American Phoenix

by Jane Cook

  Meanwhile horses left the palace and headed for Louisa’s hotel again. For the second time, one of the empresses notified her of a time change.

  The confusing messages only increased Louisa’s anxiety. She slipped on her satin slippers and prepared for the next layer—stepping into her skirt, which would dominate her frame. This was the era of the Empire waist, where skirts began just below the bust and gracefully flowed to the floor. Slipping on the skirt was not as easy as sliding a leg through breeches. Men did not have to worry about whale bone hoops. Fortunately this skirt was already attached to the hoop, which made it easier to step into.

  Although Louisa worried about her presentation, English ladies wore silver tissue to the British court. Surely it was a safe choice here as well. What made this fabric beautiful were its intricately woven contrasting threads. With her bodice and skirt in place, she could relax a little and take her time with the next layers, unless another palace messenger arrived to change the time again.

  John had attended many church services in Boston and Quincy, where he was accustomed to sitting in a pew. The church in Russia was the Orthodox Church, which he called the Greek Church in his diary. Except for kneeling once, the diplomatic corps stood throughout the entire Orthodox liturgy at the palace chapel. Following the mass was a Te Deum, a special praise service. This ceremony gave thanks to God for France’s and Austria’s new peace. The Te Deum began with a bang, literally. Cannon fired over the Neva River from the admiralty. John watched the service unfold, which included the emperor kissing the crucifix and the archbishop kissing the emperor’s hand. What also stood out was the music, which was entirely vocal without instrument—quite unlike Congregational hymns accompanied by organs in Boston.

  Louisa probably heard the cannon fire, though the sound of horses outside the hotel bothered her more. The time for her presentation changed again.

  Martha hurriedly attached a train to Louisa’s backside. The material was heavy crimson, a strong contrasting color to her silver skirt and white bodice. Because heavy trains were several feet in length, women often felt they were carting a curtain behind them. On top of this Louisa added a velvet robe, which also included a train.

  The sound of horses halting at the hotel haunted her again. Now her presentation was moved up, not pushed back. “And I was obliged to hurry as the last ordered me to be at the palace at 1/2 past one.”

  To finish, she needed accessories. Gloves covering the forearms were popular. Fans were functional. She fastened a diamond arrow ornament in her Grecian-style hair, an up-do.

  “And thus accoutered I appeared before the gentlemen of our party who could not refrain from laughter at my appearance.”

  Snickering was not the confidence boost she needed, but who could blame them? After all, Messieurs Smith, Gray, and Everett spent eighty days with her dressed as a plain, floor-washing Cinderella on the deck of the Horace. Despite laughing at her fig leaves fit for a princess, they could see what Edward Savage captured in an 1801 painting, which was painted four years after Louisa and John wed. He depicted Mrs. Adams as woman with a tiny waist, attractive figure, oval face, abundant hair, and large eyes that danced above a slender nose and lips.

  “And over all this luggage my fur cloak,” Louisa joked of the arctic addition. Two footmen eased her into the carriage, where she sat uncomfortably with her hoop bowing underneath her. “Off I went with a fluttered pulse quite alone in this foreign [place] among people whom I had never seen.”

  Twenty days after arriving in St. Petersburg and wearing only the clothes on her back, Louisa Adams wore enough material to outfit five women. However, by dressing in full court couture, she complimented the culture’s customs.

  The carriage drove through the streets toward the mammoth green Winter Palace, embellished with sixteen different opulent window designs. The powerful-looking edifice was the crowning achievement for French architect Bartolomeo Rastrelli. The palace was two tiered, with a columned bodice on top and columned skirt on bottom. Just as its occupants wore heavy layers of clothing, so the exterior was weighed down with four hundred white columns and decorative sculptures. Such was the style of extravagance, whether in architecture or in clothing fashions.

  Louisa was likely too nervous to admire the palace’s exterior. What may have been beautiful to the Italian architect created great stress for Louisa. After all, Rastrelli never needed to climb the grand multiple steps while wearing two heavy trains.

  “Arrived at the palace after ascending with great difficulty in the adjustment of my trappings.”

  At least she made it on time.

  “I was received by a gentleman and shown in a long and large hall in which I found Countess Litta superbly dressed and covered with diamonds. . . . She received me very kindly—Told me that I was to be presented to the reigning empress first.”

  Empress Elizabeth was married to Emperor Alexander. Putting Louisa in the center of a hall, which faced a large folding door, Litta told her what to expect. “[She] informed me that the empress would enter by that door and that I must stand unmoved until Her Imperial Majesty walked up to me.”

  Cue number one was simple: stand as still as one of the palace’s marble pillars and then move when the empress moves. The next cue was pretentious.

  “When she came up I must affect to kiss her hand which Her Majesty would not permit.” While merely pretending to kiss the empress’s hand, she must make it look real by removing her glove. She must also “take care in raising my head not to touch Her Majesty.”

  After telling her to practice, Litta sat next to a window to watch.

  “Naturally timid I felt as if I was losing all my composure and with difficulty could command the tremor.”

  The room was ornamented with marble columns kissed with gilding on top. Standing at the door were two turbaned African servants dressed “a la Turk with splendid uniforms.” They were “stationed at the doors with drawn sabers with gold handles.”

  Then the doors opened, revealing a long suite of rooms, two more African servants, and the grand marshal, who also wore a brilliant costume. As they started walking toward her, she saw a regal strawberry blond man in a splendid uniform next to the empress, and a slender brunette boasting brown, Grecian-style hair. Behind them was a long train of ladies and gentlemen.

  Who was the man next to the empress? The closer they came toward her, the more reality set in. She couldn’t believe it. She was being introduced to Alexander too. No message, no note, no one could prepare her for this.

  “As their imperial Majesties passed the door the grand marshal fell back and the doors were nearly closed and they approached me.”

  Louisa stood stock-still while the royal pair approached. A quick glance at the empress’s dress, of the same style but grander, made her relax. She had chosen the right attire. A longer stare might have made her feel as if she were looking in a mirror. With light brown hair and large eyes, Empress Elizabeth looked a lot like Louisa.

  “The emperor was in uniform and the empress like myself in a rich court dress.”

  She pretended to kiss their hands and dared not lift her head lest she accidentally touch them. When the ceremonial bowing was over, she relaxed a little and followed her hosts’ cues. The emperor took charge of the conversation.

  Louisa spoke to him in French.

  “I think the audience was of about fifteen minutes ending with some complimentary words and they withdrew as they came and I remained in the same position until the doors were re-closed—And thus ended act the first.”

  In that moment she probably wanted to throw off her costume’s trappings, especially her train, but her introductions were not quite complete.

  “Countess Litta who had never approached during the ceremony came up and congratulated me on the success of introduction and said the rest of it would be more simple.”

  Much more relaxed for the next introduction, Louisa reflected, “We then went to the apartments of the empress mother, everything
superb but not so elaborate and there, knowing my lesson, I was more at my ease.”

  The empress mother tested her knowledge of St. Petersburg. Louisa also detected condescension in the woman’s questions.

  “She received me very graciously and evidently expected to quiz my ignorance, putting many questions to me.”

  The empress mother didn’t realize that although Louisa represented America, she had seen much of Europe’s grandeur.

  “I expressed in strong language my admiration of everything and mentioned that I had seen London, Paris, Berlin, and Dresden, &cc but that I had certainly [seen] no city that equaled St. Petersburg in beauty.”

  The empress responded, “Ah mon Dieu vous avez tout vue,” meaning, “My God, you have seen it all!”

  The empress mother said she hoped to see Louisa again soon. After meeting the emperor’s teenage sister, Louisa’s Cinderella moment ended.

  “At last I returned home with an additional budget of new ideas almost as oppressive and unsuitable as my robes—I was very much fatigued with all this variety of agitation but Madame Litta gratified me by intimating that I had got through very well.”

  Louisa recorded with amusement in her journal that “the savage had been expected!!” by the empress mother.

  No sooner did she remove her fancy fig leaves than another invitation from the palace arrived. They were summoned to a ball.

  Suddenly their new reality was clear. With successful introductions behind them, the relationship between the United States and Russia next hinged on whether or not John and Louisa could survive the first ball of St. Petersburg’s social season.

  15

  Loneliness and Splendor

  LONELINESS AND SPLENDOR DANCED BEFORE THEIR EYES AS THEY entered the large hall, though it wasn’t clear which was in the lead. Yet they were hardly alone. More than 250 people attended this ball, which Count Romanzoff gave for the empress mother at his Winter Palace Square mansion on November 14, 1809.

  “I did not know a creature in the room,” Louisa wrote of the scene.

  Privilege followed presentation. After being formally introduced, the Adamses could now officially socialize with the imperial family and their court. Louisa started the evening with more confidence than a few days earlier, when her husband’s attachés laughed at her attire before she met the empresses. Although she wore the same dress for this ball, she had it altered.

  “I was dressed in a silver tissue which was all fixed on me by a French dressmaker,” Louisa recalled of trying to make her only formal dress look different than it had for her presentation. “And when I appeared before our young party it was approved.”

  Such a reassuring response eased her insecurity faster than a chocolate truffle could satisfy her sweet tooth. “I started in tolerable spirits.”

  As she saw the empress mother at the ball, she couldn’t help fretting. Did the condescending woman notice that she was wearing the same dress?

  At first the scene before them rang familiar. Though not true déjà vu, the sight of guests glittering in their finest garments was as recognizable as the golden carriages lining the street outside.

  “But it resembled in every respect the parties of a similar kind which we often attended in Berlin, where the king and royal family of Prussia were present,” John described.

  Nonetheless the exiled Americans still felt as out of place as a tuba in a string quartet. They looked closely at the strangers surrounding them. The attire of the other guests simply shocked their senses. John and Louisa had seen splendor before, but they had never seen anything like this. In Prussia they may have seen one or two Cinderellas at a ball. Here they saw at least a hundred fairy-tale princesses.

  Louisa zeroed in on the key difference immediately: texture versus sparkle. Her gauzelike silver tissue dress was pretty. In contrast many ladies were so covered in diamonds that their dresses seemed to disappear from the blinding bling.

  John noticed that diamonds weren’t just for females: “At this, however, the dresses were more splendid; and the profusion of diamonds and other precious stones worn both by the men and women, as well as of ribbons, blue and red, was greater than I have ever witnessed anywhere.”

  How could they possibly fit into so much extravagance? Moving to another city isn’t easy, no matter the century or continent. Loneliness is a common denominator for newcomers. Unless the ball is a masquerade, few enjoy being strangers at a party.

  Not only were they new, but they were also foreigners—savage Americans at that. Europeans vacillated between stereotyping Americans as either Indians or Britons. No amount of wine could numb their minds from their new reality. John and Louisa were simultaneously newcomers, strangers, and native English speakers.

  As they compared their simple formal fig leaves to the splendor surrounding them, they had no choice but to dive into the water. Would their ability to speak French suffice? Would the other guests be as warm as the palace’s fifteen thousand wax candles? Or would they be as cold as the Neva River in the arctic winter?

  “As almost total strangers we found this ball somewhat tedious,” John noted.

  Louisa felt more isolated than her husband, who no longer played Prince Charming by dancing with her as he did till 5:00 a.m. during their courtship at her birthday ball in London. Romance was not on his mind. Tonight John had a job to do. After spending hours dropping cards at their homes, he needed to get to know his fellow diplomats. Putting aside his giant mind, he engaged in small talk. He needed his wife to do the same.

  While John conversed, Louisa desperately scanned the room for a familiar face. She could count on one hand the number of people she had ever spoken with before: her husband, the emperor, the empress, and the empress mother—hardly enough to occupy her time.

  Suddenly she saw her. Louisa recognized one woman, an English-speaking lady she'd met previously at Madame de Bray’s. Seeing Louisa, the woman invited her to join some ladies in another room. Not long after she entered, the room suddenly grew quiet.

  “The emperor followed us.” Not only did Alexander join them, but he also “politely offered us wine.” Because he could do so without violating any customs, he took advantage of the moment and spoke to Louisa.

  “He entered into conversation with me.”

  What a thrill! Although it wasn’t exactly like Prince Charming dancing with Cinderella, Russia’s reigning czar took a polite but pleasant interest in the wife of the new US minister. She may have felt alone, but at least she spoke to the most important person in the room. He made her feel at ease.

  A Russian countess of the day described Alexander’s appearance, benevolence, and charisma this way: “[He] won all hearts and instantly inspired confidence. His tall, noble majestic figure, often stooping graciously like the pose of an ancient statue, was already threatening to become stout, but he was perfectly formed.”

  The emperor’s gregarious nature; fresh, ruddy complexion; deep-set, blue, mysterious eyes; straight nose; and boyish grin were as appealing and intoxicating as his best wine. The countess’s description elevated him to near Greek-god status. “His forehead was slightly bald, giving to his whole countenance an open and serene expression, and his hair—which was golden blond in color—was carefully groomed as on the heads of classical cameos or medallions so that it seemed made to receive a triple crown of laurel, myrtle, or olive.”

  After briefly conversing with His Majesty, Louisa returned to the ballroom, where she saw another familiar face, Mr. Harris, whose demeanor was more uptight than usual. “Mr. Harris at last arrived—He [his carriage] had been upset [overturned] and was obliged to return home and dress.”

  With John busy conversing, Harris rescued lonely Louisa.

  “He asked me to dance a polonaise.” This dance’s noble elegance made it popular. Each partner maintains a straight upright posture as the pair processes up and down the room. Smooth and graceful hand gestures add grace to their movements. The couples proudly hold their heads high and bow a
s each passes under the lead couple’s elevated hands.

  As the newcomer, Louisa was all too aware that the moment she started dancing with Harris, people would whisper, wondering who she was. Because she wasn’t fluent in Russian, she wouldn’t have the advantage of understanding them. All she could do was count the music’s triple time and hope her feet followed.

  “I was much afraid I should blunder but I soon fell into the step and made out without mortifying my fastidious partner.”

  Louisa had not forgotten Berlin’s or Boston’s best ballrooms, where her brother-in-law Thomas often danced with her in place of her dance-averse husband. From the babble and banter of different languages to the polonaise’s melodies, the noise echoed throughout the halls. The crowd was having a good time, and John was finding some social success too. “The emperor and empress mother spoke, I believe, to all the foreign ministers,” he observed.

  This was still not the time to ask the czar to help the Americans stranded in Denmark. The work of a new diplomat at a party was to socialize. By doing so, he could possibly make a good first impression and, just maybe, build a little trust.

  “He [the emperor] asked me some questions about my former visit to St. Petersburg,” John recalled. “I told him that I had been attached to a legation from the United States, which was not received here, it being in the time of the American war.”

  The emperor said that “must have been an interesting period of our history.”

  In different ways Alexander’s friendliness eased both Louisa’s and John’s loneliness. One person who hardly seemed lonely was the French ambassador. The dashing Caulaincourt’s gait was cool and easy. He wore confidence as splendidly as he bore ribbons from Napoleon on his gilded coat. While Adams found the diplomats from Holland and Spain cordial and pleasant, he detected aloofness in Caulaincourt’s superficial charms.

  Until now loneliness led this dance with splendor, but dinner reversed the course. The smell of food literally fit for a king lured them to the most abundant supper they had ever beheld. Magnificence reigned above all. Louisa did not record whether the meat was dry or moist, the bread was crusty on the outside and gooey on the inside, or the fruit was tart or sweet. What stood out to her was the splendor of the service—the trays. “There were fifteen supper tables . . . that of the corps diplomatique with silver.”