THE RUSSIAN MILITARY MANŒUVRES, 1884.
[TO THE EDITOR OF BLACKWOOD's MAGAZINE.
The following letters, written during the manœuvres of the Corps of the Russian Guard last autumn, were addressed to members of my family, and without any view to their publication; but I am told by friends that they would interest the general public, and as they relate adventures and describe scenes which do not fall under the notice of an ordinary tourist, I beg to place them at your disposal. At the invitation of the Emperor, three officers of the British army were selected to attend these manœuvres as his Majesty's guests. I had the honour to be the head of the mission, and my colleagues were Colonel Low, C.B., a distinguished officer of our Indian Cavalry, and Captain Davidson, an officer of the Royal Horse Artillery, well qualified to represent a corps so famed for its smartness and scientific training.]
GRAND HÔTEL DE L'EUROPE,
ST PETERSBURG, Aug. 11, 1884.
How I am to tell you all that we have seen and done since our arrival here yesterday at 7 P.M., I know not, for at every instant some one comes in with orders, hints as to etiquette, or some message which requires close attention; but I think I shall have half an hour somehow, before we leave for Krasnoe Seló. Our journey, though very tedious after entering Russia, was uneventful. Our sleeping-cars from Berlin to the frontier were noisy, hot, and disagreeable. At the frontier (Wirballen) station we secured others, and found the Russian sofa-beds much the best. We never travelled more than twenty miles an hour, and our halts were frequent and long. From the moment we crossed the frontier, tea became our beverage, and the samovar smoked in readiness at every station, however small. Bread good; a sort of soup, in which among no end of vegetables cabbage was the most easily recognised, was really not bad; and my colleagues seemed to find the beer good. We had Colonel Chenevix Trench, the military attaché at Petersburg, with us; and as he can speak Russian, he was of very great use, and has become a pleasant addition to our party. The country we traversed is as flat as Salisbury Plain, and absolutely without interest, save in the names of a few towns like Wilna, Pskof, Dünaburg, &c., each of which brings some historical incident to one's memory. The sun was very powerful, but the air became lighter, and reminded us of Scotland as we went further and further north – till at last, after a short halt at Gatschina, where we substituted undress uniform for our dusty travelling clothes, I could see the cupola of St Isaac's Church, a golden speck in the distance; and after another quarter of an hour, found myself bowing and handshaking with various tall figures in uniforms of varied hue, but of unquestionably Russian type. A gorgeous Court footman, in an orange-and-red greatcoat and cocked-hat, seized my bag and cloak; others surrounded Rowland, my servant; while Colonel Low and Captain Davidson were similarly looked after. Passing through the royal waiting-room, I was handed into a very pretty victoria, drawn by two black long-
