The invitation of the Emperor of Russia was remembered and acted upon the following year. This visit was the summit of earthly splendour and success to which Rachel was to attain. It reads like a fairy tale, with its princes and palaces, and jewels, and sunshine; but we must tell it in her own words. The first letter is written to her mother from Warsaw:—
What weather! What a delightful journey! Not a drop of rain, not a moment cold enough to necessitate the closing of the carriage-window. Everywhere I am recognised and treated with respectful courtesy. I like Polish cooking, it reminds me of our Jewish stews. You know the fatigue I went through in Paris the last seven or eight weeks. I have slept so well in the little bed of the railway carriage, that I am quite rested. I have heard so much about Poland, its greatness and its fall! and, also, I think I am half a Pole in heart through my little Alexander. My attention was riveted on everything I saw on my way from the station to the hotel. I listen to every word said around me; and with all my heart I pity this brave people, deprived of the greatest blessing, its liberty.
She wrote to her sister Sarah, from St. Petersburg, one of her amusing letters:—
