tailed steppers, and with Captain Count Stenbock of the Garde à Cheval, who was to be attached to me during my visit, by my side, was whisked off through the broad uninteresting streets of the suburbs to this hotel.
CAMP KRASNOE SELÓ, ST PETERSBURG,
Aug. 11, 1884 (July 30, Russian time).
Hurried off to the Embassy to pay my respects to Sir Edward Thornton, I left off with the announcement of my finding myself in a very comfortable room in the Hôtel de l'Europe. In three-quarters of an hour we had to be ready to dine with the officers of the various missions. Blue coat, sword, sash, &c., were donned, and I found myself for the moment the senior of the assembled party, as Prince Windischgrätz, who is a Feld-marschall-lieutenant of the Austrian army, and the French general and German general, who are my seniors, had not arrived. I had an agreeable Italian, General Sterpone, on my right, and the officer who looks after all the missions, Colonel Tchitchakoff of the staff, on my left, both speaking French.
As soon as dinner was ended, and coffee and cigarettes discussed, the carriages came round, and we started for a drive to the islands which lie between the branches of the Neva. The air was refreshing, and of course in this northern region, though it was 9.30, there was a twilight which was sufficient to enable one to see without difficulty; and the appearance of the huge buildings, and especially of the thin spires of the church of St Peter and St Paul, and the fortress on the first island, cut out as they were in sombre outline against the clear northern sky, was not without a certain charm. Our drive did not end thus sentimentally. On the further island, and on the northern bank of the river, is a sort of lust-garten, called "Livadia." Here we alighted, and found ourselves among coloured lamps and crowds of the bourgeoisie regarding with admiration four female gymnasts, who were tying themselves in knots, and hanging from ceilings by their feet. Passing by this we reached a pretty little theatre, and from a smart box witnessed a very fair representation of "La Fille du Tambour Major" by a French company, who sang and acted well. This lasted an hour, and on going out we saw at another stage in the gardens a company of Bohemians in Russian costume, singing Russian national and gipsy songs, amid the rapt silence of the crowd. But these were said not to be the best Bohemians, so we were taken on to another café, where, in a rather low and stuffy room, we were treated to real Bohemian choruses. These singers – about a dozen men and the same number of women – were not in costume, but sang with wonderful taste; and though the extreme plaintiveness of most of the songs, sometimes varied by bursts of wild appeal, all too in a minor key, gave a weird character to the entertainment, the interest it aroused was (to me at least) so great that I forgot all fatigue. These Bohemian choirs are peculiar to St Petersburg and Moscow, and are heard nowhere else. The performers all have the gipsy type and the lithe figures and restless expressions of their race. And so at last homewards; the horses galloping through the now empty streets and over the bridges, the view from which at night of the Neva and its well-lighted quays is really splendid. To bed at 2.30. Our orders were to dine next day at 12, and go
