crevecoeur — bomback — journey to moscow — my adventures at st. petersburg
the day on which i took zaira i sent lambert away, for i did not know what to do with him. he got drunk every day, and when in his cups he was unbearable. nobody would have anything to say to him except as a common soldier, and that is not an enviable position in russia. i got him a passport for berlin, and gave him enough money for the journey. i heard afterwards that he entered the austrian service.
in may, zaira had become so beautiful that when i went to moscow i dared not leave her behind me, so i took her in place of a servant. it was delicious to me to hear her chattering in the venetian dialect i had taught her. on a saturday i would go with her to the bath where thirty of forty naked men and women were bathing together without the slightest constraint. this absence of shame must arise, i should imagine, from native innocence; but i wondered that none looked at zaira, who seemed to me the original of the statue of psyche i had seen at the villa borghese at rome. she was only fourteen, so her breast was not yet developed, and she bore about her few traces of puberty. her skin was as white as snow, and her ebony tresses covered the whole of her body, save in a few places where the dazzling whiteness of her skin shone through. her eyebrows were perfectly shaped, and her eyes, though they might have been larger, could not have been more brilliant or more expressive. if it had not been for her furious jealousy and her blind confidence in fortune- telling by cards, which she consulted every day, zaira would have been a paragon among women, and i should never have left her.
a young and distinguished-looking frenchman came to st. petersburg with a young parisian named la riviere, who was tolerably pretty but quite devoid of education, unless it were that education common to all the girls who sell their charms in paris. this young man came to me with a letter from prince charles of courland, who said that if i could do anything for the young couple he would be grateful to me. they arrived just as i was breakfasting with zaira.
“you must tell me,” said i to the young frenchman, “in what way i can be of use to you.”
“by admitting us to your company, and introducing us to your friends.”
“well, i am a stranger here, and i will come and see you, and you can come and see me, and i shall be delighted; but i never dine at home. as to my friends, you must feel that, being a stranger, i could not introduce you and the lady. is she your wife? people will ask me who you are, and what you are doing at st. petersburg. what am i to say? i wonder prince charles did not send you to someone else.”
“i am a gentleman of lorraine, and madame la riviere is my mistress, and my object in coming to st. petersburg is to amuse myself.”
“then i don’t know to whom i could introduce you under the circumstances; but i should think you will be able to find plenty of amusement without knowing anyone. the theatres, the streets, and even the court entertainments, are open to everyone. i suppose you have plenty of money?”
“that’s exactly what i haven’t got, and i don’t expect any either.”
“well, i have not much more, but you really astonish me. how could you have been so foolish as to come here without money?”
“well, my mistress said we could do with what money we got from day to day. she induced me to leave paris without a farthing, and up to now it seems to me that she is right. we have managed to get on somehow.”
“then she has the purse?”
“my purse,” said she, “is in the pockets of my friends.”
“i understand, and i am sure you have no difficulty in finding the wherewithal to live. if i had such a purse, it should be opened for you, but i am not a rich man.”
bomback, a citizen of hamburg, whom i had known in england whence he had fled on account of his debts, had come to st. petersburg and entered the army. he was the son of a rich merchant and kept up a house, a carriage, and an army of servants; he was a lover of good cheer, women, and gambling, and contracted debts everywhere. he was an ugly man, but full of wit and energy. he happened to call on me just as i was addressing the strange traveller whose purse was in the pocket of her friends. i introduced the couple to him, telling the whole story, the item of the purse excepted. the adventure was just to bomback’s taste, and he began making advances to madame la riviere, who received them in a thoroughly professional spirit, and i was inwardly amused and felt that her axiom was a true one. bomback asked them to dine with him the next day, and begged them to come and take an unceremonious dinner the same day with him at crasnacaback. i was included in the invitation, and zaira, not understanding french, asked me what we were talking about, and on my telling her expressed a desire to accompany me. i gave in to appease her, for i knew the wish proceeded from jealousy, and that if i did not consent i should be tormented by tears, ill-humour, reproaches, melancholy, etc. this had occurred several times before, and so violent had she been that i had been compelled to conform to the custom of the country and beat her. strange to say, i could not have taken a better way to prove my love. such is the character of the russian women. after the blows had been given, by slow degrees she became affectionate again, and a love encounter sealed the reconciliation.
bomback left us to make his preparations in high spirits, and while zaira was dressing, madame riviere talked in such a manner as to make me almost think that i was absolutely deficient in knowledge of the world. the astonishing thing was that her lover did not seem in the least ashamed of the part he had to play. he might say that he was in love with the messalina, but the ex. cuse would not have been admissible.
the party was a merry one. bomback talked to the adventuress, zaira sat on my knee, and crevecoeur ate and drank, laughed in season and out of season, and walked up and down. the crafty madame riviere incited bomback to risk twenty-five roubles at quinze; he lost and paid pleasantly, and only got a kiss for his money. zaira, who was delighted to be able to watch over me and my fidelity, jested pleasantly on the frenchwoman and the complaisance of her lover. this was altogether beyond her comprehension, and she could not understand how he could bear such deeds as were done before his face.
the next day i went to bomback by myself, as i was sure of meeting young russian officers, who would have annoyed me by making love to zaira in their own language. i found the two travellers and the brothers lunin, then lieutenants but now generals. the younger of them was as fair and pretty as any girl. he had been the beloved of the minister teploff, and, like a lad of wit, he not only was not ashamed but openly boasted that it was his custom to secure the good- will of all men by his caresses.
he had imagined the rich citizen of hamburg to be of the same tastes as teploff, and he had not been mistaken; and so he degraded me by forming the same supposition. with this idea he seated himself next to me at table, and behaved himself in such a manner during dinner that i began to believe him to be a girl in man’s clothes.
after dinner, as i was sitting at the fire, between him and the frenchman, i imparted my suspicions to him; but jealous of the superiority of his sex, he displayed proof of it on the spot, and forthwith got hold of me and put himself in a position to make my happiness and his own as he called it. i confess, to my shame, that he might perhaps have succeeded, if madame la riviere, indignant at this encroachment of her peculiar province, had not made him desist.
lunin the elder, crevecceur, and bomback, who had been for a walk, returned at nightfall with two or three friends, and easily consoled the frenchman for the poor entertainment the younger lunin and myself had given him.
bomback held a bank at faro, which only came to an end at eleven, when the money was all gone. we then supped, and the real orgy began, in which la riviere bore the brunt in a manner that was simply astonishing. i and my friend lunin were merely spectators, and poor crevecoeur had gone to bed. we did not separate till day-break.
i got home, and, fortunately for myself, escaped the bottle which zaira flung at my head, and which would infallibly have killed me if it had hit me. she threw herself on to the ground, and began to strike it with her forehead. i thought she had gone mad, and wondered whether i had better call for assistance; but she became quiet enough to call me assassin and traitor, with all the other abusive epithets that she could remember. to convict me of my crime she shewed me twenty-five cards, placed in order, and on them she displayed the various enormities of which i had been guilty.
i let her go on till her rage was somewhat exhausted, and then, having thrown her divining apparatus into the fire, i looked at her in pity and anger, and said that we must part the next day, as she had narrowly escaped killing me. i confessed that i had been with bomback, and that there had been a girl in the house; but i denied all the other sins of which she accused me. i then went to sleep without taking the slightest notice of her, in spite of all she said and did to prove her repentance.
i woke after a few hours to find her sleeping soundly, and i began to consider how i could best rid myself of the girl, who would probably kill me if we continued living together. whilst i was absorbed in these thoughts she awoke, and falling at my feet wept and professed her utter repentance, and promised never to touch another card as long as i kept her.
at last i could resist her entreaties no longer, so i took her in my arms and forgave her; and we did not part till she had received undeniable proofs of the return of my affection. i intended to start for moscow in three days, and she was delighted when she heard she was to go.
three circumstances had won me this young girl’s furious affection. in the first place i often took her to see her family, with whom i always left a rouble; in the second i made her eat with me; and in the third i had beaten her three or four times when she had tried to prevent me going out.
in russia beating is a matter of necessity, for words have no force whatever. a servant, mistress, or courtezan understands nothing but the lash. words are altogether thrown away, but a few good strokes are entirely efficacious. the servant, whose soul is still more enslaved than his body, reasons somewhat as follows, after he has had a beating:
“my master has not sent me away, but beaten me; therefore he loves me, and i ought to be attached to him.”
it is the same with the russian soldier, and in fact with everybody. honour stands for nothing, but with the knout and brandy one can get anything from them except heroical enthusiasm.
papanelopulo laughed at me when i said that as i liked my cossack i should endeavour to correct him with words only when he took too much brandy.
“if you do not beat him,” he said, “he will end by beating you;” and he spoke the truth.
one day, when he was so drunk as to be unable to attend on me, i began to scold him, and threatened him with the stick if he did not mend his ways. as soon as he saw my cane lifted, he ran at me and got hold of it; and if i had not knocked him down immediately, he would doubtless have beaten me. i dismissed him on the spot. there is not a better servant in the world than a russian. he works without ceasing, sleeps in front of the door of his master’s bedroom to be always ready to fulfil his orders, never answering his reproaches, incapable of theft. but after drinking a little too much brandy he becomes a perfect monster; and drunkenness is the vice of the whole nation.
a coachman knows no other way of resisting the bitter cold to which he is exposed, than by drinking rye brandy. it sometimes happens that he drinks till he falls asleep, and then there is no awaking for him in this world. unless one is very careful, it is easy to lose an ear, the nose, a cheek, or a lip by frost bites. one day as i was walking out on a bitterly cold day, a russian noticed that one of my ears was frozen. he ran up to me and rubbed the affected part with a handful of snow till the circulation was restored. i asked him how he had noticed my state, and he said he had remarked the livid whiteness of my ear, and this, he said, was always a sign that the frost had taken it. what surprised me most of all is that sometimes the part grows again after it has dropped off. prince charles of courland assured me that he had cost his nose in siberia, and that it had grown again the next summer. i have been assured of the truth of this by several russians.
about this time the empress made the architect rinaldi, who had been fifty years in st. petersburg, build her an enormous wooden amphitheatre so large as to cover the whole of the space in front of the palace. it would contain a hundred thousand spectators, and in it catherine intended to give a vast tournament to all the knights of her empire. there were to be four parties of a hundred knights each, and all the cavaliers were to be clad in the national costume of the nations they represented. all the russians were informed of this great festival, which was to be given at the expense of the sovereign, and the princes, counts, and barons were already arriving with their chargers from the most remote parts of the empire. prince charles of courland wrote informing me of his intention to be present.
it had been ordained, that the tournament should take place on the first fine day, and this precaution was a very wise one; for, excepting in the season of the hard frosts, a day without rain, or snow, or wind, is a marvel. in italy, spain, and france, one can reckon on fine weather, and bad weather is the exception, but it is quite the contrary in russia. ever since i have known this home of frost and the cold north wind, i laugh when i hear travelling russians talking of the fine climate of their native country. however, it is a pardonable weakness, most of us prefer “mine” to “thine;” nobles affect to consider themselves of purer blood than the peasants from whom they sprang, and the romans and other ancient nations pretended that they were the children of the gods, to draw a veil over their actual ancestors who were doubtless robbers. the truth is, that during the whole year 1756 there was not one fine day in russia, or in ingria at all events, and the mere proofs of this statement may be found in the fact that the tournament was not held in that year. it was postponed till the next, and the princes, counts, barons, and knights spent the winter in the capital, unless their purses forbade them to indulge in the luxuries of court life. the dear prince of courland was in this case, to my great disappointment.
having made all arrangements for my journey to moscow, i got into my sleeping carriage with zaira, having a servant behind who could speak both russian and german. for twenty-four roubles the chevochic (hirer out of horses) engaged to carry me to moscow in six days and seven nights with six horses. this struck me as being extremely cheap. the distance is seventy-two russian stages, almost equivalent to five hundred italian miles, or a hundred and sixty french leagues.
we set out just as a cannon shot from the citadel announced the close of day. it was towards the end of may, in which month there is literally no night at st. petersburg. without the report of the cannon no one would be able to tell when the day ended and the night began. one can read a letter at midnight, and the moonlight makes no appreciable difference. this continual day lasts for eight weeks, and during that time no one lights a candle. at moscow it is different; a candle is always necessary at midnight if one wished to read.
we reached novgorod in forty-eight hours, and here the chevochic allowed us a rest of five hours. i saw a circumstance there which surprised me very much, though one has no business to be surprised at anything if one travels much, and especially in a land of half savages. i asked the chevochic to drink, but he appeared to be in great melancholy. i enquired what was the matter, and he told zaira that one of his horses had refused to eat, and that it was clear that if he could not eat he could not work. we followed him into the stable, and found the horse looking oppressed by care, its head lowered and motionless; it had evidently got no appetite. his master began a pathetic oration, looking tenderly at the animal, as if to arouse it to a sense of duty, and then taking its head, and kissing it lovingly, he put it into the manger, but to no purpose. then the man began to weep bitterly, but in such a way that i had the greatest difficulty to prevent myself laughing, for i could see that he wept in the hope that his tears might soften the brute’s heart. when he had wept some time he again put the horse’s head into the manger, but again to no purpose. at this he got furious and swore to be avenged. he led the horse out of the stable, tied it to a post, and beat it with a thick stick for a quarter of an hour so violently that my heart bled for the poor animal. at last the chevochic was tired out, and taking the horse back to the stable he fastened up his head once more, and to my astonishment it began to devour its provender with the greatest appetite. at this the master jumped for joy, laughed, sang, and committed a thousand extravagancies, as if to shew the horse how happy it had made him. i was beside myself with astonishment, and concluded that such treatment would have succeeded nowhere but in russia, where the stick seems to be the panacea or universal medicine.
they tell me, however, that the stick is gradually going out of fashion. peter the great used to beat his generals black and blue, and in his days a lieutenant had to receive with all submission the cuffs of his captain, who bent before the blows of his major, who did the same to his colonel, who received chastisement from his general. so i was informed by old general woyakoff, who was a pupil of peter the great, and had often been beaten by the great emperor, the founder of st. petersburg.
it seems to me that i have scarcely said anything about this great and famous capital, which in my opinion is built on somewhat precarious foundations. no one but peter could have thus given the lie to nature by building his immense palaces of marble and granite on mud and shifting sand. they tell me that the town is now in its manhood, to the honour of the great catherine; but in the year 1765 it was still in its minority, and seemed to me only to have been built with the childish aim of seeing it fall into ruins. streets were built with the certainty of having to repair them in six months’ time. the whole place proclaimed itself to be the whim of a despot. if it is to be durable constant care will be required, for nature never gives up its rights and reasserts them when the constraint of man is withdrawn. my theory is that sooner or later the soil must give way and drag the vast city with it.
we reached moscow in the time the chevochic had promised. as the same horses were used for the whole journey, it would have been impossible to travel mote quickly. a russian told me that the empress elizabeth had done the journey in fifty-two hours.
“you mean that she issued a ukase to the effect that she had done it,” said a russian of the old school; “and if she had liked she could have travelled more quickly still; it was only a question of the wording of the ukase.”
even when i was in russia it was not allowable to doubt the infallibility of a ukase, and to do so was, equivalent to high treason. one day i was crossing a canal at st. petersburg by a small wooden bridge; melissino papanelopulo, and some other russians were with me. i began to abuse the wooden bridge, which i characterized as both mean and dangerous. one of my companions said that on such a day it would be replaced by a fine stone bridge, as the empress had to pass there on some state occasion. the day named way three weeks off, and i said plainly that it was impossible. one of the russians looked askance at me, and said there was no doubt about it, as a ukase had been published ordering that the bridge should be built. i was going to answer him, but papanelopulo gave my hand a squeeze, and whispered “taci!” (hush).
the bridge was not built, but i was not justified, for the empress published another ukase in which she declared it to be her gracious pleasure that the bridge should not be built till the following year. if anyone would see what a pure despotism is like, let him go to russia.
the russian sovereigns use the language of despotism on all occasions. one day i saw the empress, dressed in man’s clothes, going out for a ride. her master of the horse, prince repnin, held the bridle of the horse, which suddenly gave him a kick which broke his anklebone. the empress instantly ordained that the horse should be taken away, and that no one should mount it again under pain of death. all official positions in russia have military rank assigned to them, and this sufficiently indicates the nature of the government. the coachman-in-chief of her imperial highness holds the rank of colonel, as also does her chief cook. the castrato luini was a lieutenant-colonel, and the painter toretti only a captain, because he had only eight hundred roubles a year, while the coachman had three thousand. the sentinels at the doors of the palace have their muskets crossed, and ask those who wish to pass through what is their rank. when i was asked this question, i stopped short; but the quick-witted officer asked me how much i had a year, and on my replying, at a hazard, three thousand roubles, he gave me the rank of general, and i was allowed to pass. i saw the czarina for a moment; she stopped at the door and took off her gloves to give her hands to be kissed by the officer and the two sentinels. by such means as this she had won the affection of the corps, commanded by gregorius gregorovitch orloff, on which her safety depended in case of revolution.
i made the following notes when i saw the empress hearing mass in her chapel. the protopapa, or bishop, received her at the door to give her the holy water, and she kissed his episcopal ring, while the prelate, whose beard was a couple of feet in length, lowered his head to kiss the hands of his temporal sovereign and spiritual head, for in russia the he or she on the throne is the spiritual as well as temporal head of the church.
she did not evidence the least devotion during mass; hypocrisy did not seem to be one of her vices. now she smiled at one of her suite, now at another, and occasionally she addressed the favourite, not because she had anything to say to him, but to make him an object of envy to the others.
one evening, as she was leaving the theatre where metastasio’s olympiade had been performed, i heard her say —
“the music of that opera has given the greatest pleasure to everyone, so of course i am delighted with it; but it wearies me, nevertheless. music is a fine thing, but i cannot understand how anyone who is seriously occupied can love it passionately. i will have buranello here, and i wonder whether he will interest me in music, but i am afraid nature did not constitute me to feel all its charms.”
she always argued in that way. in due time i will set down her words to me when i returned from moscow. when i arrived at that city i got down at a good inn, where they gave me two rooms and a coach-house for my carriage. after dinner i hired a small carriage and a guide who could speak french. my carriage was drawn by four horses, for moscow is a vast city composed of four distinct towns, and many of the streets are rough and ill-paved. i had five or six letters of introduction, and i determined to take them all. i took zaira with me, as she was as curious to see everything as a girl of fourteen naturally is. i do not remember what feast the greek church was keeping on that day, but i shall never forget the terrific bell- ringing with which my ears were assailed, for there are churches every where. the country people were engaged in sowing their grain, to reap it in september. they laughed at our southern custom of sowing eight months earlier, as unnecessary and even prejudicial to the crops, but i do not know where the right lies. perhaps we may both be right, for there is no master to compare with experience. i took all the introductions i had received from narischkin, prince repnin, the worthy pananelopulo, and melissino’s brother. the next morning the whole of the persons at whose houses i had left letters called on me. they all asked zaira and myself to dinner, and i accepted the invitation of the first comer, m. dinidoff, and promised to dine with the rest on the following days, zaira, who had been tutored by me to some extent, was delighted to shew me that she was worthy of the position she occupied. she was exquisitely dressed, and won golden opinions everywhere, for our hosts did not care to enquire whether she were my daughter, my mistress, or my servant, for in this matter, as in many others, the russians are excessively indulgent. those who have not seen moscow have not seen russia, for the people of st, petersburg are not really russians at all. their court manners are very different from their manners ‘au naturel’, and it may be said with truth that the true russian is as a stranger in st. petersburg. the citizens of, moscow, and especially the rich ones, speak with pity of those, who for one reason or another, had expatriated themselves; and with them to expatriate one’s self is to leave moscow, which they consider as their native land. they look on st. petersburg with an envious eve, and call it the ruin of russia. i do not know whether this is a just view to take of the case, i merely repeat what i have heard.
in the course of a week i saw all the sights of moscow — the manufacturers, the churches, the remains of the old days, the museums, the libraries, (of no interest to my mind), not forgetting the famous bell. i noticed that their bells are not allowed to swing like ours, but are motionless, being rung by a rope attached to the clapper.
i thought the moscow women more handsome than those of st. petersburg, and i attribute this to the great superiority of the air. they are gentle and accessible by nature; and to obtain the favour of a kiss on the lips, one need only make a show of kissing their hands.
there was good fare in plenty, but no delicacy in its composition or arrangement. their table is always open to friends and acquaintances, and a friend may bring to five or six persons to dinner, and even at the end of the meals you will never hear a russian say, “we have had dinner; you have come too late.” their souls are not black enough for them to pronounce such words as this. notice is given to the cook, and the dinner begins over again. they have a delicious drink, the name of which i do not remember; but it is much superior to the sherbet of constantinople. the numerous servants are not given water, but a light, nourishing, and agreeable fluid, which may be purchased very cheaply. they all hold st. nicholas in the greatest reverence, only praying to god through the mediation of this saint, whose picture is always suspended in the principal room of the house. a person coming in makes first a bow to the image and then a bow to the master, and if perchance the image is absent, the russian, after gazing all round, stands confused and motionless, not knowing what to do. as a general rule the muscovites are the most superstitious christians in the world. their liturgy is in greek, of which the people understand nothing, and the clergy, themselves extremely ignorant, gladly leave them completely in the dark on all matters connected with religion. i could never make them understand that the only reason for the roman christians making the sign of the cross from left to right, while the greeks make it from right to left, is that we say ‘spiritus sancti’, while they say ‘agion pneuma’.
“if you said pneuma agion,” i used to say, “then you would cross yourself like us, and if we said sancti spiritus we should cross ourselves like you.”
“the adjective,” replied my interlocutor, “should always precede the substantive, for we should never utter the name of god without first giving him some honourable epithet.”
such are nearly all the differences which divide the two churches, without reckoning the numerous idle tales which they have as well as ourselves, and which are by no means the least cherished articles of their faith.
we returned to st. petersburg by the way we had come, but zaira would have liked me never to leave moscow. she had become so much in love with me by force of constant association that i could not think without a pang of the moment of separation. the day after our arrival in the capital i took her to her home, where she shewed her father all the little presents i had given her, and told him of the honour she had received as my daughter, which made the good man laugh heartily.
the first piece of news i heard was that a ukase had been issued, ordering the erection of a temple dedicated to god in the moscoi opposite to the house where i resided. the empress had entrusted rinaldi, the architect, with the erection. he asked her what emblem he should put above the portal, and she replied —
“no emblem at all, only the name of god in large letters.”
“i will put a triangle.”
“no triangle at all; but only the name of god in whatever language you like, and nothing more.”
the second piece of news was that bomback had fled and had been captured at mitau, where he believed himself in safety. m. de simolia had arrested him. it was a grave case, for he had deserted; however, he was given his life, and sent into barracks at kamstchatka. crevecoeur and his mistress had departed, carrying some money with them, and a florentine adventurer named billotti had fled with eighteen thousand roubles belonging to papanelopulo, but a certain bori, the worthy greek’s factotum, had caught him at mitau and brought him back to st. petersburg, where he was now in prison. prince charles of courland arrived about this time, and i hastened to call upon him as soon as he advised me of his coming. he was lodging in a house belonging to count dimidoff, who owned large iron mines, and had made the whole house of iron, from attic to basement. the prince had brought his mistress with him, but she was still in an ill-humour, and he was beginning to get heartily sick of her. the man was to be pitied, for he could not get rid of her without finding her a husband, and this husband became more difficult to find every day. when the prince saw how happy i was with my zaira, he could not help thinking how easily happiness may be won; but the fatal desire for luxury and empty show spoils all, and renders the very sweets of life as bitter as gall.
i was indeed considered happy, and i liked to appear so, but in my heart i was wretched. ever since my imprisonment under the leads, i had been subject to haemorrhoids, which came on three or four times a year. at st. petersburg i had a serious attack, and the daily pain and anxiety embittered my existence. a vegetarian doctor called senapios, for whom i had sent, gave me the sad news that i had a blind or incomplete fistula in the rectum, and according to him nothing but the cruel pistoury would give me any relief, and indeed he said i had no time to lose. i had to agree, in spite of my dislike to the operation; but fortunately the clever surgeon whom the doctor summoned pronounced that if i would have patience nature itself would give me relief. i had much to endure, especially from the severe dieting to which i was subjected, but which doubtless did me good.
colonel melissino asked me to be present at a review which was to take place at three versts from st. petersburg, and was to be succeeded by a dinner to twenty-four guests, given by general orloff. i went with the prince, and saw a cannon fired twenty times in a minute, testing the performance with my watch.
my neighbour at dinner was the french ambassador. wishing to drink deeply, after the russian fashion, and thinking the hungarian wine as innocent as champagne, he drank so bravely that at the end of dinner he had lost the use of his legs. count orloff made him drink still more, and then he fell asleep and was laid on a bed.
the gaiety of the meal gave me some idea of russian wit. i did not understand the language, so m. zinowieff translated the curious sallies to me while the applause they had raised was still resounding.
melissino rose to his feet, holding a large goblet full of hungarian wine in his hand. there was a general silence to listen to him. he drank the health of general orloff in these words:
“may you die when you become rich.”
the applause was general, for the allusion was to the unbounded generosity of orloff. the general’s reply struck me as better still, but it was equally rugged in character. he, too, took a full cup, and turning to melissino, said,
“may you never die till i slay you!”
the applause was furious, for he was their host and their general.
the russian wit is of the energetic kind, devoid of grace; all they care about is directness and vigour.
voltaire had just sent the empress his “philosophy of history,” which he had written for her and dedicated to her. a month after, an edition of three thousand copies came by sea, and was sold out in a week, for all the russians who knew a little french were eager to possess a copy of the work. the leaders of the voltaireans were two noblemen, named, respectively, stroganoff and schuvaloff. i have seen verses written by the former of these as good as voltaire’s own verses, and twenty years later i saw an ode by the latter of which voltaire would not have been ashamed, but the subject was ill chosen; for it treated of the death of the great philosopher who had so studiously avoided using his pen on melancholy themes. in those days all russians with any pretensions to literature read nothing but voltaire, and when they had read all his writings they thought themselves as wise as their master. to me they seemed pigmies mimicking a giant. i told them that they ought to read all the books from which voltaire had drawn his immense learning, and then, perhaps, they might become as wise as he. i remember the saying of a wise man at rome: “beware of the man of one book.” i wonder whether the russians are more profound now; but that is a question i cannot answer. at dresden i knew prince biloselski, who was on his way back to russia after having been ambassador at turin. he was the author of an admirable world on metaphysics, and the analysis of the soul and reason.
count panin was the tutor of paul petrovitch, heir-presumptive to the throne. the young prince had a severe master, and dared not even applaud an air at the opera unless he first received permission to do so from his mentor.
when a courier brought the news of the sudden death of francis i., emperor of germany and of the holy roman empire, the czarina being at czarsko-zelo, the count minister-tutor was in the palace with his pupil, then eleven years old. the courier came at noon, and gave the dispatch into the hands of the minister, who was standing in the midst of a crowd of courtiers of whom i was one. the prince imperial was at his right hand. the minister read the dispatch in a low voice, and then said:
“this is news indeed. the emperor of the romans has died suddenly.”
he then turned to paul, and said to him —
“full court mourning, which your highness will observe for three months longer than the empress.”
“why so?” said paul.
“because, as duke of holstein, your highness has a right to attend the diet of the empire, a privilege,” he added, turning to us, “which peter the great desired in vain.”
i noted the attention with which the grand duke paul listened to his mentor, and the care with which he concealed his joy at the news. i was immensely pleased with this way of giving instruction. i said as much to prince lobkowitz, who was standing by me, and he refined on my praises. this prince was popular with everyone. he was even preferred to his predecessor, prince esterhazy; and this was saying a great deal, for esterhazy was adored in russia. the gay and affable manner of prince lobkowitz made him the life and soul of all the parties at which he was present. he was a constant courtier of the countess braun, the reigning beauty, and everyone believed his love had been crowned with success, though no one could assert as much positively.
there was a great review held at a distance of twelve or fourteen versts from st. petersburg, at which the empress and all her train of courtiers were present. the houses of the two or three adjoining villages were so few and small that it would be impossible for all the company to find a lodging. nevertheless i wished to be present chiefly to please zaira, who wanted to be seen with me on such an occasion. the review was to last three days; there were to be fireworks, and a mine was to be exploded besides the evolutions of the troops. i went in my travelling carriage, which would serve me for a lodging if i could get nothing better.
we arrived at the appointed place at eight o’clock in the morning; the evolutions lasted till noon. when they were over we went towards a tavern and had our meal served to us in the carriage, as all the rooms in the inn were full.
after dinner my coachman tried in vain to find me a lodging, so i disposed myself to sleep all night in the carriage; and so i did for the whole time of the review, and fared better than those who had spent so much money to be ill lodged. melissino told me that the empress thought my idea a very sensible one. as i was the only person who had a sleeping carriage, which was quite a portable house in itself, i had numerous visitors, and zaira was radiant to be able to do the honours.
i had a good deal of conversation during the review with count tott, brother of the nobleman who was employed at constantinople, and known as baron tott. we had known each other at paris, and afterwards at the hague, where i had the pleasure of being of service to him. he had come to st. petersburg with madame de soltikoff, whom he had met at paris, and whose lover he was. he lived with her, went to court, and was well received by everyone.
two or three years after, the empress ordered him to leave st. petersburg on account of the troubles in poland. it was said that he kept up a correspondence with his brother, who was endeavouring to intercept the fleet under the command of alexis orloff. i never heard what became of him after he left russia, where he obliged me with the loan of five hundred roubles, which i have not yet been able to return to him.
m. maruzzi, by calling a venetian merchant, and by birth a greek, having left trade to live like a gentleman, came to st. petersburg when i was there, and was presented at court. he was a fine-looking man, and was admitted to all the great houses. the empress treated him with distinction because she had thoughts of making him her agent at venice. he paid his court to the countess braun, but he had rivals there who were not afraid of him. he was rich enough, but did not know how to spend his money; and avarice is a sin which meets with no pity from the russian ladies.
i went to czarsko-zelo, peterhoff, and cronstadt, for if you want to say you have been in a country you should see as much as possible of it. i wrote notes and memorandums on several questions with the hope of their procuring me a place in the civil service, and all my productions were laid before the empress but with no effect. in russia they do not think much of foreigners unless they have specially summoned them; those who come of their own account rarely make much, and i suspect the russians are right.
