, although not so beautiful. asked endless questions about England and all that was going on politically and socially, and finally, having arrived "au bout de notre Latin," and Randolph not appearing. I was taken to see the palace.

She

Among many rooms, I remember a large hall worthy of an old English country-house, full of comfortable arm-chairs and writing-tables, games, and toys. I

frame and majestic bearing. His manner impressed me with a conviction of sincerity and earnestness. Before leaving St. Petersburg, we were invited once more to Gatchina. This time it was

in the evening; a special train conveyed about one hundred and fifty guests. On arriving, we were met by a long stream of royal carriages, which took us to the palace, where we witnessed an entertainment consisting of three short plays in three languages, after which supper was served. I had been given

a seat in the third row, but when the royalties came in, I was bidden to sit behind the Empress, who every now and then would turn round and make some pleasant remark.

There are some curious customs at the Russian court which do not harmonize with one's idea of a despotic and autocratic sovereign. While we were sitting at small tables, the Czar walked about, talking to his guests, all of whom, including officers, remained seated. It appears that this was the habit of Peter the Great, who disliked ceremony of any kind and as tradition is everything in Russia, this custom was religiously kept. There is no doubt that the etiquette of