ST. PETERSBURG. TSAR ALEXANDER II.
“I shall not be particular in stating His journey, we’ve so many tours of late, Suppose him then at Petersburgh; suppose That pleasant capital of painted snows:—
· · · · ·
Damsels and dances, revels, ready money, Made ice seem paradise, and winter sunny.” —_Lord Byron._
LETTER TO MY MOTHER.
St. Petersburg, December 5, 1866. (Continuation of letter written at Wilna.) Here we are at last, having arrived yesterday evening, and I must say that our first impressions are in the midst of difficulties, for on awakening this morning we found it actually thawing, and the streets are all filled with slosh, but the funny little sleighs rush about incessantly, and perfectly silently as there are no bells on the horses. We have been occupied today going to the banker’s where I found your letter, and to the American legation where we saw the minister, who told us that my classmate, Jeremiah Curtin, had gone only yesterday to Moscow for two or three weeks, and in looking up some kind of good apartment.
I think we shall stay here some time over Christmas, which I believe comes later in the Russian calendar than with us, and devote some time to learning Russian and continuing our French. In fact for the latter there can be no better place than here. There are only about six or seven hours of daylight now, and these we must give up to sight seeing, which I mean to do thoroughly, and to skating and sleighing. In my next I will give you a good account of Saint Petersburg and its sights.
Till then adieu.
Nathan.
TO MY SISTER.
Saint Petersburg, December 14, 1866.
... Well, isn’t it droll, here is your young brother established as a gay _flâneur_ in St. P., who means to delve into all the gayeties of the Russian life.
Our Minister, General Cassius M. Clay, (Of Kentucky, then 56 years of age.), presented Charlie and myself the other day to a most lovely Russian Princess, who lives in a gorgeous palace worth about one million roubles,—a rouble in gold is just our paper dollar. (This was true at that time when our currency was depreciated.) After going through suites of apartments, billiard room and salons, we found her in the boudoir, and she received us with such a graceful cordiality that she won both our hearts immediately, and we are now at her feet. Tomorrow General Clay is to take us to the reception of the Spanish Ambassador, as they are to give a ball soon to which he wants us to be invited. The Minister seems very inclined to be attentive and kind. We shall presently be presented in due form to the Imperial family.
Charlie and I are very comfortably established in a nice apartment with our books, and I want to stay here indefinitely. One must pass the winter somewhere, and why not here, where so few Americans have tried it?
HON. CASSIUS M. CLAY, MINISTER TO RUSSIA. ]
We have a jolly sleigh at our disposition, with a horse who rushes off like mad. Vehicles are a necessity here, where the distances are so tremendous, and no one ever walks, and you can hire excellent traps by the day, week, or month, much cheaper than taking them by the course. The sleighing has been splendid for the last week, and the Nevsky Prospect any afternoon is a sight worth seeing, filled with all kinds of sleighs. I have even seen one or two of our American cutters. All the strange equipages you read about are actually true, and the _troika_ with one horse trotting and the other two galloping is no uncommon sight. The sleighing, when it once begins, lasts right along, as there is no sun at all to melt it, the days being very short, and what little sky there is overcast. You don’t feel the cold much either as there is very little wind,—how I shiver when I think of the Mill Dam,—(The “Mill Dam Road” a favorite Boston drive.), and we are learning many a wrinkle in the art of keeping warm, which we shall bring out in America. The shops, too, are fascinating, and I expect to invest heavily during my stay in all kinds of Russian articles, Persian silks and Circassian silver, Russian amulets, and the thousand and one things which you don’t see even in the cosmopolitan shops of Paris; among others a complete Russian harness, with a cap for the driver. There is a huge bazaar, where everything can be found, built in a parallelogram, with shops on the four sides.
The most fascinating things are the hoods all the ladies wear, covering just half their little fur caps. These are made of different colored cloths with embroidery of gold or silver. The fur lined slippers, too, are not bad, but I won’t tantalize you with descriptions. As I do not anticipate coming here again soon I mean to do the thing up this time. I skated today for the first time on a pond belonging to the Russian Yacht Club, to which we have received tickets, but there were only a few there, in fact the skating does not fairly begin until the Neva Skating Club is open, which is the swell place, where all the nobility go. It is gotten up by the English, and is a large square, fenced in with pine trees planted in the ice, situated on the Neva in the city, with nice houses to put on your skates and warm yourself, very necessary here, and several times during the season they give _fêtes_ by night. We have subscription tickets for the season, and I think it will be open in a few days. But with all this we must not forget our art, and here we have the magnificent gallery of the Hermitage, one of the finest though not the best known in Europe, and we can wander a whole winter through its endless galleries without exhausting the treasures.
Sunday morning: I hope the little jacket and hat will be pleasing to Master Billy, which Mr. Burgess is to bring from Paris. I will get him a few of the Oriental and Cossack children’s dresses, which are stunning and very plentiful here, and then I think he will make a sensation on Beacon street.
Well, my dear, I must close and dispatch this. Today we are to skate on the Yacht Club Pond, as they have a _fête_ there every Sunday, and tonight at midnight is the first _bal masqué_ at the Grand Opera. “On with the dance,” and _vive la jeunesse_! Last evening we passed at the English consul’s and met some very pretty young Cossacks, quite civilized, however. Charlie sends lots of love to you both. He is now in front of the fire with his feet in the air. Well, goodbye, and pinch Billy’s cheeks for me.
Nate.
There is a pretty arrangement in Russian houses, which is not to be found elsewhere that I know of. Part of the large drawing-room, generally a corner by windows, is often fenced off by itself, raised on a platform, about a foot above the rest of the floor. Here is formed a sort of garden in the house. The light iron fence is covered with some green, flowering vine, and inside are some exotics, palms and other tropical plants, and the effect is enchanting. The ladies select this as their especial haunt, transforming it into a boudoir where they read their favorite novels, write their notes, or work at embroidery.
I made my purchases of Circassian trinkets and toys, to send home to my nephews and nieces, in the _Passage_, a much frequented place for the idlers of the town, in imitation of the Burlington Arcade in London, and the _Passage des Panoramas_ of Paris.
Those were pleasant skating parties we had on the Neva, in the open rink of the Club, where all the nobility and swells of the place came out to show their agility. Thanks to much practice and many a tumble upon the Frog Pond of Boston, I was a skillful skater, and my partners were also proficient in that difficult accomplishment. How we dashed along over the place where Peter the Great had often been paddled in his rough-hewn boat, now forward together arm-in-arm, now one backward and the other forward, each bending in time to the graceful curves of the outside edge!
TO MY MOTHER.
St. Petersburg, 27th Nov. Russian Calendar. 9th Dec. American Calendar.
My dear Mamma.
Your letter containing the tribute to Charlie Smith I found at the bank yesterday. How true and good the account of him is. You expected it would reach me in Paris, but you see we have got off before. We are getting somewhat settled here now, though we are not as yet fairly _lancés_ into the gay life. This is partly on account of the horrid weather, for ever since we have been here it has been gradually melting into slosh and the sleighing rapidly disappearing. Sudden changes are common, and today is cold again with snow falling.
GREAT SEA STREET.
We have got a very nice little apartment on the great Moscow street, just in the centre of the city, and the house opposite being very low we get as much light as is possible anywhere.
We are in a French _maison meublée_ with a very pleasant Arthur O’Leary style of _table d’hôte_, where we meet half a dozen different gentlemen from all kinds of countries, and we talk in French of the relative merits of our respective nationalities. In fact, we do more French talking here than in Paris. In the afternoon before dinner we take a lesson in Russian, our teacher using French as the basis of instruction, and I presume by the time I leave Russia, I shall be unable to speak any other language. It is considerable difficult though, but I go on the principle of learning everything.
BOLSHAJA MORSKAJA (GREAT SEA STREET). ]
The Church of Sault Isaac, which is about the only sight we have seen, is perfectly gorgeous, with its huge pillars of malachite and _lapis lazuli_ from the mines of Demidoff. You enter, and a mysterious feeling, half oriental and half European, carries you away. The perpetual incense, the prostrate worshipers, the delicious temperature and the ornaments which combine the _luxe_ of Europe with the savage gorgeousness of Asia, form a whole which the churches of Italy do not have. Perhaps this combination of East and West is the great charm to the life in Russia. The toilettes of the ladies have come from the brain and fingers of Parisian _couturierès_ adapted to climate here. The Oriental element you see strong in the livery of servants and the uniforms of officers. The feeling of caste is very marked, and while the London flunkey beats the world in servility, and the Italian beggar in woe-begone dejection, the Russian servant seems to be afraid of you, recognizing the superior man in everything.
CHRISTMAS SHOPPING IN ST. PETERSBURG. ]
PRETTY RUSSIAN MAIDENS.
I have not yet had a good chance to see all the different sleighs in their glory, but from what I have seen I think they will be stunning. We saw two pretty little Russian maidens, with their white furs, driving along in a jolly sleigh, the horse in the shafts trotting gaily, and one on his left cantering beside him.
The omnibuses have three horses, but I have not seen a swell in his _troika_. The horses certainly trot faster than any except ours, and some I see on the Nevsky Prospect would make a very creditable show on the Brighton road.
P. M. We have been out today to visit Mr. Pierce, (A relative of the Longfellows, who had been secretary of legation during President Pierce’s administration, and at the time we were in Russia connected with the Winans in the railroad building business.) who lives about four miles outside the city, and after passing the place by mistake and returning, we succeeded in finding him, and received a most hospitable reception. He seemed much inclined to help us in any way to have a jolly time. The sleighing was fine and the air deliciously cold and clear.
The Russian youths at the theatres are a most enthusiastic crowd, and I have seen singers at the Opera, ballet dancers, or even a circus star called out five or six times. The Grand Opera House is very fine, and the ballet troupe gorgeous, quite as good, if not better, than the one in Paris. There is a theatre (Saint Michel) where they give French and German plays, so that one can have most everything.
Well, I have lots of letters to write and no time to write any of them, so that this must suffice you for the week.
Nathan.
The theatre is large and finely decorated. The Imperial box is always ready to be occupied by the Tsar or some member of his family, the sentries standing on each side of it in their gorgeous uniforms as motionless as statues. The pit is filled with the _viveurs_ of the city, young and old, who are in their stalls, lorgnettes in hand, watching every movement on the stage. Between the acts all file out into the smoking room, when a _papyrus_ is inhaled, and some cooling beverage partaken of in the interlude of the play.
The ballet itself is a masterpiece of skill in its peculiar style. The dancers are trained carefully for years in a school under the Imperial patronage, and only appear upon the stage after having gone through a long apprenticeship. The story of the piece, of which the scene takes place in Russia or some of the Oriental countries, is most carefully worked up by the author, and entirely acted in pantomime and dance. All the passions of love, hatred, jealousy and revenge will be exhibited by motions aided by the changing strains of an excellent orchestra. When a favorite _danseuse_ comes bounding across the stage, attired in Russian costume, delineating in her movements sentiments which appeal to the pride or patriotism of the audience, the enthusiasm of the house knows no limit, and words and shouts of applause rend the air long and loud.
CHARLES K. SMITH.
I went to New York on my seventeenth birthday, February 2, 1860, when I was a Freshman at Harvard College, to pay a visit to the family of David Lane, whose wife was Caroline Lamson, sister of Colonel Daniel S. Lamson, friends of my mother, who lived at 12 East 10th Street or Brevoort Place, as it was called. The firm was Lane, Lamson, & Co. The American flag in my trophy was given me by one of this family. It was on this New York visit that I made the acquaintance of Charlie Smith, and he seemed to take a great liking to me.
In my diary of Feb. 2, 1860, I find, “In the evening people came, it being the Lanes’ reception evening, Mr. Smith and others.” This is the first mention of him. One evening, shortly after this, he invited us all to go to the Italian opera at the Academy of Music, in Brooklyn, and we accepted, driving over and back.
The next mention is in regard to a visit to Weston, Mass., “Feb. 16, 1860. Went to Weston in a glorious snow storm. Stunning dinner. Went for two of the party in an ox team to the station. Took profiles in the evening. Supper stunninger.
Sunday, Feb. 19, 1860. There was no church but we went out in the sleigh to see Mr. Smith’s protégé, deaf and dumb. (A boy he was interested in and was having educated.) Good dinner.”
Daniel S. Lamson, our especial host and entertainer in 1860, was commissioned Major 16th Mass. Infantry, Aug. 1, 1861, Lieutenant Colonel July 23, 1862, and resigned for disability Sept. 29, 1862. But this was the year before the War.
I always called him “Uncle Dan” and do so still (1904).
Charlie Smith was about ten years my senior, and that sort of regard from an elder is always appreciated by a boy. At the time of my visit to New York he was stopping at the Brevoort House. He was a member of the New York Club in Broadway, the crack one at that time, and won my heart and esteem at once. I was devoted to him. One day we strolled down Broadway and he treated me to oysters and a glass of beer, and I thought I was a man of the world.
When we met at Weston he fascinated me more than ever, with his stories and songs, and we had many merry evenings. I was treated as a young man, not a boy, and I look back to those old times with unmingled delight.
The letter I received from my mother announcing Charlie Smith’s death at San Francisco, I can now recall and explain. Of Boston parentage, he had gone to California in the early days, and made what at that time was considered a good fortune. He was killed accidentally by a shot when out gunning. He was so popular in the city of San Francisco that the body was laid in state in the rooms of the Union Club of that city, as a tribute to the appreciation in which he was held by its members.
THE NEW YORK CLUB.
The New York Club, corner of Broadway and Great Jones street, I never visited with Charlie Smith, but during the War they moved to the Haight house, Fifth avenue and 15th street. That was the apogee of their greatness, and I was introduced and became a six months’ member. Great Jones street was near property which belongs to the Jones-De Trobriand-Post families.
TO MY MOTHER.
Wednesday, Dec. 20, 1866. Saint Petersburg.
My dear Mamma:
I begin you a letter now, to finish sometime if possible. Your last one talked to me about the furs. I think you are quite right to want lots of Russian things, as they are fascinating, and you will probably never have as good an opportunity of getting them. Be easy, then, for I am to buy no end of various things, and send them all off to Boston, by the first Spring boat of Mr. Ropes. Mr. Prince, who is the head one of the house here, is very obliging, and being a good judge of furs, I think I can satisfy you in that line, though they won’t be in time for this winter. I shall buy the skins only, and you can have them made up in Boston to suit you, as the fur goods they wear here are different from ours, and might not please you. For instance, I have not seen a pair of cuffs in St. Petersburg. I shall get handsome, dark Siberian sable skins, worthy of a princess, Persian table cloths, malachite ornaments, slippers, Circassian silver, etc., etc., and also something which will make you very happy—a little box or two of the stunning tea, which is brought across from Pekin in caravans.
We are to dine with Mr. Prince next Tuesday, which is Christmas day, and have since had to decline an invitation for the same day, given us by the English Ambassador.
EMPEROR ALEXANDER II.—PRESENTATION.
Two days ago we were presented to the Emperor. We were quite alone, no other people being presented the same day. We marched through suites of apartments, and were formally ushered into His Majesty’s billiard room, where we were received by two of the chamberlains, and from there we went into the reception room where we soon had a little conversation with the head of all the Russias in our native (?) language of French. He is very nice, I give you my word, but we were disappointed in not seeing the Empress, though this comes some other time.
We have a good many occasions of airing our French in the _beau monde_ of Russia, and I find that there is no trouble with it; the only thing to do being to go right along regardless of errors, for I see that although I do not speak very well, there are plenty who speak quite as bad and worse, and this being a neutral ground of course one is bolder. However, a great many of the well educated speak English admirably.
All this goes to show that we are in for society now, and have to await quietly a round of balls, operas, and dinners, and return our calls most punctiliously, a form of etiquette about which the Russians are very exacting.
We went to a jolly young count’s (Koucheleff Besborodko) the other day, who immediately made us at home with a delicious cigar. His house, take it all in all, was about as lovely as any I have ever seen, with an Oriental smoking room, a Pompadour boudoir, a Chinese room, a long gallery of paintings, an immense dancing hall, and a conservatory arranged with grottoes and cascades, a rustic bridge, and an original old statue of a satyr, picked up in Rome. The Count is a great connoisseur of art, and his collection in all its branches is magnificent, with souvenirs of every city of Europe, and all the ages of the world, enough to drive to despair any such little dabblers as myself.
I have met quite a charming young Austrian lady, who lives with the Spanish Ambassador’s wife, but I shall take good care of my heart and bring it back to Boston.
Our acquaintances, thus far, are eminently diplomatic, as you see, the English consul’s family especially being very attentive.
We skated yesterday on the Neva Club place for the first time, as the grounds are only just opened, but today it is thawing again, and we must wait a bit for it to freeze.
I think you would be rather frightened at the way they drive here in the sleighs, rushing off as fast as possible, yelling to people and carriages to get out of the way, and then bringing the horse up suddenly with a droll sound—bhr-r-r-r!—which corresponds to “whoa” in English. In some letter I will describe a sleigh for you, but they are all alike, from the Emperor’s to the street cabs, except in finish. There are very few covered vehicles here to hire, and you always go, by night and day, in an open sleigh, so you can judge from that, that the cold is not so awfully severe here as you imagine. We take very good care not to be frozen, as we both have a horror of the amusement, but enough for today.
Nate.
THE PRESENTATION.
The Hon. Cassius M. Clay, the American Minister, presented C. A. Longfellow and myself to the Emperor.
THE INVITATION.
Translated from the French.
Ministry of the Imperial Court. Direction of Ceremonies. St. Petersburg, 5–17 December, 1866.
The Grand Master of Ceremonies has the honor to inform Mr. N. Appleton, that he will have the honor of being presented to His Majesty the Emperor tomorrow, Tuesday, 6–18 December, at half past one in the afternoon at the Winter Palace.
You are requested to come to the door of Her Majesty the Empress.
[Seal] [See binding of this book.]
The invitation was gladly accepted, not only from the desire of meeting in person the Autocrat of all the Russias, but also because once done your name was put upon the list of distinguished visitors to the capital, and, as a matter of course, you were invited to all the balls and festivities of the season. General Clay called for us in his sleigh, and we drove to the Winter Palace, where we were met by some of the officers of the staff, on horseback. The regulation dress prescribed for us was “black or blue dress coat, black vest and pantaloons, white cravat and white kids,” as stated in a marginal note by General Clay.
Having been ushered into the presence of the Emperor, as detailed in my letter to my mother, we had a little chat with him, principally answering some questions about America, and then retired, and went down stairs.
While waiting in the hall below for our sleigh to drive up, the Tsar came bounding down the staircase, followed by his favorite Newfoundland dog, with which he was often photographed, and before jumping into his sleigh and dashing off on some call, he stopped and exchanged a few more words with us. Indeed the whole interview made a most agreeable impression upon me.
GORTSCHAKOFF.
“The days when the great Nicholas leaned on him sweep back from the mists of the buried years. In his old age, he is the Richelieu of another Tsar, for Russia draws the sword in fight once more.”
—_Col. Richard Henry Savage_ on Gortschakoff in 1876.
I was naturally very much delighted with the prospect of being presented to the distinguished veteran Russian diplomatist and chancellor of the empire. This occurred in December of this year, 1866. General Clay had arranged the interview beforehand with Count Gortschakoff, and one morning called for us at our hotel in his sleigh to take us there. Another person was of the party, and strangely enough a negro, a certain Captain Chester, who was out in Russia on some special business.
We started off through the cold, clear air, and were soon at the door of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, where we were expected, and ushered in. We first met Mr. Westerman, a gentleman who for some time had been Count Gortschakoff’s right hand man and assistant in the tremendous duties of his office, and were then shown by him into the private cabinet of the chancellor.
Our interview was, of course, not lengthy, but most interesting. The old gentleman chatted with us very pleasantly on different topics, and in his manner and reception of us was as simple and unaffected as a child. He looked hale and hearty, and as though he had before him many years, which he meant to devote to aiding the development of Russian progress and civilization, and he did live two years after the death of the Tsar and died in Baden-Baden March 11, 1883.
LETTER TO MY MOTHER.
St. Petersburg, Thursday, Dec. 27, 1866.
My dear Mamma.
Another week has glided rapidly by, finding us still at St. Petersburg, and I have two of your letters to acknowledge, the last one bearing date of December 9th.
TO CRONSTADT—AN AMERICAN PARTY.
What have we been doing? Among other things yesterday a party of Americans went to see Cronstadt. We were, General Roberts, U. S. A., a good specimen of an American general (Benjamin Stone Roberts, graduate of West Point, served in the Mexican war and the Rebellion, brevetted Brig. Gen. U. S. A., and Major Gen. U. S. V., inventor of the Roberts breech-loading rifle, which he was trying to introduce to the Russians. He was a remarkably genial fellow, and had lots of good stories which he delighted in telling.), Mr. Sawyer, correspondent of the New York _Herald_, and a very pleasant companion, C. A. L., and myself, and we had a Russian colonel put at our disposal to open the gates of everything. We went down by rail to a place opposite Cronstadt, and then crossed over the Gulf of Finland on the ice, with two funny little Finnish ponies to each sledge, one trotting and the other galloping, but going like the wind, and doing the five miles in less than half an hour, without lessening speed once. It was very cold and our fur coats were necessary. We visited some of the forts, and afterwards breakfasted at the Navy and Army Club of the place. The whole effect of the day and the adventures were eminently Russian. We had to get up long before daylight, and saw the sun rise about 9 o’clock, something one does not often see here, as we are generally asleep at that time.
THE IMPERIAL STABLES.
One day last week we visited the Imperial stables, which I thought very shabby, although many of the horses were stunning, and afterwards we examined all the swell carriages and sledges, which have been used at coronations, weddings and _fêtes_ from the time of Peter the Great to the Princess Dagmar. They showed all varieties of taste, and are more magnificent than those at the Trianon at Versailles.
On Christmas Day Charlie and self dined with Mr. Prince, and attended just before dinner the christening of his youngest child. It was quite a large dinner, Anglo-American, and most decidedly respectable. It is curious how very few American families there are living in St. Petersburg. Last Sunday we dined with Mr. Whistler, (George W., father of the artist James Abbott McNeill W.) who is one of the gentlemen connected with the Winans car manufactory. There were about twelve, all gentlemen, and all Americans, indeed it included almost all the American males here,—General Clay, and the Consul, Mr. Winans, Mr. Pierce, and others, and it was jolly enough.
On Saturday next Charlie and I think of starting for Moscow, spending ten days, or so, and then returning, as we give up the Odessa plan, but we have not quite decided.
Well, I must stop now, as I go in a minute to drive with the Spanish Ambassador and his wife, the Duke and Duchess d’Osuna et de l’Ynfantado, but whether it is a “_grand diner diplomatique_” or a “_petite causerie intime_” I know not.
Friday morning: I have just time to finish and dispatch this now, before going out to perform the numerous last duties on the eve of our departure for Moscow. Cards must be sent round, etc. etc.
The dinner yesterday was very good, rather in the heavy diplomatic line, old swells with countless decorations, and jewelled dowagers nodding over the table, with a sprinkling of youthful _attachés_ and officers filling up the corners. Later in the evening I went to a ball at the rooms of the Artists’ Club, and danced a little.
Well, I must rush out, one is always hurried here, as I have before observed. My next will probably be from Moscow, where I can give you an account of our cousin Eliza, and deliver her your present; also, the Kremlin, and the tea-drinking gardens. A hard snow storm which looks like continuing.
Adieu. Nate.
ROSS WINANS.
In a letter from my mother visiting Baltimore in 1852, to my sister and myself in Boston, she wrote:—“This morning we have been to see the most superb house in the country, built by a gentleman of the name of Winans, who has been employed by the Russian government in the construction of railroads and cars, and has made an immense fortune.” This letter was sealed according to the custom of the time with a red wafer.
Ross Winans, a native of New Jersey, was an inventor and manufacturer of railroad machines in Baltimore, and undertook the Russian railroads by the advice of George W. Whistler. He died in Baltimore, in 1877, at the age of eighty-one. He had two sons who went to Russia; Thomas de Kay, who died in Newport, R. I., June 11, 1878, aged fifty-eight, and William Louis, who never returned to this country, but went to England after the completion of the St. Petersburg and Moscow railroad, and died in London, June 25, 1897, aged seventy-five.