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A Li T H i f 
 
 LOWTH, GEORGE 
 
 TITLE: 
 
 AROUND THE KREMLIN 
 
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 DATE: 
 
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 ^ CHAPTER I. 
 
 ^ Charms of Moscow— Growth and Progress of the City— Hostile Inva- 
 sions—Successful Defence of Moscow -St. Petersburg a Town of 
 Yt^stenlay— The Invasion of 1812— Impressions on entering the old 
 Muscovite Capital— Its Position -The Moskwa-The Sparrow HiUs 
 -1 articB of Pleasure- View of the City-The Battle of Borodino 
 — \\ ho were the Victors ?— A Proud Moment for Napoleon -Wihia 
 — Energy of the Russian Defence-Napoleon in the Palace of 
 Feterhoff— Remarkable Contrast— Humiliation of the Invaders— 
 Retreat of the French— Dispersion and Destruction of the Grand 
 Army — Moscow Avenged ^ 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Extent of Moscow-The Kremlin-The Kitai Gorod, or Chinese Town 
 —streets and Boulevards— Moscow contrasted with other Great 
 Cities— A City of Cottages— House of a Russian Nobleman- The 
 1 easant s Cottage— General Appearance of the City— Walk from 
 the Palanka Square— Broad and Noisy l^horoughfare-Country Life 
 m the City-^Quiet Streets-Pleasant Houses and their Tenants- 
 A 1 rofessional IV usician-Russian Churches— Novel and Picturesque 
 Appearance of the Streets-Scenes of Russian Life-Beautiful Little 
 Church-Aristocratic Street-Change in Russian Society-New 
 Quarter of the Noblesse j x^cw 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 The Kremlin-The External Wall and Towers-The Moskwa^Fine 
 LspUma^le, and \ lew from it-An Historical Question— ^Ihe Nichol- 
 
 .{• ^H-^^f "P^T ^7 the Emperor Alexander-Russian Super- 
 stition- 1 he Arsenal-New Law Courts and Government Offices- 
 
 rrophies of the Campaign of 1812-Unnecessary Precaution-The 
 ^l -l^e Imperia Palace-The Sacred Gateway-The Towers 
 Til 'J'.^^ J7^»7^^1^ki-The -Czar Kolokol "-Panoramic View 
 of the (^ity-Cxreat Number of Churches and Cupolas— Old Resi- 
 ^^^f 7.U H, ^o^anoffs-Ancient Palace of the Ruriks-National 
 1 ride ot the Russians • • . . . 94 
 
 CHAPTER ir. 
 
 The Present Emperor-The Emperor Nicholas-Entrance into Moscow 
 by the St Petersburg Road— Ihe Emperor^s Route— Chapel of the 
 T'\~ ^^^'''^\ V\^\.xxx^ of the Iberian Mother— Bonds of S™- 
 pathy between the Empf^or and the People of Moscow-His Ortho- 
 ciox Fiety— His Appreciation of Kalatsch— The Palace of the 
 Lmpress-Devotion to the - Iberian Mother^'-Daily Scenes at her 
 hhrine— Sum annually collected by Voluntary Offerinirs- Visits of 
 
 —An Act of Sacrilege— The Criminal and her Punishment 36 
 
 
 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 VU 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A Walk in Moscow and its Environs— Church of St. Sauveur — Curious 
 Little Chapel— Cavalry Barracks — Inconvenient Position of the 
 Horses in the Stables — Something like a Personal Affront — Culti- 
 vation of a small Gourcl used by the Russians — Women at Work — 
 A Russian Gardener and his Subonlinates — The Devitchei Convent 
 —The External Wall and Towers— The Church, Bell Tower, &c.— 
 Burial Places — The Congregation and Service — The '' Queteuse" — 
 Dispersion of the Congregation — '^ Une Affaire Tenebreuse" — The 
 Papa 53 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The CoW of Northern Russia — Cattle let out to Pasture — A Cow on 
 its way Home — Climate and Productions of Little or Southern 
 Russia— The Extent of Moscow— The Thief Market— The Police 
 of Moscow — Robberies and Burglaries — Purchasers of Stolen Goods 
 — Scenes of Real Life in Russia — Men of the ^Market — Speculating 
 in Old Clothes— Ingenious Thieves and Ingenuous Victims — Sale of 
 Stolen Goods — Not for the Market — Russian Character — A Ilard- 
 won Victory . 69 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 Beds in Hotels — Rapid Improvement — Russian Noblemen on their 
 Travels in Former Days — Change produced by Railways — M. 
 Dusaux's Hotel and Cuisine — Interior of a Russian Hotel — View 
 from my Window on the Boulevard — Carriages — The Public 
 Rooms — Russian Waiters — Devotional Character of the People — 
 Scene at Wilna — National Costume — Property held by Serfs — A 
 Cossack Chief — Peasants on their way to Market — Riding and 
 Driving — A Carriage of Primitive Construction — Adventure with a 
 *^ Spider" 86 
 
 CHAPTER Vm. 
 
 The Foundling Hospital — Extent and Purpose of the Establishment — 
 Crown Governesses — Russian Capacity for Governing — A Sunday 
 Visit to the Hospital — The Buildings and Grounds — Internal Ar- 
 rangements — Courtesy of an Official — The Chapel — The Pupils in 
 Uniform — ^"llie Service — Tlie Priest — The Responses — The Nurseries 
 — Costume of the Nurses — The Superintendents — Messengers, Ser- 
 vants, and Attendants — The Nurses at Dinner — Number of Orphans 
 received daily — Another Visit to the Chapel — The Choir — 'Tlie 
 Papa— Theatrical Manner of the Russo-Greek Priests — The Gallery 
 of Paintings — The Play Room • 105 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Count L His Proficiency in the English Language — Invited to 
 
 visit his Estate — Journey in a Tarantass — Social Courtesy — Agri- 
 culture in Russia — Russian Villages — The Cottages of the Peasantry 
 — Family Party — The Law of Inheritance — Large Families — 'i'he 
 Subdivision of Property — Reduced Nobles — The Abolition of Serf- 
 dom — Russian Soldiers— Nobles and Serfs — Abuse of Power — Ar- 
 rangement of the House — Grooms and Horses v. Wife and Children 
 — South Downs — Horses and Cattle — Rotation of Crops — Extensive 
 Ganlens — Reminiscences of the Count — The Family Roof-tree — 
 Impromptu Dinner in the Wood 129 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Return to Moscow— The Count's Tarantass and Three Marea— The 
 Coachman — Effect of Freedom on the Russian Peasantry — Unsettled 
 State of the Country — A Nobleman's Mansion — Appearance of the 
 Country— High-road&— Free and Easy Bathing— A Russian Inn- 
 Passion for Tea— Domestic Arrangements— The Great House Stove 
 — " Gone to Bed" — Vodka— Curious Illustration of Russian Police 
 Law— Law of Trover— Piety and Pilfering— The Difficulties of 
 Driving — Safe on the Pave i5g 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 TheTwerskaia— The Palace of Count Rostopchin— The Great Radiating 
 Streets of Moscow— The St. Petersburg Gateway— The Promenade 
 —The Carriage Drivers— The '^ West End" of Moscow— ACompanion 
 at my alfresco Luncheon— Russian Children of the Upper Classes 
 —Life of Young Gentlemen— The Petrofski Palace— The Main 
 Edifice and Detached Buildings— The Baffled Conqueror— An 
 Officer and his Wife— MiHtary Exercises— Russian Soldiers and 
 Officers— The Moscow World in the Petrofski Park— Tea under the 
 Elms ••..... 173 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 The Paving of Moscow— Trial of Wood and of Stone Flags— Ornamental 
 ViUas— Houses erected by Government— Road-making in Russia— 
 Ihe Agricultural College— The Officer appointed to conduct me 
 over the Establishment— The Cow Stables— Dutch and Swiss Cattle 
 —Steam Engines and Machinery— Farm Horses— The Farm- 
 Museum, Library, and Lecture Rooms— How the Property was 
 acquired by Government— An Apothecarv who made a good iob 
 of It— Russian Employes— Church of the College— A Russian Re- 
 freshment—Restaurant on the Kitai Boulevard— Change in the 
 Education of Young Nobles ] 93 
 
 CHAPTER Xm. 
 
 llie Convent Simonoff-Extent and Wealth of the EstabUshment in 
 Former Times-Day of St. Sergius, and Fair at the Convent- 
 Superb BeU-tower-Varieties of Cost imie- Young Gamblers- 
 Interior of the SimonoflF-The Superior-IIis Reception by the 
 Crowd-- Devoured with Kisse8"-The Church-Earnest Devotion 
 u AT^ .^'T^yi^Z ^'''''^ }^ BeU-tower— Disappearance of my 
 ^it^^^T^f Af f '''^ ^^^r-^^^ ^^^*^ proper-Tea-drinking 
 Booths-Sale of Melons and Honey-Beggars-Organ- Grinders-^ 
 l?emale Shop-keepers of Moscow— Chorus-singing . . 210 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Kitai Gorod-The Bazaare-Their Great Extent-The Shop-keepers 
 -1 laying at Draughts-Commerce in '^ the Rows"-^ewish Money- 
 dealers— The Balance of Trade— Drain and Hoarding of the Pre- 
 cious Metals-Exhaustion produced by the Crimean War-Com- 
 parative Value of Silver and Paper Roubles-Prevalence of Forgery 
 --Cunosities of Russian Finance-Objections to War on the Part 
 
 li "^li^r^^"^? ^ ."^^ *^^ ^^^" ^^^y ^^ Fanaticism of the Re- 
 hgious Party— Questionable Practices . . . .231 
 
 ^. . CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Visit to Nijni Novgorod-Travelling in Russia in Old Times -Carriages 
 
 i\ 
 
 li 
 
 f r 
 
vm 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 on Russian Railways — Persistent Smokers — The Passion for Tea- 
 Convenient Arrangement — My First Impression of Nijni — Peculi- 
 arities of the Fair — Affluence of Foreign Merchants— 'J'he Chinese 
 Row —life of the Merchants during the Fair — Roads in Russia — 
 Cossacks — Magnificent View from the Plateau — Vessels in the 
 River — Former Importance of Xijni — Curious Story relating to the 
 Sacred Bell of Nijni — En Gargon at the Fair — A Russian recherche 
 Dinner— Visit to the landlord's Fish -Wells— The Tea-Stores— 
 Shops and Shopping — A Noble and his Wife — Decline of Nijni 245 
 
 riTAT'Trn xvi. 
 
 Profligacy of Russian Nobles —Extenuating Circumstances— Benevolence 
 of the Higher Orders — 'Hie Galitzin and Foundling Hospitals — Visit 
 to Hospital founded by the Sheremaytieff Family— The Building, 
 Apartments, and Gardens — Noble Endowment — The Dining Hall — 
 Inmates— The Sick, Maime<l, and Blind— Friendless Old Men— The 
 Women's Apartments — Anecdotes and Portraits — Apartments for 
 the Sick— General Hospital— The Governor's Room— Distribution 
 of Money ip Pensioners — Conversation with the Governor — Sum 
 annually expended by the Hospital — Societe Fraternelle — Noble Side 
 of the Russian Character 
 
 273 
 
 CHAPTER XVTT. 
 
 Visit to the Convent of Troitsa — Its Foundation, Destruction, and Re- 
 establishment — Historical Reminiscences connected with the Convent 
 — Napoleon's Attempt to seize the Building and its Treasures — The 
 Patriarch Philarete's First Railway Journey — ^The Town, the Valley, 
 and the Convent — Agricultural I^abour done by Women —The Col- 
 lege and Churches of Vefania — Residence of the Metropolitan Pla- 
 ton — Old Church — Representation of the Blount of Olives — Valuable 
 Paintings — The Tomb of Platon — The Church of Gethsemane — An 
 P^clesiastical Diversion or Feint — Appearance of the Metropolitan — 
 A Singular Monastery — Fanaticism in the Russo- Greek Church — 
 Recluses in Underground Cells — Religion and Usefulness . 293 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A New Investment for the Money of Plonks — The Walls of the Monas- 
 tery — Spacious Promenade — Interesting Serving Monk — Interior 
 of the Church — Gaudy Paintings — Restoration of Frescoes by an En- 
 thusiastic Merchant — An Ill-advised Monk — Sale of Holy Water — 
 The Day of St. Serge— The Baker's Shop— ITie Catheflral— Sale of 
 Candles, Images, and Oil — Rich Display of Pictures, Gold, Silver, 
 and Precious Stones — The Treasury — Dining Hall of the Monks — 
 Primitive Hospitality — The Hospital — The Dying Monks — The 
 (Jreek Monk — Differences in ^lonkish Life —The Bloodstaintxi 
 Tower — A Monk's Cell — Ecclesiastical Academy . .313 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Administration of Justice — Bribery in some cases Discountenancefl — The 
 Bureaucracy — Causes of the Low Morale of Public Officials — Insuf- 
 ficient Salaries — No Public Opinion— Frequenters of the Hotel Du- 
 saux— A Sign of the Times— The Levelling Process— language of 
 the Upper Classes— Intolerance at the Opera— Native Literature — 
 llie Works of Lermontoff, Pouchkine, &c.— (irowth of National 
 Sentiment — Serfdom and Freeilom— New State of Things— Rise of 
 a National History, Drama, Fiction, ami Music . . . 338 
 
 AitUiJND THE KRE 
 
 j^ 
 
 X. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Charms of Moscow— Growth and Progress of the City— Hostile Inva- 
 sions—Successful Defence of ]\foscow— St. Petersburg a Town of 
 Yesterday— The Invasion of 1812— Impressions on entering the old 
 Muscovite Capital— Its Position -The Moskwa— The Sparrow Hills 
 —Parties of Pleasure— View of the City— The Battle of Borodino 
 —Who were the Victors ?— A Proud Moment for Xapoleon— Wilna 
 —Energy of the Russian Defence— Napoleon in the Palace of 
 Peterhoff— Remarkable Contrast— Humiliation of the Invaders- 
 Retreat of the French— Dispersion and Destruction of the Grand 
 Army — Moscow Avenged. 
 
 rpHERE is a charm peculiar to Moscow among the 
 -^ cities of the world. It is in itself the centre of 
 the history of a people— a people one day fated to 
 play a great part in the drama of the future. But at 
 present the charm of Moscow is in its past story and 
 in its present life. The interest of the past story of 
 the city arises out of its peculiar position as the con- 
 necting link between the East and the West. In this 
 Its situation is something analogous to that of Con- 
 stantinople, standing upon the confines of two divis- 
 
 l\^ 
 
2 MOSCOW. 
 
 ions of the earth, and thus it lias had to bear the dis- 
 cords of different races and to be the scene of the 
 conflicts of opposing peoples. Moscow grew up from 
 a collection of small villages to a town in tlie midst 
 of warring and half barbarous tribes ; and thus, as it 
 increased in concentration, and therefore in import- 
 ance, it was sometimes attacked by Polish forces from 
 the west, partly with the ambitious object of the so- 
 vereigns of Warsaw to extend their possessions east- 
 ward over the Muscovite plains, and partly out of 
 fear of the threatening increase of strength of the 
 populations accumulating on their exposed and east- 
 ern border. At other times the country round was 
 invaded from the east, and Tartar hordes came up in 
 overwhelming masses to the walls, and bursting over 
 them devoted the unhappy place to sack and pilhige. 
 These latter were actuated by no motives such as 
 those which led the Poles up to the gates of Moscow 
 — motives of possession and increase of national 
 strength. These were only lured from their tents 
 and their wild plains on the Don by the hopes of 
 plunder and the gratification of their instincts of de- 
 struction. But the hardy sons of Muscovy, thougli 
 often beaten by the Poles, and frequently despoiled 
 bv the Tartar hordes, yet rose from their defeats in 
 
 
 INVASION 0¥ 1812. 5 
 
 renewed strength, as Antasus from his mother earth, 
 until, becoming the nucleus of a nation, they were 
 able to beat off their enemies both on the east and on 
 the west, and, becoming the victors in the place of 
 the vanquished, they threw back the armies of Po- 
 land on the one side and the horsemen of the Don 
 on the -other, and following the rule of the law of the 
 strong and the weak they forced all their former ene- 
 mies to submission. It is thus in and around Mos- 
 cow that tlie story of Russia is to be read. St. Peters- 
 burg is but tlie modern town of yesterday. It is as 
 yet but the port of Russia, an imperfect city, and 
 bearing in all its accessories the marks of a new town. 
 Even Peter could not make at once a capital city in 
 
 all its completeness by even liis iron and domineering^ 
 will. 
 
 But Moscow, with all its ancient story, would have 
 but a minor interest in our modern eyes and in our 
 western Europe, and but a weak hold upon our re- 
 gards, were it not for one great modern fact— the 
 march of Napoleon in 1812, the burning of the city, 
 and his retreat. This is the one event which gives 
 Moscow its prominent place in our thoughts of to-da}'. 
 You cannot separate yourself, as you look at and 
 think of the city, from this grand and tragic circum. 
 
 B 2 
 
POSITION. OF MOSCOW. 
 
 VIEW OF THE CITY. 
 
 I 
 
 ! 
 
 stance. The grandeur of the enterprise, the amazing 
 proportions of the undertaking, the consummate skill 
 of the arrangement, the energy of the conduct of the 
 plan, the sublimity of the defence, the tragic failure, 
 and the heroism under ruin — all these are the fea- 
 tures of the picture to which Moscow owes the renown 
 and the glory stamped upon the modern mind. 
 
 You are at the entrance of Moscow, and according- 
 ly, with your mind still full of the haunting story, the 
 first thing you do is to unburthen your thoughts of 
 that subject, to give them full swing, and to satisfy 
 their demands by visiting at once the scenes of the 
 drama, which are still to be distinctly recognised, be- 
 fore you give yourself up to the enjoyment of the 
 place and its varied beauties. Moscow stands in the 
 middle of a waving country, upon a succession of low 
 hills, much the same in elevation as those on which 
 London stands. The river Moskwa, about as broad 
 as the Thames at Windsor, runs into it from the 
 north-west, and forming a small loop flows out again 
 in the direction of south-west. On this western side, 
 at a distance of three miles from the barrier, rises a 
 hill, or succession of hills, of no great height. These 
 are the Sparrow Hills, and at their foot flows the 
 Moskwa. There is a small village on the ridge, and 
 
 a few private houses of gentlemen stand on it on 
 either side of the village and look down over the 
 river towards the city. There are some small wooden 
 buildings along the road-side in front of the village, 
 and these are used by people from the city — parties 
 of pleasure who come up to the Sparrow Hills to en- 
 joy their tea or dine, and to look out from the veran- 
 dahs over their sacred and glittering Mo§cow. The 
 position, the broken and green and grassy slope with 
 trees and shrubs at intervals, puts one in mind of 
 Richmond Hill. The height from the water to the 
 houses is about the same in both ; but instead of run- 
 ning like the Thames in a straight line across the 
 wide expanse of country below, the Moskwa comes 
 up from the left hand with a circular sweep, passes 
 along at tlie foot of the hill, and then descends again 
 by a similar bend to the right, and continues in sio-ht 
 until it is concealed by the houses and bridges of the 
 city at a distance of about three miles. 
 
 From this height the whole of Moscow lies spread 
 out before you as a map. You can see every part of 
 it to its extremities, can mark every rise and fall oi 
 the numerous hills, its endless pinnacles and cupolas 
 glittering in the sun, its towers, its bright-coloured 
 houses, and its universal gardens. With your back to 
 
BATTLE OF BORODINO. 
 
 I 
 
 f 
 
 the west you look to the north, over the river to the 
 race-course and to the plain where the white tents of 
 the troops form a canvas town, and to the PeterhofF 
 Palace, — over the Kremlin and its gilded towers 
 right in front of you to the east, and over tlie for- 
 tress-like Convents of SimonofF and Novospaski, and 
 the Sokolniki gardens and pine forests to the south. 
 Behind you to the west is Borodino, — with your 
 thoughts still full of the great tragedy of Moscow you 
 cannot but think of Borodino. At about forty miles 
 distance is that famous village near which Koutou- 
 sofF, the Russian Commander, halted liis army on a 
 low and broken ridge of hills and fouglit the battle 
 with Napoleon, in which 80,000 men are declared to 
 have fallen on the two sides, and the result of which 
 opened the way for the French Emperor to Moscow. 
 It may be said here en passant that both sides claimed 
 the victory. Napoleon, of course, did so, as he did 
 on all occasions ; and Segur relates in detail the cir- 
 cumstances of the battle from the French view of it. 
 But Ker Porter and KoutousofF claim the complete vic- 
 tory for the Russians, stating that Napoleon retreated 
 some miles from the ground after the battle of tlie 
 7th September and only advanced again after receiv- 
 ing his reinforcements, when KoutousofF, acting on a 
 
 A PROUD MOMENT FOR NAPOLEON. 7 
 
 preconcerted plan with Rostopchin, the Commandant 
 of Moscow, again retreated, and thus left the city 
 open. 
 
 However this may be, the French came on in a few 
 days, and on the 15th September their leading files 
 came up tlie slope from the west to the Sparrow Hills ; 
 and from this height they raised their shout of triumph 
 and exultation, '^ Moscow ! Moscow!" at the sightof that 
 brilliant city, tlie end and apparent reward of all their 
 labours, lying at their feet. As he stood there, sur- 
 rounded by his generals and his troops, it must have 
 been a proud moment for Napoleon, for no grander 
 or more beautiful city exists anywhere on the earth 
 than was this now before him. Tlie diameter of it 
 from north to south is about six miles, and from the 
 Sparrow Hill the whole of this extent without a break 
 was under his eye ; and the possession of such a city, 
 the capital of a great people, filled, as he could see, 
 with almost unnumbered churches, and, as he would 
 naturally suppose, with merchandize of the East and 
 West and private possessions of the great Russian 
 bankers and nobles, would appear to him to be a prize 
 of almost incalculable wealth in money and money's 
 worth, as well as a diadem of glory to France. 
 
 Standing there and gazing on that glorious scene 
 
8 
 
 THE RUSSIAN DEFENCE. 
 
 REMARKABLE CONTRAST. 
 
 1 1 
 
 i 
 
 I could not but imagine for the moment the position 
 and the pride of the great Emperor. And then I went 
 back over the story of the advance, the sudden pas- 
 sage of the Niemen by Kowno — that fatal Rubicon — 
 and the march to Wilna — pretty Wilna, lying in its 
 hollow among picturesque and wooded hills — when 
 all was bright before the French leader and his usual 
 fortune smiled on him. Then, too, the Russians had 
 not yet begun to burn their villages and towns and 
 lay waste their country, as they did when he advanc- 
 ed to Witepsk and Smolensk, and showed to him with 
 what fierce and relentless hatred they sacrificed every- 
 thing to destruction in their magnificent energy of 
 hostility to his invasion of their country. 
 
 At about a mile distance from the northern gate on 
 my left there was visible, at the edge of the great 
 military plain, the Palace of PeterhofF, to which Na- 
 poleon had gone after viewing the city from the Spar- 
 row Hills, and where he remained for two days in 
 vain expectation of the authorities of Moscow coming 
 out to him, as usual in similar circumstances, with 
 the keys of the town — a deputation of the conquered 
 to the victor, to beg for clemency. But then how little 
 he understood what the Russian people had resolved 
 on ! No deputation came ; and with angry words 
 
 upon his lips and with sad presentiments of coming 
 evil in his heart, he entered the city and the Krem- 
 lin ; and then only he learned, by the fire bursting out 
 almost simultaneously in many quarters, even in the 
 Kremlin itself, under what totally new and savage cir- 
 cumstances his invasion was to be met by a united, 
 and a devoted, and an infuriated nation. 
 
 As I descended the hill homewards I could not help 
 thinking, so beautiful was the scene from that height, 
 so peaceful in its repose and so bright and shining in 
 the rays of the afternoon summer sun, how glad a 
 contrast it was to that sublime but terrific spectacle 
 on those days of September in 1812, when that same 
 city was wrapped from end to end, here in sheets of 
 flame, and there in rolling masses of suffocating 
 smoke, sacrificed by its inhabitants that loved it on 
 the altar of their country. And as I went on, I could 
 think of nothing but the humiliation of the so lately 
 jubilant conquerors, as they turned their backs for 
 the last time, in their reluctant retreat, on those same 
 Sparrow Hills, with their faces towards France, that 
 France so dear to them, for which they had dared so 
 much, and which so few of them were ever to see 
 again. The devastated city was behind them, the 
 cry of vengeance everywhere around them, while 
 
 \ '-'^-^ 
 
10 
 
 MOSCOW AVENGED. 
 
 u < 
 
 i' 
 
 maddened hosts on every side destroying the destroyer 
 at every step with unsatisfied rage, until worse came 
 upon the doomed victims, worse than the Russian 
 swords, the icy hand of winter ; and then regiments 
 disbanded and dispersed to meet no more, and whole 
 divisions, in their exhaustion and despair, surrendered 
 themselves to their conquerors, with all their spoil, — 
 and Moscow was avenged. 
 
 But now let us forget the icy march of death, and 
 the shouts of the avenger, and go down from the hill 
 into the lovely and laughing city. 
 
 ^'< 
 
 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Extent of Moscow — The Kremlin — ^The Kitai Grorod, or Chinese Town 
 — Streets and Boulevards — Moscow contrasted with other Great 
 Cities — A City of Cottages — House of a Russian Nobleman — The 
 Peasant's Cottage — General Appearance of the City — Walk from 
 the Palanka Square — Broad and Noisy Thoroughfare — Country Life 
 in the City — Quiet Streets — Pleasant Houses and their Tenants — 
 A Professional Musician — Russian Churches — Novel and Picturesque 
 Appearance of the Streets — Scenes of Russian Life — Beautiful Little 
 Church — Aristocratic Street — Change in Russian Society — New 
 Quarter of the Noblesse. 
 
 ^ )SCOW is said to have a circuit of twenty miles. 
 
 ill 
 XI j^ Tlie centre of this, or nearly so, is the Kremlin 
 
 Hill, on the banks of the Moskwa. There is a broad 
 open space all round the Kremlin wall, and no build- 
 ings approach its sacred precincts. On the east side 
 of this hill, and beyond the great market-place, is a 
 curious small block or collection of houses and streets 
 called the Kitai Gorod, or Chmese town. This, too, 
 is enclosed and separated from the great city by its 
 own battlemented wall encircling it, and outside of 
 it is a broad boulevard laid out with trees and walks. 
 
12 
 
 ROUND THE KREMLIN. 
 
 RUSSIAN HOUSES. 
 
 13 
 
 i 11 
 
 Across this are market-places, large buildings, open 
 spaces, the theatres, gardens, the Foundling Hospital, 
 Hotels and Club Houses, bending round all the way 
 from the river Moskwa on the one side of the Kremlin 
 to the Moskwa again on the other. From this boule- 
 vard radiate many large streets to the barriers ; but 
 these streets are intersected at some little distance by 
 other boulevards, running in a circular direction all 
 through the city, also laid out with trees and walks ; 
 and ao-ain farther on bv still another, a third, boulevard 
 similar to the others. Thus the city is divided into 
 circles by these open spaces, which admit air and light 
 to all parts of it. But Moscow is a city unlike any 
 other capital. In the great cities of the world the 
 streets are throughout composed almost entirely of 
 large houses, and one street resembles another in the 
 general size and character of the buildings. One 
 street may be a little broader than its neighbour, and 
 the houses in the larger one may be of a more ornate 
 style than those of the smaller, a great thoroughfare 
 more imposing than the narrower cross street, but 
 still there is a general resemblance. But this is not the 
 case Vvdth Moscow. This mav be almost termed a city of 
 cottages. In fact the Russian house is a cottage, on a 
 small or a large scale according to the rank and afflu- 
 
 ence of the owner, and these form the greater part of 
 Moscow. The noble builds his house, in town or coun- 
 try, on a cottage plan. He raises a low wall of stone or 
 brick of some four feet in height, and on this he builds 
 a wooden house of one storey. It is long and wide, and 
 a passage or hall intersects it from one extremity to 
 the other, and the rooms on either hand open on to 
 this and communicate with each other. Often, too, 
 there is a small superstructure rising from the centre of 
 this wide basement, but this is generally only a small 
 addition — in fact, a small cottage built in the centre of 
 the top of a large one. Sometimes, but rarely, that 
 upper structure is as large as the lower one and forms a 
 complete one-storeyed house. But beyond this no truly 
 Russian house ever rises. A broad flight of steps in the 
 centre of the front leads up to the level of the floor 
 of the building at four feet from the ground, and a ve- 
 randah, deep and shaded, runs all along this front, and 
 sometimes this extends down the two sides to the back. 
 As a rule, the whole building is of wood. In the villages 
 the cottage of the peasant resembles in its essential 
 features the house of the noble. It has the flight of 
 steps, the verandah in front, and sometimes even the 
 miniature structure rising from the centre. These no- 
 ble cottages and peasant cottages form the greater part 
 
 ^1 
 
 V 
 
14 
 
 MAIN AND CROSS STREETS. 
 
 ; I 
 
 of Moscow. You should imagine a circular city the 
 centre of which are the Kremlin and the Kitai Gorod, 
 and that from this centre radiate a certain number of 
 broad thoroughfares running out to the different bar- 
 riers. These main streets are all from forty to fifty 
 feet in breadth in the central parts, but widen to sixty 
 and seventy, and even more, as they approach the bar- 
 riers. The buildings on either §ide of these are what 
 are always by the natives called stone houses, but are 
 in reality invariably brick, and they are all of only 
 one storey, with very rare exceptions, such as in the 
 case of some public buildings. Thus the houses being of 
 very low elevation and the streets broad, there is great 
 brightness through the city. But when you turn out of 
 anyone of these large thoroughfares into a cross street 
 you find yourself at once among village cottages. These 
 cross ways, which form a network in the large spaces 
 between one great thoroughfare and another, are the 
 prettiest and most quiet and retired little country re- 
 treats one can imagine. They are quite unique in their 
 repose and neatness, and their entire absence of the 
 noise and turmoil of the great city. For instance, 
 let us walk from the Palanka Square in the centre 
 of everything, close outside of the w^all of the Kitai 
 Gorod, and taking the street to the Post Office, 
 
 RUS IN URBE. 
 
 15 
 
 yii 
 
 distant only about half a mile, we come on it, 
 a large white building, standing far back from the 
 thoroughfare, in a fine court-yard seventy or eighty 
 yards in length and enclosed by a high iron railing 
 with gilded spear-points. Here we cross the next 
 boulevard, and immediately beyond it we turn out of 
 the broad and noisy thoroughfare leading to the Red 
 Gate and the Petei^burg railway station, a thorough- 
 fare always resoundin^^j with carts or droschkies or 
 carriages, and we find ourselves in a quiet, pretty, 
 retired street. A few yards farther on we turn 
 down what might be a lane in a country village. 
 On either hand are small cottages, the windows look- 
 ing on the street, but there is no doorway. To each 
 of them is a large gateway opening into a green and 
 grassy court and garden. As we walk by, the gate 
 being half open, perhaps, we look in, and witness a 
 quiet scene of the country. There are trees, two or 
 tliree small laburnums or acacias, and a flower-bed, 
 and cocks and hens are walking about on the grass 
 plot ; there is perliaps a cow, and the stable and 
 coach-house, and a man is pushing the rude tarantass 
 into tlie coacli-house. The women are seated on the 
 verandah, or on the steps leading down into the gar- 
 den, and the children are at play. It is a sunny spot, 
 
16 
 
 COUNTRY KESIDENCES. 
 
 ^A 
 
 w 
 
 fresh, and green, and bright, and quiet, as if fifty 
 miles from Moscow. The whole thing is of wood, 
 the house, the gateway, the garden palings, but no- 
 thing can look more neat or more home-like. Each, 
 in fact, is a little village domain. In the windows, 
 too, of some of them are flowers and books, and wo- 
 men sit in them at work. From end to end of this 
 lane is a succession of these country residences, and 
 in the far end one, of some little more pretension, 
 lives some official. It is in one of this kind of pretty 
 country houses that our British Consul lives, to whom 
 I take this opportunity of making my acknowledge- 
 ments for unvarying kindness and nmch valuable in- 
 formation. These quiet streets are all over Moscow, 
 lying between the great thoroughfares. 
 
 It was pleasant to stroll about among these seclud- 
 ed ways and watch the daily life of the xMuscovite?. 
 These cottages were all tenanted, and I was informed 
 that it was by no means an easy thing to obtain one 
 as a residence. They bear a very high rent ; they 
 are not shops, and are occupied many of them by 
 the families of tradesmen who have saved up a little 
 money and invested it in a Moscow cottao^e. Others are 
 let to officials, clerks in offices, or in houses of bank- 
 ers or merchants, of whom there is an extensive and 
 
 A MUSICIAN. 
 
 17 
 
 \ 
 
 wealthy body in the town. The general air of them 
 is good and bespeaks a tenancy of well-to-do people. 
 There are some of these quiet lanes within almost a 
 stone's throw of the Grand Opera House and of the 
 Kitai Gorod, quite in the centre of the town, and in 
 some of these the cottages are occupied evidently by 
 families quite of the humbler class. 
 
 One day I wandered along the great Boulevard to- 
 wards the river, and, attracted by the sound of music, 
 I turned up one of these small lanes and found myself 
 in a maze of pretty ornamented villas, all built in the 
 cottage style. A gate of one being open I looked 
 in, and from the open windows issued the sounds 
 which I had heard. The instrument was a piano and 
 the player a man. He was evidently a professional— 
 perhaps of the Grand Opera. Sometimes he let his 
 hands stray over the chords in that careless manner 
 so indicative of the musician, wandering irregularly 
 without order, and yet producing a wild and graceful 
 harmony; then striking, as if accidentally, two or 
 three notes of some well-known air of Mozart or Ros- 
 sini he followed it up for a few bars, his voice burst- 
 ing into the song with full, mellow, manly tones ; and 
 then as suddenly he ceased as he ran his fingers 
 rapidly over a dozen notes with a flourish, and then 
 
18 
 
 SUDDEN DIP INTO A VALLEY. 
 
 all was silent. I sat down upon a stone at the gate- 
 way, in the shade of a laburnum which hung over 
 the garden paling, and listened. A turn in the wind- 
 ing lane shut out the noisy boulevard at a little dis- 
 tance, and surrounded by trees and gardens and cot- 
 tages I could easily believe myself to be far away 
 from a capital city, and in a country village. It was 
 a hot August day, the smell of flowers came from the 
 gardens, the shade of the laburnum fell over me, and 
 then, at intervals, the musician got up from his seat 
 by the piano. I could hear him walk along the floor 
 humming some air, and then he would sit down 
 again, as some thought or fancy struck him, and 
 throw the fancy into music in his unstudied way, un- 
 til it ran on into some remembered air, when again 
 he would be unable to resist the temptation to pour 
 out a line or two of the Orphce aux Enfers in his na- 
 tive Russ. At this time this fine opera of Gluck was 
 being played at the Grand Opera House of Moscow 
 by native performers, many of whom have fine voices. 
 Sauntering on, I came presently to a turn of the 
 street, between a small church of rich ornamentation 
 ir ^ .me trees and palings, w^here was a sudden dip 
 of the ground into a valley, or gorge, which ran down 
 to the Muskwa on my right, and sloped up to the level 
 
 ^ 
 
 \ 
 
 ASPECT OF MOSCOW. 
 
 W 
 
 of the hill on my left. All this head of the valley, as 
 well as its sides, was laid out in cottage villas. On the 
 top of the ridge of hills rose up frequent churches, 
 each church with its five green or gilded cupolas and 
 its bell tower, tapering and graceful, the walls either 
 brilliant white or deUcate pink. All the houses bein^ 
 low, each in its garden, almost invariably with white 
 walls and green or red roof, the effect was singularly 
 bright and picturesque. The air of Moscow being 
 light, and dry, and strong, whatever smoke there may 
 rise from the chimneys, instead of hanging in mid air 
 as with us in our damp climate, is dispersed at once, 
 and the result is you see no smoke anywhere. In that 
 bright atmosphere the houses and churches thus con- 
 tinue externally for a long time clean, and the people 
 being fond of bright painting the general aspect of the 
 city is as if the whole population had just completed a 
 general painting of roofs, and walls, and chimneys. 
 As you come suddenly on these interiors of the town 
 from some hill top the efi^ect is something exceedingly 
 novel, and the first feeling is that Moscow is the most 
 picturesque and the most attractive city you have ever 
 seen. 
 
 As I stood there, leaning over a low paling by the 
 side of the lane — for it was a village lane much more 
 
 c 2 
 
20 
 
 COUNTRY LIFE IN THE CITY 
 
 than a city street, the hill-side was quite steep beyond 
 the paling, — a peasant woman came out of a small 
 rude wooden hut and called her cliickens about her 
 and fed them. These came hurrying at her call out 
 of two or three little out-houses, flying over some 
 tumble-down palings from the garden and wild 
 grounds down the slope below the yard ; and then 
 the children came out from somewhere, dirty and 
 healthy, and a small dog johied the company and 
 stretched himself in the sun. From where I stood 1 
 had a bird's-eye view down into these rustic premises 
 immediately under me. It was the very rudest coun- 
 try life in the midst of the city. Presently a noise be- 
 hind me made me turn round, and across the lane on 
 the steps up to the church door was an old man 
 sprinkling fir branches, or rather ends and tips of fir 
 branches, on the steps and into the doorway. Some 
 ceremony was being prepared for. But what a con- 
 trast was the rich church with the rude cabin and 
 garden across the lane ! The church was of a square 
 form outside. In the inside the arrangement was in 
 the usual form of the Greek Cross. Five gilded cu- 
 polas rose from its roof, but the sides were elaborate 
 with marbles and sculpture. It was an elegant little 
 building, the windows high up, square and Italian, 
 
 ^ 
 
 PLEASANT VILLAS. 
 
 21 
 
 marble pilasters projecting from the walls, and a nar- 
 row band of sculptured stone-work running round the 
 whole church below^ the windows, and another similar 
 one above them. The w^hole of it was fanciful and 
 pretty. Inside, too, it was bright with much gilding, 
 and was more like a pet private chapel in the coun- 
 trv than here within almost a stone's throw of the 
 Great Boulevard. 
 
 Skirting the church along the lane I came out on 
 the hill, and keeping on towards the outskirts of the 
 city I entered a long wide street, quite different from 
 any I had seen. Here were a succession of Italian 
 villas on both sides, — large imposing gateways, lofty 
 walls, and white one-storeyed houses with large gar- 
 dens and courts. In most of these a lon2^ line of win- 
 dows looked on tlie street from the line of elevation 
 of the top of the garden walls ; and here on this first 
 floor, the hel piano ^ were evidently the chief rooms of 
 the family, for in almost all of the houses I passed 
 there were ladies sitting by one or the other of these 
 windows, either at work or reading. In some cases 
 they were leaning out and talking. There were no 
 shops ; all were dwelling-houses. The street was 
 broad, silent, clean, and brilliant with summer sun. 
 Now and then its silence was broken by a droschky 
 
22 
 
 A TYPE OF SOCIAL CHANGE. 
 
 passing, or a more imposing carriage of one of the 
 dwellers in the street stopping at a gateway; and then 
 the big doors opened into a court, and the carriage 
 entered, the gates closed, and all was still again. The 
 whole thing was rich, exclusive, aristocratic. I found, 
 on inquiring, that this had once been one of the no- 
 blesse quarters, and these their houses ; but in late 
 years the nobles had, in their troubles, emigrated to 
 another quarter, and now these Italian villas were oc- 
 cupied by the rich commercials of Moscow. This was 
 a type of the change that is gradually going on in Rus- 
 sian society ; as a Russian gentleman one day said to 
 me, *' We are going down, and our estates and houses 
 are passing into the hands of the men of commerce." 
 
 Naturally, when the country estate is cut up and 
 divided, or sold, the Moscow palace, or villa, goes 
 too. In various parts of the city I subsequently saw 
 extensive buildings, once the gorgeous palaces of no- 
 bles, now fallen from their high estate. One of them, 
 a Sheiomaytief Palace, which had lately held one 
 hundred and fifty retainers of all kinds, a papa and a 
 chapel forming part of the establishment, was now in 
 the occupation of a commercial company, the grass 
 growing rank in the back courts and the flower-garden 
 running wild. 
 
 QUARTER OF THE NOBLESSE. 
 
 23 
 
 ,(i 
 
 The present quarter of the noblesse is nearer the 
 Kremlin, and the houses are pretty country villas in 
 gardens, many of them consisting only of a raised 
 ground-floor. They show that still the Russian gen- 
 tleman retains all his old love for the native style of 
 house. The streets of this new quarter of the no- 
 blesse are not broad, but as the houses are all low 
 and stand in gardens away generally from the street- 
 side, and as there is not much traffic along them, 
 there is a freshness and a brightness of the air and a 
 repose and soothing quiet which make a saunter 
 along them particularly pleasing. Here and there 
 children are about in the gardens, or domestics are 
 lazily occupied in the stable-yards cleaning the har- 
 ness by the stable door, or lounging about, enjoying 
 the ^'' far nienie,'' while the noisy hum of the busy 
 city is just audible beyond the precincts of the quar- 
 ter. Pretty and quiet as it is, however, it has not 
 the rich and imposing air of the old aristocratic quar- 
 ter now taken possession of by the men of commerce. 
 
24 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The Kremlin— The External Wall and Towers— The IMoskwa— Fine 
 Esplanade, and View from it— An Historical Question — The Nichol- 
 sky Gate— Inscription by the Emperor Alexander— Russian Super- 
 stition — The Arsenal — New Law Courts and Government Offices — 
 Trophies of the Campaign of 1812 — Unnecessary Precaution— The 
 "Tzar'' — The Imperial Palace— The Sacred Gateway — The Towers 
 and Bells of Ivan Veliki— The "Czar Kolokol"— Panoramic View 
 of the City— Great Number of Churches and Cupolas — Old Resi- 
 dence of the RomanofiFs— Ancient Palace of the Ruriks— National 
 Pride of the Russians. 
 
 j I UT, of course, one of the first places you go to 
 
 i i 
 
 * ' see is the Kremlin. It may be described as a 
 solitary hill in the midst of the city, inclosed by a 
 wall about a mile and a quarter in length. This wall 
 stands up a little way on the slope, and is of irregular 
 height. In some places it is perhaps seventy feet 
 high, and in others not more than forty, according to 
 the ground. It is of red brick, and is battlemented. 
 There are eleven towers on it, four of which are above 
 the gateways. All these four are of stone, lofty, 
 many-storied, of open work, richly ornamented above, 
 
 THE KREMLIN. 
 
 25 
 
 { 
 
 i 
 
 heavy and rude below, partly of Italian Gothic. The 
 others are of red brick, of varied and fanciful charac- 
 ter — some round, and roofed with shining green tiles, 
 and others square, like a Saxon donjon keep, while 
 one small one resembles an Oriental summer-house. 
 This latter was used in the days of the early Czars as 
 a look-out place on the gatherings of the people, on 
 any occasion of moment, on the great public market- 
 place beneath the wall. Altogether the Kremlin is 
 a grand old media3val fortress, once strong against 
 Cossack lances and Polish spears, against bills and 
 bows, but not of any use now against cannon. With 
 its fine simple walls and its numerous and variously- 
 shaped towers, it is a most picturesque relic of past 
 times. The Moskwa river flows into the citv from 
 the west, strikes the foot of the Kremlin hill, runs 
 along it from end to end of that front, and then, with 
 a graceful bend, flows out of the city again to the 
 south-west. The hill is cut away from the river-bank 
 so as to allow a broad roadway along the base, and a 
 steep pitch beyond rises to a fine esplanade on which 
 stand the palace and other buildings and command 
 the river to the west and south, the city and the coun- 
 try beyond towards the Sparrow Hills. 
 
 I asked various persons which was the gate by 
 
 '\\ 
 
26 
 
 THE NICHOLSKY GATE. 
 
 which Napoleon had entered and left the Kremlin, 
 but it was an odd thing, there seemed to be a doubt 
 which of three gates was the right one. However, 
 there was one circumstance which appeared to mark 
 it — an inscription by the Emperor Alexander over 
 the arch. This one is called the Nicholsky Gate, and 
 it opens on to the broad market-place ; but it is not 
 the principal entrance to the Kremlin. Over it rises 
 a lofty tower in successive storeys of stone, a fine me- 
 diaeval structure. The arch is pointed Gothic, and 
 above the crown of the arch is a picture of St. Nicho- 
 las of Mojaisk, a small picture in a gilt frame, and be- 
 neath this is the inscription. This latter says that Na- 
 poleon, on his leaving Moscow, tried to blow up this 
 gateway and tower, but that the Saint whose image is 
 there protected and saved it. The consequence of 
 this authoritative statement by the Czar is that no 
 Russian, from the Emperor down to the peasant, 
 passes in or out of that arch without uncovering to 
 the picture, and most persons cross themselves three 
 times and say a prayer. Thus all day long you may 
 see, without cessation, people uncovering, or kneeling 
 bare-headed, or crossing themselves energetically, at 
 the entrance of the Nicholskv Gate. 
 
 This gateway is a long arched way of some twenty 
 
 THE ARSENAL. 
 
 27 
 
 yards in length, the ground rising rather steeply; and 
 when you are through it you find yourself still on the 
 slope of the hill, with a broad open space in your 
 front which continues quite over the hill to the far 
 side, to the terrace above the Moskwa. Immediate- 
 ly on your right is the Arsenal, an imposing structure 
 of considerable extent, long and low; while on your 
 left is another great pile, in which are the new Law 
 Courts, and other Government offices. What strikes 
 the eye at first is the enormous number of cannon 
 piled in compartments in an artistic way on a low 
 raised platform in front of the whole length of the 
 Arsenal. There are large guns, small guns, plain, or- 
 namented, iron guns, brass guns. There are hundreds 
 and hundreds — it is said twelve hundred is the num- 
 ber. These are the trophies of the famous campaign 
 of 1812. Ker Porter and Segur both agree in this, — 
 though they differ in so many otlier points, — that the 
 French did not manage to carry one single gun over 
 the Niemen on their quitting Russia — not one. Except 
 those guns, then, that were blown to pieces purposely on 
 the retreat, or thrown into rivers and lost, here are all 
 of that mighty armament which the Emperor took with 
 him on that fatal expedition. You cannot help regard- 
 ing these silent witnesses of that terrible punishment 
 
28 
 
 PATRIOTIC INSCRIPTION. 
 
 of overvaultin^: ambition witlioiit a certain deoree of — 
 well — deep sympathy — almost a kind of pain. What 
 scenes of carnage — what scenes of horror — of scarcely 
 human ferocity, of reckless courage, of brutal savagery, 
 of wild despair, must these now sleeping engines of an 
 unbridled violence have known and shared in ! How 
 eloquent, too, they are, as they lie there in their quiet 
 order, of all that tale of death and ruin ; and as you 
 stand there and look at them, and touch them, the 
 whole story seems to rise up and present itself fresh 
 and tangible to your eyes. On a copper plate in the 
 wall of the building is this inscription : — '' Canons pris 
 aux ennemis en 1812, sur le territoire Russe, par la 
 victorieuse armee et la brave et fidele nation Russe." 
 I could not help thinking, as I read the words, that 
 they tell the truth, but not the wliole truth, as many 
 another inscription does, and that if the words *'et 
 par le froid " had been added they would have sup- 
 plied what was wanting. 
 
 Many of these guns were ornamented with devices, 
 flowers, and figures, and many bore mottoes. On one 
 was stamped a large " N " encircled with a coronal of 
 leaves. On another was '^ La Tempete ;" on others 
 **Le Faucon," ^'L' Acharne," ^'KHercule." One bore 
 the motto '^ Vigilatedeo confidenti;" others '^Nemini 
 
 COPYING MOTTOES NOT PERMITTED. 
 
 29 
 
 L\ 
 
 cedo," '' Concordia res parva3 crescunt," 'Tro gloria et 
 patria," ^'Strasburg le 26 Fructidor," and so on. What 
 a satire were now these boasting titles ! What a mock- 
 ery of the vaunting words was their present humilia- 
 ting position ! 
 
 As I was examining some of these guns and copy- 
 ing the inottoes near an archway in the centre of the 
 building, in which a sentinel was pacing up and down, 
 an officer came out and said this was forbidden, and 
 desired me to go away. Of course I obeyed, though 
 ruminating and trying to calculate w^hat would be the 
 cliances of danger to the Russian Empire from a sim- 
 ple traveller copying a motto or two of these captive 
 and now harmless guns. It is true they were dug up 
 mure than half a century ago, some from, perhaps, 
 some snow-drift at Krasnoe, where Ney lost his whole 
 rear-guard,— or were captured near Smolensk, when 
 the entire division of Davoust laid down its arms in 
 despair, — or were fished from the waters of the Bere- 
 sina, when Napoleon gave the terrible order to burn 
 the bridge behind him, though crowded with the 
 shrieking masses of his men, and when it sank with all 
 its freight into the icy stream ! These were facts, but 
 still I failed to see in them and my copying the mot- 
 toes the combination of danger to Russia, However, 
 
30 
 
 THE TZAR. 
 
 I 
 
 there were people who thought otherwise with a 
 superior logic to mine, and so I gave in. 
 
 You go on, with nothing to stop you, along the open 
 space beyond the Arsenal and the Law Courts, pass a 
 convent on your left and a guard-house of soldiers and 
 1. arrack on your riglit — in front of which latter stands 
 the monster-piece of ordnance called the Tzar cannon, 
 weighing nearly 40 tons, — past the Senate 11 juse and 
 the Cathedral — which, in fact, is but a small church — 
 until you come on the broad, smooth, extending es- 
 planade or terrace, crowning all the south-west front 
 r f iM Kremlii H'U — the royal terrace high above the 
 ri' !\ ;.ad commanding the city. 
 
 It is a fine position for the palace, lofty, dominmu, 
 worthy of the imperial residence in the capital of a 
 ci at country. As you turn round and lean uu lutj 
 ij V iron railing that runs all the way along the sum- 
 niii of the steep grassy slope above the wall and *':^ 
 t' wers ;ir 1 the M ':\va, you • ve all that broad level 
 c; 1 ; ^-part of it more than a hundred yard? wide — 
 *m Hnnt of you, and beyond this ranged the long line 
 nf the many and linking buildings so celebrated, liu 
 yuiir uxireme right is the lofty and lapering towt_r 
 above the pv^.d-r^.i^^ -.M:;ed gatf^vay, throu^r v. ;..-h 
 n- :. pu-ses — not even the Emperor — except un- 
 
 THE TOWERS OF IVAN VELIKI. 
 
 31 
 
 \ 
 
 covered. Just inside this is the white and fanciful small 
 Gothic church in which lie the remains of so many 
 of the females of the Imperial familJ^ Next to this are 
 the walls of a convent, where a number of elderlv ladies 
 of good famihes possess a church abounding in bright 
 colours and gold and silver ornaments. — nn(^ mn- 
 tiguous to it is the long, low front of an old palace of 
 the Czars, of moderate pretensions. Touching this, 
 but a little retired, is another convent ; and then suc- 
 ceed, in an irregular line, the famous towers of T a:. 
 Veliki with their numerous and world-renr ^rr- 1 
 bells; the Cathedral and the two other churche- w'^h 
 their gilded and glittering cupolas; and then the long 
 front of the new palace, a modern structure of yellow 
 stone, wi h A labesque windows, and containing tin ue 
 of the grandest halls in Europe. These comprise ih^i 
 remarkable front of the l\ ^mlin, varied 1 Token, 
 picturesque. Seen from the opposite "^ i k r Hip 
 river, with the castellaivl uall and the fan ciiu: j! 1 
 varied luwers of many colours below and the ]a!;i(*^ 
 and temple-crowned height t bove, the long fruni ki 
 minating at either extremity in tall and graceful i 
 nacleb -frhe gateway towers, the i: « ! uK 
 
 .1'- 
 
 
 i od fo^ b( I I'V and position. 
 
 riir^r V '! 'JO to the top of the ^ 
 
 Veliki, two 
 
32 
 
 PANORAMIC VIEW. 
 
 >4 
 
 hundred and seventy feet in height, built by the 
 usurper Boris ^ ^ lunoff, after his generally-believed 
 murder of the youthful Czar Demetrius, and see the 
 bells, among the wonders of Moscow. The largest 
 weighs sixty-four tons, one hundred and twenty-eight 
 tliM- i i ,, .^ i.-_a noble bell. But imagine the 
 
 ii^, at the foot of the tower, nineteen 
 
 czai' i>i bu 
 
 i ; , i. ' "-> 
 
 i i i i i 
 
 Kj 
 
 11 _ L I ill '-'^- i 
 
 CU'(;!i!iil( 'i\'!i'"< ', an- i w- ■:„: unu P Mir 
 1 
 
 i i i i ' i 
 
 A. 
 
 lal-' Tiii^ ]:vUt 
 
 
 *, .>•' 
 
 1 WmvIc r.f 
 
 1 1 
 
 tnW'a' li! \\a)ifn 11 \\';: 
 
 art 1-. h'>W('vra\ hr<ikf!L !!i'" 
 
 su<pt'ii"l*'^l 1ia\'i!iLi" l'''*'ii iainU. :iii'l \\i^' i;til lra<'lurini: 
 
 Fr««!n tlic hail ^^Jliki } uu liaw a paiicraiiiif view 
 of tho cit\' aii'l \''»u l^nk tLnvii int«> tia' tli<>ii.^and 
 prottv L^arih'iis of tlio cottaL:r'> and villa- <'!" which 
 the citv is principally cnmprxed. As tlicsr^ liDiises 
 evervwhore, gTcat and small liavi^ Ln'CtMi or rcil roots, 
 but priMci])ariv green, and the walls of them are al- 
 most all white, the brightness of the buildings is a 
 wonderful siuht. The oreen gardens and trees and 
 the f^reen roofs so l^l^nd on .^'omo o( the slojX'S that 
 at a certain distance tliere itrv spot^ which lo(^k like 
 one mass of verdure dotted with, white. How unlike 
 a citv! Then, as Moscowm< declare. 1 to liavf> some 
 
 
 OLD HOUSE OF THE ROMANOFFS. 
 
 33 
 
 four hundred churches, great and small, the number 
 of cupolas and bell-towers is immense. I tried to 
 count from the tower those of a section of the city— 
 about one-sixth— between my hands, held so as to 
 shut off all but about that proportion from sight, and 
 I counted one hundred and sixty towers anl -n) m^. 
 within tliat space. Multiply this by six. The ^nn-o 
 so enclosed, wheu 
 
 1 "_-vaiiilai>^vl 
 
 i I ; . ( 1 I ■ ' I. 
 
 ii aiit'!'- 
 
 V. :r. 
 
 ••i die rest of ui-: i-jwn, wa- iiul paniruhtrlv 
 
 1 T 
 
 NvIm 
 
 II wa- 
 
 « 'n!\- an avcra;j:(j see- 
 
 ^'"'•^ '♦<" ^'i'' v-h,:le. The ^vav;!!u mT iiu' grouiKk the 
 ^'^■^-■'^^'1^'- '^f ^!"' iM!iMi!iir<. tlh: inllniiv of o-raceAd 
 ulyLci- riMMLi aiH.Vf fJM' hniiQo^, here in clusters and 
 tliLrc la sif)-ic iMWi-rs ih»^ aiiirci'iiiLr river windin^r in 
 aii-1 .uiij ihc hatg ^^looc- \>-, it imdulatinir and covered 
 with vilJa^. the lingular ireshucss and ornamentation 
 of the whoh'. cruuposed a picture quite unique. 
 
 The old 'Iwclling-house of tlie Romanoff family is 
 down m the Kitai Gorod, and though uninhabited 
 since they became Emperors, it is still maintained by 
 each succeeding Czar in all its original condition. It 
 IS a very small — indeed, diminutive, pretty, quaint 
 building, which reminded me, in the size of its rooms 
 and in its primitive arrangements, of some of the con- 
 fined and cramped castles of the Rhine barons on the 
 
 D 
 
i, 
 
 34 
 
 [■ \; .\i'E OK T 
 
 ! ' > • « • v' 
 
 -1 -1 
 
 luiiiv. oi' thai river. The Romunuffis until 11' were, 
 while the Kurik family were on tlie throne, only 
 Boyar6, or rich and noble merchants. The residences 
 of the highest were but small in those days ; thus tlie 
 I a"^ ice of Jean the Terrible and of Demetrius in the 
 Kremlin is also a diminutive building — a specimen ol 
 the Muscovite mansion of those days, with its ])retty, 
 I V :,uiall rooms, like a lady's boudoir of the present 
 Cul^. li is elegant in form, simple in construction, 
 aa i rather _:tii !. with paint. 1; . i ; ^ i:. matter . 
 c 1 IK ihat the fondness for display showed it- IfMn 
 tiia: aj , .vh- ih r among Muscovite chiefs, (-r in ^' d- 
 lic ni; ! T.'Uton aii-l iMin^li nobles. Hnrgeon- U' sses 
 of l^.^tli nuai nnl wnmen i-uh-d tho h^mw but la Alas- 
 
 u>e^ wa^ a aa^^i<^n: aa i this ]'a-~. _ai 
 
 ( ■ ; i 
 
 shou.- iiself even uuw in the brilliant dresshig of the 
 peasants who can afford it on holida) >; aaal the lavish 
 j a Liting of the churches inside and out, as well as of 
 
 t!a u i:;^ a; 1 roofs of houses. Thus this little old 
 paaa'e of t'i- Hariks in the K!van!in- 
 
 .1 
 
 111* ni; ' a l-a-'k 
 
 (•(,]]!■ ^^\' !ao larie new on* 
 
 1 tnp r 
 
 , a bngnl aaU 
 
 i i i 
 
 I . r 
 
 L C 1 « 1 
 
 he oldcu time. It is buiii m the 
 ti:' 1 hqIiIv Kuijuui style, eadi storey a much smaller 
 un., iLuii liiui brl -.V it, so that each tier of rooms has 
 
 f 
 
 1 
 
 MA'l'V\iyST 
 
 A. 
 
 a\aa 
 
 •J •) 
 
 ! ila^ anni^t- 
 
 a ten ace m Iiuil: u. il. aar: nT [\,,^ mnf o 
 
 ments beneath. TnL^ia. arc iLilc storevs to ti ;. ,,, 
 
 ,/ ' • • • ' ' ' 
 
 cient edifice, each dimini^hiIi- ia ^ize, so iLaL ihe lup 
 one is composed of but a siiai!! ] Hi -i iwu. Fium 
 this upper terrace Xapoleon looked out over his i:nii- 
 quest — his conquest in vain — burning i a ;. ilaiice. ^ )f 
 course there are the usual accompaniments of Ma f, m 
 <inl chateau — the grand haii .a !-'a-ption. t!aa larize 
 apartment for foasting, aa i :ho ]M'(^tty, 'limiaaMvo 
 chapel. These are u^-d uvuu innv 
 great state occasii a ^ a * ' 
 
 va 1 "^1 a I i ' ' \'( I \' 
 
 la iJLlUiia wl:: a 
 
 i < ■ ■ 
 
 i ' ' i a ' i a( 
 
 jry c 
 
 r ti. 
 
 '.u ai u.-i '• !\ a »; ^_ za. 
 
 a,i. 
 
 a ar to l];*- Im-- .^a 
 
 i X 
 
 r^a 
 
 aa 
 
 all 
 
 
 aad 
 
 a a-^age \\ 
 
 thiiv 'ra-liM' '^larv inr]iu^r',.^ * a' the 
 
 touches tlmi]- iiatinTa!- -ivlln h. aad a'i'-f'ti.ai f .>> f]jr.ir 
 
 lr!a!K;iurS, links the l^ra^oia waHi lla^ nnr'an^ (^ox-^ -mrl 
 
 
 iiJL C li i < 
 
 ]r 'r-ia rai- ]"*'\aa'rai«a'^ ^if 
 
 a v-.-lajiiUi, tii^^i aiiiiu::! laiiaKijai, 
 
 
 T;uar. 
 
36 
 
 kh>. I resent Emperor — The Emperor Nicholas — F'ntrance into Moscow 
 by the St Prtersburg Road — The Emperor's Route— Chapel of the 
 Virmn — i^amous Picture of the Iberian Mother — Bonds of ^ nn- 
 pathy between the Emperor and the People of Moscow — His Ortiio- 
 u A 1 lety — ii Appreciation of Kalatsch — 1 Palace ci 'i' 
 Empress — Devotion to the '' Iberian Mi her" — Daily Scenes ; r 
 Shrine — Sum annually collected by Voluntary Offerings — Visits of 
 the Holy Mother— The Benefit of a Common P. ligious Sent i mm t 
 — A \et of Sacrilege — The Criminal and her I'unishment. 
 
 ^PHK [iosent Kniperor of Ri;--^!.! seems to study to 
 
 T 
 
 keep alive the feeling of reverence and regard 
 
 )eople witli better *:n r i hi 
 
 between liimsel i' . 
 
 A A- 
 
 IIP •' -access than his father dul. 1*^ iliap? he does 
 
 atA -tii'lv ^-^ <!.> this, TaiA what is better. A-r=Q it with- 
 out rur/ rfT\>!A or plnti — "^olelv from :i ;::i*-:::A iui\'^i\>c 
 ofgooduiil towarA- thnse over whom hu i^ placed 
 a- a r-il. v. W Hichever be the cause, Aa.i ^^r kihdli- 
 iif-^, kiii^K'Wiii * r all.. ability of disposition, the i-a: is 
 
 1 
 
 gtAit'Ta! A ii^'AIi- •■'AM^.-' 1^' 
 
 
 .a'^'-' A- Tl;*' lah' T/ar 
 
 ^ ' 
 
 wa^, ;a- n i . u lA'* '^ '. ;* 
 
 ui 
 
 r.n ^L^-AiA 
 
 'I ;_ 1 » k 
 
 r 
 
 ^ 
 
 THE PRESENT EMPEKOR. 3 ( 
 
 figure in the eyes of his people, he was rather too far 
 from them — too high and beyond their reach — a Ju- 
 piter Tonans on a towering Olympus. He ^\a:^ ad- 
 mired, wondered at, almost worshipped, bin Le vvu^ 
 
 1 aivu, and not loved, iia believed more la iVar 
 than in love, a defect in the idiosyncrasy of a possess- 
 or of power, n - the present E'iiperor is .. nan f 
 a kindlv nature, and he wins all the n;ood-will of lis 
 people without any display or effort — wi ^ it Iv tliat 
 tnli^innn (^f influence an;] M^ti-afti; mi — -r^^a-' aaii; \ . Il'j 
 goes often to Mu>eow, ia: I \\ a. a ihere 1.^ does xan- 
 ous little acts which sliow a sympathy with liic aia-- 
 CO vite character and M a SCO vite prejudice; aa i \\\.<:\i 
 he goes away, he leaves no cluud on the popular 
 brow Avhich tells of discontent — no memory of s i a^^ 
 1 arsh deed which wounds the national feeliaa 
 
 Entering the city by the old ^ Petersburg coach r ad 
 and the Twerskaia — street of Twer — von n^^m^j^nHi tlie 
 iv. emlin through the Iversky Gate, a double gate. wUwh 
 leads on to the great market-place on the east fiaiii ^ji 
 that fortress. Altliough the railway fi'* i '": P :ti-haig 
 now brings you into the city on the south ta-baa - 1. , 
 and ^ a a'\ a ['"om the old gate from that coiiial ai 
 fi r a, ;t]. vest, yet the Emperor never omits to lake 
 
 rMmiitous route along the Boulevard 
 
 aiitar 
 
I 
 
 I' 
 
 fl' 
 
 38 
 
 THE IBERIAN MOTHER. 
 
 the Kremlin on his arrival through that i\>rta Sacra, 
 the Iversky Gate. It is in this gateway, or rather on 
 the outside of it, on its northern front, stands the little 
 Tj: ipel oftlie Virgin, here called the Iberian Mother 
 ui OuJ. li li but a diminutive building, perhaps 
 twelve feet square, of stone, plain and unpretending 
 1 u:^ide, and about the size of a small turnpike gate- 
 ].. use in Endand 1 rom the centre of it there inn- n^ 
 a stone platform of perhaps twenty feet in length nnl 
 linriiiL!' -«n tliroe sides to the street n ^lescent r^f four 
 or fivp «top^ Tlv^ interior is highly deconuv d \v\\U 
 
 i"i ' I 
 
 1] ;. . uua >j,ia^^, votive offerings 
 
 i i- 
 
 Oil- liii'UU-, ;!'.' 1 :^' 
 
 ' ar ; uii: i liicre is 
 
 -aLL ''r 
 
 1.1 '-I- * 
 
 UiC 
 
 1 1 ' ' 1 
 
 1 ' ' - ' 1 ' ! > 1 
 
 'it . t < 1 1 i 
 
 I ' 
 
 back^-fi:. -\--r the altar, i- ihefaiU'-.;- ,,*.';:•-..*' tiie 
 Tl. r:au Alother. Beside it rwavs staial one a- !^v- 
 
 Giv, kanests. The painting is Iv/zantino. a'al v.--. 
 hrmi--',- ],.^r, f'-: ^!!i M.^unt .\i!!<~'- in the rei<^n -T Hm 
 On \^ xia An extraordinarv rf'^r ^t, or it mav be 
 
 caH. a \' laaMn^ii. i« offered to thi> picture, iaaaii i)c- 
 vra: 1 u,:it to 'AVi\ ^nher in Moscow, fn ai ai; luaiia- <A 
 
 thr 
 
 ii'jia- ar 
 
 to be s^en beiaiin 
 
 ivliL'Ciia_ ill Uil 
 
 a aa a , ^ >x > ^a I la 
 
 LilL' 
 
 ' i Lilt' ». 
 
 , or on 1: 
 
 Ai^ rl 
 
 l!aa\ it 1- -:i 
 
 lone so auta-. \''' -a-L^T- 
 "1 '1 at it has bec<aM • 
 
 \ 
 
 THE CZAR S PIETY. 
 
 39 
 
 one of the most important existences in Moscow. 
 
 It is to pass through tliis gate on each arrival in 
 
 this city that the Emperor goes out of his way from 
 
 the railway-station to tlu i\ ^nlin. On approaching 
 
 the phitform, his carriage stops ; lie gets out, uncovers 
 
 his head, enters the little chapel, anH kiioels, the 
 
 world of Moscow looking on, impressed by the act to 
 
 the bottom of its devotional soul, il^ comes out, 
 
 mounts his carriage, and proceeds. The effect is 
 
 amazing. To be remiss on this point — to omit a- 
 
 act — would be a great pohtical mistake. Tlie pro' fit 
 
 affords to all eves of the reliuious mind of their Czar 
 
 — the exami)le it sets to each ;in 1 all hi< ^^^nlmrt^ in 
 
 high places not to be wanting ia \.ai(a;a a lu Uiu 
 
 Iberian Mother — and then, uol the least ai \\:\> caUi- 
 
 logue of social advantages, the deference wi.a ii a^j 
 
 thus pays to the local prejudice aa 1 the stron- i 1- 
 
 ing in this matter of the people of ^J - -' itself- a 1 
 
 these combine to surround this act with a very - a" ms 
 
 and important sense. It is a bond f ;i'^a< hia. at 1m - 
 
 tween the Czar and the Russiaa niiial <>r 'kr 1 -op^M^ 
 
 meaning and influence than any coninm]! ta 1 
 
 political conn' xion or liking. 
 
 i lore L> another act, nnparently trifling iii 
 
 ar ai s 
 
 h M' ii. 
 
 uaa wa having d j)cculiar signitii:aai > , waaiai _^ h^ 
 
40 
 
 KALATSCH, 
 
 CHAPEL OF THE IBERIAN MOTHER. 
 
 41 
 
 to show the kindly thought of the Emperor in his 
 coraTnunication with the inhabitants of Moscow, and is 
 a proof of how he has known to gain a hold on their 
 affections. There is a small and fanciful form in which 
 bread is made up at Moscow. It is not a loaf, it is not 
 a roll, it is of a circular form, and is hollow, as some 
 French bread is made, and is called a kalatsch. You 
 may see a baker's boy in the street with twenty or thir- 
 ty of these strung on a stick, or you may see fifty on a 
 cord suspended in a shop. It is rather larger in diame- 
 ter than a quoit, and the thickness of the bread is not 
 much more than that of the iron. This kalatsch is the 
 bread and the form peciriiar to Moscow. The bread 
 is light and sweet. When the Czar sits down to table 
 in th !\ ^^mlin he asks for a kalatsch ; and you may 
 fi- li the common Russian repeat with pride — ^'the 
 i z.ii always eats kalatsch at dinner in the Kremlin." 
 The fact of the present Empress having a pretty coun- 
 ny I (Lice and estate — another ''my own " — at a place 
 o:iM. 1 Tlyinsk, about thirty miles from M -scow, and 
 wliich she likes to come to frequently, is another bond 
 between the family and the ^loscow worl 1 « Vie day, 
 in one of the long passages of the W*viter Palace a^ ^' 
 l^L^x^u n J. ! ;i i whole pile of boxes nnd trunks, 
 ar[>cirtiiu) ju:^t off a journey, and n servant or two, 
 
 in the Imperial livery, very active about them. In re- 
 ply to my question — a traveller asks all sorts of ques- 
 tions, of course — one of the men answered readily, 
 
 '' Tliese are from Ilyinsk — the Empress is just come 
 up from there ; she is very fond of going to Ilyinsk." 
 
 To return to the little Chapel of the Iberian Mo- 
 ther. It was a practice with me, on my return from 
 any walk on that northern side of Moscow, to stop by 
 this Iversky Gate, and sit down on a low railing by a 
 little grassy inclosure, the ground sloping down aud 
 spreading wide and open to the boulevard in front of 
 me. It was an airy and shady spot, a pleasant 
 resting-place after a long walk, and, moreover, one 
 of a curious attraction. Immediatelv bv me was a 
 long, low building by the grass, and which projected 
 a little from a loftv white castellated edifice, some 
 Government Ofiices. In this low spur or projection 
 lived the ecclesiastics who had the care of the Iversky 
 picture and chapel, and here they took care of the 
 money constantly pouring into the coffers of the 
 Iberian Motlier close by. One day was like another. 
 A ! riving at my seat, 1 would find two or three women, 
 sitting, too, on the low rail, resting themselves from 
 their country walk, and watching the s- .'n.\ < r n-- 
 rancnng their dress, and geuiug reads, i i • ^ome 
 
\\ 
 
 42 
 
 STREAM OF DEVOTEES. 
 
 RECOGNIZED FORM OF VENERATION. 
 
 43 
 
 small treasury among their garments, the piece of 
 money — a kopeck — for the Iberian ^Mother. From the 
 wide open boulevard, from the Twerskaia, from the 
 Alexander Gardens, from the Kremlin, would arrive 
 all kinds of carriages converging at this point — the 
 chapel and the gateway. Business men from the Law 
 Courts, ladies and children from the aristocratic 
 quarter in the Beloi Gorod, people from the country 
 in quaint vehicles of the rudest Tarantass build, pea- 
 sants on foot, officers in droschkies, men of commerce 
 on their way from the debtors' prison, hard by on the 
 boulevard, where they had been to see their victim 
 and hear if any new chance of payment had turned 
 up, and now on their w^ay into the Kitai Gorod in 
 money-making interest — all stopped at the platform. 
 ^ my side the stream flowed steadily throuij^h the one 
 gateway on to the market-place beyond, while on the 
 other side it came out from the farther gateway on to 
 the open boulevard. It could not but strike you what 
 an able position the Iberian Mother had taken up — 
 the most commanding one in the whole city. Xotliing 
 escaped her ; it w^as all fish that came to her net. 
 \- y, the very best and cheapest dining-liouses of the 
 merchants wave just across the broad boulevard with- 
 in sight, and the straight road from their early dinner- 
 
 
 table to the exchange was through this gate. Here 
 they drove up '^ pleni veteris Bacchi pinguisque fe- 
 rinae," — dined on wild boar and sparkling champagne 
 — and how should not their hearts be open to all 
 warm influences, devotion to the Iberian Mother, and 
 expenditure of roubles. So they all came up to the 
 little platform. 
 
 One afternoon I sat there as usual, — and as usual 
 the stream of devotees never ceased. Sometimes the 
 whole platform and some of the steps Avere occupied 
 by kneeling people ; and then the whole would clear 
 away, until only three or four persons would remain, 
 sprinkled singly over the place on their knees, to be 
 succeeded again by bareheaded and prostrate numbers. 
 A great numy gave nothing — that is, no money — 
 there is a limit to giving, even to the Iberian Mother 
 — they came up, kneeled down, said a prayer, crossed 
 themselves three times, which seemed to be the re- 
 cognised form or mark of veneration, and went on. 
 Now an officer, big and important, with helmet and 
 cloak over his uniform, dashed up in his neat private 
 droschky, driven, of course, by his body coachman in 
 blue dressing-gowm and wide-brimmed hat, the horse 
 a black Arab-looking animal, sleek and shining, of 
 South Russian breed, a trotter — and the harness stud- 
 
 ■^. 
 
44 
 
 PEASANTS AT THE SHUINE. 
 
 A PROFESSIONAL MAN S DEVOTION. 
 
 45 
 
 II 
 
 ded with silver. The droschky stopped, the coachman 
 unwound his right hand from its rein — a Russian coach- 
 man drives with a rein in each hand, wound round 
 it — and uncovered; the officer also uncovered and 
 crossed himself, but sat still. At a word from behind 
 him the driver let the horse go on at a foot's pace by 
 the platform ; the officer crossed himself again three 
 times, the driver crossed himself, too, as often — they 
 both covered their heads, and the droschky and the 
 black Arab dashed through the archway, and were 
 gone. 
 
 Then arrived a party of peasant women* and men on 
 foot, ten or twelve — the men in white woollen coats, 
 sewn at the seams with red, and the women witli red 
 and black shawls. Some kneeled on the platform, 
 and some on the steps. After many self-crossings there 
 came the moment of departure, and with it the question 
 of money. Some had clearly by their manner no ko- 
 pecks to spare, but with others there was a consulting 
 too^ether. One man was for TOino; away witliout ^rivinar 
 anything, but a woman touched his arm and wliispered 
 to him, and then three or four heads went together. 
 ** How much shall we give ?" ^' What have you got ?" 
 " Will that be enough ?" These were evidently the 
 matters in debate. The pockets were dived into, kopecks 
 
 i 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 !i 
 
 came forth from the male garments under female press- 
 ure, and at last two of tlie women agreed to go into the 
 chapel for the party and make the united humble offer- 
 ing. By tills time many others had arrived, and much 
 ado the women had to get through the kneeling crowd. 
 A lady or two in silken attire had placed themselves 
 on their knees precisely in the opening, and there was 
 no way of getting into the chapel except over their 
 voluminous dresses. Of course the poor women could 
 not do this, so they Avaited patiently till '' the quality" 
 liad prayed and entered the shrine with their offerings, 
 and then the women got in. Presently they returned 
 with satisfied countenances, for they had seen the 
 Iberian Mother, and had laid before her a little some- 
 thing out of the home treasury, and a bit of their hearts 
 besides. So they joined their companions, all waiting 
 uncovered and with bent heads on the steps, and all 
 went off together through the archway — happy. 
 
 Then arrived a hired droschky, and atall, middle-aged 
 man with a white face got down. He was well-dressed, 
 in a dark frock-coat and grey trowsers, and scrupu- 
 lously bright boots. By his dress he might have been 
 a member of our House of Commons, or an IA.lK i 
 made a guess that he was a lawyer, and had just come 
 from 5ome client in the debtors' prison round the cor- 
 
 
46 
 
 A YOUNG PARTY. 
 
 REAL DEVOTION. 
 
 47 
 
 ner of the boulevard. He stepped gravely from his 
 little carriage, walked up the steps, uncovered, and 
 made his way carefully and slowly among the kneeling 
 women, disturbing no one. How politely and un- 
 offendingly he advanced, his manner so thoroughly 
 that of the man who deals daily with courteous and 
 silvery phrases wrapping up very unpleasant truths, 
 gilding bitter pills legally or medically compounded. 
 iic kneeled down with an air of the deepest humility 
 close to the door of the shrine, bent his head for a 
 minute or two over his folded hands, then rose and 
 went in and made his offering. On coming out he 
 repeated his act of abasement, and then going down 
 the steps with the same careful, gliding movement, he 
 got into his droschky, the white face unmoved, and 
 
 was gone. 
 
 Aparty of well-dressed children came rapidly up with 
 a couple of nurses in a well-built and well-turned-out 
 Tarantass. I was curious to see how this young party 
 would conduct theii' devotions under nursery guidance. 
 But to my disappointment they did not stop. The 
 coachman uncovered, and walked his well-bred horses 
 by the platform, the women made the boys take off 
 their neat little caps — all bowed their heads and crossed 
 themselves, nurses and children; but they went on, 
 
 and in a moment were dashing through the arch. 
 Then a stout young man, dandily dressed and with 
 face rather Hushed, drove up, or rather was driven up, 
 as a Russian gentleman very rarely drives himself. 
 He looked as thougli just risen from partaking of the 
 '' pinguis feriua *' on the boulevard and the Falernian. 
 He jumped jauntily down from his silver-mounted 
 droschky, took off liis hat, hurried in a bustling manner 
 up the steps and along the platform, in and out among 
 the prayer-absorbed figures, dropped on one knee for 
 a moment at the entrance, went in, returned quickly, 
 down the steps and into his carriage, and was gone in 
 an histanl. 
 
 And so it went on, this living, moving panorama of 
 real life. Sonie peasant man would kneel only on the 
 bottom step, languid and careworn in manner and a^i- 
 pearance, as if he had a hard life, and not much hope 
 of making it softer b>' any act of his, not even with 
 the aid of a httle offering hi that chapel, and so he 
 made none. Two poor women, too, came and kneeled 
 down on the lower steps, and then leaned their fore- 
 heads on the step above them. The attitude and ex- 
 pression of the figures denoted the deepest devotion, 
 and a real sorrow wliich weiglied them down. There 
 they knelt for some minutes, their heads pressed against 
 
 
48 
 
 SUM ANNUALLY COLLECTED. 
 
 BOND OF UNION. 
 
 49 
 
 (•/ 
 
 the stones, as if telling out all the sad tale of their life 
 to the Iberian Mother, no doubt with a faith that she 
 could hear it all, and, if she would, could alleviate the 
 pain. Ah ! well ! it is a thing not to be laughed 
 away, a prop to lean on— to be able to feel in this 
 world an undoubting faith in something, whatever it is. 
 It is declared that this little slirine collects in the 
 course of the year a sum equal to ten thousand 
 English pounds sterling from these daily and other 
 r.fr v^i^cTs l\ U nlso said that a large portion of this 
 ^iini is used to pay the stipend of th* \i tropolitan of 
 M scow. It is moreover whispered, under the rose, 
 tilt the Iberiiu. M ther possesses a little treasury of 
 her own, and that when a thousand pounds or so are 
 .1 anted in the city for secular purposes the governing 
 bodies do not make application at the shrine in vain. 
 
 There is a method very pecuhar to the Mother of 
 adding to her treasure. She makes visits. So fer- 
 ■ vent is the devotion of the :dascovite mind to this 
 **lndy of Mount Auios," and so profound the belief in 
 her - .od deeds, that much of her time is taken up in 
 goih^ a 'out in her carriage to various houses. Thus a 
 carriage and four horses are kept for her use. If a 
 f oY^ iiouse is built by a true Russian of Muscow a 
 request is made by the owner that, before he and his 
 
 
 family occupy it, the Mother may come and give it a 
 blessing. Accordingly the picture goes in state. A 
 person is seriously ill, and the picture is requested, as 
 a means of cure. Another is dying, and the picture 
 is entreated to come, as a last blessing. A couple 
 are going to be married, and the picture must form a 
 part of the ceremony or the bride will have fears for 
 her future life. Thus sums such as Ilu ij ubies, 
 twenty roubles, a luuili i roubles — sums u[ 
 ^^venty poir-V— are jki'-I r.-:v]]'\ :.. -li.^ ^[.-lia i 
 conferring these distinguished favours and Li 
 benefits, according to the rank or wealth - f H 
 tionor. There is, 1 wa.^ u^. 
 
 ) i; 
 
 ' 5 -, . r 
 
 i , 
 
 
 % 
 
 for tlie picture, and this sometimes so often i i i i r.- 
 that a refusal is sent, thus — ''The Mother is fatigued 
 to-day, and cannot come." 
 
 It nmst be expected that there will be abuse of a 
 feeling of this kind. But, after all, is it not a happi- 
 ness, and something more — a necessity, that there 
 should exist a sentiment in which a nation can join, 
 can combine ? Here is an immense country, Russia, 
 spreading over a wide expanse, inhabited by peoples 
 of various blood and race. Is it not an important 
 thing that there should be a bond — some one bond — 
 by which all these differing bodies of peoples may be 
 
 £ 
 
50 
 
 NECESSITY OF A COMMON SENTIMENT. 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 united, so as to give the whole a cohesion and a force ? 
 Many of these scattered populations, lymg far away 
 from all the highways of the civiUsed world, immersed 
 in ignorance, and living the life of serfs till lately— 
 1 ] ictically slaves, as a general rule — what should act 
 on these for the good of any one? W1uit should 
 mvo tlioiii Olio olmjuii- thought: 1^ there lUijiiiing 
 
 lirious sentiment r aliy- 
 
 )] 1 1, i >; <( > qt j 
 
 •A- u ru 
 
 :,(. liinw'i-ul Hi iir action? Even a ,m i-^ual 
 
 :fliLi!ia/iiI liA\ai'v 
 
 a> ii i-, i- less S( a. L 
 
 tla- -vaiUiiaaii whuii r; 
 
 \ * I ' ■;„ . 1 , 
 
 < -!!ii niil\\:jL 
 
 (^>h. M\-»-. th:ni 
 
 lu. 
 
 an ! ><' (Ml-* 
 
 "m1 « ni 
 
 I I 1< < 
 
 ra-i'-n t'* 
 
 li! •/ t •'! 
 
 faiiatici-iri aii'l ^dt'-iniiia 'lata ai. l^'iiIia- rciji 
 cati<»n. -oiiic liuK' kia 'wlt'ili^-c. -...mc i'r'a-« aiing aii'! 
 ai'miiiu'iit ; l>ut a staitiiii^ lil rrqiiirr- iiu i\-a-uu au«l ii" 
 arguiiioiii — iLi»lliiiiL: Ijui a lu-arl. 'V\\^- i_i'ralrr the 
 aniouiit of iu'ian'aiKa', tma, lu da- hram, ilu- ;jrraha' llu- 
 hilkieiice that can l)i' ('Xrrt("'<l md thf lu'art. Tlui- \]\c 
 Russian populari(ni>, l)iirir(l in ilu' (K^i^th- .»! ihr -raat 
 Continent, on the confine^ ot" savage Europe, aial ^till 
 more savae'e Asia, oTiavellin.a" in tlie lowest huniaintv 
 and in tlu"^ rudest wa\'S of hile. wluit a bics-ingto them 
 tc) have oflered in tlic-ir aiiections — nni politie-, raal 
 reasoning, not edueatmn. with its imp"--il)ihti(.'- !•» 
 man\' — but a -raitimenl. 
 
 < ' ' 
 
 SACKILEGE. 
 
 51 
 
 There is a story related of this little chapel at the 
 Iversky Gate. There was a large diamond in the 
 dress of the Iberian Mother, and one day it disap- 
 peared. Of course there was a tremendous commo- 
 tion in Moscow. The Mother had been robbed. 
 ^^ liat a sacrilege ! After a time the jewel \\ a- i ac. 1 
 to the hands of a Russian lady, a i -inber of one of 
 the !)]'!iicel\' nimilies. ^!:<Oahl coveted ;hi- 'ianiaai'l. 
 
 aiai >^ 
 
 * 1 ' ! 
 
 !ia'i iiianac^of 
 
 1 r, 
 
 -> ex- 
 
 ! I 
 
 ■iiiiiu:. 
 
 Evrvv iAunx 
 
 w a^ aaiUf ij\ IilI laanK lo iU\ u her !r<aii liv'.i\-v 
 aihi-hha hi. \n\\ ill xaiii. Had U Imm^h a nioro rob- 
 
 1 
 
 b. r\ ..f ii (liaiaMh-l tViaii saa; reu--iau la<!\' b\" auotlier 
 
 lh<^ wli.uf iliiiig w.^ulb ha\a' been ti-oatod a< a triilo ; 
 bua fr-M!! a -Iniia"*. aii<l na'a-e e-|)e(ianv from llie 
 
 llHi'ia!! MaJiri-. liii- \\;iv too iiiu'di. All tlhj l)o<aple 
 el ^b<^(a)^^■, and biVtaid it. ^voro cnneca'Urd in the 
 nauitr — <>nu wdia'h tiau'hod. iluar doarest aHoetiiais, 
 thoir doNniion, tin' one deep and perxading senti- 
 miaU. The prineos was condemned to Siberia, and 
 slic was sent there ibr life. 
 
 The pa^ionate sentiment of a |)eo])le is too grand 
 aial Ino useful an (aigiiie of power as a ].)ond of so- 
 caay to in,' uegK-eied < T woinid(j(l witli im])unit\'. A 
 t\raiU leai'- il. but a -lah-man u-o it. I (\(^ ia>t l)e- 
 
 V 
 
 It< 
 
.1 
 
 USEFUL ENGINE OF POWER. 
 
 lieve that in any otlier spot in Europe such a scene 
 Witnessed as is enacted daily at that httle chapel 
 
 t_ a.i LH. 
 
 h- tl... ], 
 
 •ite ill M scow. 
 
 53 
 
 *^ 1 1 \ 1 ' 1 |-, It \ . 
 
 A '"" :1k in Moscow and its Environs— Church of St. S nuv ir-- rnrions 
 Little Chapel— Cavalry Barracks— Inconvenient Po^n = ♦ ihe 
 Horses in the Stables — Something like ;i P i n J Anr !' < in- 
 vntion of a small Gourd used i y li.j K i m .u \\ :u. u :d W !k 
 \ iaissian Gardener and his Subordinates — The 1 * 
 —Ihe External Wall and Towers— The Church, r> 
 Burial Places — The Congregation and Service- 'V\u 
 Dispersion of the Congregation — " Une Affaire 1 
 Papa. 
 
 
 1 
 
 you walk down the public gai i n ilii Ai xai] 
 der Garden — running undci 'lo lofty wall oi -li 
 
 ...1 
 
 north side of the Kremlin, you a * 
 
 the bank of the river. You turn to t^. iicrlit al- 
 
 the roo'l until you come to tho stone n 
 
 ston'l of going over it y< u id^ y 
 
 Church. It is the iiio^i ^piuudid lu Ai 
 
 on 
 
 i n nr 
 
 b}' liiu bl. >.tu\"*';ir 
 
 -LA,M\ 
 
 UUiiL IvJ 
 
 coiuiuemorate the defeat ui Napoleon. I \\ -r nr. n 
 la! * 1 \ai a I'rom the church you .r- Ira lal the 
 shops and the higher building, nn 1 ■ n nun yin-< It 
 in a br n 1 open street with houses on eit^a i 1 a^al f 
 
 . w> 
 
54 
 
 WALK IN THE ENVIRONS. 
 
 the cottage character. They stand back from the 
 public way iii gardens — pretty villas, here of one 
 storey elevation and there of only the raised ground- 
 fl(jor, with the usual verandah. As you go on the 
 cross streets are of the same style. By degrees al- 
 most all sound of carriages ceases. A solitary private 
 droschky is seen only rarely standing at some gate; 
 the doors are all open, and the servants are lounging 
 about in conversation Avith their friends of the neigh- 
 bouring villas. In many cases the railings in front 
 are of open work, and you can see through them the 
 children at play and the ladies sitting at tables at 
 work under the shade of trees. You are in the great 
 capital, but it is as quiet and as briglit as if you were 
 miles away from it. After a mile or so of this you 
 see the open country in front of you. There is no 
 gate or barrier. A church stands at the extremity of 
 the buildings — a curious and elaborate specimen of 
 the Russian ecclesiastical edifice. It is a small thino\ 
 and it stands on its little elevated rise of ground with 
 a flight of steps up to the door, and a few clipped 
 lime-trees are on the slope of the bank. ^^ course 
 there are the five cupolas. Looking at it, you hardly 
 know whether to smile or be serious. It is a church, 
 and so you should be the latter ; but it is a diminu- 
 
 BARRACKS AND STABLES. 
 
 55 
 
 tive, heavy, quaint, fanciful structure, rather crushed 
 by its five cupolas, and these and its walls and tower 
 are all glaring in masses of colour. Deep blue walls, 
 green roof, and red cupolas, and all these are in 
 broad masses of strong deep colours. You are get- 
 ting accustomed to all kinds of singular buildings as 
 churches with the strangest ornamentation ; but this 
 is an outrageous instance of the kind — a flagrant sin 
 against taste in colouring. Probably the papa was 
 addicted to painting, and when the day of painting 
 came round backed his own fancy in the mingling of 
 colours against the artist world of Moscow. How- 
 ever, artistic taste in painting is yet allowed to be 
 rather in its infancy in Russia. 
 
 A broad grass track, in the middle of which was a 
 rough country road, led me on, and presently I came 
 to an immense building, white, of brick plastered. It 
 was a cavalry barrack, and empty. Only a few wo- 
 men and children were about, and men inside were 
 whitewashing the interior. Through the low open 
 windows I could see the endless lines of stalls. It is 
 a rule in Russia to build the stables with the windows 
 very low down, and then to have the rack and man- 
 ger frequently in the very window. The horse must 
 stand all day long with the strong glare of the light, 
 
56 
 
 GAKDENS AND HOUSES. 
 
 and if on the south side, of the sun, riglit in his eyes. 
 I suggested to various Russians that this must be very 
 fatiguing to the horses, and bad, too, for the eyes, 
 but, as Charles Mattliews says, '' they did not see it." 
 When I asked them — If you yourself come in tired, 
 do you not find a corner awav from the sun refresh- 
 ing? — you are unwell, do you not like a shaded 
 room ? Do you not find a glare in your eyes at any 
 time dazzling? Here are your horses tied up in tlie 
 very blaze of light, and cannot get away from it. But 
 " they did not see it " — the liorses were accustomed 
 to it. These cavalry barracks were built in tliis way. 
 On beyond the barrack were ""ardens with occa- 
 sional small houses scatttered about among them. 
 Some of these were only gardeners' cottages, of wood, 
 but others were evidently the residences of families, 
 enclosed in two or three acres of orcliard and pasture 
 and belt of trees. A rude kind of grass track led 
 among these, ^iie of them pretended to ponds and 
 a summer-house and water carried along in a 
 winding ornamental way, through some coppice 
 wood, with a rustic bridge over it. A younf^ 
 woman with two children, a boy and a girl, came 
 out from one of tlie houses, with a small doL' 
 the boy dressed, of course, in his red cotton tunic 
 
 SERVANT AND CHILDREN. 
 
 57 
 
 and long black boots — the little gentry of the place 
 with their servant. They all came up the path gaily, 
 till the dog saw me sitting on a rail in the shade of the 
 coppice, and then he sniffed at me timidly with his 
 nose in the air from twenty yards distance, and not 
 then liking the look of matters, or something that 
 told liis nose I was not of his country, arid therefore 
 an enemy seeking the lives of dogs in general and his 
 own in particular, he turned tail, and fled without a 
 word into the shelter of the domain, careless of all 
 appearances. The maiden regarding this as a warning 
 of some very serious danger threatening the young 
 heir in boots, and the little girl, and also her own 
 precious person, caught up the little girl, and fled 
 from me in dismay. Considering how very near we 
 were to the capital I thought it was a strange proceed- 
 ing, reflecting on my personal appearance. Did I look 
 like a garotter? 
 
 Going on, I found a wide plain of gardens stretch- 
 ing away to the river, a dead flat of a mile or more^ 
 at the foot of the line of the Sparrow Hills. People 
 were at work in all directions. Small gardeners' 
 huts were scattered about everywhere on the open 
 plains. Soon I came up to an immense field of the 
 small gourd which the Russians eat with almost every- 
 
58 
 
 PICKING GOURDS FOR MARKET. 
 
 MEN AND WOMEN AT WORK. 
 
 59 
 
 thing. There were acres of this small vegetable. It 
 is of a green and yellow colour when ripe, about three 
 to four inches in length, and has the taste of a mild 
 cucumber. The common people almost live on it. 
 Here were parties of women picking them in baskets, 
 with one man to each line of eight or ten women, per- 
 haps to overlook them. The vegetable grew in long 
 regular rows and the women were marshalled in line 
 between the rows. They were all decently dressed, 
 except that none wore shoes or stockings. Those are 
 commonly superfluities in Russia with the peasant 
 women in the summer time. As I approached, their 
 heads all bent down at their work, occasionallv a 
 voice would strike out three or four words of some 
 song, and then, after a pause and a little broken talk, 
 another would do the same. A hundred yards l)e- 
 fore them was a small house, and there was the gar- 
 dener with two or three men, horses in tlieir liarness 
 hitched up to the out-houses, and two or three carts, 
 and heaps of the gourds lying about on the ground by 
 them. They were packing them for the Moscow market 
 the next morning. The whole scene carried me back 
 at once to the early days when I lived by the Thames, 
 not far from Kew Bridge, where in the neighbourhood 
 the gardens flourish which send their supplies, as here. 
 
 11 
 
 I 
 
 to the market of the Capital. I was too far off to dis- 
 tinguish the features of the women, tliough when one 
 discovered me and told lier companions, of course they 
 all struck work and had a good long stare at the stran- 
 ger. But they did not consider me a garotter and fly. 
 However, remembering the women in the Chiswick 
 Gardens, and that beauty was a rare plant among the 
 human part of those precincts, and knowing, likewise, 
 that tliis same plant is not as common in harsh com- 
 plexion-destroying Russia as in soft and skin-cultivat- 
 ing England, I did not make any effort to approach 
 nearer to the shoeless females. Somehow a woman 
 witliout shoes and stockings, whether in the fields of 
 Germany, or in the market-gardens of Moscow, is not 
 quite attractive. The men were, as usual, stalwart 
 fellows, the chief in his long coat, and the subordinates 
 in their pink knickerbockers and loose cotton tunics, 
 and all in the general high black boots, which give 
 sucli a fine finish of strength and substance to the 
 man of Russia. There was a sound, well-to-do look 
 about the house ; flowers were in a small inclosed 
 space by the wooden walls, and the rude out-build- 
 ings, the carts and the harness, the horses and the 
 men, and the piles of gourds as high as the carts, gave 
 an appearance of rich plenty to the scene of labour. 
 
« 
 
 )i 
 
 60 
 
 DEVITCHEI CONVENT. 
 
 After a few words Avith the head man, and some 
 pantomime in my limited Russian, and inquiring my 
 way to the Devitchei Convent, I went on. Narrow 
 pathways among the acres of gourds, and then of 
 cabbage and other garden produce, and occasionally 
 a rude cart track for a short distance, led me on to the 
 convent, now visible behind some trees. 
 
 What a grand fortress-like building is the Devitchei 
 Convent ! This is the famous retreat for highly-born 
 ladies. Imagine a lofty wall battlementcd, of red 
 brick, some thirty feet high, inclosing a square of three 
 or four acres. The noble wall stretched in a straight 
 line along in front of me for three hundred yards, 
 with small towers on it at intervals ; and fine buildings 
 of red brick and stone-work rose up, lofty and impos- 
 ing, beyond it. 
 
 In the centre of the wall was a fanciful stone gate- 
 way with a tower over it, and the gates being open I 
 went in. Nothing could be neater than the interior. 
 At the porter s lodge there was no one, so I sat do^vn 
 on a stone seat by the archway. All in front was a 
 large space open down to the church at a hundred 
 yards distance. This was a very rich and handsome 
 edifice, with its gilt cupolas and broad flights of steps, 
 over which projected a roof supported by light pillars 
 
 I 
 
 i« 
 
 ii 
 
 j 
 
 I 
 
 a 
 
 THE BELL-TOWER. 
 
 61 
 
 up to the arcade running round the church. To the 
 right were low cottage buildings, and the same on the 
 left, standing separate. To the right of the church 
 was another rich edifice, either another church, or per- 
 haps a grand hall or library. To the left of the main 
 building was the bell tower. Anything more graceful 
 you cannot see. It was of red brick, of square sub- 
 stantial strength, not ornamented, up to about seventy 
 feet, and then for another seventy feet it was of open 
 work, tier upon tier of light arches and pillars, the 
 whole tapering to a delicate point. In the open arches 
 were hung the bells. I had heard the bells as I came 
 through the gardens, the silvery musical bells calling 
 the nuns to the afternoon service. 
 
 Now, as I sat I heard the swell of voices in the 
 church, so I walked down towards it. There was not 
 a person visible anywhere. What a charming repose 
 and beauty there was in the place ! Perhaps it was 
 not a prison to some of the inmates, but a happy re- 
 treat from the cares of the world. Anyhow, it was 
 an attractive one to a stranger, judging merely by the 
 outside. Narrow raised and paved pathways ran 
 across and down the large space, preparations against 
 the long winter snows and flooding thaws. At the 
 foot of the flight of stairs on either hand were small 
 
 > r 
 
 i i 
 
t 
 
 62 
 
 NUNS. 
 
 1 
 
 inclosed burial-places. Stopping to read the inscrip- 
 tions in these, I saw not only the names of noble ladies, 
 but of noblemen and general officers, on some of the 
 tombs and head-stones. Members of old families con- 
 nected with the convent like their bones to rest within 
 the sacred precincts, and pay highly for the privilege. 
 Here in this confined but picturesque cemetery, of a few 
 yards square, lay the remains of some of the most dis- 
 tinguished sons of Russia. 
 
 On mounting tlie stairs I came upon the long, 
 broad, and shaded arcade running to the right and left. 
 Here were women in black standing about, with tlie 
 air of dependents of tlie convent. The door bemg 
 open in front of me I went in, and in a moment I 
 found myself in front of a body of young ladies, of 
 small delicate figures and pale faces, all in black, the pale 
 faces made more pale by the setting of the close-fitting 
 black cap tied under the chin. This covers all the 
 hair, but it rises and terminates in a peak which 
 comes up from behind in the form rather of the Phry- 
 gian cap of the Naples peasantry. It is not becoming, 
 but a pretty delicate face is a pretty delicate face under 
 any disguise. The enormous pillars which support the 
 cupolas and occupy so nmch of every Greek church — 
 twelve feet square very often — break the congregation 
 
 y^^ 
 
 I 
 
 INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH. 
 
 63 
 
 4 
 
 into parties. So it was here. On my right was a body 
 of the lady nuns ; in my front between the pillars was 
 another body; beyond them another. I Avas staggered; 
 and all was so orderly and so arranged and occupied 
 that I felt my coming in was very much like an intrusion. 
 I was hesitating about backing out from the face of 
 these small regiments of young ladies in sober black, 
 when fortunately I saw on the left, not a further body 
 of sombre ladies, but four or five women in ordinary 
 attire. So I took courage and my position by these. 
 Everybody was standing — there were no seats. One 
 of the enormous pillars was close to me, and in front 
 of this, and between it and the low raised dais or en- 
 closed space in front of the Ikonostas, was another 
 body of the lady nuns in a high-sided pew. Only 
 their heads and shoulders were above this. All along 
 their front and beyond the pillar and out of my 
 sight ran the Ikonostas, which was, as usual, richly 
 adorned with pictures with gilded settings, up to the 
 roof, and among them the heads of the Virgin and 
 Saviour surrounded with precious stones. The floor- 
 ing was covered with the usual rope carpeting in com- 
 partments. Everything was extremely handsome and 
 in good order, clean and cared for. Just as I entered 
 the singing ceased, and then a man came in through a 
 
 it 
 
 J K *- 
 
64 
 
 THE RUSSO-GREEK SERVICE. 
 
 gilt door from behind the Ikonostas, as usual with long 
 flowing hair and full beard, in a long silk brown dress. 
 This was the papa of the convent. He was the only 
 man in the church besides myself He came in with 
 that usual easy and rather irreverential air of the Greek 
 priest, and passing along to the centre of the Ikonostas 
 he commenced a litany. He sang in a deep manly 
 voice the prayer, and then one single female voice sang 
 the response. There is said to be something melan- 
 choly and affecting in the Greek service, and tliis was 
 the case with this litany. There was a mournful ca- 
 dence in the tones of the nun that sounded like a wail 
 of sorrow. Each response was plaintive beyond ex- 
 pression, and it termmated in rather a high-pitched 
 note of the most touching appeal. It was a youn^^, 
 fresh voice, clear, soothing, and yet so pathetic it would 
 make you weep to listen to it if you had a weak joint 
 in the harness of your nervous system. I tried to 
 crane forward decently to see the singer, but the enor- 
 mous pillar and the high pew of the nuns prevented 
 all chance, as she was somew^here further on. In the 
 middle of this a slight movement behind me made me 
 turn, and there was a small fragile nun at my side 
 holding up a little velvet bag and peering at me with 
 tender eyes. The features were delicate and the clieeks 
 
 IN CHURCH. 
 
 65 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 colourless. Poor little subdued lady! This gentle 
 creature thus mutely begging, and the plaintive voice 
 in my ears from the unseen singer, were irresistible. 
 As I looked into her pretty soft brown eyes and 
 dropped my coin into her bag I refrained — and only 
 refrained — from w^hispering '* Sweet sister " to the 
 pensive little being before me. As I stood there a 
 wandering eye from the high pew discovered the 
 stranger, and in the course of a few minutes nearly 
 every face in turn stole round to look with Eve-like 
 curiosity. I regret that as a rule the young ladies 
 were decidedly plain. To be sure that black cap is not 
 becoming, and it requires a considerable amount of 
 good looks to balance the evil. Of course I had no 
 business to think of such things in such a place, but 
 still there were extenuating circumstances. I did not 
 know a w^ord of the litany, the whole scene was pic- 
 turesque in the extreme and affected the various con- 
 tradicting parts of one's nature ; and the result was, as 
 my senses were more immediately appealed to, the 
 senses did not refuse to reply to the demand on 
 them. 
 
 On leaving the church I seated myself again on the 
 stone seat by the entrance gateway. The little nuns 
 came out in irregular bodies and dispersed all over 
 
! 
 
 66 
 
 A KNOTTY SUBJECT. 
 
 the pathways, and by flights of stairs to the several 
 courts, to the cottage buildings and to the cloisters. 
 Lastly came the elders and the superiors, two staid 
 ladies of more than middle age, up the central path 
 to a handsome building on the other side of the en- 
 trance gate. They were in animated talk, and be- 
 tween the steps of the church and the archway near 
 me they settled a good many matters, for persons, wo- 
 men and men, too, cap in hand, came from various 
 quarters, received directions, and departed rapidly. 
 But there was some one knotty subject in hand. They 
 stopped midway. Two men, servants evidently, came 
 and were questioned, and then turned away with sub- 
 dued looks, to be called up again and reproached, 
 evidently. The papa at last came up the path, and 
 was taken into council. Then they all advanced fur- 
 ther up, and the w^hole thing was very serious. 
 Gradually the papa got into the matter, and offered 
 suggestions seemingly, but without avail. Perhaps, 
 methought, some little nun has misbehaved, and must 
 be punished ; but the servants would not be consulted. 
 Perhaps it is a finance matter, and some tenant of the 
 convent has been wanting in his dues. The principal 
 lady became very serious, moved her hands up and 
 
 A PERSUASIVE PAPA. 
 
 67 
 
 down with decision, raised her voice, stopped in her 
 walk, was clearly working herself up to something 
 like violent action in some direction. All the by- 
 standers looked on the ground, impressed. Now ar- 
 rived the moment for the papa. He took up his pa- 
 rable. He spoke for two or three minutes in a quiet, 
 measured tone, gradually warming ; people's features 
 relaxed ; the sternness faded from the elder's face ; she 
 gave a consenting motion of her head to some position 
 the papa took up ; he took advantage of it, threw in a 
 rapid observation or two with a courtly bow to her, 
 added something evidently conciliatory and pleasing, 
 and finished with a little story, as it appeared, which 
 wa^ eminently attractive. The elder smiled, the other 
 lady laughed, the papa made a grimace, the servants 
 turned away relieved, and there were peace again and 
 kind thoughts in the sacred precincts. Clever and 
 persuasive papa ! After some very cheery conversation 
 on other subjects for a few minutes, he took his leave; 
 and as he passed me on his way out we exchanged a 
 polite greeting. He had won his little combat, and 
 had left good will and merciful intentions behind him ; 
 and as I went out and watched him hastening away at 
 an easy and rapid pace over the grassy plain outside 
 
 - f2 
 
68 
 
 A PARTING BENEDICTION. 
 
 the convent wall towards some houses, where he pro- 
 bably lived, I could not help sending after him men- 
 tally the words, '' Peace be with thee, papa ; there are 
 many worse men in the world than thou." 
 
 69 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 
 The Cow of Northern Russia — Cattle let out to Pasture — A Cow on 
 its way Home — Climate and Productions of Little or Southern 
 Russia — The Extent of Moscow — The Thief Market — The Police 
 of Moscow — Robberies and Burglaries — Purchasers of Stolen Goods 
 — Scenes of Real Life in Russia — Men of the Market — Speculating 
 in Old Clothes— Ingenious Thieves and Ingenuous Victims — Sale of 
 Stolen Goods — Not for the Market — Russian Character — A Hard- 
 won Victory. 
 
 T F a traveller desires to see a city and mark its ways 
 -■- and peculiarities he must go about it on foot. 
 One morning I emerged early from my hotel, all the 
 world still in bed, and on turning up the first street I 
 met a solitary cow. She was coming leisurely down 
 the raised footway unattended. Not another moving 
 thing was in sight. As I stood to watch her she walk- 
 ed on at a good pace, without looking round, and 
 much as if she had an object in view and was not at 
 all at a loss as to her direction to it. After a time she 
 turned a corner, and I lost sight of her. Presently I 
 met another, and after a time a third, each alone. 
 
70 
 
 KEEPING COWS. 
 
 COWS ON THEIR WAY TO PASTURE.- 
 
 71 
 
 Then one came out of a gateway in front of me, and 
 went on down the broad street I was following. The 
 gate was closed when I reached it. It must be ac- 
 knowledged that, havinga liking for cows, and also a cer- 
 tain bucolic discrimination as to form and colour and 
 breed, I found these cows veryugly. In fact, the Russian 
 cow of the North is but a plain beast. She is usually 
 black and white with a rugged, ungainly shape. The 
 marking, too, of the colours is displeasing to the eye. 
 She is, however, by no means small. 
 
 But now the proceedings of these cows in the early 
 morning in the heart of the city, wandering alone, was 
 a mystery. On inquiring I was told that throughout 
 Moscow various families possess, among their worldly 
 goods, a cow. Vast numbers of the larger houses have 
 considerable spaces enclosed in the rear of their dwell- 
 ings—gardens, courts, grassy places. Likewise the in- 
 numerable cottages in the by-streets have within 
 their gates green plots and outhouses. In very many 
 of these there is a cow. During the summer time, 
 when there is pasture, the first duty to be observed in 
 all these dwellings is to open the gates and let out the 
 cow. If there is delay in this performance a loud 
 warning from the outhouse or the court awakes the 
 servant to it. The cow let out, he may go to bed again. 
 
 She knows her way by certain streets towards a cer- 
 tain barrier of the city. As she goes other cows join 
 her from other cottages or houses, and by the time 
 they all arrive near the barrier they are a consider- 
 able body. Here they find a man blowing a horn, 
 whose business it is to conduct them to some pasture 
 outside the town, to take care of them during the day, 
 to collect them by his horn in the afternoon, and to 
 bring them back to the barrier at a given time. 
 When he has done this his business is over. Each 
 cow knows her way home, and finds it unmolested 
 up to the very heart of the city, the Kremlin. 
 What a simple and convenient method for insuring 
 good and pure and fresh milk to the family ! Each 
 inaier-familias can water it according to her wants 
 or tastes, and she can omit the chalk — a blessed pri- 
 vilege ! 
 
 On another afternoon I was loitering about the Pa- 
 lanka Square, just outside the Kitai Gorod, when 
 through one of the Kitai gates, and from among the 
 crowd of passengers, came a solitary cow. As she 
 passed near me I could not but mark her fine form 
 and full eye and glossy neck. There was no one with 
 her to take care of her. I remarked this to a Swiss 
 who was my companion. 
 
72 
 
 A COW ON HER WAY HOME. 
 
 " Is she quite alone ?" said I. 
 
 "Of course," he replied; ''she knows her way 
 home." 
 
 " Well, but she has just come through the Kitai, at 
 its very busiest time, when its streets are crowded 
 with drojkis and carts and people; would not boys in- 
 terrupt her?" 
 
 My thoughts went off to what our London gamins 
 would do under similar circumstances. 
 
 *' There is no man or boy in all ]\Ioscow would ven- 
 ture to touch or interfere with that cow," said the 
 Swiss ; "- it would be as much as his life is worth ; at 
 any hour of the day she is safe everywliere, and you 
 see everybody gets out of her way to let her go home. 
 Everyone is interested in every cow carrying her milk 
 home to the family, and so she is under the protection 
 of everybody." 
 
 To test this, I watched the animal for some distance 
 along the busy and bustling market-place, and then 
 along the Boulevard ; and she held steadily on her 
 way, taking her path by the gutter as long as it was 
 unimpeded, and then threading her way among the 
 little carts and stalls, jostling no one, and getting back 
 to her line when possible, till she reached her turning- 
 point, and then making it without any hesitation. 
 
 UTTI^ RUSSIA. 
 
 73 
 
 But this cow was different from any I had seen, and 
 I applied to my Swiss. 
 
 *' Ah 1 yes," he said, " there is a breed in Southern 
 Russia which is very fine, as large and as handsome as 
 we have in SAvitzerland, and this is one of them." 
 
 This Southern Russia, or Little Russia, seems by all 
 accounts to be a country of many excellencies. If you 
 remark a fine horse — one of those black trotters, with 
 an Arab look about him — you are told, ''That is of a 
 breed in Southern Russia." So it is with the corn. 
 Little Russia, as it is the source of the inspiration of 
 Russian poets who sing of " the heavenly climate and 
 the fair fields of Little Russia," so it is the mother of all 
 good tilings — corn and wine, and horses and cows. This 
 cow life of Moscow reminded me of the account given 
 by the amusing author of " Bubbles from the Brunnen 
 of Nassau," as to the habits and ways of life of the pigs 
 of Schlangenbad. There a pig-man generally led the 
 animals of the place out to their breakfast and dinner 
 beyond the town, collecting them in the same way as 
 the men of Moscow do their cows. I will only add 
 that there is this difference between the cases of 
 Schlangenbad and Moscow, that whereas the former 
 is but a diminutive place where it is but a few mi- 
 nutes' walk from the centre to the fields, Moscow is a 
 
74 
 
 SCENE IN THE PAL AN K A SQUARE. 
 
 THE THIEF MARKET. 
 
 75 
 
 huge city. From my hotel, which was as near the 
 centre as possible, I calculated that the distance was 
 full three miles to any barrier. I walked from it by 
 almost all of the great radiating thoroughfares to the 
 several barriers, and I found that it cost me a fair 
 hour of walking easily, at about a pace of three miles 
 per hour. This would make the diameter of the city 
 about six miles. It is declared to be twenty miles in 
 circumference, and this my calculation would be in 
 agreement with the general statement, because there 
 is one point in the circle where there is a considerable 
 projection, on the south-east, and this loop or projec- 
 tion would account for the extra two miles. Thus 
 the Moscow cows in many instances must walk three 
 miles out in the morning for their food, and the same 
 distance back again in the afternoon to their homes. My 
 Southern Russian beauty must have done this, for she 
 was close to my hotel when I saw her. A cow of 
 this Southern breed is worth forty roubles — about six 
 pounds ; but the commoner animal of the North is 
 worth only about ten or twelve to twenty roubles. 
 
 While standmg on the Palanka Square, watching 
 the cow, I observed a crowd of men and women at 
 the comer of it, spreading across the Boulevard walk 
 and into the arch of one of the gateways of the Kitai 
 
 Wall. Some of these had pairs of boots in their 
 hands, others had coats hanging over their arms ; 
 others again were carrying waistcoats, while many 
 women were carrying women's dresses as well as the 
 garments of men. Some sat on the low railing of the 
 Boulevard pathway, all waiting, all talking. What 
 was this ? I had observed this same collection of 
 people more than once before at this same place when 
 passing through the Palanka Square. 
 
 My Swiss informant told me that just inside the 
 gateway was a market, and that this crowd outside 
 was only the outflow of it. Some called this the Thief 
 Market ; others gave it the attractive name of the 
 Louse Market. It received the latter appellation from 
 the fact that as it was attended by all the common- 
 est and lowest and dirtiest part of the population of 
 the city, there was also a very large population of 
 another kind with them, and that if you went into 
 the market the chances were that you would bring 
 out with you in your clothes more life than you car- 
 ried in. The reason of the other name was, that all 
 the articles one saw in the hands or on the arms of 
 the men and women were considered to be the pro- 
 duce of robberies. 
 
 '' But," said I, " what do the police in such a case? 
 
76 
 
 POLICE OF MOSCOW. 
 
 INGENUITY OF RUSSIAN THIEVES. 
 
 77 
 
 I see some of them standing about in their uniforms." 
 ** The police do nothing/' he replied— '^ that is, they 
 only do what suits them.'' 
 
 The police of Moscow, it appeared, are a very pe- 
 culiar body of men. Their business, of course, is to 
 search into all acts of robbery, and to discover, if they 
 can, the robbers ; but then their next business is to 
 make all the money they can out of the case for them- 
 selves. They are badly paid by the Government, 
 and when they have discovered the thief they keep 
 the discovery close. It is a valuable piece of know- 
 ledge, and not to be parted with but for a considera- 
 tion. Now the Government have already paid their 
 share of the premium, but if the robber will pay 
 something handsome more than the Government, 
 then the interest of the police is on the side of the 
 higher premium— the robber. Thus there are con- 
 tinual robberies and burglaries, one nearly every 
 night, in Moscow. Every man and householder must 
 take care of himself and his goods. The police are, 
 if anything, rather against him. The robbers are a 
 mine of wealth to them. This is a very curious state 
 of things in this beautiful and highly-civilized city, 
 the capital of a great country. Here was an open 
 market, under the nose of the police, for stolen goods 
 
 — the police in a manner in league with the thieves 
 and profiting by the plunder. 
 
 These people who were selling were not the actual 
 thieves, but were the purchasers at low prices of the 
 stolen goods. It was difficult to believe that such a 
 known and understood system could go on ; but then 
 Russia is a country which is in a transition state be- 
 tween one social condition and another. I made some 
 remark about the police, and this market offering a 
 premium on robbery, w^hen my companion observed, 
 *' It is a premium on ingenuity. No one in the world 
 is more ingenious than a Russian about money," and he 
 related the following circumstances connected with this 
 market : — 
 
 '' One day lately a man brought a watch here for 
 sale, and sold it. Another w^atched the sale, marked 
 the buyer, and followed him. Passing through one 
 of the Kitai gates, he, the follower, met a soldier, to 
 whom he said a few words, giving him a rouble. 
 They both came up to the purchaser of the watch. 
 
 1 the man, addressing the purchaser, ' Friend, you 
 have bought a watch in the market— it is mine ; it 
 was stolen from me last night.' ' How do I know 
 tliat^' replied the other ; 'what was your watch like?' 
 The man described the watch, adding, ' Here, show it 
 
 U 
 
78 
 
 CURIOSITIES OK CRIME. 
 
 JIEN OF THE MARKET. 
 
 79 
 
 I 
 
 ■ i 
 
 to my friend, this soldier ; he knows it well/ Of 
 course, on seeing it, the soldier swore fiercely to it as 
 his friend's watch. 'Now,' said the man, ^you give 
 me up my watch, or I follow you till we meet a 
 policeman, and I tell him all about it/ The man gave 
 up the watch, and the other went back into the mar- 
 ket and sold it." 
 
 A second case the Swiss related : — 
 
 '' A rich fur cloak was sold in this market. Two 
 men marked the buyer go and pawn it. These men 
 in the evening disguised themselves as police, and go- 
 ing to the pawnbroker, a Jew, they said, ' You have 
 a fur cloak ' — describmg it — ' pawned to you to-day. 
 We are in search of that cloak ; it was stolen some 
 days since/ ' Well,' said the Jew, ' there it is. I 
 lent forty roubles on it; if you pay me that sum, there 
 is the cloak.' ' Pay you forty roubles ! The Govern- 
 ment does not pay for the recovery of stolen goods. 
 If you do not give it up, you must come before the 
 authorities, and you may lose your licence.' So the 
 Jew, being frightened, gave up the cloak, which the 
 men, their disguise thrown off, brought and sold in 
 the Thief Market the next day. 
 
 I walked on with my companion along the Boule- 
 vard outside the Kitai wall, down the hill to the round 
 
 tower at the corner, where the wall strikes on the 
 Moskwa. Near the tower, and on the road by the 
 river, I observed three or four ill-dressed, scampish 
 men lianging about, scattered, but evidently of one 
 party. It is rather a lonely corner. There are no 
 houses, as on the opposite side of the Boulevard is the 
 long low wall of the garden of the lar^e Foundlincr 
 Hospital, which stands at a considerable distance from 
 the corner. Presently a lad came along the road by the 
 Hospital wall, and turned up the Boulevard. He had 
 a rather bulky bundle under one arm. In a moment 
 one of the men made a dash at the boy, and caught 
 hold of the bundle. The others hurried up, and the 
 boy was surrounded. '' Men of the Market," said my 
 companion. The boy pushed on up the pathway of 
 the Boulevard, the men all eager in manner and ani- 
 mated in gesture, evidently bent on learning what 
 was in the bundle. As the boy passed the round 
 tower which abuts on the pathway the men got quite 
 round him, and parti}' by persuasive oifers to buy, 
 and partly by a certain good-natured violence, they 
 forced him into a recess of the Kitai wall and the tower. 
 I strolled back to see the result. In the recess the 
 bundle was opened, the contents spread on the ground 
 —apparently various articles of men's clothing— all 
 
80 
 
 SPECXJLATING IN OLD CI/QTHES. 
 
 NOT FOR THE MAKKET. 
 
 81 
 
 If^ 
 
 
 \. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 t 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 the men kneeling round and examining them closely, 
 the boy seated. It was his little shop ; and the men 
 in turn were chattering, gesticulating, making offers 
 for the goods with eager depreciation. Now and 
 then one got up and pretended to come away in utter 
 disgust at the price demanded, and then went back 
 again, as if for one last effort. After a time the boy 
 got up and left them, went round the tower with a 
 quick step and a satisfied countenance, but without his 
 bundle ; and as he walked along under the Hospital 
 wall by the river he was counting something in his two 
 hands very earnestly. 
 
 *^ He got his money," said the Swiss, with a laugh. 
 ^^ Now they will go to the market." 
 
 The men emerged from the recess, one of them with 
 the bundle under his arm. He went on his way up 
 the Boulevard under the Kitai wall towards the Thief 
 ^T rket, and the other three turned again towards the 
 river. The goods were stolen, and the man had bought 
 them on speculation. 
 
 Scarcely was the boy out of sight when a man ap- 
 peared walking along the road by the TT -pital IT- 
 was neatly dressed, and had the look of a servant. 
 He, too, had a bundle under his arm. Tiie men 
 watched his approach, and the moment he turned the 
 
 ) 
 
 corner of the wall to go up the Boulevard instead of 
 going on by the river, they hurried across after him, 
 and one, going up to his side, put out his hand and 
 tapped the bundle. The man merely looked over his 
 shoulder, nodded and laughed, saying in a cheery 
 way, ''No, no, not for the market," and went on. 
 The two returned leisurely to their companion, who 
 had continued lounging by the low river wall and 
 looking down at the water, and who now called out 
 to them with a laugh, "• I told you so."' He was priding 
 liimself on his better perception that this neatly-dressed 
 man was not a customer for the market. This corner 
 of the Kitai wall, by the Boulevard and the Hospital, 
 was evidently a little manor on which these sporting 
 gentlemen took their daily diversion. Here they lay 
 in wait and watched for their game. Here, by that 
 quiet river road up to this solitary corner the game 
 was sure to come; and here they brought it down and 
 bagged it, their weapons being their wits and a few 
 roubles. Just up the hill was their sure market. 
 How quickly they turned over their little floating 
 capital ! 
 
 One day, standing by a window in my hotel on the 
 Boulevard, watching the endless novelty of figures 
 passing along the pathway in front, I witnessed a new 
 
 G 
 
 llfi 
 
82 
 
 ALTERCATION WITH A JEW. 
 
 THE HEBREW S PURCHASE. 
 
 83 
 
 scene of " The Market." I think it must be allowed 
 to the Russians as a people that they are by no means 
 an ill-tempered or a quarrelsome race. During all 
 the time of my stay in Russia I never once saw two 
 men fight, or even have a violent contention beyond 
 a few passionate words. They appeared to be a 
 singularly easy and kindly-tempered people. You 
 may witness more rudeness and roughness between 
 man and man in gesture and voice in one hour in 
 Paris than you will see in Moscow in a month. This 
 scene by the Kitai wall before the hotel was redolent 
 of ^' The Market." A middle-aged man, apparently a 
 J w by his dress, was walking quietly along the path- 
 way with a bundle under his arm. A man and woman 
 of the small shopkeeper class met him, and something 
 induced the woman to turn round after passing the 
 Jew and look after him. The two parties had not 
 recognised each other. Now the woman went up ])e- 
 hind the Jew and peered at the bundle, and then she 
 snatched at it. The Jew turned short round and 
 caught the bundle with his other hand, and then 
 there began an altercation. The woman gesticulated 
 violently, pointing with one hand to the bundle, which 
 she grasped with the other. The man, her companion, 
 came up and looked on. The woman appealed to 
 
 him, and the Jew appealed to him. The passers-by 
 i stopped ; and the Jew and the woman so pulled and 
 tugged at the poor bundle, that, of course, it burst 
 open, and then a woman's dress appeared. Now the 
 man seemed to recognise this, and he too entered the 
 lists against the Jew. I must say the Hebrew bore 
 all this outrageous conduct of these two strangers with 
 much patience. It had the look of a highway rob- 
 bery with violence in broad day. The Jew was the 
 injured person, and all he did was to hold on to his 
 property and call out something continually in a 
 piteous tone, which I could not distinguish. .Still he 
 held on pertinaciously, as any man would under the 
 ciicumstances, and more especially a tenacious man of 
 the proverbial tribes. All this unseemly squabble 
 arose out of that odious mother of corrupt ingenuity, 
 ''The Market," just up the hill in the Kitai gateway. 
 On inquiring, it appeared that the Jew had purchased 
 a woman's dress in the market, '' quite promiscuous," 
 as Mrs. Gamp would say, and was carrying it home, 
 when, by ill-luck, the owner — for it had been stolen, 
 of course — caught a glimpse of a corner of it peeping 
 out of the wrapping kerchief under the Hebrew's arm 
 as he passed. The woman's wits were all alive, for 
 she was with her husband on her way to the market 
 
 G 2 
 
 i 
 
il 
 
 84 
 
 UNSEEMLY SQUABBLE. 
 
 A DEARLY-BOUGHT VICTORY. 
 
 85 
 
 on the chance of finding the missing dress there on 
 sale. When the kerchief was pulled off, and the whole 
 of the lost treasure of her heart, in all its beauty and 
 loveliness, was exposed to view, naturally she was ex- 
 cited to madness, as any woman would be. For a 
 full quarter of an hour the struggle went on, the Jew 
 holding on by the dress by the middle, while the 
 woman held one end of it, and the husband the other. 
 Nobody interfered, but a little crowd stopped to watch 
 the result. The three pulled and pushed each other 
 all over the broad footway, from the low railing on 
 one side to the low railing on the other, now under 
 the low lime-trees, and now in the open. No police- 
 man appeared ; and so the tussle went on uninter- 
 rupted. The Jew never attempted to pull away the 
 dress, but only to hold on to it with his little wiry 
 arms locked round it, sometimes forced one way by 
 the superior strength of the man, and then the other 
 by the passionate violence of the woman, and some- 
 times staggering under a united rush of the two. At 
 last he was nearly down on his back, when, in his 
 efforts to save himself from falling, the dress slipped 
 from his grasp, and he stood a dishevelled and dis- 
 comfited man. And then began a parley, which 
 lasted another ten minutes, over the garment. C' arly 
 
 I 
 
 there was matter for negotiation, as is the case with 
 greater powers after a campaign fought and won. 
 They all went up the pathway, and getting over the 
 low rail on to the grass went together to a recess in 
 the wall of the Kitai. There it appeared the woman 
 was induced to part with her dress for a consideration, 
 for, the parley ended, the iiubrew rolled up his prize 
 in his kerchief, and walked down the Boulevard till he 
 came to a bench just opposite my window. Here, 
 under one of the dwarf limes, he sat down to recover 
 himself after his long battle. It was a dearly-bought 
 victory, as I daresay he confessed to himself, for he 
 had suffered in his person, and, worse than that, he 
 had had to pay money a second time from his purse 
 for his prize. 
 
 
86 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Beds in Hotels— Rapid Improvement—Russian Noblemen on their 
 Travels in Former Days— Change produced by Railways— M. 
 Dusaux's Hotel and Cuisine— Interior of a Russian Hotel— View 
 from my Window on the Boulevard— Carriages— The Public 
 
 Rooms— Russian Waiters— Devotional Character of the People 
 
 Scene at Wilna— National Costume— Property held by Serfs— A 
 Cossack Chief— Peasants on their way to Marketr— Riding and 
 Driving— A Carriage of Primitive Construction— Adventure with a 
 " Spider." 
 
 N amusing writer of some letters on Russia, and 
 more particularly on Moscow, in the year of the 
 coronation of the present Czar, in 1856, is eloquent 
 on the subject of the beds in the hotels. A bedstead 
 and a mattress, he tells us, were provided in his day 
 for the traveller, but anything like bedding, such as 
 pillows and blankets and sheets, the stranger must 
 himself provide, or do without. But it is surprising 
 with what rapid stride alterations and improvements 
 a rvance into hitherto benighted corners of the social 
 world in these latter years. It is not many lustres 
 
 RUSSIAN NOBLEMEN ON THEIR TRAVELS. 
 
 87 
 
 ago that any Russian nobleman, on his journey into 
 France or Germany in his huge family vehicle — 
 which was always as much more capacious than the 
 travelling-carriage of any great man of cither of 
 these two countries as Russia is larger than Gaul 
 or Teutonia — having ordered beds at an inn for 
 the niglit for his family, gave no thought of beds for 
 his many retainers. These latter passed their nights 
 in the roomy carriages, or on mattresses in open cor- 
 ridors. Out of those capacious vehicles what piles of 
 pillows and bedding the eyes of wondering onlookers 
 saw emerge. These were not only useful on the 
 journey over the lengthening Russian wastes by day, 
 but were indispensable at the inns by night. But, 
 tempora mutantur^ the railroads have altered all this 
 for the better. Now in the towns of Russia where 
 the railway brings its civilizing influences, the tra- 
 veller finds his bedroom furnished with goods from 
 Paris or Berlin via St. Petersburg. 
 
 At Moscow there is a house kept by Monsieur 
 Dusaux, a Frenchman, well situated on the Boulevard 
 
 « 
 
 outside the Kitai wall. This house was my habitation 
 while at Moscow. Monsieur Dusaux is a pattern 
 landlord — courteous, unassuming, obliging, attentive 
 to his guests. It is true that having been for some 
 
88 
 
 M. DUSAUX S HOTEL. 
 
 VIEW FROM MY WINDOW. 
 
 89 
 
 years chef in the establishment of an ambassador of 
 his own country, and his affections and habits bein^r 
 still in the cuisine, he looks after that department of 
 his own hotel with a never-failing solicitude and 
 leaves the general management of the house to an 
 active and intelligent German intendant. But I found 
 this an admirable division of labour, inasmuch as M. 
 Dusaux's cuisine was, in consequence of his careful 
 supervision and skilful hand, worthy of Paris in all 
 respects. The German intendant spoke Englisli 
 fluently, knew everything in Moscow, and was worth 
 his weight in roubles in the matter of making bar- 
 gains for the stranger with that bargain-loving race, 
 the Moscow shopkeepers. 
 
 lu.^ entrance of a Russian hotel is modest. It is 
 not a grand gateway, with an interior court, as in 
 France or Germany, but is a simple doorway, as in 
 England. The hotel of Monsieur Dusaux was a 
 long and low house. Immediately inside the entrance 
 door wa^ a broad flight of stairs to the first floor, and 
 on my arrival on reaching this I found a wide plat- 
 form with a door on my left opening into a suite of 
 handsome public rooms, and on my right a spacious 
 corridor leading to the private apartments. The Ger- 
 man superintendent appeared at once, and guessing 
 
 in an instant my country, without a question led me 
 along the corridor to its extremity, and into a hand- 
 some well-furnished bright room adapted for a bed- 
 room and sitting-room for a single man. I felt at 
 home in a moment. If I had had a choice of all Paris 
 or London I could not have taken up my abode in 
 one more to my liking. There were sofa, tables, 
 chairs, mirrors ; while an ornamental screen shut off 
 the sleeping part of the room. Across the short gap 
 of time since 1856 and the amusing letters from Mos- 
 cow wliat a leap — from barbarism into refinement ! 
 
 My room was at a commanding corner of the house, 
 two windows in front '' giving," as the French say, on 
 the Boulevard, and other two looking up the said 
 Boulevard to the Palanka Square, or market-place,- 
 as well as into another broad street. In my front, 
 and beyond the Boulevard and a promenade planted 
 with dwarf lime-trees, stretched away to the right 
 and left the white and picturesque and battlemented 
 wall of the Kitai Gorod with its round towers or bas- 
 tions at intervals. Precisely opposite to my windows 
 was a small arch pierced in the wall, a flight of steps 
 leading up to it, a passage for pedestrians into the 
 Kitai. Tt was a sunny day in the beginning of 
 August, and my windows looked south and west. 
 
m 
 
 '.s 
 
 90 
 
 PUBLIC ROOMS. 
 
 TARTAR WAITERS. 
 
 91 
 
 The Boulevard was all alive with carriaf][es of stran^T^e 
 construction: droschky, tarantass, spider-carriage, coun- 
 try waggons, all on four wheels ; one on two wheels 
 being a rare object — I scarcely saw a vehicle on two 
 wheels of any kind duiing all my stay in Russia, — 
 while foot-passengers in every kind of costume, ex- 
 cept our accustomed one of the West, filled the pro- 
 menade, hurrying on business, or strolling at their 
 ease, or sitting on benches beneath the shade of the 
 limes. I felt at once launched into the very centre 
 of everything — close to theatres, markets, the Kitai, 
 and the Kremlin. 
 
 In an hour from my arrival I had shaken off the 
 effects of my night journey from St. Petersburg, an 
 affair of twenty hours, and was sitting on a divan in 
 one of the public rooms by a window looking on the 
 novel and moving panorama of the Boulevard, and 
 deeply concerned in a dish from M. Dusaux's own 
 skilful hand. These public rooms were charming. 
 Imagine three handsome and lofty apartments en suite 
 to the front and a pretty cabinet beyond, the first 
 room furnished in green velvet hangings and similar 
 covering of chairs and divans, the second in crimson 
 and grey silk moreen, the third in blue velvet, and 
 the little cabinet in blue and white. Small round 
 
 tables stood in front of the divans, and comfortable 
 large arm-chau^s were everywhere ; mirrors covered 
 the walls at intervals from the ceiling to the divans, 
 and gas lamps with four or five burners were sus- 
 pended in the centres ; the doors were fitted with 
 rich, heavy portieres, as defences against the cold in 
 winter. Nothing could be more scrupulously clean 
 and fresh than were these rooms at any hour of the 
 day or night, and nothing could be more pleasing to 
 the eye, or more gratif;ying to one's sense of luxuri- 
 ous surrounding, than tlieir taste and order and good 
 keeping. Four men in black, with white neckcloths 
 — the costume de rigueur of all waiters in Russia at 
 hotels or stations under the new railway reign — were 
 in attendance on these rooms, and greater civility or 
 readiness or more noiseless waiting no one could 
 desire. These men were all Tartars. They were of 
 dark complexion, rather high cheek bones, mild coun- 
 tenances, pleasing voices, and had all that peculiar 
 look of the men of the East — the jet-black hair, the 
 colourless skin, the full lip and the veiled eye. Each 
 morning of my stay on entering the middle room 1 
 found a certain table by one of the divans, com- 
 manding a window to the Boulevard, prepared for 
 me with all the freshness and brightness of a Paris 
 
I 
 
 92 
 
 RUSSIAN PIETY. 
 
 DEVOTION TO THE VIRGIN. 
 
 93 
 
 
 i 
 
 salon, the beautiful Moscow porcelain fanciful in co- 
 lour and novel and graceful in form, the room cool 
 with shading blinds ; and often either ray attentive 
 landlord or the intelligent intendant paid me a visit 
 during breakfast to offer any hiformation on Moscow 
 and the Muscovites I might desire. 
 
 ■p ry day T witnessed scenes very curious to the eye 
 of a stranger, in front of my windows, in connection 
 with the small arch for foot passengers through the 
 Kitai wall. Above the arch was fixed a small picture 
 of the Virgin in a gilt frame, and scarcely did a pedes- 
 trian, unless he was a foreigner, ever go up these 
 steps, or come down them, or pass in front of the 
 arch up or down the promenade, without a reverence 
 to the picture. How often from my window T re- 
 marked the general devotion of this people ! The 
 greater nmiiber would kneel down, uncover their 
 heads, and cross themselves three times, while many 
 did this to the number of three times three. And as it 
 was with people on foot, so it was with people in car- 
 riages ; as these went by, droschkies, telegas, taran- 
 tasses, strings of the common telegas laden with coun- 
 try produce, the drivers of all these various vehicles, 
 almost without exception, would salute that little pic- 
 ture some twenty yards off above the arch, and cross 
 
 i 
 
 themselves, bare-headed, three times. I thought I 
 could distinguish that the lower the man or woman 
 in the social scale the more earnest was the devotion 
 — the more \igorous the crossing. Officers iri their 
 droschkies saluted it, ladies in their carriages did the 
 same, but without stopping ; whereas in numerous in- 
 stances country people would dismount from their 
 telegas and kneel in mid-roadway. Frequently per- 
 sons coming down the cross street at my corner would 
 stop at the angle, and kneel uncovered on the foot 
 pavement. I could not hear that that little image 
 had ever been credited with any high spiritual act to 
 account for all this veneration ; but it was the Virgin, 
 and this seemed to be sufficient. To a Protestant, who 
 lives in an undemonstrative society such as that of Eng- 
 land or Germany, this warmth of feeling, or, at least, 
 outward expression of it, is a surprise. He sees so 
 little of it even in France or Italy, in Roman Catholic 
 countries even where such externals are encouraged, 
 that he is quite unprepared for the general and per- 
 sistent exhibition of it in any country. In passing 
 through Prussia, on my way into Russia, I of course 
 saw nothing of this kind anywhere, not even in the 
 Roman Catholic parts of it, whereas I had hardly 
 crossed the frontier and entered the first town, Wil- 
 
 s 
 
94 
 
 A QUERY. 
 
 RUSSIAN COSTUME. 
 
 95 
 
 i 
 
 na, before I found knots of people on their knees, 
 uncovered, in the middle of one of the streets — sol- 
 diers, peasants, gentry, offering their devotion to an 
 unseen figure of the Virgin. There was an archway 
 across the street, and above this was built a dimmu- 
 tive chapel, and over the altar, and concealed by a 
 green curtain, was the picture to which all these peo- 
 ple in Wilna were bowing down. What a radical 
 difference in mind and thought within the distance of 
 a few miles ! So now, in front of my window on the 
 Boulevard, was a repetition of the Wilna scene. 
 
 The query to myself then and since still is — is this 
 a really devout people, in whom there is a stronger 
 sense of religion than in other races, and in whom 
 this sense will last, and be a perpetual bond, to 
 unite them and aid them to work out a grand fate in 
 the history of the world ? Or is it only the result of 
 their present social condition — one of much seclusion 
 from the active and stirring world — one of limited 
 knowledge and of a forced subjection to conventional 
 habits — a forced submission to the strong hand of 
 domestic power and ecclesiastical schooling? Any- 
 how, there is the expression now. But, then, will 
 this continue in its present vigour and earnestness ? — 
 continue, now that freedom has come to the serf, and 
 
 railways are bringing the depths of Russia into con- 
 tact with the outer world, with education and all its 
 doubts and all its demands on men to throw off the 
 shackles of custom and thought and to trust to their 
 own powers of reason — education, with all its science, 
 and all its astounding novelties, and its defiance and 
 overthrow of old-established ways ? Anyhow my win- 
 dow on the Boulevard offered me a fresh page in life. 
 As a rule every man in Russia wears a long 
 coat, one which reaches nearly to his heels. At. 
 first sight you think that every man is wearing 
 his great-coat, even on a hot summer day. But 
 it is not so. This long heavy garment, and the 
 liigh black boots reaching to the knee on the outside 
 of all kinds of pantaloons, are the distinguishing points 
 of the dress of a Russian. All other parts of his dress 
 may vary, but these two articles, the coat and the 
 boots, they belong to the man. They have a good 
 eflfect, too, independent of their substantial usefulness, 
 as they impart to the wearer an air of size and weight 
 and strength which is manly. Now among the men 
 passing continually along the promenade, of course 
 wearing the unfailing coat and boots, there were some 
 of a certain character of dress which was strikinc^. 
 Sometimes these were four or five in company, some- 
 
96 
 
 NATIONAL PEASANT COSTUME. 
 
 WEALTHY PEASANTS. 
 
 97 
 
 H 
 
 times one alone, but the dress was almost always the 
 same. Let me describe it. Below were the in- 
 dispensable boots, very neatly made, with a consi- 
 derable attention to cut. The feet were often finely 
 and delicately formed. The boots reached to the 
 knee, to which descended a full knickerbocker of 
 black cloth, often of black velvet. A scarlet cotton 
 tunic reached to the middle of the thigh, and over the 
 upper part of this tunic was a black velvet waistcoat 
 with ornamental metal buttons, closed up to the neck. 
 The large flowing dark coat and a small dark cloth 
 cap on the head completed the attire. It was singu- 
 larly handsome and manly. On inquiring who these 
 men were of whom I saw such numbers, I was told 
 **They are peasants ; the other day they were serfs — 
 now they are free." This, it appeared, is the dress of 
 those peasants who are well-to-do — men who have 
 saved money. I then saw that there were numbers 
 of other men who wore this same dress — that is, the 
 fashion of it — only that all the material was coarser 
 and commoner, ruder and dirtier, and that in fact 
 this was the national peasant costume. The difference 
 was that these well-dressed men were the dandies of 
 their class — the upper crust — and all the material be- 
 ing richer and brighter in colour, the effect was en- 
 
 hanced. This is, in fact, the national dress of the 
 Russian. 4. 
 
 Vast numbers throughout the empire of this class 
 had been allowed by their masters to enter into trade 
 and commerce in the cities, where many of them were 
 successful, saved money, and bought plots of land in 
 the country, or a cottage in Moscow, or a house. 
 Some of these men are even wealthy, have become 
 owners of parts of the villages in which they were 
 originally serfs, and even of mills and manufactories 
 on the properties of their former masters. While the 
 state of serfdom continued, with all the power of 
 coercion by the master, and its bonds on the liberty 
 of action of the peasant, these facts were kept out of 
 sight as much as possible, for fear of results of which 
 the machinery was legally in the masters' hands ; but 
 when serfdom ceased the use of concealment ceased, 
 and then appeared the fact so remarkable of an im- 
 mense body of serfs possessing property in house and 
 land. 
 
 Among the passengers along the Boulevard was 
 frequently a fine tall elderly man, dressed in a light 
 grey coat of a coarse material, Cossack boots, and a 
 ^ound grey cap with a wide border of dark fur all 
 round it, forming in a manner a heavy projecting 
 
 te I' . 
 
 

 98 
 
 A COSSACK CHIEF. 
 
 PKASANTRY ON THEIR WAY TO MARKET. 
 
 brim. He was a grand figure, erect and rather cor- 
 pulent. The featifres were fine, the eyes grey and 
 still bright, and the whole countenance mild and 
 noble. He appeared to be always sauntering about 
 at his ease and leisure. I admired him so much that 
 we struck up a kind of acquaintance. We could not 
 converse, but we always made a kind of shew of talk. 
 I would say good morning to him in Russian and in- 
 quire for his health, and he would reply something in 
 Cossack. This man liad once been a Cossack chief, 
 but his tribe subdued, his occupation gone of burning 
 villages and capturing spoil, he lived at Moscow. 
 Some said he had a small allowance from Govern- 
 ment, and would wish that it were so and the old 
 chief not quite thrown on the world ; but his principal 
 means of living were declared to be vicarious charity. 
 He certainly begged of me always with his large cap 
 in his hand. It was a humiliating position for the 
 fine old man ; but our muttered talk always ended in 
 one way — mutual smiles and partial kopecks. He al- 
 ways took them with an air as though we had been 
 two chiefs. Thus — '' My friend, let me offer you this 
 gold drinking-cup, a spoil from the slaughtered enemy, 
 as a proof of a tried and enduring friendship.— iUy 
 friend, I accept willingly the goblet, and will do as 
 
 99 
 
 much for you on occasion when our steeds trample on 
 the throats of the vanquished." this was the senti- 
 ment of our occasional meeting on the promenade. 
 This old cliieftain always reminded me of the promi- 
 nent figure in one of the Cossack tales of Gogol, 
 the Russian writer, Tarass Boolba. Here were the 
 grand form, the Eastern face, the dark complexion, 
 the air of the chieftain in figure and countenance. He 
 looked like a man of lineage, one who had swayed the 
 council in tlie Zaporoghian Ssiecha, and was now but 
 a temporary sojourner in the streets of Moscow. 
 
 The Russian is a patient man. The Boulevard ran 
 up with a rather considerable rise from the hotel to 
 the Palanka Square ; and in the mornings when the 
 peasantry were arriving for the market on that square, 
 their creaking and frail-looking telegas heavily laden 
 with country produce, not to mention the wife and 
 old mother and two or three children piled on the 
 top— these telegas would come by in a string of twenty 
 at a time— there was very often a hard fight of the 
 little horse to get up that last hill. These peasant 
 horses were generally but undersized and weakly 
 things, worth about ten roubles — twenty-five shillings. 
 What a number of jibbers I used to watch. Not even 
 the vigorous crossings and earnest prayers to the lit- 
 
 H 2 
 
100 
 
 UNLIMITED PATIENCE. 
 
 J, 
 
 TREATMENT OF JIBBING HORSES. 
 
 101 
 
 -^ 
 
 tie picture of the Virgin above the arch in the Kitai 
 wall just opposite and looking out on the fatal pitch 
 of the hill, were of any avail in many cases. It would 
 seem as if the Virgin only ventured as a reply to all 
 the entreaties for help the cold-blooded advice, ^^Aide- 
 toi et le ciel t'aidera." 
 
 There stood the little horses jibbing in spite of 
 prayers and advice. But the Russian never beat his 
 horse or became angrj. He seemed to be gifted with 
 
 an unlimited patience. The family would continue 
 piled up on the top of the load as if they had no con- 
 cern in the matter. If the horse could manage in the 
 course of the morning to get them all up to the Pa- 
 lanka, well and good, — but if he could not, then they 
 must stay there and bear it. Getting down as a mea- 
 sure of help in the question did not seem to occur to 
 the comfortable dames. The poor little horse would 
 struggle about half-way up tlie pitch, just above my 
 corner, and then, utterly spent, he would give it up as 
 a bad job and let the whole thing go back sideways 
 into the gutter. Another little party just behind 
 would go through much the same performance, the 
 gutter being the ultimate result of both. Then would 
 begin an allair of talk. Passengers stopped to look 
 on and give advice. After resting a bit tlie little horse 
 
 
 would be roused by a shower of goading reproaches 
 to an effort ; but he evidently knew that he was better 
 off in the gutter, for a time, at all events, and so he 
 would shake his head in reply to the abuse, make a 
 sudden spasmodic rush, pretend to fall down on his 
 knees, and then let the whole thing roll back again. 
 The p eagant would blow him up s avagely, and threat- 
 en to do the cruellest things with his whip, but he 
 never struck liim. This kind of performance was of 
 daily occurrence. At last it always terminated in a 
 loose horse being brought down from the Palanka by 
 a friend, and the goods and the imperturbable women 
 all arriving in the market in their dignified position. It 
 is claimed for the Russian, by those who have lived 
 some years in that country, that he is by no means of 
 a hard or cruel nature, but, on the contrary, that he is 
 of a mild and patient disposition. Certainly this treat- 
 ment of the jibbing horses on the Boulevard was a 
 testimony to the truth of this account. 
 
 Among their exercises of skill, I should not say 
 that driving horses was the distinc^uishini]: excellence 
 of the men of the upper ten thousand. They have 
 little practice of this when young, as it is the universal 
 custom to be driven and not to drive. The boys of a 
 family, even where there is a stable of horses, as a 
 
 / 
 
 i^ 
 
102 
 
 A PRIMITIVE VEHICLE. 
 
 I 
 
 • 
 
 rule neither ride nor drive. I never saw any man 
 of that class on horseback, or with the reins in his 
 hand, except here and there a cavalry oflicer, — with 
 one exception. There is a small, fanciful carriage on 
 whicli young officers, ambitious of the art of driving, 
 now and then try their inexperienced hands to pilot it 
 through the streets. Tliis is the smallest and the light- 
 est, and indeed the most absurd of vehicles. It con- 
 sists of one narrow plank connecting two pairs of 
 wheels of a diameter of about three feet. Suspended 
 from the plank by leather straps are two shoes, like 
 those of a lady's saddle, for the driver s feet. There 
 are no springs. 
 
 Anything more thoroughly primitive, but more 
 thoroughly uncomfortable, than one of these spider 
 carriages cannot well be imagined. One day a young 
 Russian gentleman drove one of these up the boulevard 
 under my wmdow, and pulled up at the door of a 
 shop on the slope of the hill. Having no servant with 
 him he gave the long reins a turn or two round one 
 of the line of low stone posts which border and sup- 
 port the raised footway, by the shop door. The horse 
 was a remarkably neat grey of the South Russian breed, 
 Arab-looking, light, young, and rather awkward in his 
 going, and his driver struck me as essentially raw. The 
 
 
 AN IMPATIENT HORSE. 
 
 103 
 
 whole thing, indeed, appeared new and strange to both 
 horse and driver. The carriage was a toy, bright and 
 shining, the boxes of the wheels silvered, and the har- 
 ness elaborate and silver-mounted. I looked on the 
 hitching the horse to the stone post with a doubt. 
 
 The young man went into the shop and remained 
 some time. The horse thus left to himself bec!:an to 
 chafe on his bit, and then he moved from side to side, 
 now getting away till he was stopped by the rein 
 round the post, and then half falling down as he 
 yawed back again to the raised pathway and stumbled 
 up on to it. Becoming impatient, and the young man 
 not returning, the horse w^ent forward a pace or two 
 till the rein pulled him up, and then after a shake or 
 two of his head went backwards. This did very 
 well for a time ; but by degrees he backed so far that 
 he passed the post, and the rein began to pull on him 
 backwards. The more he went back, the more the 
 rein pulled him back. But it acted unequally, the 
 outer or off rein shortening and the near one slacking. 
 Tlius his head was gagged and pulled round over his 
 back ; and so he stumbled up the footway, lost his 
 footing, and tumbled over on his back on the pitch of 
 the pathway, and slipped down between the shafts, all 
 his four feet in the air. Just at that moment the 
 
104 
 
 RESULTS OF DRIVING THE " SPIDER." 
 
 young man came out of the shop and found his liorse 
 and carriage in tliis awkward predicament. He com- 
 menced running up and down the pathway, not know- 
 ing where to begin to set matters to rights. Luckily 
 the horse after a struggle or two lay quiet, gagged as he 
 was. Two or three men ran up, more accustomed to 
 horses than the owner ; and havmg set the head of the 
 animal free, they put on a good many hands, and by 
 main force hauling on the head and the tail, they fairly 
 pulled him out of the gutter and over the shaft, and 
 set the little Arab on his legs again— none the worse. 
 The young gentleman seemed to consider the whole 
 matter a very serious one, and that driving the spider 
 might have results not altogether consistent with safety 
 or pleasure ; so after hesitating for a time whether he 
 should or should not mount again on that thin plank, 
 he eventually decided against it ; and so handing over 
 the smart Httle turn-out to one of the men who had 
 hauled on the Arab's tail, with many directions, he 
 went away ingloriously, " Equo non bene relicto," on 
 foot. 
 
 k} 
 
 105 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The Foundling Hospital— Extent and Purpose of the Establishment— 
 Crown Governesses— Russian Capacity for Governing— A Sunday 
 Visit to the Hospital- The Buildings and Grounds— Internal Ar- 
 rangements-Courtesy of an Official-The Chapel-The Pupils in 
 Uniform— The Service— The Priest— The Responses— The Nurseries 
 —Costume of the Nurses— The Superintendents— Messengers, Ser- 
 vants, and Attendants— The Nurses at Dinner— Number of Orphans 
 received Daily— Another Visit to the Chapel— The Choir— The 
 Papa- Theatrical IManner of the Russo- Greek Priests— The GaUery 
 of Paintings— The Play Room. 
 
 |/ ERY stranger pays a visit to the Institution 
 ^ * called the Foundling Hospital. Tliis is not 
 merely a place for the reception and treatment of 
 little unfortunates, but is likewise a school for a 
 large number of girls, orphans, who are daughters of 
 indigent servants of the Crown. There are about 
 seven hundred of these young persons at one time in 
 the building, and these receive a liberal education in 
 the Institution, while on leaving it they are provided 
 with an outfit and enjoy small salaries according to the 
 certificates which theyhave gained in their examination. 
 
I 
 
 106 
 
 THE FOUNDLING HOSPITAL. 
 
 For six years after leaving, these young persons are 
 bound to devote themselves to the Crown as govern- 
 esses or school teachers in the Empire, except in cases 
 of marriage, when they are free from this obligation, 
 and also lose their salaries. 
 
 Of the foundlings there are about twelve thousand 
 received here in each year. They only remain in the 
 building for a few weeks, and then are sent off into 
 the villages where they are taken charge of by 
 nurses at a regular charge. As the boys grow up tliey 
 are taught trades, and the girls are instructed in suit- 
 able employments, many of them returning to the hos- 
 pital as nurses and attendants, and even as superiors 
 in the separate departments, according to their capa- 
 city or character. It is a noble establishment in all its 
 detail, in its double purpose of a charity and a scliool. 
 
 It is claimed for the Russian that he possesses the 
 capacity for governing men, a power whicli involves 
 a fine sense of order and a talent for detail. This is 
 declared to be the foundation of his superiority over 
 the more highly-educated and more refined Pole on 
 the west, and the more numerous and more warlike 
 nations on his eastern borders. It is impossible to go 
 through the Foundling Hospital without being struck 
 with the admirable order and completeness of detail, 
 
 A CURSORY VISIT. 
 
 107 
 
 the brilliant cleanliness and the attention to health, 
 which reign throughout all the departments of this 
 magnificent establishment. There is nothing superior 
 to it in any country in all the substantial richness of 
 material employed and the intelligent knowledge dis- 
 played in carrying out the object in view. It is a 
 specimen of Russian ability to manage an institution 
 on a large scale, and a witness to the claim put for- 
 ward for them of a capacity for governing. There 
 are those who blame this institution on the ground of 
 encouragmg immorality; but on this I offer no 
 opinion. 
 
 I shall not offer here the statistics of the Foundlinfr 
 Hospital — these are in print in many books already ; 
 but I shall merely state what pleased me in a cursory 
 visit. On inquiry as to the best time to see this fa- 
 mous establishment, I was asked, '\ Why do you not 
 go on Sunday morning and hear the singing ? — all 
 the young ladies sing in the chapel." Accordingly, on 
 the next Sunday morning at ten o'clock I walked by the 
 Palanka Market along the Boulevard. It was a hot Au- 
 gust day, and in August Moscow becomes something 
 more than dusty. Turning off the dusty Boulevard by 
 a gateway I found myself within the premises, cool, 
 shaded, quiet, clean. A road bordered by trees on 
 
108 
 
 THE BUILDING AND GROUNDS. 
 
 THE CHAPEL. 
 
 109 
 
 either side ran along by a great garden wall and 
 penetrated into the interior of the grounds at the 
 back of the fine extensive pile, the front of which faced 
 the river. Here, away from the glare and noise and 
 dust, everything was scrupulously neat and in order 
 — the roadway, the trees, the outer detached build- 
 ings, where resided some of the officers of the estab- 
 lishment, the circular plot of grass and flower-garden, 
 in which was a small ornamental pavilion and around 
 which some nurses were sitting and some children at 
 play. As there is no smoke in Moscow everything 
 was as fresh as if twenty miles separated this garden 
 from the great city, instead of its being in the very 
 middle of it. Going up to the great entrance I found 
 in the hall a porter in the same Imperial livery for 
 porters in the Kremlin — a scarlet great-coat with a 
 cape reaching from his chin to his feet. On inquiring 
 for the chapel I was at once directed to a broad 
 flight of stone stairs, and on reaching a corridor at 
 the top I was led inside an ante-room and desired to 
 wait. While standing here I could hear the echo of 
 many female voices singing in chorus at a distance. 
 Presently an officer in a green uniform, a man of 
 forty years of age with an agreeable countenance 
 approached from another corridor, and coming up to 
 
 me with a smile, held out his hand with a frank, cor- 
 dial manner, and asked me in French what I re- 
 quired. When I said I wished, if that could be per- 
 mitted, to hear the singing in the chapel, he at once 
 drew me along by the hand into the corridor by 
 which he had come, and along it in the direction of 
 the voices. This corridor was broad and lofty, like 
 that of a palace, lit by large deep embayed windows, 
 and floored with a fine polished parquet. Men in 
 livery, and women in a peculiar style of coloured 
 cap and apron, were standing about in knots in the 
 windows and recesses. Beyond these the corridor 
 opened at once into the chapel. Here were the 
 whole seven hundred young persons in three divis- 
 ions, and I found myself in a moment face to face 
 with this imposing body, all standing up and fronting 
 the altar, from behind which the officer and I had 
 entered. The eftect was rather startling. However, 
 the officer led me to one of the usual large pillars 
 near the screen or Ikonostas. and then, slipping away 
 to his own place by another, left me standing in this 
 most prominent situation, where I certainly could 
 liear and see everything, but where every movement 
 on my part during the service was open to the criti- 
 cism of so many liundred young eyes. Happilv in 
 
 lU 
 
110 
 
 THE SINGERS. 
 
 THE PRIEST. 
 
 Ill 
 
 these foreign churches all that a stranger is expected 
 to do is to stand quite still. 
 
 The chapel was arranged in the usual form of the 
 Greek Church with its four immense pillars ; but as 
 in this case these were only here for the sake of carry- 
 ing out the conventional architecture, and not for the 
 support of any cupolas — of which there were none — 
 these pillars were of moderate size, only six feet 
 square. The centre of the chapel was occupied by a 
 large body of the young ladies, about two hundred, in 
 a compact mass ; and then in what may be called the 
 two aisles, but which were, in fact, two square rooms, 
 were the rest of the seven hundred. All were dressed 
 in a neat uniform of grey and white body and skirts, 
 and small white caps. Here and there at intervals 
 among them were women with the air each of a 
 directress of her party of pupils. The girls in the 
 centre were the most advanced in age — about fifteen 
 or sixteen years old. Nothing could look more neat 
 and orderly. There was one main difference between 
 this chapel and the churches of the city which was 
 novel and particularly pleasing. This was clean and 
 bright, with shining polished floor and scagliola pil- 
 lars, and the Ikonostas, or screen, on the raised 
 dais was a specimen of picturesque detail with its 
 
 golden doors and carpet-covered platform, all lookincy 
 fresh as if of yesterday's completion ; whereas the 
 churches of the town, and especially the two principal 
 ones in the Kremlin, in which reposes the dust of so 
 many Czars, are the very reverse of all this— marvels 
 of gaudiness and dirt and faded grandeur. 
 
 But the service was proceeding. The priest was a 
 fine tall dark man, with long flowing hair, a mous- 
 tache and a beard, and in his dress of white silk, with 
 gold Greek crosses all over it, he was an imposing 
 figure. He had a rich deep voice, and when he 
 chanted the solo parts of the service, and the girls in 
 a body made the responses, the effect was exceedingly 
 musical, and even affecting. The contrast of the 
 manly, deep-toned volume of voice of the one, and 
 then the clear young ringing notes of the other, with 
 a tender melancholy plaint underlying them, had to a 
 stranger ear a soothing and touching charm. 
 
 When the service was over the young people went 
 off in detachments at the back of the chapel, and the 
 oflficer came to me, and we walked away together. 
 On my expressing my thanks to him for his courtesy, 
 and my gratification in the young people's singing, he 
 said, 
 
 '' Ah ! but you should come to-morrow — our sincr- 
 
 I i 
 
112 
 
 THE NURSERIES. 
 
 THE SUPERINTENDENT. 
 
 113 
 
 ing to-day was only pretty well ; but to-morrow, if 
 you will come, I can promise you something worth 
 your hearing/' 
 
 Of course I accepted this invitation. Then he said, 
 " Would you like to walk through the house with 
 me now ? My time is at your service." 
 
 So we went. First he took me to the top storey of 
 the building, where we went through a succession of 
 enormous apartments, each about one hundred feet 
 long by thirty in breadth, all vaulted, as a defence 
 against the heat of summer and the cold of winter ; 
 all very light, very airy, and clean in all the detail as 
 the apartments of any imperial palace. All the ma- 
 terial, too, of everything looked rich and expensive. 
 These were the nurseries of the foundlings. In each 
 of these vaulted apartments the beds, or cribs, speci- 
 mens of neatness, were ranged in rows, and nurses, in 
 a costume, were scattered all over them, each with her 
 child, either walking about, or sitting on the crib, at- 
 tending to her little charge. The costume of the 
 nurses was a cotton gown of a red and white pattern, 
 and on the head a coloured cap apparently of a fine 
 stuff. In one apartment the cap was blue, in another 
 pink, in another red, in another green, and so on. 
 The dress was the same througliout, but the caps 
 
 marked the different rooms. All these nurses were 
 stout, strong women, healthy, clean, robust, fine speci- 
 mens of a peasantry. Most of them were of a fair 
 complexion, and some few were moderately good- 
 looking ; but beauty is a rare flower in the peasant 
 gardens of Russia. In each apartment there was 
 seated a woman at a little table. She always rose at 
 the entrance of the officer, and remained standing. 
 This was the superintendent. On her table were a 
 book or two and pens and ink and paper. She kept 
 an account of all that went on in her room, slept in it, 
 and lived there, every day going out for a stipulated 
 time for air and exercise. All these were of a 
 higher class, being of those who were brought up 
 in the institution as orphans, daughters of decayed 
 oflficers and employes of the Government, and who, 
 having returned to the hospital as their home, 
 find a congenial occupation in these large nur- 
 series. As a proof of the care and attention and 
 absence of all stint in the management of these 
 little children all the cribs were fitted with mos- 
 quito curtains during the heat of summer. To my 
 surprise, too, there was a pervading quiet and repose 
 through all these rooms. You rarely heard a cry, a 
 proof methought of the healthiness of the air and 
 
 w 
 
^ 
 
 114 
 
 CAREFUL INSPECTION. 
 
 THE NURSES AT DINNER. 
 
 11 r> 
 
 I » 
 
 the place, and the skilful and kindly ways of the nur- 
 ses with the children. The superintendents were all, 
 I observed, cheerful people wdth pleasing counte- 
 nances, and many of them wore the unmistakable 
 mark of good birth in face and manner. They seemed 
 most attentive in their calling, for more than once, 
 when a child did set up its loud complaint and per- 
 sisted, the superintendent would set off down the long 
 apartment with swift and noiseless step to it and its 
 nurse, and inspect the small thing herself as to the 
 cause, and make suggestions, remaining till peace was 
 
 * 
 
 restored. 
 
 From here we went downstairs. As we passed 
 along the broad corridors, so light, so lofty, on so 
 grand a scale, we met various women. Some looked 
 like ladies, some like governesses, all neat in their 
 dress, of grey, or black, or violet, rather small in 
 person, with a certain refinement. My companion had 
 a little something kindly to say to every one of them, 
 as he had had to the superintendent in the nurseries 
 above — either a suggestion in some detail of manage- 
 ment, or a question respecting some young person, or 
 only a simple word or two of pleasant salutation. All 
 these, the officer said, were women who had been 
 originally foundlings, had been well brought up in the 
 
 villages, and had come back to the Hospital in various 
 employments according to their abilities. Those we 
 met were principally messengers, servants, and attend- 
 ants on the departments of the young orphans on the 
 first floor and tlie foundlings above, each room having 
 its own number of them. 
 
 Now we came to a hall in the centre of the building 
 where some thirty or forty little people were at dinner. 
 These belonged to neither of the large bodies of the 
 Institution. Tliey were a small separate party, an 
 excrescence of cliarity on tlie grander foundation. 
 They were here for their health — a limited number — 
 from the city, temporarily. What a change, and what 
 an aid to health for these little folks to be removed 
 for a time from the confined places of their humble 
 homes and bad air and the unwholesome food of 
 gourds, to these lofty apartments and their reviving 
 air and the nourishing sustenance of meat, and the 
 able treatment of the best medical men of Moscow. 
 They looked bright, and clean, and happy. 
 
 Descending to the basement we came into a long 
 liall where the nurses were at dinner. What a scene ! 
 There were two immense tables, and on either side of 
 these sat a hundred nurses — four hundred w^omen. 
 In their bright red and white dresses, and their blue, 
 
 T 2 
 
 ^1 i 
 
 k 
 
116 
 
 THE BILL OF FAKE. 
 
 and red, and green caps, now all intermingled, and 
 their fresh, healthy faces, they were a remarkable 
 siglit. You only heard a general whispering. At one 
 end a lady, the superintendent, overlooked the dis- 
 tribution of the dinner iii portions to each. The din- 
 ner consisted of a native soup called schie — a compo- 
 sition of meat and vegetables — buckwheat stewed, 
 and kvas, a native beer. Of course I accepted the 
 invitation of the lady-superintendent to taste of these 
 native products, and though I cannot say with truth 
 that I should prefer to share the nurse's repast to a 
 dinner at M. Dusaux s Hotel, yet it was by no means 
 unpalatable, and the kvas of Russia is a pleasant and 
 refreshing drink on a hot day. Immense quantities 
 of buckwheat are consumed by the Russian people, 
 as it is sweet to the taste and very nourishing and 
 invigorating. A g alette of buckwheat, with salt and 
 pepper, is by no means to be despised. 
 
 I asked the officer to show me the room in which 
 the foundlings are first received in the hospital. He 
 took me to a vaulted apartment on the ground-floor, 
 having a private staircase to itself which led to a 
 small outer doorway opening into a large court. In 
 this was a lady-superintendent sitting at her table 
 with a body of nurses standing around, all in the con- 
 
 A DAY S ENTRIES. 
 
 117 
 
 ventional costume. Of these latter only five had 
 children in their arms — the rest, twenty and more, 
 were waiting for arrivals. The lady rose at our en- 
 trance from her little table and her book of entries 
 spread out on it, with rather a concerned counte- 
 
 nance. 
 
 How many have you to-day?" said the officer, 
 going up to her with a smiling face. 
 
 "Look," she exclaimed, pointing to her book, 
 "only five!" 
 
 "That is but a few indeed," he observed. 
 
 "Very few, very few," repeated the lady, quite 
 with a tone of distress ; " and it's getting late. To- 
 da)', I am afraid, is going to be a bad day." 
 
 " Oh !" said the oflScer, " it is not very late, there 
 is time enough yet for more." 
 
 Thus he afforded lier consolation. It was rather a 
 a surprise to me that tlie lady selected for this especial 
 post of conferring with tlie bringers-in of the small 
 unfortunates was the prettiest person I had seen in the 
 whole establishment. She was not more than twenty- 
 six or twenty-seven years of age apparently, she had 
 good features, a fresh and blooming complexion, so 
 unlike the generality of Russian women, a fine figure, 
 and a laughing countenance, beaming with good 
 
118 
 
 THE SUPERINTENDENT S GALA DAYS. 
 
 A TRUE OFFICIAL. 
 
 119 
 
 humour. And now she put on an air of concern be- 
 cause there were so few children come in. 
 
 ^' How many nurses do you have ready in the room 
 generally?" said I. 
 
 *' Thirty-five is our number," replied the officer; 
 •' we rarely find that we exceed that amount." 
 
 '' Thirty-five per day !" I exclaimed with a natural 
 and, I hope, a pardonable surprise at this daily crop 
 of young fruit in this field of humanity. 
 
 ^' Oh ! yes ; sometimes we go over that — we do in- 
 deed !" the lady broke in with an eagerness and an 
 air of pleasure as she seemed to remember the tri- 
 umphant fact. It was evident that she took a pride 
 in her office, and considered that the days of over 
 thirty-five were her gala days — days of honour and 
 glory — when she could meet her enemies in the gate, 
 with her quiver full, and could lie down in her bed 
 at night with a quiet conscience. In spirit she was a 
 Spartan matron, deserving of high reward. 
 
 I suggested to the officer that perhaps, now that 
 serfdom was banished from the villages, people were 
 becoming very good and moral and a zeal for marry- 
 ing was growing up. He shook his head and laughed, 
 and so did the pretty superintendent, but with a co- 
 mical air as if she deprecated that view of the matter 
 
 altogether, as one in a manner injurious to herself and 
 her office. It was clear that this engaging person 
 looked at the credit of the establishment first, and 
 that this consisted in numbers. Her pride was in 
 hosts, as a preacher would feel a pride in a crowded 
 congregation, or a general in added legions. Any 
 check upon the maintenance of the lady's legions in the 
 shape of matrimony or morality she would hold to be 
 an invasion of her domain. The superintendent was 
 a true official. The officer and I took our leave of 
 her with a kindly wish on the part of both that things 
 might mend in the afternoon; but she shook her head, 
 as if she was hurt at our finding her with more than 
 twenty empty-handed nurses. On her bonny face was 
 the expression one sees on that of a suffering man on 
 the bank of a noted trout-stream. In reply to the 
 inquiry of a passer-by : Have you had any sport ? he 
 points to a poor little creel of five. 
 
 As we went down the short flight of steps to the 
 side-door a woman passed us with a bundle in her 
 arms. 
 
 '' There is some comfort for our friend upstairs," 
 said the officer. 
 
 I asked him how it happened that the prettiest and 
 most smiling young woman in the place had been 
 
120 
 
 THE GALLERIES OF THE CHAPEL. 
 
 THE CONGREGATION AND SINGERS. 
 
 121 
 
 M 
 
 il 
 
 selected for this peculiar office, and suggested that a 
 more staid and older person would have been more 
 appropriate. He did not appear to see any force in 
 my view of the matter, but only lauglied, and said 
 the place had become vacant and she liad applied for 
 it, and was a most excellent and energetic person. 
 She was one of the lady orphans brought up in the 
 institution. I debated in myself as I walked home if 
 this daily living in this peculiar atmosphere might not 
 affect this engaging person's ideas about matrimony. 
 
 On the following morning I found myself, as by 
 appointment, at the hour named by the officer, in the 
 corridor leading to the chapel. He was already 
 there, and then taking me by a different way he 
 said, 
 
 " You will hear the singing much better upstairs 
 in the gallery, so I will put you in a good place." 
 
 Accordingly he led me up a flight of stairs outside 
 the chapel. There were but few persons in the gal- 
 leries, which were ample spaces spreading out over 
 the two side aisles, and forming part of the centre of 
 the building — level spaces without benches or seats of 
 any kind. In fact there are no seats in a Greek 
 church, with the exception of a bench here and there 
 in recesses, or against the outei* wall. The congrega- 
 
 tion kneel or stand. A thin line of people, principally 
 ladies, stood leaning on the low baluster which ran 
 all round the gallery, and looking down into the body 
 of the chapel. The officer placed me in front of the 
 centre gallery, between two ladies, immediately oppo- 
 site the Ikonostas. Thus I commanded the entire in- 
 terior. Immediately below me was the principal 
 body of the young ladies in front of the screen, which 
 on it's raised dais with its gilded gates in the middle, 
 and its smaller equally gilded doors on either side, 
 and its platform in front covered with a small carpet, 
 had a brilliant effect. To the right and left below 
 were the other two bodies of orphans, while up in the 
 galleries, scattered along the back by the windows, 
 were a number of young women in white caps and 
 neatly dressed. The officer having placed me to his 
 satisfaction went down again to his official position at 
 a pillar by the Ikonostas. 
 
 To-day the priest was in a different dress. On the 
 day previous this had been a white dress with gold 
 Greek crosses ; to-dav it was of claret colour with 
 gold crosses all over it, the last by far the most effect- 
 ive. There was a small desk or lectern on the plat- 
 form, the only object there, in front of the golden 
 gates. Presently the priest came out through one of 
 
122 
 
 PLAINTIVE MELODY. 
 
 PAPAS OF THE GREEK CHURCH. 
 
 123 
 
 I 
 
 ti 
 
 the side doors, and stood by the lectern with his back 
 to the people, and chanted a long prayer in a fine 
 deep rich voice, and after this the girls sang. The 
 principal singers were immediately below me, and 
 had the written music in their hands. Many of the 
 young folks seemed to be more given up to the man- 
 ner of the performance rather than to the matter, for 
 there was a deal of nudging, and whispering, and cor- 
 recting each other. However, the swell of the body 
 of voice and the melancholy of the cadences at times 
 filled the church with their peculiar charm. Here 
 and there a voice would distinguish itself from the 
 mass of sound, and rise clear and full and tender 
 above the others, and prolong the note, and pervade 
 the place with an indescribably plaintive melody. 
 You felt sorry when it sank into the general chorus, 
 and watched and listened for it again. After the 
 priest had chanted his part, and the female voices 
 rose once more into the swelling strain, you were 
 disappointed if the voice did not come, till it gradual- 
 ly seemed to steal out from the body of sound, and 
 again surround you with its toucliing tenderness. No- 
 thing could more feelmgly express the sentiment of 
 the religious heart appealing to the mercy of the pity- 
 ing Creator. This plaintiveness is much cultivated in 
 
 the Greek church. Here and there one of these 
 young ladies would remain on her knees the entire 
 time, while the others rose up and stood and were a 
 little occupied wdth putting their dress to rights, their 
 white aprons, or their banded hair, as is the way with 
 young ladies in all lands even in serious moments. I 
 could not help connecting the plaintive singer with 
 one of these persistent devotees on her knees, her 
 head bent over her folded hands, and regardless of 
 her apron and her hair. 
 
 But there is one thing which strikes a stranger in 
 the papa's performance of the service in all the Greek 
 churches, and this is the irreverent and careless and, 
 in many, the theatrical air of the man. These men 
 everywhere, whether at Jerusalem or at Moscow, and 
 at all times, are got up immensely for effect, with 
 their long curling and flowing hair, their full and 
 glossy beards, their carefully-managed moustaches, 
 and their long silken dress and spreading Spanish hat. 
 In the church and clothed in gorgeous robes they 
 are grand and effective specimens of men. Now this 
 papa of the hospital, in his splendid costume, was per- 
 petually coming out from the Holy of Holies behind the 
 closed and gilded central gates, coming out by one of 
 the side doors on to the platform, chanting a sentence 
 
124 
 
 THE PAPA OF THE HOSPITAL. 
 
 CONTENTMENT OF THE INMATES. 
 
 125 
 
 II 
 
 {> 
 
 or two, and then going away and disappearing by the 
 other little gilt side-door. When he came out, he 
 did so with a free and easy air, swinging his hands 
 and arms, his fine head erect, his body a little tlirown 
 back instead of forward, a liappy assurance in his 
 gait and movement, and then he went off in the same 
 fashion. You would then hear a low deep tone or 
 two issuing from somewhere behind the screen in a 
 muffled way, as a kind of echo, and then in a mo- 
 ment out he came again with a hurried step in a 
 jaunty sort of fashion. This is the manner rather af- 
 fected by these men, one would suppose, from its fre- 
 quent use. I was glad when this man's part was 
 over, for I could not help thinking of Jack-in-a-box 
 all the while ; and when the sweet voices of the girls 
 rose and swelled, as one might imagine of the angelic 
 choir, in a body of sound, melodious and tender, 
 floating up through the galleries, it seemed as an in- 
 cense of praise and thanksgiving to God for what he 
 had induced kindly hearts to do for them in this noble 
 institution, an incense from fresh and innocent hearts. 
 The young persons standing about by the walls and 
 the windows at the back of the galleries were either 
 lady-superintendents from the vaulted apartments of 
 the foundlings above — I looked for, but could not see 
 
 my engaging acquaintance from the reception-room 
 on the ground-floor — or they were foundlings them- 
 selves who had become the servants and attendants 
 of the establishment. Tlie former were dressed ra- 
 ther handsomely in silk, the latter neatly. On all 
 the faces that I could see near enough to observe 
 them was an expression of quiet contentment. They 
 were amiable and pleasing — indeed, one could scarce- 
 ly suppose that persons whose dispositions were other- 
 wise would find a life of any satisfaction in this estab- 
 lishment for care of children under a very strict and 
 attentive supervision. But even here tliere seemed 
 to be one exception — so at least it appeared to me. 
 Now and then my eye would wander from the papa 
 and the young ladies to the galleries, and somehow it 
 was attracted by a young fair person — once a found- 
 ling — in the farthest corner by a window. She was 
 in a liglit-coloured cb:ess, and her toilette seemed to 
 occupy her attention a good deal ; in fact, her time 
 was taken up between, this and looking out of win- 
 dow. No one had books. Standing next to her was 
 a young woman who seemed to devote much of her 
 time to keeping her neighbour to some little observ- 
 ance of the service. When the moment would come 
 for all to kneel this one was deep in some arrange- 
 
 AV 
 
126 
 
 AN EXCEPTION. 
 
 ment of her hair, and her companion had to pull her 
 down by her dress. But then she did not arrive at 
 her kneehng till her apron was properly smoothed 
 and in its precise place, and the pockets to her satis- 
 faction. When the time came to stand up again, and 
 her companion removed her hands from before her 
 eyes, she found an elaborate toilette going on — the 
 neck-tie w^as all wrong and had been untied. Between 
 the getting up and the righthig of the neck-tie there 
 was a great deal of trouble, the friend showing much 
 distress in her attempts to cover all this delay in get- 
 ting up, and this irreverent conduct of the neck-tie. 
 All this righted, something attracted the young eyes 
 out of the window, and the friend found her neighbour 
 turning her back nearly in the direction of the gorge- 
 ous papa in her anxiety about the outer world ; — and 
 so it went on to the end w^henever I chanced to look 
 in that direction. 
 
 Poor young thing, methought, this is not your place. 
 How come you here, whea your heart and your 
 thoughts are not in this Sinai, but far away in Egypt 
 with the pleasant jewels of gold and jewels of silver 
 and bright raiment ? That good little Ruth by your 
 side may do all she can to impart to you some of her 
 simple and loving nature, but in vain. She may try to 
 
 GALLERY OF PAINTINGS. 
 
 127 
 
 conceal from other eyes by her pretty care your heed- 
 less ways, but some day you will probably burst out 
 from what is to you only a splendid cage, and go off 
 into the sunny but slippery world of Moscow. 
 
 After the service the officer joined me, and invited 
 me to see the gallery of paintings — portraits of the 
 benefactors of the institution. These were in a fine 
 broad corridor. Here was the Empress Katherine 
 the Second, under whom the establishment commenc- 
 ed — Katherine, with her handsome face and smilins: 
 eyes, scarcely virtuous, but still a generous and bene- 
 volent and high-hearted woman, and a grand adminis- 
 trator. Here Avas Betski, the philanthropist, a good 
 but eccentric man, in a most eccentric costume, but 
 who had much to do with the foundation of this mag- 
 nificent charity ; — and here was Demidoff*, then a mer- 
 chant, and ennobled by Katherine for his splendid 
 share by gifts of money in the maintenance of this 
 hospital, besides many other Russian notables. Of 
 course among them were frowning and superb Nicho- 
 las and amiable Alexander. Beyond this gallery was 
 a fine apartment, broad and long and lofty. This 
 was the play-room of the young lady orphans. By the 
 officer s account here were rare games of romps daily 
 in winter and in bad weather, besides little festas. It 
 
128 
 
 FEMALE FRIENDSHIPS. 
 
 12!) 
 
 H 
 
 fi 
 
 was pleasant to imagine the young orphan folks throw- 
 ing off for the nonce dry history and the use of the 
 globes, and with music and songs, and blind man's 
 buff, and puss in the corner, catching childish folly as 
 it flies. The officer and I met various knots of these 
 young ladies as we strolled along the noble corridors ; 
 and it struck me, if one might judge by the number of 
 pairs of interlacing arms and clasping hands, and en- 
 circling embracings, and immensely earnest and whis- 
 pering, of course confidential, conversation in corners, 
 that this institution was, in this part of it, a grand 
 manufactory of eternal and undying female friend- 
 ships. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Count L His Proficiency in the English Language — Invited to 
 
 visit his Estate — Journey in a Tarantass — Social Courtesy — Agri- 
 culture in Russia— Russian Villages— The Cottages of the Peasantry 
 —Family Party- The Law of Inheritance— Large Families— The 
 Subdivision of Property— Reduced Nobles- The Abolition of Serf- 
 dom—Russian Soldiers— Nobles and Serfs — Abuse of Power — Ar- 
 rangement of the House— Grooms and Horses v. Wife and Children 
 —South Downs— Horses and Cattle—Rotation of Crops— -Extensive 
 Gardens — Reminiscences of the Count — The Family Roof-tree — 
 Impromptu Dinner in the Wood. 
 
 /^NE morning I was sitting in the shaded breakfast- 
 
 ^^ room when the landlord entered. 
 
 ** M Dusaux," said I " is there any farm near the 
 town that you could help me to see and walk 
 over ? " 
 
 "There is one belonging to one of my friends/' he 
 replied, " a few wersts away, which he would be hap- 
 py to show you over, I am sure ; I have my butter 
 and cream from him. But," he went on, "there is 
 a gentleman very often in this house who is very fond 
 
130 
 
 COUNT L- 
 
 INVITED TO VISIT HIS FARM. 
 
 131 
 
 Hi 
 
 of farming. Count L- 
 
 'O' 
 
 who lives a few wersts 
 
 from Moscow, and he sends me liis farm produce too ; 
 he will show you everything. When he comes into 
 ^I scow he always lives in my house, and I am ex- 
 pecting him to-morrow. T will tell him you are here, 
 if vou like." 
 
 This appeared to be a happy chance, so T at once 
 accepted this proposal. 
 
 Accordingly, on the following morning, I was, as 
 usual, in my shaded corner, when a Russian gentle- 
 man, in a military undress uniform, entered the room. 
 He was of middle age, a tall, fine-looking man, with 
 a dark complexion and sparkling eyes, and a bright, 
 intelligent countenance. Coming up to my table with 
 a frank and cordial manner, he held out his hand, 
 made me an easy bow, and announced himself in 
 capital English. This was very engaging, and so, in 
 the course of a few minutes, we were in a flow of 
 talk, as if we were old acquaintances of years. On 
 my asking him where he had learnt to speak my lan- 
 guage so well, for his English was good, free, and 
 idiomatic, he replied, 
 
 " I learned it when I was a boy, of an English tutor 
 in our family ; and then I had English horses and 
 English grooms in my stable for many years : they are 
 
 all gone now ; but this of course kept it up a little. 
 But now I liave so little opportunity of speaking it 
 tliat I have forgotten it a good deal." 
 
 It did not appear to me to be at all forgotten. He 
 then said he liad heard from M. Dusaux of my wish 
 to see his farm ; and our interview ended in his in- 
 viting me to come down and see his cows and sheep 
 and so on. 
 
 " Not that I liave much cattle," he added ; " but 
 what I liave I shall be very pleased to show you." So 
 it was arranged. 
 
 It appeared that the estate of Count L was 
 
 about twenty-four English miles to the north of Mos- 
 cow. The famous convent of Troitsa— holy Troitsa— 
 was on that side, and the railway to it stopped at a 
 station called Pouskino, fourteen miles from the vil- 
 lage where the L House was situated. So, a few 
 
 mornings after my meeting the Count, I set off early 
 to the Troitsa railway station. Arriving at the 
 Pouskino station, I found a number of small pony- 
 carriages of the country, tarantass build, drawn by 
 two ponies. The tarantass has no springs. It runs 
 on four wheels and carries four persons— two in front 
 and two behind ; in fact, a small light waggon. The 
 seats were of sacks stuffed with hay. My driver was 
 
 K 2 
 
132 
 
 JOURNEY IN A TARANTASS. 
 
 SOCIAL COURTESY. 
 
 133 
 
 a small man, with a red beard, and tlie ponies were 
 strong and bony, about twelve hands high, but la- 
 mentably bare of flesh. We were soon trotting along 
 at a good pace on a grassy track which I supposed 
 would soon lead us to a road. We entered a fir 
 wood, but there was only a track which we followed 
 in and out between the stumps of the trees which had 
 been cut oflF, and sometimes over them, the stems 
 partly left. It was evident that the railway station 
 had, in a manner, dropped down into the edge of this 
 wood without any preparation for it or any immediate 
 connexion with any road or village. As we went on 
 mile after mile across the open country, now and then 
 skirting some houses, and then launcliing out again 
 into the wild, I began to suspect there were no roads 
 at all, in the British sense of the word — at least that 
 
 there was none from Pouskino to L House. And 
 
 yet when I had got out at that station, and had only 
 mentioned tliis name to the five or six tarantass ap- 
 plicants for my person every driver of them seemed 
 to know it well. Now as T drove along and found 
 nothing but tracks, crossing each other at intervals, I 
 could not but suspect that as there was no road, but 
 only a rude track, for the fourteen miles from Pous- 
 kino to L House, there must be few houses 
 
 of this character in this part of the country. So it 
 proved. 
 
 However the day was a fine warm August day, the 
 country waving, cultivated, and wooded, and the ponies 
 jogged along at a good pace with their rough little 
 carriage, picking their way cleverly among stumps 
 and roots of trees, or along the edge of deep marshy 
 ground, or in and out of holes and hollows between 
 banks w^here a broken axle or an upset appeared to 
 be quite as probable as not. But the intelligence of 
 the ponies was superior to all this. They seemed to 
 know exactly when to creep, and exactly when to 
 trot along at a good pace. We met other tarantasses 
 continually. Some of a better finish or superior 
 material, but still all built on the same principle — a 
 light waggon without springs. There was here in the 
 countr}', as well as there was in Moscow, an immense 
 deal of social courtesy, all people taking off their hats 
 or caps on meeting ; the drivers to each other as well 
 as the driven, whether gentry or peasants. Certainly 
 this small change of social currency is less conmion in 
 England than elsewhere. With us it is the exception ; 
 with Russians, and, indeed, with most other Conti- 
 
 • 
 
 nental peoples, it is the rule. Here we all saluted 
 each other as we passed. 
 
 i 
 
134 
 
 THE VILLAGES. 
 
 COMFORTLESS APPEARANCE OF THE HOUSES. 135 
 
 There were no fences to the separate fields, of 
 course, neither is there in most parts of Germany; 
 and yet there is in the latter country a certain dis- 
 tinctness of boundary, a narrow strip of grass of a 
 foot's breadth, or a two -foot ditch — something to mark 
 the division — and the ground cultivated carefully up 
 to the limits. But this was not so m Russia. There 
 was a carelessness and rudeness in the detail of culti- 
 vation. The crops were poor, the fields quite indis- 
 tinctly marked, much ground apparently half tilled, 
 and thus wasted, on either side of the boundary. But 
 the villages were remarkable. There appeared to 
 be in the Russian peasant mind an absence of the 
 idea of a garden or enclosure as connected with a 
 cottage. For instance, as we drove up to a village of 
 considerable pretensions there was a broad green 
 grass track right through it from end to end. The 
 cottages, all of wood and unpainted, each of only one 
 storey with a raised and covered verandah along the 
 front, all stood out on the grass, sometimes singly, 
 somethnes two or more in a line, but not one had a 
 bit of garden or enclosure of any kmd adjoining it. 
 They all had the look of wooden sheds erected on an 
 open grass field for a temporary purpose, to be re- 
 moved any day — card-houses-dro])ped there by chance. 
 
 There was a bare and utterly comfortless air about 
 the whole village, and this is the usual appearance of 
 the Russian villages. The roofs, too, are of straw 
 thatch, and this instead of being worked into a firm 
 compact mass, capable of resisting wind and weather, 
 as is our English thatch, is altogether loose and is 
 only held in its place by long poles crossing it all over 
 at riglit angles and fastened imperfectly, tlie ends of 
 the poles sticking out above and below the roof in 
 ragged disorder. The wind and snow derange these 
 loose roofs, and so it is the usual thing in a village to 
 see large rents in the roofs of six-tenths of the cot- 
 tages. These remain uncared for during the summer 
 and are only mended under necessity at the last mo- 
 ment, when the winter cold begins again. There is 
 another cause of the disorderly air of these villages. 
 No house scarcely is in a horizontal position as to its 
 roof ; and few cottages are perpendicular as to their 
 sides, for the uprights at one end or the other have 
 sunk, and so the house heels over, In one village you 
 may see but a few tipsy buildings, in the next the 
 whole collection is thoroughly drunk. 
 
 It being early I came upon some villagers en des- 
 habille. The child population were out on the grass 
 track in their night-dresses ; at least they had on each 
 
136 
 
 FAMILY TARTY. 
 
 \i 
 
 il 
 
 but one solitary and short garment, while the smaller 
 boys were even without this. It was glorious summer, 
 and the urchins seemed to enjoy their liberty to the 
 full. Throuo-hout the whole drive of fourteen miles I 
 saw only four country houses of the upper classes, two 
 of these on a wooded hill, though here and there the 
 well-known lofty, many-windowed buildings with a 
 tall chimney near at hand, so familiar to the eye in 
 the British isles, were conspicuous. 
 
 At the end of two hours the driver pointed to a 
 large house in our front by some trees, and exclaim- 
 ed, '^ We are arrived ;" and as we drove up the 
 Count L was in the verandah of the ground- 
 floor, and gave me a cheery welcome. In a few 
 minutes we went upstairs to the first floor, and out 
 upon a broad and long balcon\', some forty feet long 
 by fifteen broad, roofed over. Here were sofas and 
 chairs, and the breakfast-table with an enormous 
 familv silver samovar steamin<]^ and bubblin<^- in its 
 centre, coffee, too, and various dishes. 
 
 Here the little family party was assembled, the 
 
 Count L , his wife, two young boys, their sons, 
 
 and a Russian gentleman of middle age, an old friend 
 
 of the family. Monsieur B . The Countess was much 
 
 younger than her husband, rather small, pretty, and 
 
 COURTEOUS RECEPTION. 
 
 137 
 
 evidently descended from a Sclavonian family by the 
 peculiar colour of the eyes and skin and the forma- 
 tion of the face. Nothing could be more thoroughly 
 courteous and friendly than the manner of my recep- 
 tion. Our conversation met on the common ground 
 of the French language, and at once we were in the 
 midst of talk alternately about our two countries, noAV 
 about England and now about Russia. The Count, 
 though he spoke my language admirably, yet had 
 never been in England, in fact, to my surprise, never 
 out of Russia. He had more than once been on the 
 point of starting for England, but somethinfr had al- 
 ways prevented him. 
 
 From the balcony you looked out all over the 
 country, a wide landscape of rather level ground, but 
 with one wooded ridge of hills bounding it at one 
 side. A river of about twenty yards in breadth 
 ran through the ground near the house, dividing some 
 fine meadows from it. 
 
 Could there be any more charming combination of 
 circumstances to a traveller than this — a fine August 
 morning, a sunny landscape of waving plain and 
 wooded hills, a shaded balcony furnished as a large 
 room, and a family party full of conversation and of 
 easy and unaffected manners. On the coffee-cups, 
 
 
^< 
 
 138 
 
 THE COUNTESS S NEIGHBOURS. 
 
 LAW OF INHERITANCE. 
 
 139 
 
 ¥i 
 
 Hi 
 
 if' 
 41 
 
 if 
 
 I I 
 
 which were of a Parisian form and richly painted, 
 making one think of Sevres artists, I observed a 
 
 crown ; and on subsequent inquiry of Monsieur B , 
 
 the friend of the family, as to the meaning of this 
 crown, he said that the cups had come to the Count 
 from his mother, who was of the old Rurik race, the 
 old royal blood of Russia before the Romanoff family. 
 On my observing to the Countess that they appeared 
 to have some good neighbours, alludmg to the two 
 large and handsome white houses on the wooded 
 ridge in sight, she answered, with an expression of 
 sadness, 
 
 " No, indeed, I have not any neighbours now. 
 1 iiings are very much altered within these few years 
 in all parts of Russia, and particularly round here. 
 Those two houses belong now to persons we do not 
 know, lately come there ; but," she added, " I do not 
 now much feel the want. If I wish for them I go to 
 xMoscow and stay a few days there and see my friends, 
 and here I am very happy at home with my husband 
 and my children." 
 
 It appeared that these were men of the mercantile 
 class, who had made fortunes in mills and trade 
 speculations, and had bought these estates. 
 
 '' But," said I, " how came these estates for sale at 
 
 f 
 
 all ? Was there no son to inherit in either case — no 
 elder son ?" 
 
 '' Oh !" said the Count, '' we have no inheritance 
 now of that kind in Russia, no advantage of primo- 
 geniture. When a proprietor dies his estate is divided 
 among his children, sons and daughters." 
 
 I was not aware that this was the law in its full 
 extent, and said so. 
 
 '' It is unfortunately true," said the Count. " Peter 
 the Great foresaw the downfall of the great families 
 one day under this law of division, and he introduced 
 a law of inheritance for the eldest son ; but this was 
 opposed to all the old customs and traditions of the 
 country, and it created so much discontent that it was 
 abolished in a few years, somewhere about the middle 
 of the last century. The consequence is that the large 
 fortunes of the Russian nobles are diminishing rapidly." 
 
 "• This is the case with us," observed Monsieur B . 
 
 " My father had a good estate ; we were a very large 
 family, sixteen children ; every daughter takes, by law, 
 a fourteenth share, and I had a number of sisters ; so 
 there was not much left for the sons. Of course the 
 estate was sold. My eldest brother had his share, 
 and now he has eight daughters, and so far as one 
 can judge he is likely to have eight more," 
 
:/ 
 
 140 
 
 LAKGE FAMILIES. 
 
 NOBLES AND SERFS. 
 
 141 
 
 I 
 
 He said all this with a comic gravity, and finished 
 it with a groan which made us all laugh. 
 
 " In which case it is to be hoped he will have no 
 sons," said the Countess. " Or what would they do?" 
 
 ''What indeed!" he replied. ''They must do the 
 new thing — go into trade." 
 
 " Your families are as large as our British ones, by 
 your account," said I. " I have always observed in dif- 
 ferent parts of the Continent, at German Baths, and 
 at Paris and elsewhere, that whenever I met with a 
 large family of children, if they were not English they 
 were sure to be Russians." 
 
 " It is quite true," said the Count ; " twelve and 
 fourteen children are a common number with us, and 
 you may imagine how this cuts up and destroys a pro- 
 perty by subdivision. Our landed nobility are go- 
 ing out very fast." 
 
 "This, in fact," said Mons. B , "is one of the 
 
 causes of the abolition of serfdom. It had become a 
 common thing in the subdivision of land for the son of 
 a noble to be the owner of a cottage in the village 
 and an acre or two of land and a couple of serfs. 
 Could anything be more absurd for a noble ? Then 
 he was so poor that he was obliged to work for his 
 living ; he could not afford to be idle, so he worked 
 
 with his serfs on the bit of land ; and there vou mi^^ht 
 see the noble and his two serfs at work together, all 
 dressed alike. The whole thing was ridiculous." 
 
 " Or the ruined noble went into the army and let 
 out his two or three serfs to somebody else,'' said the 
 Count ; " the state of things was utterly rotten, and 
 all sympathy with the noble on the part of the people 
 had ceased." 
 
 "Quite time it was all changed," said Mons. B . 
 
 "The old law declared a noble could not sell his 
 serfs apart from the land, but nobody cared about 
 observing this. The nobles were the persons to enforce 
 the law, if broken, for they were the persons with 
 power in their hands ; and, of course, they did not en- 
 force any law against themselves. They did as they 
 liked, bought and sold and gambled their serfs, just 
 as suited them. Who could punish them when they 
 had all the power, by one means and another, and 
 played into each other's hands ; the old law was nil." 
 
 As my two companions talked it seemed as if they 
 were speaking of matters in the South American 
 states and their slavery system, with nominal laws 
 for the protection of the slaves, and practical inde- 
 pendence of all law on the part of the owners. 
 
 "There were terrible abuses," said the Count, "and 
 
1 \ 
 
 142 
 
 OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS. 
 
 FALSE SITUATION OF THE NOBLES. 
 
 143 
 
 11:^ 
 
 I, for one, am glad of the end of it, though it does tie 
 one's hands a little." 
 
 I said I had heard, when at St. Petersburg, of 
 complaints made by the officers of the army of the 
 great difficulty now with the soldiers in maintaining 
 discipline, and that they said, '' The officers are no- 
 thing now, and the men everything." 
 
 " True," the Count replied, " it is the case ; we can- 
 not use the stick now as we did, but I am not sorry 
 for tliis — it was a coarse and brutal system. Our 
 common men are of a good disposition generally, and 
 if we treat them well they will behave well, as in your 
 country." 
 
 I said I had heard that already the men were dif- 
 ferent, better than they had been in some respects, 
 showing a gayer spirit and more pride in doing their 
 duty, more cheerfulness in their w^ork, and less dog- 
 gedness and stupidity. 
 
 " There are no better men or better soldiers than 
 are ours in the world," said the Count, with all the 
 warmth of the ** moustache " in his profession. 
 
 ''There were some curious things came out," ob- 
 served Mons. B , '' when the serfs were freed. It 
 
 turned out that many of the men employed by the 
 nobles over their estates, men among their own serfs. 
 
 were very clever fellows, and that these men had be- 
 come rich by saving and trading under the rose, 
 and had lent large sums of money to their own mas- 
 ters — had, in fact, heavy mortgages on their land ; 
 while others had actually bought the lands in other 
 people's names. Now they are the possessors. What 
 an impossible state of things to continue ! The one 
 was the master in law, the other the master in fact. 
 Tliere is one case I know of where the noble was 
 supposed to be the owner of three mills, manufactur- 
 ing establishments, on his estate ; when the serfs be- 
 came free it appeared that all the three mills were 
 the properties of three of his own serfs on that very 
 estate !" 
 
 I said I had heard a curious story of a noble, who 
 had complained to the manager of his estate that his 
 serfs did not increase as they ought, and as other no- 
 bles' serfs did, and he inquired if there were many 
 marriages among his own people. The manager, ac- 
 knowledging that there were fewer than he could 
 wish, the noble appointed a day when he would be 
 at his principal village, and expected all his serfs, old 
 and young, to be there to meet him. lie came, and 
 then ordered all the young unmarried men to be ar- 
 ranged in a line on one side, and all the girls on the 
 
*»J ^#""-* 
 
 i 4 
 
 ' 'I 
 
 ;f 
 
 
 I 
 
 ' 
 
 I I 
 
 144 
 
 ABUSE OF rOWEU. 
 
 Other, outside the village ; and then, having walked 
 down the line and satisfied himself which were old 
 enough for matrimony, he ordered them all to be 
 married at once, two and two ; that some of tlie girls 
 refusing, he liad these all marked down in a book, 
 with an order against them that they were never to 
 be allowed to be married at all. Tlie Countess ex- 
 claimed loudly at such a terrible abuse of power, but 
 
 ]\lQns. B allowed that such things were only very 
 
 extreme cases, adding — *' It is these shocking abuses 
 by men practically irresponsible, and the false situa- 
 tion in which people were placed with their serfs, 
 that obliged a change. Tlie serfs were, in fact, slaves, 
 liowever people miglit wish to explain it away by 
 saying there were laws to protect the serf. Practi- 
 cally, these were of no force whatever. Among 
 some of the nobles there was a kind of understanding 
 that if a serf amassed property this should not be 
 touched by the noble, although he legally had full 
 power over it — what was his serfs was his ; but 
 there was, in fact, much abuse even in this. The 
 nobles were gamblers, and when they lost large sums 
 at play at Moscow in the long winters they got mo- 
 ney how they could, by fair means or foul. When 
 their estates became embarrassed, which, of course. 
 
 f 
 
 ARRANGEMENT OP THE HOUSE. 
 
 145 
 
 they did immensely, the rich serfs paid large sums, 
 for fear of worse." 
 
 After breakfast, which, by the way, lasted for about 
 two hours in varied conversation, " de omnibus rebus 
 et quibusdam aliis," about everything and something 
 besides, of wliicli tlie above is but a short summary, 
 the Count projrosed to show me over his farm ; so we 
 went out. The arrangement of the house was tho- 
 roughly Russian. The verandah below ran all along 
 the front, as usual, and from this you entered a hall 
 in the centre. Rooms opened into this on either 
 hand, and a handsome fliglit of stairs led up from the 
 centre of the hall to the upper floor. Here again 
 were rooms to the right and left opening on the 
 landing. These communicated with each other, and 
 opened at the extremities on the large balcony above 
 the verandah. This latter seemed to be the principal 
 living-place of the family, as the rooms above were 
 built ratlier back from those below, so as to allow of 
 the balcony bcmg much deeper than the verandah 
 under it. The house, of course, was only of one 
 storey. In going through one of the uj^per rooms to 
 the balcony I observed that the walls all round were 
 covered almost from floor to ceiling wiili portraits of 
 race-horses— English horses. Here they were, from 
 
 • I 
 
 Ml I 
 
146 
 
 NURSERY V. STABLE. 
 
 the celebrities of long-past years up to the horses of 
 to-day. Here were '' Marsk," and " Flying Childers," 
 and "Moses," and "Old Port," and "Chateau Mar- 
 geaux," and so on through the many years down to 
 "Plenipotentiary" and " :\Limeluke," to "Crucifix" 
 and " West Australian." I observed this to ray host, 
 that he was a lover of horses. 
 
 " Ah ! yes," he said, " I was so once, and so I am 
 now, but T have done with that kind of horse now. 
 T ii^ed to keep a few for racing, and had an English 
 u.iiaer here and English grooms ; but now I have a 
 wife and children, and so the horses are gone, and T 
 look after my sheep and cows instead*" 
 
 How exactly this resembled the course of things in 
 many houses in England !— wife and children versus 
 liox-ses — nursery versus stable. As we walked out to 
 the stable-yard, my host said — 
 
 " It was all the fault of those English grooms that 
 I never was in England. I went up from here to St. 
 Petersburg one summer with the intention of going 
 there to pay a visit to an "F /lish gentleman, and just 
 as I was ready to start came a letter from my trainer 
 here to say that he had a quarrel with two of the 
 grooms, and requested me to come down to set things 
 to rights or they would leave. So I was obhged to 
 
 SERFDOM AND FREEDOM. 
 
 147 
 
 come here, and thus the opportunity of a journey was 
 gone for that year ; and then something always pre- 
 vented it afterwards. Your men are, I think, more 
 quarrelsome than ours." 
 
 " Very likely," said I ; " training is everything in 
 horses and in men. Wait a bit. When your people 
 have been trained a little to liberty they will show 
 more individuality of character, and then will come 
 more difficulty of managing them." 
 
 "That is very possible," said he; "for instance, 
 there is my coachman ; I brought him up as a serf, a 
 boy in my stable ; if he did not drive as I liked I just 
 took up my stick and gave b'm a sharp cut over his 
 shoulder, and he bore it and said nothing ; but now 
 I can't do that ; I must be civil, and tell him to mind 
 what he's at, or he would quarrel with me." 
 
 So we i ^hed the open pasture ground. Here 
 was a Hock of sheep. They were of two very distinct 
 breeds; some of them of a thin-leggel niv] wor^^v 
 shape, and uihers of a fine stout build. On my ob- 
 serving the latter, the Count said, 
 
 "Ah! those are from your country — those are 
 South D vnis!" 
 
 "South 1- .vns!" 
 
 n wn^ qnite true. IT -re were the thick full br - . 
 
 ^ 
 
 — UjJLj g-^ 
 
148 
 
 CATTLE, SHEEP, AND HORSES. 
 
 STABLES AND OUTHOUSES. 
 
 149 
 
 the short black legs, the black faces— all the distinct- 
 ive marks of my old friends of the Hampshire and 
 Dorset Downs. The Count, true to his British likings, 
 had always a small flock of these. On my inquiring 
 il they did well in Russia, he said they were very 
 lull h aix L bore the climate well. It maybe added 
 here that my host v... in the habit of now and then 
 sending a whole carcase up to M Uusaux at the hotel 
 at Moscow, and in a day or two after this visit one 
 arrivrl -^ the hotel; and as long as it lastol 1 in- 
 dulged in some portion of the " South ii^wii" every 
 day, a most satisfactory daily memento of the old 
 cuuntry. 
 
 KLL:^sia is much more a country for beef than for 
 iiiuiton. F sheep are grown there, a i1 the Rus- 
 s 1 1- are not a iiiut ton-eating race. They liave large 
 herds of ca^^"' . ■ i* T only rarely saw a flock of sheep 
 a!i^:w>iore. T^-- ^^>unt IkvT a <u\{\]^ Ina'*] • atives, 
 nnl all oi ih^'m without horns, ani ' i ■ • 1 of li:t lag 
 over some short horiib irom Eu-kuid, the only thing 
 wi . - cLuppcd iiiiii then being the cattle-plague. 
 Tiiji. V ir MHue young horses too, colts and fillies. 
 Mos: ; : rhi Frl K iglish blood in them cm 1 wltli 
 
 r >- which, he said, ma-l- :\ 1 1 nrdy, 
 
 'iX-aniinnL There wn- n<^ i^ark. \u ihc 
 
 
 , 
 
 T^'i 1 * 
 
 English sense of the word, but fine meadows stretched 
 away on both sides of the river, on which the hay 
 was made and in cock and being carried. Some of 
 this was already gathered into extensive barns which 
 surrounded the courtyards, fDdder for the ! i .^ iid 
 cattle during the long Russian winter. T* w i- i n j I 
 ably sweet and good hay. In ii i- ian ^i^: na j there 
 are no green crops, no clover, no grasses, no 'urinv)s; 
 and their usual rotation is — wheat, oats, bar kwh;!, 
 and then they lay up the land for a year. Thov do 
 not grow barley, lUi I the peasants grow rye ; this and 
 buckwheat are the main dependence of the | a 
 santry. 
 
 In the stables were the carriage horses, la v* i • 
 the cross of gO('; I'nglish blood in their 1irad^ ail 
 
 legs, and also some farm horses— ^mall ^fnjit 
 
 es. 
 
 1 
 
 : iuiii ii.e 
 
 stables a door led into extendi 
 
 vu 
 
 \ 
 
 houses, \\.inii aiid substantial, uiili thick walL nuA 
 strong roofs. These were the winter houses <'i liie 
 sheep ail cattle when the ground \as co\ ii d with 
 snow and ice. At one end of these was a door a ni- 
 municating with a ftirther spacious on-"' a'k! a r a 1 
 over, but on one sid'^^ nf wli'rli wa- ^r-j} n lar^T. ],m^ 
 vacuaas JH-iWiMai tlio wall aa-i roof : tld'^ wa^ to au'iiiu 
 air. I'hr aaanai- waa^o driven n'-a. \U^' aiat-r i-n-r 
 
 •. 
 
150 
 
 THE GARDENS. 
 
 into this outer and half covered place for a time every 
 day for air. Beyond these were immense barns for 
 I lie store of hay, of which some of them were already 
 
 liairiihi. 
 
 iii'dl-^ lUid t<' iiiirrv-i iiiiii-i;.i Hi ail iiialb:r- liidl r-ju- 
 coriiri] tlii'ir oarr aii'l i;. «iii]' >i'i. In ilif xrifiou- \'ar<ls, 
 too.'tliere wa- plenty of ntlicr lih- — iurlv.-\>, p. uiliry, 
 i\Iu^c^vv (lurk- : wliilf m iht* lai'ns huildniL^-- lin-rcwas 
 stoant niacliHit-ry a! work, an-l iho ir^qiit n in^iin ]ir,ur- 
 iiiii i'lu in li('a,i)> 111)0!! ihf i|.)m!\ Tiir Liar<k'n- wt'i'cro- 
 markahlo. Ii ajipfaroi] iha! lla- lafh-r of Um- r,.!ini 
 had iia,d a pas>iuu lur irar<k -n.-, an-l laid -ptaii inia/J! 
 iiiOiKH- on tliL-ni. On.- Ion- ioUv >iiljqanlial wall rau 
 tlirouiiii ilie contro ofwliat wo -lit aild rail ilio kitclien- 
 garden, a walled viiclo>iin\ and \]w- wall wa^do^^d ^»n 
 both -ides,. Aiiain-t one --ido won- huilt all Uio vari- 
 ous cMiices and rnn^h ^lied- isf'tho warden, ^iieh a- tin' 
 garth'^ner'^ dwolhim li*H.i-e. -n)\a'-. toiMO.-u-e, ,^t, ; 
 wink; on die othor sid,o o|' \\ wa- iht- winior eardfii. 
 a gla>> Xij:ji lur the whole cxieni pro|fiii!ei ni a luw 
 wall at ten or iw(^jve h'ot from ilit^ other walk In \\\\< 
 were all kind< of iVuit- grrnvn— -trawborrie-, <*urrant<, 
 apricntx, peachoQ,. and odier-. Bt^vond i!ii- wa- the 
 cherrr-crarden, a ^pace nf ground endrelv roeied m Mr 
 
 ; 
 
 
 f 
 
 THE OLD FAMILY HOUSE. 
 
 151 
 
 the winter temporarily with fir poles and straw, and 
 warmed with air from a stove. Adjoining looj gar- 
 d-n- were the shrubberies and plea^annees. TL r 
 
 "■ Ai'aA^ \ ojO-:- ;i:^d iini^'' ti-eec l^x- tlir- l'»a'd\:- of 
 
 1''- 
 
 
 o i : a i\ ^ 
 
 . ad i,;i a na' ui^ai \"aiiO\a I h*' 
 
 kilx'- f 
 
 5 ■ r r , 
 
 
 fciile, a -mail ^iroain a 
 
 'uil s 
 
 ! 1 ( - S ( •■ 
 
 ariaj-s 
 
 from >ide t 
 
 o 
 
 1 . 
 
 \- e 
 
 tn^a vano\" n.nniriiiir 
 
 iho kdv>--, and laUnm frran one mte the e'tlier. Th 
 
 e 
 
 h e\a -1 and lariio-l i»t 
 t*ait. and .>n \\ wa 
 p'rie-tiao"-^ -t«"»ia("| 
 
 ( '!'« 1 nauMK' iare*' i 
 -h m- air 1 ineh i ^ 
 
 ,o-e wa? t a -s ^me acri/s m ex 
 
 r- a sa<;i-nrt 
 
 dMiat, A h'W siiiule 
 
 oil 
 
 *ank-. and -onnr extra- 
 
 •■n f M'l in nird). < d^ ruLni(a.l 
 
 !' W' I- 
 
 X^'l lar- ironi this 
 
 1 ] 
 
 ialiLr pioeo i_'i walLi \\a_: eanio uu Wiuo ht-ap-*'! hr« 'kt/n 
 
 I nae!\,--j ei a oi; h a ai .ut ■ mm 
 
 i >' aiio iaret tanldiiii:> 
 
 no r.nnpani'ai. "•-noOi\aoon o! pr*. 
 
 maio 
 
 t f 
 
 a '^ n 1 - 1 
 
 t 'i t 
 
 at her. 
 
 .. I J 1 , -.00 
 I ,\'V\ V d' '''-^ no 
 
 Til!- ^va- the r*ld ninn:\ h-ai^;- In wkirh no'^ nolior and 
 nhMhta' ii\a'd. Ii wa^ a waiod*ai inane, -^^ a^ ours nene- 
 
 ra!i\' ai'o, lanli 
 
 '4 r* -a I ^! » a ji . ;i >. \\a'- i .ii \ 
 
 i a -I- -no e ajnOaOon-^-mo! that it wa- 
 no. i aO Wi tin- atinnlrx^ wa' 
 
 ' ■ Ml 
 
 call Oiaciv- ^eaiio^ — aiiLl a eapioi! jiou-e ii wa-, a ko'tro 
 r<''* 'Hrr rnndoriakh^ oiae*- : hni \v!a/n ]n\' father died 
 
 a!ai Iho ]n\ )!), ru w a: 
 i i 
 
 doaded. wai- a qaeslii m 'widi 
 
 im 
 
 h( add 
 
 i \ 
 
 Ii On- !an h^^ai-r 
 
 analiti' 
 
152 
 
 THE count's reminiscences. 
 
 one, the stone house we are in now. Very often in 
 this country we have a second house near, for con- 
 venience of offices and stables, and so on ; and so I 
 chose the second house, and pulled down the big one, 
 and this is the ruin of it.'*" 
 
 " You must have regretted the old house where you 
 grew np," said I. 
 
 • riiat I did," said he, as he pointed to the ruins ; 
 *'rare jolly days we have had there. jUny a time 
 Ja.^ I been in that lake when I was a boy. jI^ 
 father kept all this up in capital style; and those 
 gardens — the winter garden and all — were his doing ; 
 I'^i^ I rant keep it all up as he did— I must look 
 after the farm, the corn and the cattle, and what will 
 vnv. \\ uen we were boys," he went on presently, 
 *' ill) father and mother, who were very fond of hav- 
 ing foreigners here, used to have English nnd Ameri- 
 cans here for months together. I picked u^> a good 
 deal of my English in this way. My father was very 
 f nl of b Ks and history, and the conversation of 
 fnroigners. T nni nfin- 1 T rather took to horses, and 
 went into the nrniy." 
 
 W iiat a charming frankness and simplicity there wn^ 
 about all this. How could one help feeling n wnrin 
 sympathy with the man talking in this resigned but 
 
 PREPARATIONS FOR EARLY DINNER. 
 
 153 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 o 
 
 cheerful spirit over the ruins of the family roof-tree, 
 recalling in this hearty manner the happy days of his 
 youth, and yet with a tone of sorrow m iii^ voice as 
 he told how here his fathers had L ^ a aie which 
 the laws of his country prevented him from doing. 
 Methought, as we walked along the path which 11 
 us towards his present house, through a pretty sh :- 
 bery and wood, it is better, however, that the ■ i ^ ^f 
 one's country should do this — better tiial n kin 1 i' 
 hard necessity should have obliged a change than 
 that one's own father should have squandered mu lui- 
 tune, and so have thrown a worse pang into the loss. 
 As we reached the house which stood at the nlge 
 of the shrubbery and wood, only a " ■ Iway sep;u tt- 
 ing them, we found the Countess superintending a 
 preparation for an early dinner for us all out in the 
 wood under the fhckerinf]^ shades of the trees. 
 
 \ 1 
 
 '^s ao 
 
 J^. 
 
 host entered heartily into the proposal, iiic boys 
 were in ecstasies at being employed to cany luin^s 
 across from the house into the wood. The ; . 
 being laid, and men were going 1 : ] 
 wards with baskets of knives, forks, plat , !h ' 
 all material for the feast. The Countess v;n-~ 
 balcony above, superintending, as she com 
 from thence the whole position; while Mon^i ui 
 
 lid for- 
 
 !i-. and 
 
 *-i t]).^ 
 
 W^Ah' !i-,. 
 
 i i ^ — — — 
 
 4 
 
154 
 
 DINNER IN THE WOOD. 
 
 THE COUNT S YOUNGEST SON. 
 
 155 
 
 I' ^ ^ 
 
 the friend, was seated below in the shaded verandah, 
 with his cigar, thoroughly enjoying hmiself in that 
 acme of all contentment to a rather corpulent middle- 
 ag 1 man — looking on at busy people engaged in pro- 
 \i nng for him what will conduce to his pleasure and 
 gratification. In due tune we had a capital dinner, 
 raijicipally oflai 4an dishes, of course, but not omit- 
 ti^i :r some cutlets from one of the South-downs— for the 
 K'. ai^hjiian, Nuiliing could be more cheerful than 
 HH- nij r man; imuer in the woo<l~the boys of 
 course dinii a wiji ib Tn^ Countess wn^ full of easy 
 uji iiajcted con\ti^aUuii, though often in the rather 
 serious tone of her remarks she seemed to feel the 
 ^^ -- '^ ^ i ii neighbours in the countia, although she 
 ha 1 a: 'a i lorniaa lenied the fact. The Count was 
 aay a a"! aonvivial, with all a soldier's frankness of 
 ina: aar n^^ n"?! the polish of a man of the higher 
 
 ^^ ai '} a liic u'orld. Jilunsieur B was at all 
 
 I aat^ 1 a l\ tiiiKi lu add to the ]>n^singjest with some 
 quuiiiL rLiiiai'ii, -r lu tlirow m a luw w^ords of useful 
 iiikiniai. a a ? , ^ to some question of inquiry from 
 the sii aa^ a 11. f w were not the least happy 
 
 of the ]ai| la Tount ca 1 utly nah : spoiled 
 iJa'aia partiniaii i\ the seo a 1 ^f -*x vears oLl a' » 
 
 \ \ was always saying or 
 
 i 
 
 doing something comical, or wicked, as his mother 
 declared with a frown for the young marauder on 
 forbidden territory, not always efiective. A 1 looked 
 at the dark sparkling eyes of the little man situng 
 opposite to me at dinner and perpetually ai war with 
 custom and order, methought here was some of the 
 old itti.Jv bloud, hot and reckless, perhaps fermenting 
 in his young veins, and not likely to fertilize tin old 
 I . a its advantage when he would come into 
 
 1* -hare of the fields and the meadows and woods 
 
 '\ r-, • s ! ■ , , I 
 
 ! lis. 
 
 v.aia ovv\x/\\\W a pi 
 
 aa^i 
 
156 
 
 H 
 
 f 
 
 i 
 
 Return to Muscow-The Count's Tarantass and Throe Mares-The 
 Coachnian-Efrect of Freedom on the I an Peasantry-Unsettled 
 
 Stateof the Country- A x bleman's M . A noarance of the 
 
 Country- 1 1 h -roads-Free and Easy Bathing- A Kussian Inn- 
 ^ '^ ^^^ ' - ^^^mestic Arrangements— The Great IT stove 
 
 — • Uuiiu w l>ed"— Vodka— Curious Illustration of 1. . Aolice 
 Law-Law of Trover-Piety and Pilfering-The Difliculties of 
 Driving— Safe on the Pave. 
 
 rVUE dinner being over, the Count's tarantass came 
 
 to the door, and M iisieur J; ^ — and I mounting 
 
 into the h u' of the carriage, and the Count getting 
 
 <n iiu'hnx hy liis coachman, we took leave of the 
 Couiiiess and ^frirted for Moscow— twenty-four miles. 
 1 1 v.a. five o^clock, and the Count declared his horses 
 ai\ i;^ did the distance in two honr^ and a halfl 
 
 " ' ^^^ '""" ^^ '^^^^^ ^f high phaetuu without 
 springs, ail 1 the three horses were harnesst i abreast. 
 
 ^ "^ "^"^" "-^ ^-^ ' i air of shafts, and the two 
 
 1a kt 1 , n to the two ends -f die 
 
 i no centro lior^o was :i -. ^a-;, :m,] the 
 
 "1 \ '■ 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 RETURN TO MOSCOW. 
 
 157 
 
 two others were a black and a dun — all three of 
 them mares, the middle one a trotter. 
 
 We started at a rattling pace, and soon our road 
 merged into a mere track across fields. A large bell 
 was suspended above the middle horse in the usual 
 circular hoop, and this one always t' '' 1 vrliatever 
 pace we went, while the other two cantered \ collar 
 of small bells was fastened under the necks of the Ini 
 and the black. This is considered by u it 
 
 Au:;^i.vlii U5 
 
 the right thing. 
 
 As we went along the Count turned roiml iiii^ 
 said, 
 
 '' y\ these are half English, and all mares. The 
 Russian people have a prejudice against ninro 
 
 H' 
 
 gentleman never drives one; they think they c nmui; 
 do work, but I know better. Besides ihis, they .iic 
 cheaper, and this suits me too. I don i laiv aiMjui 
 fashion, but these three mares will beat most 1 rses 
 anj^iere." 
 
 We went along at a tremendous pace, the r n; i kh n 
 never once breaking from her trot, thonj 
 
 I l]!^ otlir 
 
 woro Tiiit out to n frur luind-iiiiU'^r). I' 
 
 1 i < 
 
 V 
 
 was the forjner groom 
 
 now iiiipruvu 'jii uccaiiuii Willi a ::;liCk. IL 
 
 UlilvU*-i I'J 
 
 hishor^ pvijotually. 
 
 t )i 
 
158 
 
 THE COACHMAN. 
 
 A FREE PEASANTRY. 
 
 159 
 
 " They all know him," said the Count, "you see by 
 their ears that they each know which he is talking 
 
 1^1 
 
 to." 
 
 iij had no whip, according to the custom with Tfus- 
 sian coachmen— 2>., no visible whip, his two hands 
 being held out in front of him with the reins twi5 a 
 round them, and these held tight, their bits being 
 ]>■ un large bridoons. Wienever he wa^ dissatisfied 
 with either horse, so that it required a correction be- 
 yond talking, he raised a hand sharply and l)rought 
 the rein down on the offending horse's quarter with a 
 stinging blow, a small, heavy, smooth piece of metal 
 being work ; uinl the rein exactly at the appropri- 
 ate place for the blow. Tae horses wore no blinkers, 
 and so they could see every movement of the driver, 
 nn.l thus sometimes the raising of the hand, without 
 the threatened blow, was enough to make the offender 
 start forward as if he had felt the metal. i I wever, 
 though there was no visible whip, I found that each 
 • coachman carried a small short knotted stick under 
 his legs, and now and then, on great occasions, he 
 V -^ gather all his reins into the left hand, and 
 stooping for the stick he would hit the offender a tre- 
 mon Inis cut on the hinder part of the leg above the 
 hock. It is a small but a savage instalment of tor- 
 
 ture, and, as used, much more severe than any 
 whip. 
 
 Seeing some men cutting corn, I asked how their 
 peasants now behaved in these parts. 
 
 " Very badly," said the Count. " It is difficult to 
 get them to work." 
 
 I said I had heard of nobles paying so heavily for 
 getting it cut and carried that there was no profit, 
 and that some were living on the produce of their 
 forests, cutting them down and selling them. 
 
 " Very probable," said Muu^,. B — '' Yow that the 
 peasants are free they labour as little as they can ; but 
 some parts of the country are worse than others, and 
 some villages worse than others." 
 
 I said I had heard of a noble making a bargain with 
 his village to cut his com at so much a head, men and 
 women, to begin on the morrow, and that on co i^ 
 two days after to see how the job was going on 1 
 found not a hand at work ; on remonstrating, he was 
 told they had found they could not do the juu .d the 
 price, and demanded more, — that he consented to this 
 farther demand, and that the new bargain was made 
 and broken just as the former one, and that in the end 
 he only had his corn cut for more than double the 
 wages at first agreed on. 
 
 ! ■ ; f 
 
 f ! f 
 
160 
 
 UNSETTLED STATE OF THE COUNTRY. 
 
 A NOBLEMAN S MANSION. 
 
 161 
 
 ' I 1 
 
 " That is likely enough to be true, for there are 
 complaints of the kind everywhere," said the Count : 
 " the truth is that at present things are all without any 
 regularity; no one knows just what wages ouglit to 
 be, how in iHi or how little, and so these people get 
 
 1 ] 
 
 il i 1 
 
 they'can; diid if you agree to give their a^v^ 
 
 
 '"<**v' .i:'.\'.',L Ikj'J iiiLic lUiii L 
 
 aii j^et 
 
 less tli^'v 'Vt'i if 
 
 1 1 : , ! f, 
 
 ( ' ' V'. ( 
 
 Aii ilii 
 
 .-:^l 
 
 f i , 1 1 , 
 
 .] 
 
 '• Imn'Iii wlui! I hear/' -ai'l tli.' ('oiiiii, •" iliinc^^ nro 
 ratluT worse llicre than with u^/' 
 
 We |)a^6CMl tlirou-ii a village railicr iiKjre lu-at than 
 ii-ual. 
 
 ^'This is one oTniy villages," sai«l the Count ; '*l)Ul 
 a precious set of rascals thev are. Here was a capital 
 wood I had, you can see only a part of it now. I'liese 
 fellows used t(^ steal such quantities oi' it, cut it down, 
 and carry it ofF at night, that I was losing it all ])icce- 
 meal, so I sold it all as it stood, to save it." 
 
 •' Could you not catcli one of your thieves,'' said I, 
 ^^ and punish him severely, as an example and a warn- 
 
 o 
 
 i i'5 
 
 ''AH that w^ould have been more trouble than it 
 
 
 \ 
 
 was worth," he replied ; *' the nearest magistrate lives 
 twenty worsts off; and then there are such delays 
 in our new laws, and long processes, and perhaps not 
 much punishment after all that these men w^ould care 
 about, and in the meanwhile mv woc^ 1 v* 
 
 n,i 1,. 
 
 been stolen all the same. All 
 
 r^.rir 
 
 nCAl . :i!;e 
 
 It; ilii;* 
 
 avo 
 
 in a! I r ('"^ ,i]'0 
 
 a H-w \a'a: 
 
 )ro::uui ;ui i_)ie" an air- are 
 
 \\\* ^nai i Uo iji.au-r ; on ; al j 
 111 a Ijad \\'a\' — law ah«i ii\l'\i^j\ . 
 
 X* ar aiiMiJitr xiiiaur \va- a iariir lii'U-e. now <hut 
 up. Tt wa- an *'Xt< n-i\a' biiildiraj, Aviili a hanir hand- 
 ^onie fi'oiit. and -taudinir ])a(*k frn]\\ tlie roadwav in 
 ^omc prettv gi'ouiids with slirul>] series and tall trees. 
 It wa< a< u^ual a <»nc storey hou-e of wood, on a low 
 brick foundation. There were three or four other 
 smaller l)uildim_rs in the grounds bv the shrubberies, 
 and a. couple of large imposing pillars, a gateway^ 
 marked the entrance from the village into the place. 
 This was a nobleman's mansion with the outbuildino^s 
 for his various people, steward and secretary and so 
 on. Now the wliole place was falling to ruin. It 
 appeared that the owner had died, and then came 
 trouble about division of property and mortgages } 
 and then followed the liberation of the serfs, and so 
 the family mansion was abandoned. Large gaps were 
 
 M 
 
 Wi. 
 
 " ■ m m ». : jwi 
 
 ■ "" ' ai ' M' ii m-f m-^ff" ■ r ' 
 
<( 
 
 162 
 
 rilGII-ROADS. 
 
 ' V 
 
 ! 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 -• 
 
 II 
 
 \ 
 
 appearing in the roots and sides of tlie various l)iiild- 
 ings, all paint faded and windows iraninrr and tlie 
 two pillars of the gateway, of Italian form, unconnected 
 with anything and falling to ])iec( s, were as <diosts of 
 departed grandeur— a type of many of tlie ruined no- 
 bilitv of Russia. 
 
 The country we passed tlirough was a \v aw ground 
 not quite flat, not to lie rall<V] hilly. There was l.ut 
 litth' wood, and tlie land was wneralK' uikLt lil]a"0 
 intermixed with pasture; but it all wore tlic lo<»k of 
 carelessly cultivated land, poor (Tops, ill-d^'fined divi- 
 sions of fields, and rugged, marshv irround at inter- 
 vals. Here and there was a more careful manarre- 
 ment evidently, bettiT l)uiKlings, of course i.f wood, 
 and herds of cattle. 
 
 After about ten or twelve miles of ra])id ^umvr 
 along these country tracks we came to a hirdi-road— 
 a broad handsome highwav. I was coi^rratulatinrr 
 rayself on our reacliing tliis, but on our swinirin<M)ut 
 on to it from the field I found our pac(^ was soon 
 checked by large dips and holes. On njv reniarkin<'- 
 this to the friend, lie said, " Tliis is one of our hi<Th- 
 roads, but it is in a bad state." 
 
 ''The Government does not take much care of it, 
 apparently," said I. 
 
 DIFFIOl'LTIKS OF TUAVKLLINO. 
 
 i«;:; 
 
 'HJovernment !" he exchiimed, ''the Goverimient 
 does not take care of the roads, it only takes care of 
 a lew of the great high-roads, and all the others are 
 left to take care of themselves; and as it is nobodv's 
 particular business, ]io])C)dy does it. AVe have no 
 roads in liussia." 
 
 True enougli, here were oidy tracks, and even this 
 large highway to Jaroslav and Kostroma, one of the 
 great trade tliorougldares of the f]mpire, was a mere 
 rough track. Sometimes we went aloni^ at the rate of 
 twelve or iourteeii miles an liour, the roan nuire in 
 the centre never breaking her trot, and the big bell 
 over her liead giving out its fine musical note with 
 her regular stroke, while the dun and the black on 
 eltlier side rushed alone at a gallop ; and then after 
 half a mile of this pace the driver, by a w^ord or two, 
 w^ould clieck them all, that he might change his ground 
 and avoid some impossible dip, green with morass of 
 nmd and weeds, or steer carefully along a ledge be- 
 tween the outer field and a pool of water ; and then 
 having passed this, he would spring his horses again 
 at a word up to the next difiiculty. Now and then 
 he could see no hard ground all across the sixty feet 
 from side to side, and then he charged the morass 
 
 M 2 
 
 \ 
 
 i , \- 
 
i(;i 
 
 fPxKk-am)-i:asv ilvtiiincj. 
 
 TKA-DKIXKIXC. 
 
 \g: 
 
 'I 
 
 \ 
 
 J) 
 
 galhiiitl}-. Duwu \vt' Went itito ii, a!i<l all tliiv.* 
 liur^es j)limu-iim- u'aiiu'h' tlirniiL!!! it wi' were up the 
 other blo])e and awav aloiii: the track witli [i little 
 aJJitional rush iu the paci' after the adventure, the 
 Count looking round with a ph'a.^ed smile and the 
 Httle driver chuckling to his horses In a[)pr()vaL But 
 at times even this l)ecanie im[)ossil)le, the road was so 
 full of holes and dee]) ruts like ditches, and so, at 
 times, we went at a foot's {)ace. 
 
 We i)assed manv villaLfes, and loni: lines oi' telcas 
 on their wav from the countrv to the capital, laden 
 with timber for buildhig, or with bricks, or apples, or 
 barrels of tallow, or tlie products of the cloth and 
 other mills. 
 
 Xear one villan:e a man walked out of the back of 
 a solitary house in a state of nature across a strip of 
 grass towards a narrow river. 
 
 ''That man," said the Count, ''is taking his bath. 
 In that house is the hot bath, and now he is on his 
 w\ay to a plunge into the cold water, and then he will 
 come back and have another hot bath. Our peasants 
 are verv fond of this." 
 
 What a free-and-easy little bathing establishment 
 bv the hi^h-road. 
 
 At the end of an hour and a lialf, havin<' done six- 
 
 teen mih'S in spite of all impedinu-nt^, we drove up to 
 a wnysi<l(» inn. Here th(^ Count ^^xid he often st(^p])ed 
 on liis wav to "Moscow t(» have a ^lass of vodka and 
 a talk with the landlord. In the outer room, the bar, 
 a ][\Viso apartment, was a long dresser, and on shelves 
 c)!! the wall behind it were glasses, bottles, and tea- 
 cui)s (1(1 liifjnitinn. Here were the landlord and land- 
 lady, a comely pair, ])ast the middle age. In a room 
 be\'ond, visible thn^uuh a wide doorwav, were a nmn- 
 l)er of small round tables, and sitting^ round these were 
 peasants, men and women, in little sociable parties, 
 and on all tlie tal)lc\s were teapots, tea-cups and 
 saiHH'rs, small, and of pretty and various patterns. All 
 these people were drinking their tea, and on no one 
 table were there bottles or glasses. None of the 
 young Tiien were drinking vodka or kvas, nothing but 
 tea. It is a passion among these people. At all 
 hours of the day, in tlie caharefs of Moscow as in those 
 of the country, if you look in on passing, you will see 
 these people, big working men, drivers of droschkies, 
 womcm and children — there they are drinking tea, tea 
 venicnte di<\ tea deced'nte — '' from morn till dew^v eve !" 
 In a French cabaret they w^ould all be tippling red 
 Avine ; in a German Gasthaus all soaking beer. If you 
 ask the Russians thev wdll tell you that the onlv 
 
 I 
 
]iU 
 
 THH (;KF,AT HorSK-STOVK. 
 
 I. ( 
 
 GONE TO BED. 
 
 k; 
 
 ) i 
 
 i 
 
 f. 
 
 (IrinkN [hv\ care for arc vcdka {hraiuh) and tea. 
 Wine an*] beer are tut> c(>l(l. 
 
 The Count savini: that 1 ouiiht to see tlie interii»rof 
 the liousCj the huulhidy first led nie and ]\Iunsieur 
 
 B into the back premises. AVe went across tlie 
 
 vard into the ureat barn. This was tlie summer bed- 
 room of tlie lan<llord and his wife, in one corner of it 
 hc'uvj: a lar^e old-fashioned f()ur-])oster. This was an 
 airy apartment certainly. The interior of the house 
 seemed t(^ be principally arrange<l with reference to 
 the great liouse-stove. This was a huge affair, large 
 and broad and high, occupying the central p(jsition iu 
 the wall of four rooms and so projectinu- a irreat ando 
 into cacli. Thus it warmed four rooms at once, the 
 mouth of it being in the kitchen. An iron door 
 closes it. This is alxnit three feet {\\m\ the crround, 
 and a brick platform built up t(^ that height in front 
 of it resembles a French hot-plate ; on this the cook- 
 ing is done. If it is wishe<l to use the fire without the 
 big stove being lieateil, then the ii'on door is closed. 
 The chitnney rises from above the fireplace. The 
 stove is also the oven and is easily heated from tlu' 
 fireplace. This big stove is a luxurious piece of furni- 
 ture in the bed-rooms. The broad deep anirle offers 
 a tempting ^leeping-place. and in the eo](l weather, if 
 
 ^, 
 
 anyone finds his bed chilly, he places a mattress upon 
 the stovc'-angle, climbs up, and has a warm sleeping- 
 ])lace. 
 
 As Monsieur B and I came out of one room I 
 
 observed a white figure upon tlie angle of the big 
 stove, and I raised the candle to examme, for it was 
 ixettin^ dusk. 
 
 *' That is my daughter," said the landlady — *' she 
 had a headache, and is mjne to bed." 
 
 The said young person had in her simple night- 
 dress — for that was her only coverim]^ — laid herself 
 upon a nuittress on the stove, and w^as ''gone to bed/' 
 AVhat a thorouglily uiartificial arrangement for a young 
 pers< m ! ^ 
 
 (loinir back t(j the bar we found the Count and 
 the landlord dee}) in discussion of local matters^ as 
 also vodka, and we took our share of the latter. 
 A\)dka is by no means bad to the taste, and rather 
 reminded me of Schnapps in the country inns round 
 Dresden on partridge-shooting mornings. We mount- 
 ed into the tarantass au^ain for Moscow. 
 
 We had stayed so long at the wayside public that 
 It was getting dark as we started, and the road be- 
 coming, if anything, worse than before from its being 
 more used by traffic nearer to the capital, and more 
 
 -^k 
 
i(;s 
 
 ItrsSIAN IM'LU'K LAW 
 
 criuors st(_iuv. 
 
 KiU 
 
 l( 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 cut up, wu were forced to tnivd more slowlv. The 
 large bell buspeuded to the hoop over th" roan mare's 
 withers told us by the (piicker e>r slower stroke ex- 
 actly wliat we were doiim- in the wav of pace • for 
 now It would ring out a clear sharj) peal f )r a time 
 a< the mare lai<l herself out for a couple of hundre(l 
 yards, and then it stopped suddenly with a jerk as 
 she found herself at the brink of a dark, deep hole, 
 round which she skirted, letting the dun and the 
 black make their way as thev could through the mo- 
 rass and the tarantass to take a sidelou"- nluii'-o into 
 it. The Count held on convulsivelv to his box-seat 
 on these occasions, and the little (buver stuck to his 
 place with the balance of custom, read v for anv event 
 like a sailor with his sea legs on board shi]) in a cross 
 Hni. While passing a large j)iec(M.f water a curious 
 story was told by the friend in exemi)lifieation of the 
 ways and customs of Russia and police law in the 
 country. I had mentioned a circumstance related to 
 me by the British Consul in Moscow. A ladv had 
 fallen down in the street as he was passin^-- in his 
 carriage, and she lay on the pavement unassisted bv 
 any of the passers-by, as it was against the law f )r 
 anyone to help her up or aid her, as lie mi^dit l)e 
 charged by the police with attempting to rob her. 
 
 4 
 
 f 
 
 i 
 
 
 The Consul stoj^ped his carriage, got out, lifted her 
 up, liad her put into his carriage by liis servant, and 
 took her to her home. The Count's remark was — 
 
 ''The British Consul might do that with impunitv, 
 but no Russian would have ventured to do it for fear 
 of the penalty. If a person is drowned no one can 
 venture in aid in restoring life, or touch the body, 
 until the police are present." 
 
 Monsieur B tlien related the follow^ing: — 
 
 "' A gentleman was with a party of friends at his 
 estate in the countrv, and one dav, while thev were 
 at dinner, a servant came in to say that one of his 
 serfs had lallen into the lake in front of the windows, 
 and was drowning. There was a rush of the master 
 and his friends to save the man, and tliey succeeded 
 after much troubh^ in getting him out on the bank ; 
 but once he was tliere they could do no more — they 
 could not have him removed to the house till the po- 
 lice should arrive. The family of the man came hur- 
 rying from the village, but neither w^ere they able to 
 take liim away home for the same reason — the police 
 were not present. Of course the man died. The 
 police w^ere sent for, but the nearest station w^as 
 twelve w^ersts off, and, for some reason or other, no 
 one came though repeatedly sent for during four 
 
 T • 
 
170 
 
 mSIIOXESTY OF THE l'(,)LIC£. 
 
 QllS CrSTODIKT IPSOS Cr.STnDKS '? 
 
 171 
 
 hi 
 
 I ! 
 
 tlays. During all this time the IxkIv lav on tlie bank 
 of the lake within sight of the house, and no one dared 
 to touch it/' 
 
 The ground-work of all this curious law was that 
 the man might have come unfairly bv his deatli and 
 some one, in pretending to aid in removing the body, 
 might steal something from it. Wluit a suspiciuus 
 people ! 
 
 On my relating this to an English acquaintance at 
 Moscow his observation was — 
 
 " The police ! wh)-, the ]x>\kv themselves would be 
 exactl}- the people to take anything they could find ou 
 tlie b. >dy, if they were unobserved." And he went , -n 
 to say in pro,>f of this : " One dav I sent mv servant 
 with ten roubles to the market to buv se.me tliin-s for 
 me. He returned presently in great alarm tr, sa\- that 
 he had dropped his purse with the roubles in it in the 
 street. I sent him at once to the nearest police station. 
 On his way there, and near the station, a droschky 
 driver saw him searching about, and hearing he had 
 lost his purse the driver said, ' I saw a policeman of 
 that station,' pointing to it, ' pick it up.' The servant 
 taxed the policeman with having the purse ; but he de- 
 nied it ; but the driver coming up repeated his asser- 
 tion—' I saw him pick it up.' The policeman bein 
 
 i 
 
 
 tlireatened witli exposure, at last produced the purse, 
 and then clainuMl the reward of trover, — one-tliird of 
 the property found. The driver and the policeman 
 quarreled over the matter, and then it appeared that 
 botli of them had seen the servant drop the purse, and 
 the [)(>lic(^man had refused to go shares with the driver 
 in tlio contents, and lience his denouncing the former. 
 'This is not a case of trover at all/ said m v servant, 'but 
 a robbery, for you saw me drop the purse/ However, 
 the policeman took liis three roubles as trover, and 
 returned tlie rest. 11' the policeman had but consent- 
 ed to share the contents witli the driver, it is proba- 
 ble,'' added my acquaintance, " that the latter would 
 have trone off to a clmrch, and on his knees have thank- 
 ed the Virgin for her goodness in letting my servant 
 drop liis purse and for thus sending him five rou- 
 bles." 
 
 '' Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" Who shall guard 
 the guardians? 
 
 We did not reach the barrier of Moscow till long 
 after dark, the road was so bad. On arriving at this 
 the coachman got down and unhooked the big bell 
 from the hoop over the roan mare. 
 
 " We are not allowed to enter Moscow with that 
 big bell, only with the little ones round the horses' 
 
 4^ 
 
1 
 
 72 
 
 I)AN«iKKOrS ROADWAY 
 
 7:^, 
 
 necks," said tlii' rount — ^*an<»tli(T p. >li('o law/' 
 But it was a rnnarkahU^ tiling- tliat for full a mile 
 after we were inside tlie barrier tlie roadway wa.^ 
 aetuallv more dangerous than it lia<l bee-n out-ide. It 
 became ])itc!i dark, there Avere no Hirhts exc(^])t liere 
 and tliere from candles in an occasional cottage win- 
 dow, wliich only made the darkness more i)uzzling; 
 and every now and then we met men and telegas, wdio 
 warned us aiiainst a'reat holes in the roadwav. At one 
 >pot we had to wait for some minutes wliile a string of 
 some tw^entv teleiias passed bv in a meandrriiiLi" fashion 
 iacross the roadwav in front of us, because there was 
 a deei) inilf of a idace extending lialf across the wav. 
 I sugG^ested that these carelul police might ])ut up a 
 lUit, or a board, or a warnimr of some sort at this 
 spot, to prevent hors(\s and carriag(\< from ^oiny down 
 mto this uulf in the <lark. 
 
 '^ We are not on the jxn'r yet," said ^fcms. B , 
 
 ''thev take care of nothiim" bevond the /H/rJ, and no 
 one takes care of the roads l)e\'ond it." 
 
 In this nuitter of roads the Russians mav still Ix^ 
 considered to be a young people. It was rather a relief 
 to feel the rattle of the wheels on the j^diu'^ bad as 
 that is, and with the high road wdth its gulfs and mo- 
 rasses behind us. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 'rheTwerskiiia— TIr' Palace of Count Postopchin— The Great Radiating 
 Stu'ct.s of Moscow — 'ilic St. Petersburg (Jateway — The Promenade 
 — 'Vlw ( 'arriage I )rivers — The ''West End'' of Moscow — ACompanion 
 at my (tl frtsn, Luncheon — Uussian Children of the Upper Classes 
 —-Life of Young (;entlenien — The IV'trofski Palact^ — The Main 
 Kditice and Detached Buildings — The BafilcHl Conqueror — An 
 Ollicer and his Wife — Military Exercises — Russian Soldiers and 
 Olhccrs— dlie Moscow Worhl in the Petrofski Park — Tea under the 
 Elms. 
 
 npiIE Twerskaia may be considered the principal 
 -^ street in Moscow. At one termination of it is 
 tlie fine arclie(l natewav called the St. Petersbur<]^ 
 Gate — the principal entrance to the city from the Twer 
 and St. IV'tersburir luL^h-road ; and at the other end is 
 the broad l^oulevard in front of the famous little cha- 
 pel of th(^ Iberian Mother of God by the Kremlin 
 Wall and the Alexander Gardens. This street con- 
 tains many of tlu^ lamest shops, some of the finest 
 buildings, palaces «>f the nobles, as well as the princi- 
 pal clubdiouses. It passes through one of the chief 
 squares, in which is the residence of the Governor of 
 
 I' 
 
174 
 
 Till-: TWKRSKAIA. 
 
 THE ST. T^ETKRSnrRi; GATE. 
 
 17." 
 
 ^Inscuw. The pahict' wliirh i\mut \l)-\<^\)c]iu\, ih-^ 
 patriotic guvcrii..!' at lii- tiinr nftlit' I'^-i-iich inva-ir-.n, 
 
 <jccii[)ic<l 1- a uiUi']] -nia'hT inini-l' >n m-ar flu- ]^ilanka 
 
 ma rlvt.'i - 1 iiaci '. aii<i i^ injw Iil iiiL- iju^-i^': 
 
 ai (n a \\"» 
 
 » maiiuai'': iirrr. < 
 
 it. 
 
 1 ' t , 1 1 1 ill t 
 
 1 i ' i ( ' t 
 
 in 
 
 ,1 "IT 
 
 r 
 
 * I I .: > ' M 
 
 ' i''(*i^ a- ii liiLi'L' W'-^i'c 
 
 ' 'i ar: r'les of lla :a! ware 
 house — tlia' alls which 
 
 U:\ 
 
 I H-^onrMl tn the highest resolves of the patriot for 
 the salvation of his country should now only hear cal- 
 culations of profits and the prices of raw material. As 
 I looked at it the thought arose — This house belongs 
 to the history of Russia, and should be sacred. 
 
 From the Kremlin Wall to the St. Petersburg Gate 
 the length of the Twerskaia is about three miles. At 
 two-thirds of this distance one of the great Boulevards 
 crosses it, and from this point its whole character 
 changes, as is much the case in other parts of the city. 
 The street becomes wider, the buildings are of a lower 
 elevation, the houses and churches partly cease, and 
 the Russian cottages appear. But what is remarkable 
 is, that although this may be called the principal 
 street, leading as it does to the St. Petersburg road, 
 to the race-course, to the review-ground for the troops, 
 as well as to the Hyde Park of ^^I scow, and to the 
 Petrofski Palace of the Emperor at the edge of the 
 
 / 
 
 Park, \a't in >pite iA^ all i]n< tlic Twaa^kaia Ironi tlie 
 b<julu\air«l Uj till' ^'atc is tlir in«'-t coinmLaL and least 
 
 < xii rr^ai! tlh'i'itw Tii 'itlha"''(' tlu' Lrrcal 
 
 pici art-'pi 
 
 ra>!ia: iaa^ -lr''t;i- IJaa-e ai'r 
 
 hmI lii=ii-<-s at iiit^a'val: 
 
 r,. 
 
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 f I I i 
 
 1 ' ' -^ ' ! -'» 
 
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 ■ T ]a':i 
 
 -iniii'ini' ('ur 
 
 a-_ 
 
 O I 
 
 I < 
 
 -,"- r 
 
 1 
 
 )n^a'iPi\ 
 
 At. J 
 
 \ I ' ; t i 
 
 aiar and 
 
 y)lon-i 
 
 n ^^ 
 
 ^ ovo 
 
 V,, 
 
 :) MM! 
 
 Li I 111- 
 
 Bnt here is only an iiiiuensely avi ;• roa h a 
 famously rough jmve] bordered on either hand by small 
 insignificant shops for the sale of common country 
 articles, low plain houses without ornament or cha- 
 racter. 
 
 The St. Petersburg gateway is a handsome and 
 lofty arched gate in Italian style, and is in a degree 
 imposing ; but it is only of brick coated with plaster, 
 and coloured dark to look like bronze; and its position, 
 supported only by lines of low small mean houses, 
 seems incongruous. It gives one the idea of an in- 
 tention begun, but never carried out. 
 
 Immediately outside the gate, however, the scene 
 changes. Here the intention is realized in a degree. 
 There is a large open space with roadways branching 
 from it. From the centre commences a noble car- 
 riage-drive — a double drive — and a promenade with 
 avenues of trees between them, all of it showing care 
 
176 
 
 THE '' WEST END " OF MOSCOW. 
 
 UNDER THE LIMES. 
 
 177 
 
 and taste and attention, and bespeaking the approach 
 to the Imperial Palace and the Hyde Park. This ex- 
 tends for a mile or two. 
 
 One day walking in this direction T passed the 
 gate and came out on the Promenade. It was a hot 
 day in August, and the broad level walk, shaded with 
 dwarf limes, and having seats at intervals, was most 
 inviting. It was all kept with as much care as if at 
 a German Bath, or at the world-famous " Corner " of 
 Rotten Row. All along on either side ran the car- 
 riage drives, one of these leading, after a mile or so, 
 out on to the review ground, a wide, grassy plain, the 
 other to the palace and the park. Beyond these on 
 either hand were numerous villas in gardens. This 
 was clearly intended to be the West End of Moscow. 
 What spoiled it was the common and ill-built and ill- 
 tenanted mile of street between the Boulevard and 
 the St. Petersburg Gate. If the nobles of Moscow 
 had but selected this as their quarter, it would have 
 made all the arrangement of the town complete; 
 but they did not do this. The Moscow nobles had 
 their sunny south quarter and their Sokolniki diive 
 Atld park before the days of Peter and his city in the 
 north, and the Muscovites had no leanin;]j at anv time 
 in the direction of St. Petersburg. 
 
 i 
 
 Finding a shaded bench, I sat down under the 
 limes. There was nothing particular going on to 
 bring people in that direction more than usual, but 
 there was plenty of life and movement. A few peo- 
 ple were on the Promenade, scattered along it, from 
 the villas, and passengers from the town and country 
 were frequent. Carriages were continually coming 
 out from the great gate, some taking the drive to- 
 wards the review ground, and some on the other side 
 the Promenade to the Park. There was a military 
 camp formed on the far side of the plain, a large 
 force under canvas, and now and then an officer, in 
 his shining helmet and grey overcoat, sitting erect in 
 his smart droschky, dashed out of the gate, and went 
 in the direction of the camp at the best pace of his 
 black trotting Arab-looking horse, his fat body coach- 
 man in the conventional blue dressing-gown holding 
 his arms straight out before him and steering the 
 black trotter to a hair's breadth with the tightened 
 rein and the large bridoon. Then a more ambitious 
 officer, seated in a tarantass drawn by a pair of slash- 
 ing greys, trotters too, would emerge from the gate 
 and hurry along in the same direction, and, of course, 
 the coachman of the two greys did his best to out- 
 trot the single black over the plain. The peculiar 
 
 N 
 
178 
 
 RUSSIAN DRIVERS. 
 
 attitude of these Russian drivers always gives me the 
 idea of their being engaged in a race, spurning behind 
 them the jndverem Ohjmpicum. The charioteers of 
 Diomed and Ulysses at Troy must have worked their 
 horses over the yellow sands by the Simois and Sca- 
 mander by the same methods and witli similar bits as 
 these Russian drivers, tlie only diiference being that 
 the former stood instead of sittini^. More than once 
 a young gentleman would drive himself — unusual 
 sight — from the direction of the plain in a spider car- 
 riage with one horse, a smart stepper, with silver- 
 mounted trappings, the youthful whip seated on his 
 bare plank with his feet in stirrup-irons. On his 
 fragile vehicle he did not try his skill against the 
 rushing Greeks over the plain, but confined himself 
 to ornamental ambling. 
 
 As I sat there a man came by with fruit, gooseber- 
 ries and raspberries, ripe and seducing on this hot 
 morning ; they were just fresh from the country, so I 
 bought some. Presently a poor woman came up, 
 very tired and heated from her evidently long walk 
 in that burning sun, dusty, too, from the dried-up 
 roads. She sat down on the bench too, and the 
 gooseberries lying on it between us I invited her to 
 share them with me. How pretty and engaging are 
 
 RIPE FRUIT ON A SULTRY DAY. 
 
 179 
 
 the natural manners of women — of simple countrj^wo- 
 men ! This woman was taken by surprise by my 
 offer, for she had sat down at the far end of the 
 bench with a rather deprecating air. Now she thought 
 my offer was scarcely a real one, and declined it with 
 a modest, timid mien, i-ather frightened. She was 
 full forty years of age, and scarcely good-looking, for 
 Russian peasant women are rarely so, as I had a 
 good opportunity of judging at the Foundhng Hospi- 
 tal with its more than four hundred nurses. But 
 ripe fruit on a sultry day, after a dusty walk and in a 
 shady place, is a thing not to be declined twice when 
 offered with the manner that means — ^' Come now ; 
 they will refresh you — there are enough in that bag 
 for you and me — I cannot eat them all." So the wo- 
 man, after making many pretty half-objections, con- 
 sented, and we shared the gooseberries. But slie re- 
 quired to be continually invited to continue her share 
 of tlie luncheon, and each tune consented with the 
 same deprecating manner, and she mumbled always 
 something beyond my comprehension, but which, any- 
 how, had the sound and air of meaning — '' What, an- 
 other ! — how kind you are ! — well, they are good 
 after my walk." All this time there came snatches of 
 song over a hedge beyond the road leading to the 
 
 N 2 
 
180 
 
 NURSE AND CHILDKEN. 
 
 RUSSIAN YOUTH OF THE HIGHER CLASSES. 
 
 181 
 
 park behind me. Adjoining one of the viUas was a 
 large market-garden, and these scraps of song came 
 from garden-women at w^ork, a line of them as I had 
 seen in tlie cucumber gromids by the Devitchi convent 
 near the Moskwa. In this garden, however, there 
 was sometliing besides gourds ; there was variety — 
 carrots, cabbages, onions, beetroot, celery, and otlier 
 plants, as I ascertained by a visit after my luncheon ; 
 and as I sat there the pleasant perfume of the vegeta- 
 bles came on the air across the road. 
 
 Presently, my luncheon companion having de- 
 parted with her simple courtesies into the city, a 
 little party came out of one of the villas across the 
 road, consisting of a nurse and three children and a 
 man-servant in livery. The man carried one of the 
 children, the younger boy, in liis arms, and when they 
 reached the Promenade the servants seated themselves 
 in the shade on a l)ench not far from mine, and the 
 three children anmsed themselves. The boys were 
 both in white linen knickerbockers, black velvet 
 jackets, and high black boots, with a rim of red 
 leather round the top. They were small, slight, pale 
 things. It is rather remarkable that almost all the 
 children of the Russian upper class are ddicate and 
 fragile. On inquiry I was told that they are, rks a rule, 
 
 I 
 
 brought up in close and heated apartments during the 
 long winters, and in the summers they have no games 
 or out-of-door amusements to attract them into the 
 air and keep them there in healthful exercise ; they 
 are not taught to ride ponies, and sporting is not a 
 habit among Russians, and thus the boys grow up as 
 house 1)1 ants, ^veakly. As young men they lead an 
 indoor, indolent life, gambling and eating forming 
 much of their occupation ; while reading French and 
 English books, and dressing, form the principal part 
 of that of the younger women. It is not therefore 
 difficult to understand what was declared to me one 
 day by a party of Russian gentlemen as a thing to be 
 deplored, that anything more vicious and more 
 thoroughly profligate than the young Russians, sons 
 of the rich and noble families, it would be impossible 
 to find in any country calling itself civilized. 
 
 As I went on down the Promenade, I met various 
 other little parties of well-dressed children, w^ith their 
 attendants, from the villas, but they all had the same 
 characteristics — they were invariably pale and slight 
 things. How different are these, methought, from 
 the big-limbed and ruddy-cheeked boys, and the rosy, 
 active, and tomboy girls — ready for cricket and rid- 
 ing to hounds — of merry England of this class. As 
 
182 
 
 THE PETROFSKI PALACE. 
 
 ROOMS OF HISTORICAL INTEREST. 
 
 183 
 
 T went on the great plain opened out on my left, and 
 stretched away for miles, the Promenade continumg 
 as its boundary, and so I arrived at the front of the 
 Petrofski Palace on my right. It was a building un- 
 like any I had ever seen. It was of red brick and 
 stone, but it was a fanciful edifice, made up of all 
 kinds of architectural conceits, as indeed are many of 
 the public buildings of Russia. But though this was 
 almost entirely of red brick, and was but a fancy, it 
 was a proof of how very ornamental a building can be 
 made out of this common material, and in spite of a 
 violation of all rules of Art. The principal edifice 
 stood away back from the road and the Promenade, 
 at the further side of a considerable court of a circular 
 form, perhaps sixty yards from the avenue of dwarf 
 limes. This court was inclosed by two encircling 
 lofty walls, thirty feet high, and on them were built 
 many towers of all kinds of quaint shapes and sizes, 
 iicre was a Saxon tower of circular form, its bulk 
 projecting into the court ; then came a square one ; 
 next to this one with an Italian Church front, such as 
 Bramante might have modelled. All the detail was 
 of delicate Italian work, but in red brick. The win- 
 dows of these, as well as of the Palace beyond, were 
 set in fine stone work. Two of these, of rather more 
 
 » k 
 
 pretension, stood on either side of a broad entrance to 
 the court, and formed a handsome finish to the sweep 
 of the encircling wall. All these detached buildings 
 appeared to be inhabited, as though they were occu- 
 pied by officials of the Palace. The main edifice was 
 as singular as any of the adjuncts. There was a 
 double fUght of steps up to a broad landing, with a 
 portico above supported by Egyptian pillars. From 
 this you entered a fine central hall, circular and very 
 lofty ; and this in fact formed the principal interior. 
 From it opened various apartments. There was no- 
 thing above this but a garret, the windows being in 
 shape like our common garret or dormer window in 
 the roof, on a large scale. However it carried out in 
 one respect the cottage design proper to Russia — it 
 was a big cottage, with a raised ground floor, and a 
 garret above. 
 
 There was one interest attached to these rooms. 
 It was in them that Napoleon had, on his first arrival 
 at Moscow, awaited the coming of the notables of the 
 capital to tender submission to the Conqueror and 
 the city keys, and had awaited them in vain. No 
 notables came bending to him, no keys arrived — no- 
 thing but the news that no person of importance was 
 in tlie town — it was deserted. How disappointing, 
 
184 
 
 THE BAFFLED CONQUEROR. 
 
 AN OFFICER AND LADY. 
 
 185 
 
 and liovv irritating, and how defiant ! And it was to 
 these rooms that he had retreated when further stay 
 in the city was dangerous, and it liad become a neces- 
 sity to vacate it. Wliat must he have felt when he 
 entered tlieni the second time, his grand prize too 
 evidently wrested from his grasp ? Perhaps in these 
 rooms that evil genius of war for the first time in his 
 life became sensible of a doubt of his own power in 
 dealing witli nations and sovereigns as pieces on a 
 chess-board. I could not help thinking how terrible 
 a blow these walls must have witnessed— what a blow 
 to a man hitherto living in a proud conviction that 
 wliat he willed that he could do. It was on that 
 wide plain to the West, in the front of these rooms, 
 that Napoleon, when he decided at last, every scheme 
 to remain frustrated, to start for France once more, 
 must have begun that awful retreat. Sacked and 
 ruined Moscow was on his left, only the open plain 
 between him and his smouldering victim, and in his 
 front, due west, was the only road of safety from utter 
 destruction, and this by the devastated fields of 
 ■>■• azma and Smolensk. I could not help ima<:rinina 
 the Conqueror, the proud and gratified man, as he 
 rode into that gateway on his arrival,— and the same 
 man a.s he rode out of it for the last time, angry and 
 
 baffled, every triumph tarnished, every effort defeated, 
 every boast turned into emptiness, his genius at fault. 
 
 While sitting on the low rail of the Promenade I 
 saw an officer and a lady come out from one of the 
 quaint towers into the court, and so through the en- 
 trance gate-way out towards the plain. The officer was 
 in uniform, the lady in a pretty morning dress, her 
 head without any hat or bonnet. As they passed me 
 they were talking French, and were arranging for 
 their dinner in the evening. There was to be an 
 inspection or review of troops on the plain, and he 
 was going out to this. The important domestic matter 
 settled, the lady tripped back again into the court, 
 and into her pretty tower. By their manner to each 
 other, and their happy familiarity of conversation, 
 they were man and wife, both tall and young, and the 
 officer, it must be said, the better-looking of the two. 
 She was very fair, Avith a German cast of face, and 
 the officer was a Russ, with the dark blood of the 
 East in his veins. 
 
 And now T observed that officers were walking or 
 riding up from various directions over the plain to a 
 common centre, nearly in front of the Petrofski 
 Palace. Far away to the west the plain stretched for 
 miles, an unbroken level, till it dipped, and the ground 
 
 
186 MARCH OF TROOPS TO THE PARADE GROUND. 
 
 rose beyond in low lulls. In the distance I could just 
 make out the tops of the tents of the troops, a long 
 array. Watching these, as I sat, I at last discovered a 
 dark low extending line on the ground between me 
 and the tents, and that this was slowly approaching, 
 moving across from the right to the left. When it 
 came within about a mile or so I saw an occasional 
 flash of light from its front. Bayonets, methought,— 
 here come the troops. And now, as this dark low 
 line crept gradually more into sight, another similar 
 dark body appeared beyond it, and then another, and 
 then another — more and more continually. It ap- 
 peared as if each regiment as it formed by the tents 
 moved off, each advancing and taking the same direc- 
 tion, from the right to the left. So they came on, 
 each with that peculiar swing and flow of motion of a 
 large body of men on the march. From some of tlie 
 regiments there flashed out the occasional sparkle of 
 steel in the rays of the afternoon sun, and some swuno- 
 along a dull hea\7 mass without any flash at all. 
 Some carried their bayonets and firelocks, and some 
 were without arms. The body of oflicers remained 
 stationary about half a mile off" out on the plain, and 
 the regiments marched in turn past them, and took up 
 their ground all along the line of the road and the 
 
 MILITARY EXERCISES. 
 
 187 
 
 Promenade, a long line extending from nearly oppo- 
 site the Palace in the direction of Moscow. I heard 
 afterwards that there were twenty thousand men on 
 the ground. All those regiments that had marched 
 up with their muskets were massed in squares on the 
 end of the line towards the town, and those without 
 arms were similarly drawn up at my end, towards the 
 Palace. After the body of officers, all on foot, had 
 walked down the line from end to end, they took up 
 a position in front of one of the unarmed regiments, 
 and then commenced the exercise. Each regiment 
 was made to advance from the line about a hundred 
 yards to the front, towards the officers. At the 
 word of command, the three or four front ranks 
 advanced at a quick step, breaking at another word 
 into a run, and going on close up to the officers, 
 when they divided to the right and left, and dashed 
 along the front. Then, turning at the angle, they held 
 on at the same pace till they gained the rear of their 
 regiment, Avhen they turned behind it, and formed 
 up again in their places ; the next ranks doing the 
 same, till the whole regiment was exercised. When 
 this was done, the body of officers moved on to the 
 front of the next regiment, and the same performance 
 was repeated. Of course there were some checks — 
 
188 
 
 RUSSIAN SOLDIEIIS. 
 
 some of the files going througli this exercise badlv, 
 and having to do it over again. This appeared to be 
 the object of the inspection — that a superior officer, 
 who was very busy all the while talking and unik\n<r 
 remarks with a great deal of animation, in the front 
 of the body of officers, should witness a new move- 
 ment. Altogether he appeared to be very much 
 pleased, and to approve of Avhat he saw; and one regi- 
 ment being apparently better exercised in it than the 
 others, he had the movement repeated, and then gave 
 it unqualified praise. 
 
 I could not help thinking that this new exercise 
 was a leaf out of the Zouave and the Chasseur 
 de Vincennes book at Paris, to be put into the 
 Russian book for future use. After it was over 1 
 walked out on the plain and among the men to look 
 at them closely. They were all dressed in short dark 
 green tunics, white linen or canvas trousers, and the 
 usual strong Russian boots. Now these trousers were 
 tucked into the top of the boots. They were all large 
 men, and evidently a picked body, very even in point 
 of height, broad-shouldered, large-limbed, and power- 
 ful. I never saw a finer body. Their stride and 
 
 freedom of action, too, when running, struck me 
 
 once, in my own opinion, and in younger days, a pro- 
 
 THE PARK. 
 
 189 
 
 fessor in the art — as light, free, muscular, and in ex- 
 cellent mechanical form. The Russians are declared, 
 by those who know them well, to possess a very imita- 
 tive genius, and this new exercise seemed to be a 
 proof of it. The officers I did not think at all equal 
 in personal appearance, either in frame or muscle, to 
 the men. How should the small delicate pale boys I 
 saw on the Promenade, and in carriages everywhere — 
 hot-house plants — grow up into athletes? How 
 should the do-nothings be as the hardy men of the 
 villages, labouring in the fields from boyhood, and 
 defying all weather ? I could not help in my mind 
 comparing tliem with our own officers — men from the 
 training of football and cricket — of the oar and the 
 gun — of the road and the hunting-field — of the rod by 
 the meadow stream, and the glacier on the mountain 
 top — athletes, and sons of athletes. 
 
 The officer w^ent back to his fair-haired wife in the 
 Palace to dinner ; and I went round behind it into 
 the Park. Here I found the Moscow world, drivinsr, 
 and walking, and drinking tea. As the principal 
 world was out of town, it being summer time, there 
 were few carriages of any mark now to be seen. 
 Here and there a very gorgeous turn-out passed by, a 
 lady and her children in it, pale little people, the boys 
 
n-j 
 
 190 
 
 THE SMALLER GENTRY OF MOSCOW. 
 
 TEA FROM NIJNI. 
 
 191 
 
 in red velvet tunics, the girls in white, of course. 
 There were a few spider carriages, each with its well- 
 bred Arab-looking animal; but the greater num- 
 ber were in drosclikies. 
 
 However, the I'etrofski Park has its merits. It 
 consists principally of a number of \dllas, gardens, and 
 winding roads among these, public gardens and shaded 
 ways. The latter of these I enjoyed the most. Just 
 at the rear of the Palace were some fine elm-trees, by 
 the side of the public drive. Among tliese, and in 
 their shade, were some quiet bosquets and busliy 
 pleasaunces ; and here it was the habit of the smaller 
 gentry of Moscow, with their wives and cliildren, the 
 well-to-do easy classes, to come and sit in tlie sliadow 
 of the big trees, and drink the unfailing tea, and see 
 the world go by. So here i iound a number of 
 tables spread with clean white linen cloths, and on 
 them the burnished samovar, the Russian urn, and 
 pretty tea-service ol ji scow porcelain, some in blue, 
 others in yellow, in green, in pink, in harlequin pat- 
 tern, and in everv kind of fancy shape. \ \ w tempt- 
 ing it all looked : I ' i rties of people were sitting round 
 -^•me of these, while children ran races among the 
 bosquets, and enjoyed themselves generally, ^^^-ler 
 I 1 rties were louiigmg idly in the shade, and looking 
 
 on at the passing carriages. Of course I soon found 
 myself at an unoccupied table, a diminutive table, 
 laid with diminutive tea-cups in purple and gold. In a 
 moment a woman appeared from somewhere bearing 
 a steaming samovar, the charcoal all alight in its in- 
 terior. Slie knew instinctively that I was a foreigner, 
 and asked if I would have cream. '' Yes, I would 
 liave cream." She disappeared round a bush, and in 
 a minute or two slie returned laden with a huge jar 
 of cream — two or three pints, at least — of the richest 
 and purest cream. Considerate creature ! I could 
 have embraced her, as she did the jar, but for the 
 I)ublicity of the situation. How I revelled in the tea 
 from Nijni and the cream from the Hebe of the 
 bosquet ! . After a hot day, and some hours of walk- 
 ing, what could be more grateful than to sit thus in 
 tlie shade of those noble elms, as the sun was sinking 
 over that great military plain, and thus enjoy " Hyde 
 Park " in a novel way ? The only thing wanting to 
 me was a companion ; and I do believe if the woman 
 of the morning on the Promenade — she who had 
 shared my repast of gooseberries — had but come by 
 at that moment on her return from the city into the 
 country, I should have invited her to tea. How 
 strong is the demand in our nature for companionship ! 
 
« 
 
 192 
 
 ANIMATED SCENE. 
 
 In our extremity it is now a mouse, and now a flower, 
 and now a peasant woman of Muscovy. However 
 she did not come ; and so I contented myself witli 
 the moving scene of carriages and horses, tlie voices 
 of children at play among the trees, and perfumed 
 tea from Nijni and abounding cream, till dusk— when 
 I strolled back to Moscow. 
 
 A 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 193 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The Paving of Moscow— Trial of Wood and of Stone Flags— Ornamental 
 Villas— Houses erected by Government— Road-making in Russia— 
 The Agricultural College— The Officer appointed to conduct me 
 over the Establislimen1>— The Cow Stables— Dutch and Swr^? Cattle 
 —Steam Engines and Machinery— Farm IT i-ses— The Farm- 
 Museum, Library, and Lecture Rooms — How thv Pi ] 'tv ^ - 
 acquired by Gk>vernment — An Apothecary who made a good job 
 of it— Russian Employes — Church of the College— \ Kussian Re- 
 freshment—Restaurant on the Kitai Boulevard— Change m the 
 Education of Yoir ^"obles. 
 
 11 ! I r' 
 
 I I 1 it ' 
 
 1 i 
 
 ] is something more to be sai<l :]hn^it the 
 Verskaia. I had h-ird mention of a model 
 farm of the Emperor somuwhere in the noinlii in 
 hood 1 "^Loscow ; aud one day i named iiii= to the 
 
 British Consul, Mr. R . He at once said, If 
 
 you would like to see the model farm I can take you 
 there — the governor of it is one of my fi* ■ 1 " ^ -^ 
 course I closed with this proposal. 
 
 A'< ^ve drove along the TwHcnin. 1 b^prved lu niv 
 companion what a singularly 
 
 i i i ' I i tl V Cv i 
 
 i L %'\ ti^ 
 
 o 
 
194 
 
 THE PAVING OF MOSCOW. 
 
 ORNAMENTAL VILLAS. 
 
 195 
 
 generally, and this, its principal street, in particular, 
 adding, 
 
 " Is it the case with the inside of the town as with 
 the outside, that it is nobody's business to keep the 
 pavement in good condition ?" 
 
 ** On the contrary," said Mr. R ; *' as you ob- 
 serve, the pavement of Moscow is infamous — enough 
 to ruin all horses and carriages ; but you have no idea 
 what trouble we have about it. For instance, some 
 few years since our authorities were advised to try 
 wood. You in London were trying wood pavement, 
 so we tried it in a few streets to test it. But in the 
 first thaw after the winter so many horses fell down 
 on the slippery wood up and down our hills, and so 
 many broke their legs, that we were obliged to take 
 it all up again. Then there came a German, and he 
 proposed to pave the town with big flags as at Flo- 
 rence, and we were to have our streets like a bowl- 
 ing-green. Accordingly this was done in a street or 
 two, as with the wood ; but wood is cheap and stone 
 is expensive n^ we do not get stone easily here, and 
 the big flags were costly. At first it w\)< admirable, 
 and everybody wu^ pleased. At last we were to have 
 a delightful 2;a2;6' for our trotters, and tht u iiuau was 
 pronounced to be a blessed man- -during the summer. 
 
 "1 
 
 1 
 
 But the winter came. It is the frost and snow that 
 ruin our streets. After the winter of course the thaw 
 arrived, and then the streets all burst up as usual, and 
 the big flags were so terrible, their points standing up 
 like ian-(red rocks, and such holes between them, that 
 the road was impassable both for horses and wheels ; 
 and so there was the end of the bowling-green, and 
 we returned to our own wretched pavement, i v^u 
 see the street always breaks up after the winter ; but 
 we knock these smaller stones down again as well as 
 we can and make the road passable, and that is all 
 
 that can be done." 
 
 So we trotted on over the jagged Tversknin mvl 
 through the St. Petersburg gate to the park at the 
 back of the Petrofski Palace. The model farm lay 
 two or three miles beyond this, and the whole road 
 was through pretty woodland scenery on level 
 ground. As we went on we passed from time to time 
 ornamental villas standing in enclosed gardens full of 
 flowers and shrubs. The Consul pointed them out as 
 we passed. 
 
 '' There lives Mr. A , a wealthy merchant of 
 
 Moscow ; and that is the villa of Mr. B , a great 
 
 manufacturer ; this is the house of the Prussian Con- 
 sul ; and that is the villa of Prince G ." 
 
 o2 
 
1A 
 
 196 
 
 A GOVERNMENT PROJECT. 
 
 AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE. 
 
 197 
 
 All these were pretty houses built on the Russiaa 
 plan — a raised ground-floor with verandah and a gar- 
 ret above— a style of building thoroughly suitable to 
 a summer residence. It is a house and cottage com- 
 bined, and the verandah being often a broad projec- 
 tion from the building, the family live principally on 
 it, commandmg as it often does a view over the in- 
 closing fence to the country beyond, as well as an 
 easy descent into the garden by the flight of steps. 
 The house of the Prussian Consul was the prr^ttiest of 
 them all, its front covered with creepers and roses. 
 M tiy of these villas were rented only for the summer 
 months by Moscow residents. 
 
 Leaving these we passed some pine woods, and 
 here at intervals, in the edge of the woodland, were 
 many small separate houses in various stages of erec- 
 tion, jh companion said that all this was ground 
 belonging to the U. vernment, and that these houses 
 in course of erection, and others completed, were a 
 ir jectofthe <"; ernment. In some cases the au- 
 thorities had built the house and let it at a low rent ; 
 while in other cases they let the plot of groun 1 a: i 
 siTinll groun 1 rent on a long lease, thirty or forty 
 roiiMo'^ n vrnv, the lessee building his own house. 
 \ <ii ious of these Onvernment houses were occupied. 
 
 i : 
 
 their gardens of considerable size and gay with flow- 
 ers, and the voices of children resounded with laugh- 
 ter and merriment from the enclosures. There was 
 one thing observable and eminently Russian. Except 
 the road on which we were driving, there was no pre- 
 tence of any other— nothing beyond a grass track in 
 the direction of any of these villas. The cross wnys 
 leading to their entrance gates were left as chance 
 left them — tracks in the soil, only marked wiili ilie 
 wheels of the timber and brick carts during the bun i- 
 ing. Road-making is certainly not a passion of the 
 Russian nature, and the Muscovite '^! tcadam has yet 
 to be born who shall regenerate both the city and the 
 country. But the houses were pretty and exceeding- 
 ly picturesque, showing that there is much taste for 
 architecture native to the R'i-*nn mind, though it is 
 at present not very pure, but slightly bizarre, 
 
 \\ i' arrived at the end of the wood ul u cunsider- 
 able collection of buildings. This was the Agiiua u al 
 College. It consisted of a liandsome central man- 
 sion, in which were the museum, lectui i ms, li- 
 brary, council-chamber, an 1 ther a} ments. This 
 stood apart, and near it were the dormitories of the 
 students, two long lines of building forming n half- 
 circle with a c^nv in the centre, aiir! fj^rine to the 
 
198 
 
 VACATION TIME. 
 
 I 
 
 COW STABLES. 
 
 199 
 
 museum. Beyond these was the Governors resi- 
 dence, and then again the farm-buildings, barns, sta- 
 bles, yards, cart-houses, granaries. On the far side 
 of the dormitories was the church, and at the back- 
 front of the museum a large flower-garden with bos- 
 quets and summer-houses, and fountains and basins, 
 and pretty avenues of trees. It was all in the most 
 perfect order, rich-looking, clean, and substantial. 
 
 Calling on the Governor, we found to our disap- 
 pointment that he was in Moscow, but an officer of 
 the establishment was at once directed by the secre- 
 t^ary to show us everything. It appeared that the col- 
 lege was now empty, the students, who numbered 
 two hundred* all away on vacation, it being the sum- 
 mer holiday. So all the professors, seventeen in num- 
 ber, were away too. I confess that in my heart I 
 was thankful the seventeen professors were in the 
 bosoms of their several families, or acquiring know- 
 ledge far from the academic shades. The idea of 
 seventeen learned men was an oppression to a simple 
 traveller, and the thought that 1 could walk about 
 the whole place at my ease and see for myself was 
 an inestimable blessing. 
 
 The Consul had quietly informed me on our way 
 that agriculture was not much in his line, and the 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 officer who was deputed to show us over the college, 
 at once on my first question, admitted frankly that 
 he was utterly ignorant of all matters connected with 
 sheep, cattle, and corn. Evidently one thing was 
 quite certain, that I should not leave the college that 
 day oppressed with a plethora of knowledge of scien- 
 tific farming. The officer led us first into the cow 
 stables. Nothing could be cleaner or in better order ; 
 but the cows — well, they were all away at some pas- 
 tures at a few versts distance, thirty in number, and 
 all of them were of Swiss or of I^ itch breed. These 
 were preferred to English breeds as better milkers. 
 The bulls were in the next stables, four from Switzer- 
 land and two from Holland, the latter appearing the 
 finer blood, but they were all small. The Swiss had 
 fine broad foreheads, but were heavy in the heads as 
 well as in the shoulders, with hollow backs, while the 
 Dutch had straight backs, more classical heads, and 
 were finer in their limbs. They were well cared for 
 and kindly treated, as the polished woodwork of tlie 
 stalls, and the sweet-smelling hay and fresh litter, and 
 glistening chains round their sleek necks, and bright 
 eyes and coats, and their docile ways, all testified. 
 There was a boiling-house for the food, and a tram- 
 ua^ lor this all through the stables. T' re was a 
 
 f 
 
200 
 
 THE FARM. 
 
 THE LIBRARY. 
 
 201 
 
 chinery for threshing corn, and for cutting it and 
 grass. There were various steam-engines for thresh- 
 ing, but those by '' Woods '' they considered the best. 
 In the yards were heaps of straw, and ranges of sacks 
 of corn were in the barns ; while horses were every- 
 where — in stables, or in the yards, some harnessed to 
 old-fashioned telegas, and others to newly-fashioned 
 farm vehicles considered more convenient. The 
 farm horses were rather small, some from Belgium, 
 others of a native race, but all showing bone. There 
 was a general eye to character in the selection. In- 
 quiring for the sheep, in the hope that, like Count 
 
 L -, there might be here a fancy for the black 
 
 faces from the South-downs, I heard that the flock 
 was of Russian breed, and was at some distance off. 
 The farm consisted of about two hundred acres of 
 V 1, and about one hundred more of arable and 
 pasture. It was altogether a busy and pleasant scene, 
 and thoroughly enjoyable, for it seemed like being 
 suddenly transported by a magic power from all 
 foreign and strange objects away into the midst of 
 home sights and sounds, with the charm of accustom- 
 ed habits and the perfume of associations grateful to 
 the senses. 
 
 From the farmyard we went to the nmseum and 
 
 1 
 
 library. The whole building was fitted up in the 
 usual way of similar places of study. There were va- 
 rious lecture-rooms, and separate museums for the dif- 
 ferent subjects attached to the several rooms for lec- 
 tures. The library, a long, handsome apartment, was 
 well furnished with works arranged in separate cases, 
 according to subjects. Here were works on agricul- 
 ture, on animals, on soils, on manures, on anatomy, 
 on electricity, on chemistry, on forests, and in various 
 languages — French, English, German, Russian. This 
 room is open to the students daily from ten in the 
 morning till one, and again from three till six in the 
 afternoon, and every convenience is provided for 
 them of tables and writing materials. The establish- 
 ment in all its parts was in the best order, neat and 
 well cared for, and yet the lecture-rooms and library 
 showed marks of being constantly used. 
 
 Going out into the garden, I observed to my com- 
 panion that none of the buildings had a Russian look, 
 but rather Italian, the large central mansion being, in 
 fact, a very ornate Italian house on a large scale. 
 
 " It is Italian," he replied, '' and its history is this : 
 This property round here all belonged to a noble of 
 
 this country, Prince G , and he, after living in 
 
 Italy for some time, returned here, and built this 
 
 i 
 
202 
 
 HISTORY OF THE PROPERTY. 
 
 house, and all the others for offices — that in which 
 the Governor lives, and those used as the students' 
 dormitories, and the stables too, except that those 
 have all been enlarged and added to lately by the 
 Government for the college. But this principal house 
 is tliO <^nw.(^ n^ ii \va;^ first built. Tlio T m ace died. 
 
 •"1 ! 1 , < i 
 
 ,A ■ l' i I 
 
 W 
 
 lor :>i.'iiic I ;;ii^ : i-u; ociim 
 
 o 
 
 i-xnMv;rj;ini, iK-r uro\)vii 
 
 ilil!) livUl. >Iil' l}Ui'- 
 
 >j / 1*/ 
 
 n<u)'Mlv ovtT ^]_iHti"^ kia-w li^w tlu- flana wa- laaiiaa-'l; 
 
 r it p.." s^ 
 
 biit anxla-w, in tl]p ripl {],.• wi^ 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 1 
 
 ( • 
 
 T"i ■") 1 ' *" , 
 
 ui 
 
 .,- i ^ 
 
 I ' i - ^* ^ ' i I 
 
 il6 v.ane. 
 
 1 
 
 ^lie 
 
 ibrty thousand ^ilvcr loubies for it, about 
 ai.J puunds. The apothecary at once sold it 
 to the Govi 1 liiai la, which paid much more thau its 
 va! ae, the sum given being i\v liundred a, i fifty 
 thousand roubles, :aa i morciaui ' 'arty-six :aousand 
 
 I 
 
 
 n 
 
 ^■i-:\^'V II 
 
 » ' '>( 1 i * '1 ' •'. 1. .a ; 
 
 i ' 1 . ) 
 
 ly, 
 
 11 
 
 =^a 
 
 rlin^ n r^nrpli 
 
 riiinin>e by the 
 
 ■^ ■ ■ >"* ) \ ^ i ] i o 
 
 it 'aof -^ tlirough so iiinTra liands, all 
 
 «a' which aiK .t aw a^ ii passes, thn^ a- ;ii- end liiC 
 tain [niri is ioa_: ijcyonJ liiu v'aaiu ui' ihu .irncle 
 
 I )i a.iai it. 
 
 A PETITION TO THE GOVERNOR. 
 
 203 
 
 My companion laughed. 
 
 " How are the employes with their low salaries to 
 live if they do not make a little money by their 
 wits ?" And then, as we stood by the fountain in the 
 midst of the garden, as it threw its jets of water into 
 
 iilling 
 
 !' w Jia-i 
 
 iua, iiilu liic ha^aa iiC 
 o 
 
 the air, ^pnrhlin^ in tho affornonri sun, a 
 Willi its aai 
 
 1 eiaW'ii Uj Ui 
 
 '• i)n*;' ''a' hiv acnuaintaia'ia liure at MnvsNiw, a anna 
 
 liiu Wniwaaaa 
 
 la-raaii niaia \\i 
 
 ■at'ti lalrlv Un' a -^luM-ial j)> nmf cca^ 
 
 
 ..1 
 
 w I [ h 
 
 In: 
 
 <^i 
 
 i 1 !^ 
 
 a- !<"> what hi' - 
 the Ra--Ma a! 
 U|) iii> [)clil i- *a 
 
 a '' 1 u^ *. 
 
 I ■ , I i ; i < I ■ ! 1 v., y_> *, / I V. 
 
 1 [f nj)]>lu''1 1^) a Rus-iaii 
 
 **i ifi^ ai tliO a'« •vraaaaa <aid 
 
 Sa* ha ilfcw 
 
 's ^ ' i n ^ \ i i ; 
 
 1 ; n > 1 
 
 I i S 1 < i 
 
 .^, iiuvaaw' a' -- wua<"i'. 
 
 i'..' i'uL«^i'^ '- '-L U i^" |*"^|'^ 'i 
 
 was shown into the secretai), wh 
 and heard the case. The secretary, ai lie most polite 
 and urbane manner, made light of the a^ i it 
 would be granted immediately. He w aa 1 fi i^ a 
 
 fortnight, and then hearing la "thina fr- aa th.a iinTrr- 
 
 nor he *"alh'-l n^aain. ;\'ann \\o <nv^ \ho ^-rcvi'liiv^. :aia! 
 airain I ■-■ \\.\- ar''a!i-''a :t;i i'u!!is-ahac ciaa|Hia,a(a' wala 
 hi^ [)ulition, — Uio govuruui, ^aid lac puhw Laiaaah had 
 been a a^^ud Liv.-ai Laiaama laieiN' with iniiHjWaiii niaw 
 
 ters. w i 1' a a < i' a a » a i , 
 
 i--va, ,iat I at * aii-w ^-v ^'aiat 
 
 11 the gr.\ wa.or. ^^-^ then he s]^- h*^ *•' hi- \l\\ 
 
 '^•^ \ /\ \ \ 
 
 j 
 
li 
 
 ?o>t 
 
 BRIBING OFFICIALS. 
 
 friend about the singular delay. ' Can there be any 
 rr K objection?' said he. The I' ussian gentleman 
 ]!!• rely asked this question, — ' How many roubles did 
 
 ynii ofl^ r tlie secret:!!;':'' m. frienH ^\ h shocked. 
 
 ^ \^ ?:v. t^--^ ^r^cr^'Ai'v '< n gentlemaih li-w rr^nl] \ von- 
 
 luiv I 
 
 '" n ' 
 
 (n 
 
 11 
 
 U:--ia!! : • iji CuUi^u he i:-, \mI' ! 
 
 t i 1 o 
 
 cl*> \'mU lllllik lie liiLiIi;i_r''- Uj ki'<') iu; 
 
 >u^t\ ah'I wi 
 
 \- n . ' 
 
 and IiuFm:-, and all thai, nn hi. pain- silarx- '^ ( )\u r 
 liiiii ?^<»]iH^ r<»u1)le-. ( 'F \"< 'U A\-iil ect liM //. ////'V ill iW(U'>- 
 rnrnitli^.' S« ! tlu'V caiiic to an U!)(l'-r-ta]i<]!nLr a- Im ilie 
 
 llUinlu'!' of ]'Miii>l,.> rryaf^.fj.l f r, | n i • <, TTr ! a I'W aii^l ]n\- 
 irifli'l pl\-.ili(M 1 hilii-.'ll' ajaii; a* lla^ [S'-^vrTU^^'- h<'n]-r\ 
 
 \t't •■ 1 '' ' il'T 
 
 liieii'i L-ea.-v uuL i.i- U;U ri,;Liij.e note, aa^i 
 
 ceil a ill inismvmir < u Uia 
 
 a 
 
 aj 
 
 table by which they were 
 g. Ta secretary pulled open towards liimself a 
 1' iia Irawer of the table, and putting out his hand, 
 AViii a -miling face and a most courteous gesture to 
 
 Tin li'aar:. 
 
 dro] 
 
 (]lllUili'\ 
 
 a iiiusl 
 
 (■!'!• X 
 
 fl 
 
 i I 
 
 aote a-!' -- i"^a lable, aal 
 ?■ ' ii-awrr, T^i the '^raw'ta^ Avere a 
 notes. Then the secr^ tary rose with 
 
 a'aalcu gc^* 
 
 :^a]i»i a]_>. )ii /^a/-j iii^- .iaair -ir^ n.a' Uii- Juhi 
 
 \ '.''ail" I H ; 
 
 rill 
 
 1 i i I 
 
 » '^ t ^ I '_' i a a ■" .MM 
 
 a^ . 'a\ liiou- 
 r plying to 
 
 Liaii uCCUiacal, 
 
 CnUBCH OF THE COLLEGE. 
 
 205 
 
 but it shall be attended to instantly — without an hour s 
 delay.' On the very next day the petition was grant- 
 ed. 1 i w many officers and secretaries," rl 1 1 ilie 
 
 Consul smilincT, - IM this ; n ^ i Ttliis estate i^a^s 
 
 'D1 
 
 through between the apotl 
 
 a -i'llTV 
 
 III' 
 
 I • "v • 
 
 ■ T-n _ 
 
 I 
 
 «-,i? 
 
 "Th 
 
 !ai!:ar'-l airl Un\ 
 
 \]]o apo^ 1., (-{TV ni' I li! a 
 
 :^a nuWr an lia,' ! wi > 
 
 . ai-an- 1 !'• aU)h'^ f 
 
 " stid L 
 
 '■Goinl ia<'k :" -ai*l ihc Consul, 'nio — that would have 
 haLiinuj uijju-'i ; iji c^'UV-i' llaaa' \va> a hnr divi^iun of 
 n )!l ])sa \\a.A !i iha \:\vb >\i- pariii'-, >rV(a'al t« '11-bars to Ix^ 
 
 tai^l I !' '\v<'i 
 
 r:.,v, 
 
 •., ti 
 
 t • t \V'» 
 
 prau'i[)ain thr apt'ahncary and 
 
 i» 
 
 I. ■>-:•• lanva ni . 
 
 _\< f1|,-. r-.V'*.~. ..i'lla"' c^aT'lrii ^tonrl t]io fiinri:!! **{ tla: 
 
 college. 
 
 -;a< a ^nr-rnnfai ( a 
 
 I \ iff I : U I I . 
 
 ; \ J i 
 
 and nothing could be more fencuui laa a n- 
 broad lliglit of steps beneath a canop) xl . 
 covered landing and the entrance, the pillar.- 
 porting the canopy being of 1\ * ha a. iw 
 
 na* n.* a 
 
 Thel-a-Mfta. rliur-^: Nvasof 
 
 
 
 the usual cupolas surmounting the roof. Tlini tin iv^ 
 wa^ a '^axon roundud arch to t1ip dnniava}. whiie 
 more th nil nno of the lower wni a n- icia aaan i ni 
 
 the p'^ina^i, :5iyle. in inc apj-r \u\i{ wcic >i!ia[i 
 A\ iii'a .O'l ^ Wi^ii _\i •-,■•„' iiis i t iiaL\\aa.i\, lUiO, ni^oiX >nii.lii 
 
 'I lis it iiatwaa. i\j .lii'i P^^-'-O 
 
206 
 
 THE STUDENTS. 
 
 M orisli pillars. When you add to all this that some 
 pillars were painted red a; 1 some blue, i 1 
 
 
 t ! 
 
 1 'right as a freshly painted 
 
 picMi"' •. -;< m ^N 
 
 
 'i''!]) lookinCf :it *! all : 
 
 ' ! -..' * i 
 
 P^ 
 
 ill. 
 
 . n tr.v ratlin]- ihnn a ^--anx^h, 1 '!;■! 
 X''> 'loiiin 1 hat wa- a laaahl la'il. •ri i. ^; 
 
 .4* \' 
 
 rr.r^ 
 
 *a i!ir 
 
 Miv 
 
 
 iai\'ait,' rha; 
 
 M-i < .f ilh' Ku-^ian 
 
 PriiiCa (.!• 
 
 Aik'i a luiiclu;nii at a traklir in the lu i-Iil^M.iuiaM).!^ 
 wlaaa." inx" coiniKinioii aii'l T iinliil'jril intlii' tln'roiiaailv 
 rais-iaii ivfia'slinuait of (aiviaro aial clua'Sr aial laaiah', 
 we <lr(nx* back to M«'scnw tn tlic fanaair^ I'c^taiirant 
 on tlio Kiiai Tx tiij.varsl. wla-ri' wr laal a liii-Mau 
 dinner. ILa'e wa- -al "ii wlntr -«>!a-, oui' ^\;aa'a\-.^ 
 >]ia'if'l \vii,:i whia' hnaa-, <'ar lahlv' t:ii\ui\J wi'li 
 
 ::liu\\j' \\;: 
 
 1 1 
 
 iiuai, uau. 
 
 L. * J. '^ 
 
 iiiU'IX 
 
 \\ ii'j \\ LiiL*_' L uii US 
 
 a, Si 
 
 a ' ... . , 
 
 1 entirely in white, ja i 
 
 i 
 
 
 > V 1 i '. ' i 
 
 : i 
 
 of the large a^ ntment being 
 
 O.', 
 
 M' . 
 
 nark, ! ; 
 
 1 1 < n 
 
 i M' r\ 
 
 the f;!!'!!- ^ai'f'n'^'li ti'i"' 
 
 <^f'it'!. 
 
 rnlloge. 
 
 K' a iiiv r^'^rnpaaa'-'n wa.a' w.i 
 h t ^ - 1 a = i * i a - ^ ' ! \i 
 
 Ul list ai ui CLiUl^v; alu poor, sons of ::liiaii iiubiL^, uf 
 
 I t 11 ■ i i V V 1 ! 1 
 
 si\'<_-l a little naaaa^ ai li aa^- : !ai! as 
 
 (11 
 
 EDUCATION OF YOUNG NOBLEMEN. 
 
 207 
 
 the payment is small, and they can live cheap, they 
 manage to attend the college ; then there are sons of 
 lawyers and doctors, and of commercial men, of Avhom 
 
 there i*^ n 1 iriic body lu 
 
 o 
 
 \ * 
 
 J\Lu ^^~'j Sv . 
 
 , ■ ^ M a" . — T 
 
 '' A^r aa\ ui liiviii iii^a ai-nir-- -ai'^ .1. 
 
 'D 
 
 h. 
 
 '' It 1:- a luiiiaiKaijie laaiaj 
 
 ' I ,^ [., .J-. liiia < ai ill t !ait cui>s. 
 
 '* wrsa! 
 
 riiaaj,^; 1 lUr 
 
 
 ])iit 1ii- soil-- into anytliiiig 
 Inn v:,r Army. T1a-v ^lal nr.t liki- tlia Navy— in 
 llu-ia iliat i< thniiaiit low and not ia^hionable : the 
 vouna imai wiail throuiili a course oi' reading in the 
 uni\ai-inr<: thry Iraiait a little of everything, very 
 cup.aai(iailv, ui ojar>v,^ and not very usetiilly— 
 bci*. ni-;e. 
 
 paa. 
 
 reaaao' 
 
 •ill, lar^l.a'vjanguaga^. and niililary tactics : 
 
 tlicy were 
 
 riw. iirop^aratatrv Ka- the 
 
 ^vJM'a ihi-v raair ^ aa of ilir anivrr^ilic'^ 
 
 1,1. 1 , ■ i : « ! • 
 
 
 ;:;t u^'V^, -in^^ tlif^ 
 
 'a 
 
 f n w^ 
 
 lae 
 
 sei'f^. tk'- ivddes find it iiere^^a; v 
 
 whir]) aro naa^ii ^-ai-piilnrh i.^ia i 
 
 ;uKL;d ailcl. 1 la.' 
 
 erai^e^ia^ ace va 
 
 i^ lii.aL ::LaUO ^'1 I 
 
 la- 
 
 1 
 
 )iTncu>a_l 
 
 Mil i_l .'Ui 
 
 ili'V aia' cducalina 
 
 llUL i-'l 
 
 O i t,' > \ i i 1 i ' . ' ' 
 
 niio < 4 ! laar -<aa". 
 
 H/ an aa<ait < A-ra' 
 
 the family estates. 
 
 these N'oiiaa naai ar 
 
 :v at ik.' an]k.a:-. and ar- rv^.^aiia ar- .Mh,.a.'atinn in 
 
 a:,.akaikur<' T 
 
 . 1 
 
 . ^ I i. . I ' ' '• - 
 
 iy 
 
 i 
 
208 
 
 POSITION OF THE NOBLES. 
 
 '' This freeing of the serfs," said I, " seems to be the 
 beginning of a very considerable change in the 
 
 ( 1 1 
 
 n 1 1 f 
 
 '1 
 
 !'V. 
 
 »» 
 
 "in nniVM 
 
 ,.!.. 
 
 11 
 
 1 1 . > • 
 
 mge, Si 
 
 n^ n 
 
 i • 
 
 "* not ilh 
 
 > 1 » 
 
 I X I H i:'M/i i t i .. ■ fi iH t il ; i 
 
 ' =1 I I it 
 
 i.l 
 
 )l'{ )- 
 
 and in ulliur- ii ha- 
 
 >y>Lr!i[. Many wliu \\\rc ih. 'ULriit !<) !><■ rirj 
 p^'i^"*'^N nini.-] out In hr jMM.i- -iiA \\L dviA In i].,.;,. 
 ''^^■Ji a-viir-> aii.l M'rf^. S. . iiii^ J:. umi n p^puhir ad uT 
 tlu.' Enip-Tvu-, tliaf i<, n. •[ am. .iiLf lIuMiohh- ; ]ni\ ilnav 
 aiH' fVrii !iiaii\- Mi"iliO]ii thiiik if a \-ta'\- ii-ffnl incaMii^' 
 
 ■ij 
 
 i ! 1 
 
 
 ! I ' ■ ; 
 
 ■.-^ ^nn,- 
 
 liL'l"' 
 
 lI iLU:r^'ia!! 
 
 i t ■ • . I 
 
 le. There i 
 
 5 llU < ! 
 
 ^1 
 
 lie 
 
 went on, •• !)m iluit the position of the noble^ ha! ])e- 
 come a very false one : some were ricli and oppressive 
 • their people, and others were poorer than ilieir 
 own serfs." 
 
 T Tii-ntioned •♦> ]um what Count T. — lai] :■•' 1 -ae. 
 
 '!> ^^ i'l'-^ trii .".n! liu Consul; '^ and, more- 
 over, they woro almost universally gnniMcrs. The 
 ijuauLity of money they played away in the winters 
 aiiv la Moscow \> a- nioustrous ; and wlion they ha 1 
 lost h avily, and sent down to their e>L ii^^ lu iheir 
 
 GAMBLING. 
 
 209 
 
 agents for more, the agents were their own serfs very 
 often and lent them their own money. Xjw he 
 nobles cannot any longer play deep in thi- wa^ . and 
 so the commercial men hi AT av ai 
 places. These men play even more h 
 
 .a. 
 
 \- > I \r t ! ! ■ > n t ' M ■ 
 
 < . . • 1 i i t i , i L ; : t 
 
 noW^^ *ha. A: tho C]i]h vnn iiinv ^---a a thriu-and 
 
 r'Miaa.'^ i'li a *a;n, lh'Ua-\"!i\ lia'-a lucii h\' lliiar 
 iu-^ci ilo iiK'i liu -u mucii fnl-clUfi a- iht/ Ilnhh'S did. 
 
 \\ iaai du'M' iiiii li<_aaiiir> aial aahtjis lu:?u iheir nnnicv 
 ii l:'^ *' - a ' an\' ' 'ihrf lainH i\v]iar. a.!i'i Uio uiiU <^()i'> on : 
 l)!il ifa !i*»Mr da!naL''«'d hi- i"-tatr<, hi- pci ij)h:' suflVred, 
 hn land, hi- xiHaLfes, liU li'adr^naai, his children. 
 
 C'\'oryimr\ N'.'W 
 
 
 V I h« ' ? i< a » i « '< 'i vi i ] 
 
 a'hu'< are heC'inniix more seiisi- 
 
 nexi paueratioii whl be ililhTC-nt men." 
 
 ^ 
 
210 
 
 THE SIMONOFF CONVENT. 
 
 211 
 
 A 
 
 ^TT\?TER XTTI 
 
 The Convent Simonoff— Extent and Wealth of the 1 blishment in 
 Former Tiur Day of St. Sergius, and Fair at the Convent- 
 Superb Bell-tower- \ 'ties of Costume— VunnL' Gamblers — 
 Interior of the Simonoff— The Superior— His i;^..ption by the 
 Crowd—" D 'voured with Kisses"— The Church— Earnest Devotion 
 of a Youiii — \ i V fi ni tlir B. 11-tower — Disappearance of my 
 '^ Murray"— Distribution cn n i— The Fete proper— Tea-drinking 
 
 i oggars — Organ -Grinders — 
 
 Booths — Sale oi '1 ons and li 
 Female Shop-k .^.i-s of I^I 
 i'dsants. 
 
 -w — Chorus-singing — Well-to-do 
 
 rpiiL 31_':k\va, after flowing into the city from the 
 Span . Hills, and washing the walls of the 
 
 1 
 
 Kr !n"K.. !M;ikes a 1 1 -n bend, and flows out again 
 almost in the same direction by which it entered. At 
 tlir point where the river leaves the city there are 
 Lii:!: prf r^ipitous banks a little withdraw>i from the 
 w I r. A meadow is between the stream and the 
 hinrh gro ih I ^ ^. one of these heights stands the 
 1 vent >ii ii_uoff^ an extensive collection of build- 
 ings contained withm a lofty, embattled, ponderous 
 wall, dotted ai intervals with imposing towers. This 
 
 1^ 
 
 ! 
 
 .f 
 
 is of rod brick, and is more than half a mile in cir- 
 cuit. Tlie convent is, in fact, a small fortress, and in 
 the days of bows and arrows, and spears and clubs, 
 and battering-rams and Tartar horsemen, it stood a 
 good siege or two successfully, tlie monks beatinsi off 
 their assailants. The day came when new powers of 
 warfare were in use, and then it was taken by the 
 Poles and sacked. As it was once the most nH|),|f. 
 ant monastery in Russia, and iia ! heon onrirlnd by 
 numerous princely private gifts of great v;i-; ! . i les 
 the treasures which it had collected as owner nfhv<ye 
 estates, the capture was an immense prize to liiL in- 
 vading Pole. Imagine this convent possessing at one 
 tune inirnerous villages and twelve thousand serfs! 
 W iiat nbln diplomats must have been St. Sergius ;m i 
 his successors among religious devotees to amass such 
 a property ii^ this ! Clearly the Greek papas did not 
 thmk lightly of temporal power any more than does 
 our neighbour, the Papa of Rome. However, the 
 day of reverse arrived, and now the Simonoff' pos- 
 sesses neither village nor serf. But still it retains its 
 hold on the aff'ections and the devotions of the u s- 
 sian people, and flourishes in a quiet, sensible, unos- 
 tentatious way, keeping its fine buildings in good 
 
 order, maintaining a few monks, and si 
 
 U']'- '\Uncr 
 
 p 2 
 
212 
 
 GOING TO THE FAIR. 
 
 SUPERB BELL-TOWER. 
 
 213 
 
 its services in its various and highly-ornamental 
 churches. There are six churches — once not too 
 many for its numerous monks and ecclesiastical dis- 
 play in its palmy days — now, in its hour of shrunk 
 proportions, too like a mockery of grandeur ! 
 
 Hearing one day that there was to be a fair held at 
 the SimonofF Convent, I thought it a good opportunity 
 to pay it a visit. A fair at a convent sounded like a 
 novelty. So I drove up there in a droschky, the dis- 
 tance being between three and four miles from my 
 hotel. On my way along the river bank round the 
 bend of the Moskwa in the town, I passed numerous 
 knots of people, the women all in holiday costume, 
 and the men in their best, all on the way to the Simo- 
 nofF. At length the houses ceased, and we came out 
 on a sandy slope, an open space, our droschky reduced 
 to a walk through the deep track. Other droschkies 
 and carriages, as well as telegas and tarantasses were 
 on all sides toiling up the slope, and people on foot 
 all cheery and laughing, all going to the fair — a gene- 
 ral holiday. It was the day of St Sergius, the saint 
 and founder of the convent. Reaching the top of the 
 sandy slope, we found the vallum or boundary bank 
 and ditch of the city running right and left, and over 
 this parties of country people were clambering to join 
 
 ^ 
 
 « 
 
 I 
 
 the town throng. Passing a small wood or plantation 
 of fir-trees, in the shade of which were reposing 
 numerous little family circles, with their baskets of 
 provisions, just arrived across the neighbouring vallum 
 from their villages, we came out on a smooth broad 
 space of turf. On this stood the SimonofF, its fine 
 and lofty and ancient walls extending right across 
 from near the vallum to within a few feet of the 
 precipitous hill towards the river and the meadow. 
 Over these towered up the cupolas and minarets of 
 the various churches within, while near the angle by 
 the pitcli of the hill stood the superb bell-tower, 
 rising storey over storey above the grand gateway, 
 to a height of more than three hundred feet. This 
 bell-tower is said to command a really better view of 
 Moscow than either the Ivan Veliki tower in the 
 Kremlin or the height of the Sparrow Hills. 
 
 The large open space of turf was now covered with 
 some two or three hundred carriages, while the people 
 on foot might be counted by thousands. It was a grand 
 day at the SimonofF. 
 
 I had with me an Italian as an interpreter, and so 
 leaving our droschky on the grass, we tried to gain an 
 entrance to the interior by the great gate beneath the 
 bell tower. But this was locked for this day, and we 
 
 
212 
 
 GOING TO THE FAIR. 
 
 SUPERB BELL-TOWER. 
 
 213 
 
 its services in its various and highly-ornamental 
 churches. There are six churches — once not too 
 many for its numerous monks and ecclesiastical dis- 
 play in its palmy days — now, in its hour of shrunk 
 proportions, too like a mockery of grandeur ! 
 
 Hearing one day that there was to be a fair held at 
 the Simonoif Convent, I thought it a good opportunity 
 to pay it a visit. A fair at a convent sounded like a 
 novelty. So I drove up there in a droschky, the dis- 
 tance being between three and four miles from my 
 hotel. On my way along the river bank round the 
 bend of the Moskwa in the town, I passed numerous 
 knots of people, the women all in holiday costume, 
 and the men in tlieir best, all on the way to the Simo- 
 nofF. At length the houses ceased, and we came out 
 on a sandy slope, an open space, our droschky reduced 
 to a walk through the deep track. Other droschkies 
 and carriages, as well as telegas and tarantasses were 
 on all sides toiling up the slope, and people on foot 
 all cheery and laughing, all going to the fair — a gene- 
 ral holiday. It was the day of St Sergius, the saint 
 and founder of the convent. Reaching the top of the 
 sandy slope, we found the vallum or boundary bank 
 and ditch of the city running right and left, and over 
 this parties of country people were clambering to join 
 
 J 
 
 
 the town throng. Passing a small wood or plantation 
 of fir-trees, in the shade of which were reposing 
 numerous little family circles, with their baskets of 
 provisions, just arrived across the neighbouring vallum 
 from tlieir villages, we came out on a smooth broad 
 space of turf. On this stood the Simonoif, its fine 
 and lofty and ancient walls extending right across 
 from near the vallum to within a few feet of the 
 precipitous hill towards the river and the meadow. 
 Over these towered up the cupolas and minarets of 
 the various churches within, while near the angle by 
 the pitch of the hill stood the superb bell-tower, 
 rising storey over storey above the grand gateway, 
 to a height of more than three hundred feet. This 
 bell-tower is said to command a really better view of 
 Moscow than either the Ivan Veliki tower in the 
 Kremlin or the height of the Sparrow Hills. 
 
 The large open space of turf was now covered with 
 some two or three hundred carriages, while the people 
 on foot might be counted by thousands. It was a grand 
 day at the Simonoff. 
 
 I had with me an Italian as an interpreter, and so 
 leaving our droschky on the grass, we tried to gain an 
 entrance to the interior by the great gate beneath the 
 bell tower. But this was locked for this day, and we 
 
214 
 
 FAVOURITE COLOUR. 
 
 GOOD TEMPER OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 215 
 
 were directed to a gate elsewhere. Falling into 
 the stream of people round the angle of the wall on the 
 pitch of the hill, we found a narrow roadway under 
 the ponderous battlemented inclosure for two or three 
 hundred yards, and then we came to another gateway 
 with a fine tower above it. This was the one permit- 
 ted entrance to the courts within on this day, and here 
 the different streams of people meeting from opposing 
 sides along the wall, as well as another surging up the 
 the hill at this point from a footpath across the mea- 
 dow, there was a gathering. Not being in a hurry, 
 I got out of the crowd and climbed a bank between 
 the road and the pitch, and so could look on in peace 
 at the moving panorama. There were no gentry in 
 this mass, but all were rural folk or town populace. 
 All were well dressed, and there was every kind of 
 costume from different parts of the country. 
 
 Amongst all people that I have seen, with the ex- 
 ception of the Poles in the villages, who have a ghast- 
 ly taste for being clothed entirely in white, and the 
 Bohemians, who have a funereal fondness for a general 
 suit of black, the usual costume has a strong admixture 
 of red. The passion colour of Russia is decidedly red. 
 Now in this crowd almost every woman wore some 
 article of this colour, either her cap on her head, 
 
 ^. 
 
 i 
 
 or a kerchief on her neck, or her dress was red, or 
 her bodice, or her stockings, — while the favourite 
 wear of the men of the peasant class was a red shirt 
 worn as a tunic with a crimson belt. One of the com- 
 mon articles of dress of the women was a Scotch 
 woollen shawl of a red and black check. This Scotch 
 shawl is a grand discovery for them, as it is light and 
 warm, and is of the darling hue — red. 
 
 Certainly the Russian people are a good-tempered, 
 easy race. Here was a mass of persons all huddled 
 together at this one gate, and yet I saw no pushing, 
 no crushing, no quarrelling ; and yet there was plenty 
 of occasion for it. There were big burly men with their 
 wives and children, heated and dusty from a long coun- 
 try walk, the women having borne the burden and 
 heat of the day, which means having carried a thump- 
 ing child ; and here were numbers of young peasant 
 lads in rough canvas dresses, — all having one object, 
 the gateway, and yet all were patient and good-tem- 
 pered, chatting, laughing, happy. 
 
 There was another use being made of the day of St. 
 Sergius on the meadow under the hill. Just in front 
 of me the stream of people from the river bank came 
 up the pitch ; but immediately below me out on the 
 grass by the pathway were several knots of young men 
 
216 
 
 '* HEADS AND TAILS." 
 
 WAITING FOR THE PAPA. 
 
 217 
 
 and lads standing about a little apart. These lads 
 were all gambling. They stood in circles of eight 
 and ten, and each lad of a circle took it in turn to 
 toss a coin into the air and let it fall on the ground. I 
 asked my guide what the game was. It appeared to 
 be gambling pure — a variety of the good old game of 
 ^* heads and tails." Each man of a circle was called 
 on to declare that '^ he stood a kopeck " on the toss. 
 Then the player having ascertained that all had de- 
 clared, tossed, crying as he tossed '' heads " or " tails." 
 If it came up heads, then he received all romid ; and 
 if tails, then he paid all round, or vice versa^ as he cried 
 on tossing. I re were five or six of these groups. 
 Some of them played high, and some played low. 
 We could hear their challenges. One young fellow 
 was very excited. Before he tossed the coin he cried 
 out "two kopecks" to his circle. This group was play- 
 ing high. ** Two kopecks." There were some little 
 hesitations, but presently they all declared, the young 
 fellow sajdng little irritating things — tantamount to 
 ^' Now then — who's afraid ? — only two kopecks — never 
 say die — make your fortune — only two — all declared? 
 — up she goes ! Heads !" The fair at the convent 
 evidently had a side which was not religious and de- 
 voted to the Virgin and St. Sergius. 
 
 #. 
 
 i 
 
 The interior of the SimonofF consists of a number of 
 large and small buildings irregularly placed all round 
 near the wall — with the exception of the principal 
 church — the centre being left open for grass lawns 
 and shady avenues of dwarf limes, and pathways 
 paved with flags, leading in various directions to the 
 several churches. This interior is very pretty. On 
 ordinary days it is a quiet retreat, inviting to study — 
 a shady, orderly spot, like a college garden ; a place 
 of religious repose with an atmosphere of peace. But 
 on this day of the fete it was a stirring scene of lay 
 life, an invasion of the sacred precincts by the mun- 
 dane, gaiety-loving outer world. People were lying 
 on the grass in parties, or sitting on the benches 
 under the avenues, or strolling along the many path- 
 ways in knots. There was one of these — a wood- 
 paved way— leading across the grass from the gate- 
 way by which we had entered to the great church, 
 and on this was collected all the way along a number 
 of people. My guide said that the principal of the 
 convent would pass along this path from his rooms by 
 the gateway to the church, and the people were wait- 
 ing for him. So I sat down on a seat at the edge of 
 the path near the flight of steps up to the church, and 
 waited too. 
 
 ,11 
 
218 
 
 A PEASANT WOMAN. 
 
 THE SUPERIOR. 
 
 219 
 
 It was a pleasant scene, the quiet — for there was no 
 noise beyond the low hum of the people — the shade, 
 the grass, the cool paved way, the pretty dresses of 
 the village folk, the many children on the turf, not 
 romping about, but orderly and seated with their 
 parents ; and here and there a few of the better classes 
 from the city, apart and in knots of twos and threes 
 in the avenue, in silk or muslin, with fashionable bon- 
 nets. There were strawberries too going about in 
 little white basins, and these were the centres of small 
 happy groups on the turf. As I sat, a peasant 
 woman with her red cap and blue dress came and 
 stood near to wait for the papa, and with her was an 
 engaging small girl of ten years of age. Her delicate 
 face and fair hair tied up with a slip of pink silk, and 
 her pretty brown eyes, were very attractive. Although 
 I could not understand a word of her village talk, 
 nor she of my efforts at classic Russ, we were soon in 
 deep converse on the matter of a pink sash round her 
 white dress, and ribbons of the same colour in her 
 sleeves, and some white glittering beads in her jaunty 
 cap ; and we were in the middle of a marked flirta- 
 tion, and I was meditating an advance into straw- 
 berries, when suddenly there was a stir among the 
 people, and an arranging of themselves into two lines 
 
 ! 
 
 fj 
 
 on either side the pathway. The Superior was com- 
 ing. Presently I saw the lines of people surging 
 backwards and forwards, the quiet order rapidly 
 broken, people rushing about, women and children 
 hurrying over the grass, and then there was an in- 
 creased hum of voices. The disturbance approached 
 steadily and slowly, and at last it gained those before 
 me. And now I saw that the cause of this was a 
 slight and venerable man, in a priest's dress, with a 
 small black cap on his head, of cloth, full and hang- 
 ing down behind, and ornamented in front with a bit 
 of crimson velvet, and whose hands every person was 
 determined to kiss as he advanced up the pathway. 
 Four or five at a time, men and women, would make 
 a dart at his left hand, and liaving gained possession 
 of it, would kiss it eagerly, fiercely, while others from 
 the other side of tlie pathway got in front of him and 
 fought for his right hand — they would have it. The 
 old man stopped till the devotees had had their way. 
 When they had kissed it they fell back contented, out 
 of the way, and the patriarch advanced a step or two, 
 till arrested again by the same furious devotion. He 
 appeared to try to get on and to avoid some of this 
 expression of love, and his old thin face turned from 
 side to side wearily as he muttered a few words at 
 
220 
 
 DEMONSTRATIVE REGARD. 
 
 VIEW FROM THE TOWER. 
 
 221 
 
 times. When he had both his hands free for a mo- 
 ment then he raised them and crossed himself Imr- 
 riedly and uttered a blessing ; but in an instant they 
 were dashed at and pulled do\\Ti again, and, as may 
 be said, "devoured with kisses." So he got on, up to 
 the steps at the entrance of the church. But here the 
 struggle became worse than ever. The whole flight 
 was a mass of people, so w^as the platform, and so was 
 a long covered raised arcade which ran round the 
 sacred edifice. The old man mounted the steps at 
 last, and passed into the arcade, and so into the 
 church, thoroughly hustled* by the ardent and reso- 
 lute hand-kissing crowd. How glad he must be, 
 methought, to be inside and at his ease once more, 
 poor old gentleman. But there is perhaps a certain 
 gratification to the spirit of man even in this obtrusive 
 and enormously demonstrative regard. Going into 
 the arcade soon after, and following its course round 
 the interior fane, I found various small grated open- 
 ings from the one to the other, so that people in the 
 outer arcade were able to see and hear all that went 
 forward in the interior. The church was more than 
 ordinarily rich in gilding and painting, as became what 
 was once the principal convent in Russia. But it was 
 singularly small, so much of the interior being taken 
 
 up with the usual pillars and the surrounding corridor. 
 Walking along this I found various small bodies of 
 devotees, and in one corner a peasant lad in grey 
 white canvas prostrate on the stones. After a time 
 he got up, crossed himself with much earnestness, and 
 then bowed down his head on to the stones again, 
 and prostrated himself at length. He continued this 
 succession of devotional movements for some time, 
 and appeared to be quite WTapped in his offering of 
 prayer and expression of humiliation. At last he 
 picked up his cap and walked away slowly, with a 
 certain sadness in his countenance and manner. I 
 certainly never saw in any country a youth of this 
 class so devout and apparently so impressed with 
 what he was doing. 
 
 From this I went to the famous tower. The stair- 
 case was crowded with men and boys, also with 
 pigeons, which disputed with us the possession of 
 their customary dwelling. From the height of three 
 hundred feet added to that of the hill on which the 
 tower stands, the scene is truly grand. You are 
 nearer to the city than when on the Sparrow Hills, 
 and at a much higher elevation than when on the 
 Ivan Veliki in the KremHn. It was a sunny, still 
 day, and the whole city fairly sparkled with its white 
 
222 
 
 PEASANT LADS. 
 
 \ 
 
 SERVING OUT KVAS. 
 
 223 
 
 houses and green roofs and its gardens, and its liun- 
 dreds of gilded and glittering cupolas and belfries. 
 Then there was the river flowing through it with its 
 living and shining and graceful sweep of water, while 
 on the meadow below the tower, and up the sandy 
 slope, were the streams of people coming out to the 
 convent. On the grassy table-land were the scat- 
 tered masses of carriages, and in the courts of the 
 convent were the crowds of gaily-dressed folk — a 
 general festivity. From here too I discovered that 
 the chief part of the fete was going on beyond the 
 walls on the eastern side towards the vallum, beneath 
 a grove of fine elm trees. 
 
 While I was admmng the remarkable scene from 
 the topmost chamber of the tower, two or three young 
 peasants, dressed in grey- white canvas — lads similar 
 to the devout youth in the arcade of the church- 
 were very anxious to make my acquaintance, continu- 
 ally following me from one window or opening to 
 another, and pressing on me with a smiling familiarity, 
 and addressing me in Russian. Through my com- 
 panion I had some simple talk with these men as to 
 their ideas of the fair, of the view of the city, of their 
 village life. I must say that most of the notions I 
 gained from them consisted of whatever maybe found 
 
 in broad grins. However I may as well here add that 
 some little time afterwards, on descending the lower 
 stairs, I found my pocket lighter by a "Murray" 
 which had been reposing therein, and which my com- 
 panion told me I should perhaps find in the " Thief 
 Market," near my hotel, for sale. But I never saw 
 it again, or my young friends in grey white canvas, or 
 the youthful devotee. 
 
 Leaving the tower I followed a crowd up some 
 steps to a large building, and found we were on our 
 way to the kitchen. Here in an ante-room were two 
 monks, the cook and his assistant. They were in 
 long black dresses, and were in an extremity of heat, 
 and, I may say, of dirt. They were engaged in serv- 
 ing out kvas — a native beer — to all comers gratis on 
 this day. However they were very courteous and 
 civil men, and were anxious that I should not drink 
 out of the enormous copper can which one of them 
 held up for the peasants and others to take a good 
 " pull " at the kvas. But I took my turn with my 
 big and bearded and canvas-habited neighbours, the 
 ponderous copper can and the gratuitous beer and 
 the burly monk having about them a smack of ancient 
 time and custom which recommended them much to 
 my fancy. The kitchen was closed, perhaps pru- 
 dently on a dav of such doings. 
 
 I 
 
224 
 
 THE FAIR. 
 
 So I went out to the fete proper. This was the 
 fair. Here were rows of booths stretching along 
 under two rows of fine spreading trees, three or four 
 lines of tents, and broad walks of grass between them. 
 Here were some thousands of people in every variety 
 of garb, many well dressed and merely walking up 
 and down in the shade, while others kept up a con- 
 tinual shouting of their several wares for sale. One 
 long line of booths was entirely occupied by tea- 
 drinkers. These were neat small square places, 
 some thirty or forty in number, built of white linen, 
 strained over a slight wooden frame, and capable each 
 of holding a table and seats all round for six or eight 
 persons. There were white curtains to the entrance, 
 and every one all down the line was occupied by a 
 little party of men and women. The samovar was 
 steaming on every table, and cups and saucers and 
 various breads, or honey, or melons, or cakes, were 
 on the white table-cloth. I found one of these at 
 last vacant, and took possession, so that while drink- 
 ing tea I could watch the humours of the place. 
 First, a man would pass with a pile of melons, yellow 
 and green, rich and gorgeous, on a tray on his head, 
 offering them at a fabulously low price — ten kopecks 
 a-piece — about three pence. Melons on a hot day in 
 
 SALE OF HONEY. 
 
 225 
 
 the sliade after a dusty walk seemed to be in great 
 demand. In the centre of the broad way a seller of 
 honey, with a stand, stopped just opposite my tea- 
 room and offered his goods, large combs floating in 
 broad pans of liquid honey. This seemed to be a 
 fiivourite object of taste. Strapping young peasants 
 stopped and bargained for it— so many kopecks for a 
 cut of comb in a basin ; and then they ate it, standing 
 there and cutting off large mouthfuls with the honey- 
 merchants knife. They threw back their shock 
 heads and let huge lumps all reeking with the 
 liquid fall into tlicir capacious jaws. Sometimes when 
 a man had finished one basin he hung about the 
 stand, and then bargained eagerly for a second, and 
 devoured it with gusto. It gave one the idea of a 
 grand vigorous physique to look at these ample- 
 bearded and big-bodied men tossing off these basins 
 of honey, rich and luscious, and then sauntering off at 
 their ease, perhaps to the next honey stall, for 
 another basin. Then men passed up and down with 
 capacious trays of bread on their heads, the national 
 kalatch forming always the greater part of the store. 
 People in the tea-rooms bought them freely. Beggars 
 perseveringly paid visits to every tea-room in turn, a 
 woman and two children being the favourite arrange- 
 
 Q 
 
226 
 
 ORGAN-GRINDERS. 
 
 ment iii this line of business. When they had col- 
 lected a fair meal, such as the leavings of a tea-pot of 
 some just vacated chamber poured out into a can 
 carried for this purpose, scraps of honey-comb, broken 
 kalatches, sundry lollypops, or some melon rind, they 
 sat down and discussed all this cheerily, and 
 expended mucli jollity on the lollypops. When 
 refreshed they went at once mto business at 
 the very next booth, resuming their little drama of 
 deep sorrow, and bitter want, and general utter 
 weariness of life. All this time there were the usual 
 and universal barrel-organs going up and down the 
 broad way. There were a number of these — the 
 street nmsic of Moscow as of London. A man always 
 carried the instrument, and a woman hivariably fol- 
 lowed close behhid. To judge by appearances of the 
 state of the organ world one would say that in London 
 almost every organ-grinder was a bachelor, while in 
 Moscow every one indulged in the sweets of wedded 
 life. Tliey are travelled men. These were French or 
 Italian. I spoke to one, and his acknowledgment 
 for my kopecks was in good English, " Thank you, 
 sir — much obliged," a pleasant surprise. The man 
 knew London, and he played nie two or three of the 
 old accustomed airs ; and I shut my eyes and fancied 
 
 ■* 
 
 shopkeeper's wives. 227 
 
 myself for tlie moment, while listening, far away in 
 the wonted liauuts of the city on the Thames. There 
 were many well-dressed women walking about, and 
 my companion explained the different status of the 
 wearers. Two women would pass dressed in rich 
 dark silk, deep brown, or dark green, or such like, 
 and wearing on the head a close-fitting black silk cap, 
 the whole style quite plain and without ornament. 
 There was no shawl, and only a small simple kerchief 
 round the neck. These were tlie upper class of shop- 
 keepers, the women of the first Moscow houses. As 
 a rule these were of large stout frame and of dark 
 complexion. Then would come two— they were all 
 in pairs— equally richly dressed, only that the colour 
 was a little brighter, and the head-dress was a dark 
 kerchief neatly bound round it. These were of the 
 second class of shops. And then there were others, 
 also in silken robe, but the colours stronger, and oa 
 the head was a dark kerchief, having long ends of 
 brown or pink. These were of a third class. The 
 Sclave type seemed to be strongly marked in most of 
 them. To judge of their business by their size, one 
 would say shopkeeping was a fiourisliing way of life 
 in Moscow, and that good eating and drinking formed 
 a considerable part of trade. 
 
 q2 
 
• 
 
 228 
 
 SIMONOFF FAIR. 
 
 DANDIES OF THE FAIR. 
 
 229 
 
 Beyond tlie grove of trees and the bootlis there 
 was a broad meadow of soft and brilliantly green 
 grass, and here were groups of people scattered over 
 it in all directions. But the Sinionoff Fair was de- 
 ficient in many things which constitute the glories of 
 a British festa of this kind. The Simonoif Fair w^as 
 limited in its gaieties, and its revels were subdued, as 
 a convent festa should be. There were no caravans 
 of wild beasts from Africa, or farthest Ind, — no 
 theatre for the Thespians, no stage for Shakespeare's 
 heroes to strut their little hour, no circus for horses 
 of genius, no Aunt Sally, no giant from China. 
 People on the meadow seemed to be engaged princi- 
 pally in doing nothing particular. The only amuse- 
 ment appeared to be an occasional circle of perhaps 
 twenty persons seated on the grass, in the centre of 
 which was a man with some instrument of music, a 
 tambourine or a kind of drum, and he led a song, the 
 circle joining in chorus. The man was dressed in a 
 costume of pink knickerbockers and vest, and a cap 
 with feathers cocked jauntily on his head, and bright 
 stockings and slippers. This seemed a kind of musical 
 uniform. The men had good manly voices, and the 
 chorus was thoroughly energetic. The scene rather 
 reminded me of the Nile boat singer and his en- 
 
 / 
 
 III 
 
 cirling chorus, for the song appeared to be a kind of 
 impromptu, the man saying what suited him, to amuse 
 his auditory. People clustered round these circles 
 and seemed to enjoy the sallies of the singer and his 
 music. Men in red came about with refreshments, 
 trays of cakes and various breads, and others with 
 huge glass decanter-shaped bottles of a dnrk red 
 liquid, cherry-water. Among the groups were a 
 number of peasant families, father, mother, and chil- 
 dren, strolling about at their ease, well-dressed and 
 happy, the older men in dark cloth, the women in 
 bright-coloured dresses, shawls, and caps. But the 
 most remarkable figures of all were the men of the 
 well-to-do peasant class, men from thirty to fifty years 
 of age, in the national costume. These were the dan- 
 dies of the fair. I observed one man with greyish 
 hair more than usually got up. This man's long boots 
 were of fine polished leather, and were wrinkled from 
 tlie calf to the ankle, quite in tlie style of the Hessian 
 boot of our younger days. His knickerbockers were 
 of black velvet, and the red tunic was spotless. The 
 buttons of his dark vest were red, and the cord round 
 his waist was of silk, with neat tassels. A gorgeous 
 brooch was in his black neck-tie, and the small cap 
 on liis short grey hair was of black velvet. His 
 
230 
 
 EMANCIPATED SERFS. 
 
 231 
 
 
 face was clean shaven, and his countenance bright and 
 full of intelligence, the figure tall, and slight, and 
 graceful, while the never-failing dark great-coat over 
 all gave to the whole man a look of strength and sub- 
 stance. But the women with him were of the real 
 peasant class, in brightest of colours. 
 
 '' These people were serfs the other day," said my 
 companion, in reply to my question, " all of those 
 you see, with a few exceptions ; now they are all 
 free. That man," pointing to the " dandy " with grey 
 hair, " and those dressed like him, had probably been 
 permitted by their masters to trade, and they made a 
 good thing of it." 
 
 / 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Tlie Kitai Gorod— The Bazaars—Their Great Extent— The Shop-keepers 
 — Playing at Draughts— Commerce in " the Rows"-^ewish Money- 
 dealers— The Balance of Trade— Drain and Hoarding of the Pre- 
 cious Metals— Exhaustion produced by the Crimean War— Com- 
 parative Value of Silver and Paper Roubles— Prevalence of Forgery 
 —Curiosities of Russian Finance— Objections to War on the Part 
 of Russia— Madness of the War Party and Fanaticism of the Re- 
 ligious Party— Questionable Practices— Russia and her Roman 
 Catholic Subjects. 
 
 TMMEDIATELY in front of the windows at the 
 -*- Hotel Dusaux was, as I have said before, across 
 the Boulevard a flight of steps and an archway in 
 tlie Kitai Avail by which foot-people were continually 
 passing at all hours into and out of the Kitai Gorod. 
 This was my Avay too, for it was a resource and an 
 amusement, when too hot for much walking, to cross 
 the sunny Boulevard, and plunge at once into the 
 narrow and shady streets of the Kitai. At the far 
 side of this, and near the Kremlin, were the bazaars 
 of Moscow. The natives called these the Rows, being 
 
 i 
 
 
232 
 
 THE KITAI GOROD. 
 
 THE ROWS. 
 
 233 
 
 i K 
 
 
 long lines of narrow straight covered ways. How 
 luxurious it was on these sultry and glaring days of 
 August or September to get away from the house and 
 the dusty Boulevard and the blazing sunsliine into 
 the bazaars ! From the hot street, where droschky 
 horses stood about in pink linen to shade them from 
 the burning rays and teazing flies, it was more than a 
 solace to turn suddenly from the glare, which made 
 your eyes ache, into the gloom of the bazaar. How 
 cool and refreshing and soothing it was! Behind 
 you was the street, looking like a lighted caldron, 
 or the burning fiery furnace into which Sliadrach and 
 his companions were cast ; and before you, extending 
 far on and on, the extremity invisible or only glim- 
 mering as a small point of light, was the long, dim, 
 cool, silent passage or row. These always reminded 
 me of the straight street at Damascus, or the street of 
 the cotton and linen merchants at Cairo — so quiet, so 
 grateful to every sense, were they in their dim liglit 
 and their repose. There was this difference, however, 
 that in the Syrian and Eg}7)tian bazaars there were 
 donkeys with ladies on them, as in the days of the 
 
 aliph Haroun Alraschid, making their purchases of 
 the pale and handsome Eastern merchants, as they sat 
 among their goods in the shop front, or, maybe, car- 
 
 i 
 
 rying on a little quiet love affair under the screen of 
 muslins ; while here, in the Moscow bazaars, were no 
 four-footed animals bearing closely-veiled Sultanas, or 
 British ladies, engaged in either love or shopping. 
 Here all were on foot. These rows were never crowd- 
 ed, for they were of such extent— miles, indeed, of 
 them — that although there was more trade carried 
 on in them than in all the rest of Moscow put to- 
 gether, yet such was their extent, that the numbers 
 of buyers were too scattered to produce any crowd at 
 any point. This absence of many people at any one 
 point aided to give an air of idleness to the place. 
 Their breadth varied. Sometimes they were fourteen 
 or fifteen feet across from shop to shop, and some- 
 times only ten or twelve; while at some angles, 
 where were cross bazaars, the breadth might be 
 nearer twenty feet. All were paved with large 
 smooth flags, and were roofed in at some fourteen or 
 fifteen feet from the ground, the shaded light let in 
 by small side windows in the roofs. As you strolled 
 leisurely along, the owners of the shops, all well- 
 dressed men, in the unfailing large loose Russian 
 coat, would be sitting or lounging on their counters, 
 or on the shop front in conversation, or often enough 
 seated on low chairs outside the shops on the pave- 
 
 \ 
 
234 
 
 PLAYING AT DRAUGHTS. 
 
 COMMERCE IN THE ROWS. 
 
 235 
 
 \ 
 
 H 
 
 lU 
 
 ment with a small table or stool between them on 
 which was a draught-board. 
 
 Two often would be playing at draughts, while 
 others looked on. How often as I strolled along by 
 these men thus engaged at their ease, I was reminded 
 of the Damascus men occupied in the same w^ay, but 
 at chess instead of draughts ! Had these Moscow sy- 
 barites been plapng at chess I could never have re- 
 sisted the temptation to stop and watcli them, or even 
 to sit down and play a game. The place and the 
 scene, the quiet and the ease, were so inviting. If 
 I had won the game, how natural it would have 
 been to buy something of the loser, and only beat 
 him down about one third of the price asked for the 
 article, instead of half; and if I had lost, to fix on 
 something good in the shop, and try to balance the 
 matter of loss and gain by a laughing doggedness of 
 will to pay much less than half the price, and carry 
 it off. But the Muscovites did not play chess, though 
 I wandered all through the ba2:aars in search of a 
 chess-player. They all played draughts, but no chess 
 — and draughts and I have no friendship. 
 
 It was a custom, as well as a constant amusement, 
 to make purchases of these men. Nothing could be 
 more courteous than their manner of inviting your 
 
 I- 
 
 % 
 
 \^ 
 
 I" 
 
 custom as you stopped a moment and looked at their 
 goods. If you declined and passed on, they thanked 
 you — for the courtesy of stopping. If you singled 
 out any article, or inquired for one, there was an an- 
 xiety to offer it, and the most studied eai^erness to 
 please you — and then began the combat of courtesy 
 and gain. As a rule, you always met the price asked 
 with a shake of the head — a mild objection; and then 
 this being the first blow, others followed ; until per- 
 haps after ten minutes of conflict, you holdinf^ on 
 steadily to your offer, and the man abating and hesi- 
 tating till he had reached the point below which he 
 would not descend, another man, perhaps the shop- 
 owner, would come forward from somewhere, put on 
 a hard look, and carry the article away to the back 
 of the shop, as if to put it away. The matter was 
 finished, the struggle was over — he could not sell it 
 at such a flagrant loss — his credit was concerned in 
 not letting it go. Then you would put on a hard look 
 too, and walk away. But as you went with one ear 
 listening backwards, you would hear a call, '' You 
 shall have it ;" and then all the assumed sullenness 
 was fled, and smiles were in its place, and you se- 
 cured your prize — and perhaps commenced another 
 little similar joust. This was the way and custom of 
 
 A 
 
 a 
 
•i! 
 
 236 
 
 JEWISH MONEY-DEALERS. 
 
 BALANCE OF TRADE. 
 
 237 
 
 fl 
 
 f) 
 
 commerce in '' the Rows." Even when I gained my 
 prize for less than half the original demand, I was 
 always told by the experienced at the hotel that I 
 had '' paid dear for my whistle." There are a great 
 number of small ornaments of native Moscow manu- 
 facture, and every day that I went into the Rows 
 there was always something fresh to tempt the rou- 
 bles from my purse ; but the fault of this system pur- 
 sued in buying and selling is that you never know if 
 you are paying the fair value of any article. 
 
 One day strolling through these shady ways as 
 usual, I saw two or three men with piles of gold and 
 silver coins as their stock in trade. Here were gold 
 pieces of ten roubles and five roubles, and silver ones 
 of a rouble, half a rouble, a quarter, and so on. On 
 asking my companion, an Italian, where these men 
 had these coins from, as there were none in general 
 circulation, he said in a laconic way, as if that were 
 a complete and satisfactory reply to any question on 
 money, " These men are all Jews." More than this 
 my companion knew nothing. 
 
 On applpng to an Englishman resident in Moscow, 
 a day or two afterwards, on this subject of gold and 
 silver, and observing on the singularity of a great 
 country such as Russia having no gold or silver in com- 
 
 
 mon use, but only factitious copper and depreciated 
 \rd\)Qr, lie said — '' Our money condition is a lamentable 
 one here ; the balance of trade with the foreigner is 
 heavily against us, and so, what with the hoarding by 
 the natives of all silver they can manage to obtain and 
 keep, and the consumption of the precious metals 
 in payment to the foreigner of the interest of our debt, 
 and the further payment of the foreigner for articles of 
 import beyond what our exports balance, there is not 
 much silver or gold left for general use in the country. 
 You see," he went on, " the greater part of Russian ex- 
 port is of bulky articles, raw produce, and the greater 
 part of our import consists of manufactured goods. 
 One ship-load of the latter coming here requires a good 
 many ship-loads of the former going abroad to pay for 
 it, and as the Russian wants to have the enjoyment of 
 all the articles of civilized life — all the most expensive 
 things— he finds in the end that he has not enough 
 of cheap raw produce to pay for the dear articles of 
 finished skill, without paying away his gold and silver 
 besides. This, and the interest of the national loans to 
 Rothschild, and Hope, and so on— some of the heavy 
 cost of the Crimean War — which, of course, must 
 be paid in metals, and not in worthless paper, and the 
 hoarding by the people, utterly exhaust them, or 
 
 t 
 t 
 
 'X' 
 
M 
 
 
 238 
 
 RUSSIAN FINANCE. 
 
 FORGERY OP GOVERNMENT PAPER. 
 
 239 
 
 1 - 
 
 I I ! 
 
 )l 
 
 nearly so. In fact, if we did not issue paper we should 
 not go on at all. We are like the Americans witli 
 their greenbacks. We go on with our greenbacks 
 here, but it is an utterly fictitious condition of things."* 
 
 * Since the return of the author to England the following communi- 
 cation has been made to him in writing by a gentleman in London well 
 acquainted with the subject : — 
 
 '' The facts stated respecting the present condition of Russian trade 
 and currency are luidoubtedly correct, but the causes that have led up 
 to this condition of Russian finances are, I think, only partially so. It 
 is true enough no doubt that for years past Russia has imported foreign 
 goods very largely in excess of the value of her exports, and the balance 
 of trade thus arising has in the usual course of things been paid by 
 specie remittances. I hardly think, however, that this drain on her 
 specie resources can account altogether for the totiU disappearance of 
 the precious metals that seems to have taken place. I believe that the 
 greatest cause is the Crimean >\'ar, which so completely and utterly 
 exhausted Russia in her resources of men and money that she has never 
 been able to recover herself ; and it is, I think, the opinion of those who 
 are most intimately acquainted with such subjects, that it will still take 
 years for the country to right itself in its finances. Russia has, how- 
 ever, boundless resources, and if she can only keep at peace, and also 
 modify her late extravagant expenditure in unproductive Government 
 works, there can, I think, be no doubt that the development of her 
 foreign trade will gradually put her on her legs again. The Russians 
 no doubt have a habit of hoarding coinage whenever they can, and this 
 fact, together with that of the Government making no fresh issues, 
 accounts for the circulating medium being so entirely paper, llie 
 Government have the power of increasing this to any extent they please, 
 and a too abundant issue of notes of course sufficiently accounts for the 
 depreciation of this medium." 
 
 It would appear from the above that tliere is scarcely an appreciable 
 difference in the opinions held at Moscow and in Ix>ndon as to the 
 condition of the finances of Russia and of the causes of this, while the 
 views of well informed persons in both cities as to the disastrous effects 
 on her financial prospects of a foreign war are identical. 
 
 i 
 
 I observed that on purchasing a silver rouble in the 
 bazaar, as a test of the relative value of the silver and 
 the paper, I had been obliged to pay a paper rouble 
 and seven-pence English besides as the price of a 
 silver rouble — a lieavy depreciation of the Govern- 
 ment paper, equal to more than one-sLxth ; for if you 
 take tlie silver rouble to represent three shillings, the 
 paper rouble thus represents rather less than half a 
 crown. 
 
 '^ And this,'' said my companion, " does not tell 
 the whole malady. We have forgery to a great ex- 
 tent, a constant forgery of the Government paper; 
 and this is almost winked at by the Government." 
 
 " Winked at by the Government !" said I, in as- 
 tonishment, and for a moment the idea ran through 
 my mind of* England in the condition of having no 
 sovereigns or shillings or half crowns in general cir- 
 culation, but only paper and halfpence, and our five- 
 pound notes depreciated, and passing at about four 
 pounds five shillings each ; and these only in Great 
 Britain, and worth much less at Paris and refused in 
 payment except as a favour. 
 
 " I will tell you a story," said my companion. '' and 
 you shall judge for yourself There is a large Go- 
 vernment office, or bank, here in Moscow, where 
 
 M 
 
 -1 
 
 A 
 
 
■f-:- 
 
 240 
 
 STORY OF A FORGED NOTE. 
 
 MONEY MATTERS IN RUSSIA. 
 
 241 
 
 1 
 I' 
 
 11 
 
 j 
 
 H'4^"i 
 
 money is paid out to the officials, and where the 
 taxes are paid in. An acquaintance assured me only 
 the other day that he had occasion to receive a sum 
 of money from the Government, and accordingly he 
 went to this office and presented liis written demand 
 for the sum due. He received it in paper roubles, of 
 course. As he had to pay in some taxes he went to 
 another department in the same building, and offered 
 in payment some of the paper he had that moment 
 received from the Government cashier. The receiver 
 of taxes examined all the rouble notes carefully, and 
 among them, to the astonishment of my friend, he ob- 
 jected to receiving one, as it w^as a forger}^ 'But,' 
 said my friend, ' that cannot be, because I have only 
 this instant received these roubles at the cashier's 
 office in this building.' Still the man objected. 'The 
 note is forged, and I cannot receive it ; I know no- 
 thing of where you obtained it.' My friend paid his 
 taxes, and then returned to the cashier from whom 
 he had received the forged note. Presenting it to hhn, 
 he said, ' This is a forged note which you gave me 
 just now, please to give me another.' ' What do I 
 know about forged notes ?' replied the cashier ; ' we 
 have no forged notes here.' But my friend in- 
 sisted—' You paid me those notes half an hour since, 
 
 and when I offered them to the receiver of taxes in 
 the next corridor, he refused this one as a forgery. 
 Of course it is a mistake on your part.' ' I know no- 
 thing of forged notes,' said the cashier ; ' we make no 
 mistakes. You must have made the mistake and got 
 it from some one else.' And so the cashier closed the 
 door of his cais^se, and the discussion." 
 
 "And what," said I, "did your friend do with his 
 forged note ? For what sum was it ?" 
 
 " It was a fifty rouble note. Well, he took it to 
 his own banker, and told his story. ' What can I do 
 with it ?' said he to the banker. The reply was very 
 curious. The banker called up one of his senior 
 clerks and showed him the note. ' WTiat is it worth ?' 
 said he to his clerk. ' It is worth forty-five roubles,' 
 said the clerk; and so my friend parted with his 
 forged note at a loss of five roubles." 
 
 " But," said I, " how could the banker afford to 
 pay so much for the note, and how could it serve him 
 to purchase it at all ?" 
 
 My acquaintance laughed. 
 
 " There are very curious things take place," said he, 
 "in money matters in this country. The banker's 
 clerk has told me since that he would much rather 
 have anyone bring forged notes to him as a matter of 
 
 B 
 
I 
 
 (1 
 
 M 
 
 242 
 
 IMPOLICY OF WAR. 
 
 business, than good ones, because there is more money 
 to be made of these in disposing of them than there 
 is in the usual way of money business." 
 
 Certainly, when one considers these two little facts 
 connected with the Government bank at Moscow and 
 the private bankers, my companion might well smile 
 and say, " There are very curious things done in mo- 
 ney matters in Moscow." 
 
 In connection with the subject of money I may re- 
 late' the following : — A party of gentlemen one day 
 had been talking of the financial condition of Russia, 
 and the conversation turned on the rumours of her 
 again urging on Turkey reforms in respect of the 
 Christians in the East, even to the extent of threats. 
 "- War !" exclaimed one gentleman, "• what have we 
 to do with war now ? We want peace — that is what 
 we want, to carry out our internal changes, and get 
 the country into some kind of order. We are all a 
 tort et a traver.^ — at sixes and sevens — about our mo- 
 ney matters, our law, our regulations about land and 
 wages, and all this requires peace. Why, we have 
 no money for war." I observed that it appeared to 
 foreigners they had plenty of work at home to oc- 
 cupy the Government in arranging all these internal 
 matters without a foreign war. " We do not want 
 
 PEACE INDISPENSABLE. 
 
 243 
 
 war, and we cannot aiford war now," was the reply. 
 ** How can we go into an expensive war without mo- 
 ney ? Look at our financial condition — look at our 
 circulation, mere paper, bad paper, and copper — no 
 gold and no silver, and everything in a state of poli- 
 tical change in the country. It would be like mad- 
 ness to go into a war." I observed that they always 
 had a little war going on to keep their hands in to- 
 wards India in the far East. '' Ah ! that is quite an- 
 other thing," was the rejoinder ; ''it does not cost so 
 much to keep up a few troops out there, and beat 
 those half-barbarian peoples, and make them pay as 
 we go on for being beaten — that is one thing, but it 
 is another to enter upon an immense war with the 
 great powers of Europe, who have enormous armies 
 and navies and unlimited wealth in money and re- 
 sources, while we are impoverished, and have not 
 half recovered from the last war. No, no ; we have 
 a war-party, of course, who look at everything through 
 that medium, but who are bad politicians ; and we 
 have a fanatical party in religion, who are worse than 
 the others, and who are madmen in politics. No, 
 no ; let us liave peace, and get things into order at 
 liome, and not break treaties and set all the world 
 against us, and make another failure into the bargain." 
 
 R 2 
 
 I 
 
 J 
 
 ^ 
 
 \^ 
 
r" 
 
 #4' 
 
 244 
 
 UNDIGNIFIED CONDUCT OF RUSSIA. 
 
 245 
 
 1. 
 
 f 
 
 - I 
 
 It need only be added that we have lately seen 
 the war party and the religious party push on the 
 Russian Government to the very verge of war with 
 the Turks, and then, when the Government found it- 
 self in the presence of resisting Turkey and of disap- 
 proving France and England and Austria, stop short 
 of the last resort, and listen to the voice of prudence 
 of her best political friends at home, and mark the 
 threatening state of her finances, and make a rather 
 undignified retreat from her menacing position behind 
 angry demands and pompous advice. It is scarcely 
 worthy of a great power like Russia to resort to such 
 questionable practices as those in Greece and Crete. 
 What would she say to any Roman Catholic power 
 which should act towards her own subjects of that 
 faith in Poland and Russia on account of religion as 
 she does not hesitate to do towards Turkey in regard 
 of the subjects of that power of the Greek faith on 
 account of their religion ? So long as Russia treats 
 her own Roman Catholic subjects with such intoler- 
 ance. Christians as they are, she can hardly expect 
 much credit in the eyes of the world for religious and 
 Christian objects in her conduct towards Turkey. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Visit to Nijni Novgorod — Travelling in Russia in Old Times — Carriages 
 on Russian Railways — Persistent Smokers — The Passion for Tea — 
 Convenient Arrangement — My First Impression of Nijni — Peculi- 
 arities of the Fair — Affluence of Foreign Merchants — The Chinese 
 Row —Life of the Merchants during the Fair — Roads in Russia. — 
 Cossacks — Magnificent View from the Plateau — Vessels in the 
 River — Former Imjx)rtance of Nijni — Curious Story relating to the 
 Sacred Bell of Nijni — En G argon at the Fair — A Russian recherche 
 Dinner— Visit to the Landlord's Fish -Wells— The Tea-Stores— 
 Shops and Shopping — A Yomig Noble and his Wife — Decline of 
 Nijni. 
 
 A NY one going to Moscow would be considered as 
 ■^ ^ leaving a prime part of his Russian visit unpaid 
 if he omitted Nijni Novgorod. In the old days, how- 
 ever — which means only thirty years since — a visit to 
 Nijni was a very serious matter. 
 
 All travelling in Russia required something more 
 tlian a mere fancy to see any given place ; it required 
 a strong desire in the making of the preparations, and 
 a strong will to carry them to a conclusion. Two or 
 three hundred miles of journeying on roads which 
 
 % ■ 
 
246 
 
 VISIT TO NIJNI NOVGOROD. 
 
 I 
 
 f 
 
 ' 't 
 
 5 ? 
 
 were only tracks, in carriages without springs, and, 
 when stopping for what should be rest, finding inns 
 where was an unfurnished room and a hard bedstead 
 for the weary man, but no bedding beyond what he 
 took with him ; all these were troubles which a man 
 did not face without an effort. 
 
 Thus the journey from Moscow to Nijni was a mat- 
 ter not lightly to be undertaken. The getting there 
 was one thing, and then the getting back again was 
 another. It was very easy to say, " Go to Nijni," but 
 the going was not easy at all. But now the day of 
 these things is past and gone. My acquaintances fre- 
 quently put to me this question, " Of course you will 
 go to Nijni? There is a railway — it takes only twelve 
 hours." 
 
 Besides this, our consul was kind enough to aid my 
 visit to Nijni by an offer to give me a letter of intro- 
 duction to an English gentleman there, a merchant. 
 This was an incentive the more, so one night I put my- 
 self on the railway for the celebrated place of Eastern 
 
 trade. 
 
 The Consul had, moreover, given me this opinion : 
 " If you have no particular object of inquiry to make 
 at Nijni — one which will occupy some days ; if you 
 are only going there to see the fair, for a cursory 
 
 . I 
 
 JOURNEY BY RAILWAY. 
 
 247 
 
 visit, the best plan is to start from here by the night 
 train, which is the best — all the merchants go by it — 
 you will be at Nijni in the morning. Pass the day 
 there, and return by the night train. You will save 
 yourself much discomfort and a bad bed by this ar- 
 rangement." 
 
 At ten o'clock one night I started for Nijni. No- 
 thing could be better than the carriage, fitted up as 
 the Russian carriages are with arm-chairs arranged 
 singly or in pairs about its long extent. There were 
 seventeen armchairs. The entrances are at the two 
 extremities of the long car, which is much warmer by 
 this arrangement. There is an anteroom, too, at each 
 end, which adds to the warmth, a necessary thing in 
 the winters of that severe climate. The country ap- 
 peared to be of the same character as that round Mos- 
 cow, waving, and with woods scattered all over it. The 
 only objectionable circumstance of the journey was that 
 some of my companions — the car was about half full 
 — smoked at intervals all through the night. A 
 gentleman and lady occupied chairs at my end, and 
 these two lit their cigars (the lady a cigarette, of 
 course) at once. After smoking one or two each 
 they arranged themselves with pillows for the night, 
 and went to sleep. 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 hIi 
 
 i i 
 
 248 
 
 SMOKING IN THE TRAIN. 
 
 I have no very great objection to a cigar in a rail- 
 way carriage, tliouglmot now a smoker myself; but 
 still there is a limitation to this negative liking. At 
 about one in the morning the lady— she was a small 
 person of the Sclave type of prettiness, white skin, 
 dark sleepy eyes, rather full lips, high cheek bones, 
 and a soft undulating figure— she awoke, and rousinrr 
 herself from a combination of white pillow and red 
 woollen shawl and coquettish red and black close- 
 fitting cap and a framework to her face of white 
 cambric, to my surprise she applied to licr gentleman 
 for a cigarette. He was a German, to judge by his 
 looks, young and with a well-bred manner. Tiiey 
 had a cigar in company, and then slept again. At 
 dawn the same thing happened. After an early cup 
 of tea at a station they smoked steadily all the way to 
 Nijni, which we reached at ten. I thought this pretty 
 fair work for a young lady. 
 
 As a specimen of the passion for tea in Russia, one of 
 my fellow-travellers performed a considerable feat in 
 the consumption of this article. Inside each window of 
 the railway carriage there is a small arrangement which 
 is very convenient. This is a flap of wood in the form 
 of a half circle which plays on hinges. When unused and 
 let down it lies flat against the side of the carriage, and 
 
 II 
 
 
 TEA-DRINKING. 
 
 249 
 
 when wanted it is raised and forms a small table. On 
 this ladies place their work, or a book. My opposite 
 neighbour, a middle-aged gentleuian, at one station 
 ordered tea. This was put in through the window, 
 a small tray with cup and saucer, a small porcelain tea- 
 pot filled with odoriferous tea, and a large one hold- 
 ing, perhaps, three pints of boihng water. This was 
 placed on the small table between him and me, with 
 many expressions of courtesy on his part and wishes 
 that I might not be inconvenienced thereby. ''Of course 
 I was not incommoded." The train started and my 
 neighbour began his tea. He soon emptied the teapot, 
 and then he replenished it from the large pot of water, 
 for hardly did he finish off one cup before he poured 
 out another. I never saw a man so happy and so 
 jealous of his tea. No old cottager in the dear old 
 country parish of my boyhood— and there were some 
 very severe performers in that line in our parish— and 
 no middle-aged or youthful dame ravenous for her tea 
 at five in the afternoon— that new and beautiful insti- 
 tution of the present age — ever was more intent on 
 her cup as the dark stained liquid rose higher and 
 higher in the small pink and green porcelain bowl, or 
 more greedy of every drop of it, than was my neigh- 
 bour as he watched the flow of the perfumed stream 
 
 
{ 1 
 
 « I 
 
 • I 
 
 :/.. 
 
 \i 
 
 ^ \ 
 
 \ t 
 
 250 
 
 ARRIVAL AT NIJNI. 
 
 v: 
 
 <^s 
 
 . 1 ' 
 
 from the small spout. And then how he held back 
 his head and drained it to the dregs ! By degrees the 
 large pot naturally became light, the teapot did the 
 same, and as we drew up to another station, so vigor- 
 ously had the gentleman applied himself to his work, 
 that nothing ruiuamed but emptiness; :i i my nei^^h- 
 bour i; uiissed the whole little a|jpuKtiu;5 iliiuu-h the 
 s ! in -. ' took himself to his b!i;; Jj- r^ wiih 
 like r 11! * ^s often u: 1 t hi^ u.iistcoat. 
 
 We T-n ' i NHni at ten on the foil, wi inr morninrr. 
 There I foii : ! i consirlorible station suppli. 1 with all 
 requisites eithor for bronkfi^t nv -Tinner, f f ivin^ dis- 
 tu^^LiI liiu iuiiner i imi myself into the hands of a 
 drosciiivj Liiv. i Willi the udaress of the English mer- 
 chant. '' M . . P — " said he, as I named the gentleman 
 hi question; ' ! Ri w him, he lives in the Cluuesc 
 }; w/' "^ we started for the Chinese Row. 
 
 li iia 1 !'.'!. I .* weather for the last fow days, so 
 wp tlvnyo t^irnii tTi much mud and by various streets of 
 w iter to tho Chinese Row. .Ni^ni under the circum- 
 stances wao liut prepossessing. From meagre accounts 
 i nad imagined .le fair at Nijni to be in a degree like 
 other fairs; a Miccession of streets of booths aiid cover- 
 ed arcades extending over a large space of ground at 
 the edge of the town. But I found none of these 
 
 THE TWO TOWNS. 
 
 251 
 
 things. There is a small town of Nijni lying along the 
 south bank of the Volga, partly along the level shore 
 and partly climbing up the steep bank or hill be- 
 yond it, and surrounded by the Castle, Citadel, and 
 Cathedral, and other large buildings. Opposite this, 
 across the river, is another town, the X; i of the 
 fair. The first is o:' -■'']'';;irv .d} !dr-di:i t, .wn <■^],.i^- 
 manent brick nnl stone habitatinn^, Tn .en]].! *. i 
 place consisting of bazaars an^l nndles=^ irwc nf 1 rv\ 
 wooden one-storey buildings ot aiiauHnTid kn h of 
 architecture, Muscovite, Armenian, TuvKiMi, Idimese, 
 Tartar, occupied for the time of the fair, aud lui a 
 <^nly, by the people of the different countries, .. d 
 bazaar by its own people. By these m i - \ 1 ahw w 
 kind of merchandise a merchant may want, he kn ws 
 exactly where to go in search of it. This town of 
 bazaars is only alive during the period of the fair, d! wt 
 two months, when it is filled to overflowin 
 
 
 I. 
 
 mass of people from the four quarters of the < inn 
 
 -1- 
 
 UL-i^Uil: 
 
 varying from three to four hundred thousand y 
 The fair over, the whole of them depart; iliv lows 
 are locked up, the mosque and church are closed, the 
 houses are swept clear of all furniture, bare walls alone 
 remain, the folks of Nijni go back over the river, and 
 the place is dead and shut up. Then it is a place of 
 
 \: 
 
iff 
 
 I < 
 
 1 
 
 111 
 
 i 1 
 
 252 
 
 THE CHINESE ROW. 
 
 silence and loneliness for nine or ten months, during 
 the long winter and spring, until the summer and tlie 
 fair arriving together wake it again into a temporary 
 and spasmodic life. 
 
 ^^ ^'" ^- the English merchant fron. 31 .scow, had 
 his temporary residence in the Chinese Row. '! iiese 
 rows are wide open streets, bordered by low houses, 
 with a covered area running along the whole len^-nh 
 of the street on either side. By this arrangement 
 people walk about tlie place under shelter from sun 
 or rain, by no means a superfluous protection, con- 
 sidering that we were then under the malign in- 
 fluence of much rain and high winds. This row of 
 houses was built in a Chinese style, with deep pro- 
 jecting roofs, and the corners of these turned up and 
 ornamented each wdth a yellow bell— small, low, sub- 
 stantial houses. 
 
 Entering a kind of warehouse where much active 
 packing of goods was going on, I was directed to a 
 flight of newly-built wooden stairs in a corner, and on 
 mounting these to an upper open warehouse, I was 
 directed to a door. U ithin this were two small rooms 
 
 or closets, the sanctum and dwelling of Mr. P 
 
 the rich merchant, during the fair. This is the custom 
 of the place. A merchant rents for the two months 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 MR. P- 
 
 S APARTMENT. 
 
 253 
 
 one of these houses, bare walls below and bare rooms 
 above. Here lie comes en garqon^ brings with him a 
 few articles of furniture, fits up his two closets for the 
 nonce, transacts his business, sleeps in this domicile, 
 and, as he is allowed to light no fire in these wooden 
 buildings, lives at some eating-house with the mer- 
 chant world. It is a life thoroughly commercial, un- 
 domestic, and republican. 
 
 Nothing could be neater or fresher than the small 
 
 apartment oi Mv. P , with its sofa, its tables, its 
 
 easy-chairs, and its inner dormitory belongings. All 
 tliese had come down from Moscow. Mr. P - — at 
 once in the most obliging manner placed himself niid 
 his time at my disposal, i i had arrived but the day 
 before at Xijni, and this first day he would devote to 
 me and idleness. AVhat could be more gracefully 
 polite ? First he led me through some of the rows, 
 of the Armenians, of Persians, and the men of the 
 Caucasus. Nothing could be neater or more 
 orderly. A covered way or verandah ran along the 
 whole side of the row or street, and in their several 
 door- ways, in twos and threes, sat or lounged the men 
 from the distant East, men with the sharp pale face 
 of the Armenian, the dark rich complexion of the 
 Persian, the bronzed and high features of the Cau- 
 
 \ I 
 
 1 ! 
 
 w \ 
 
 p 
 
( I 
 
 il 'I 
 
 k 
 
 ¥^. 
 
 
 II 
 
 ■I 
 
 t i 
 
 1 ^ 
 
 254 
 
 COSSACKS. 
 
 casian, the two former in their long blue cloth robes, 
 and the latter always in grey. All these arcades were 
 neatly paved with brick. Street after street we passed 
 in this way, each arcade alive with moving figures of 
 men and women, and each row showing us fresh cos- 
 tumes 1 i i iff Tent goods. Nothing coull ]m i-iore 
 picturesque ui iuore neatly nn-anged. ^nvc^ ;i;; i oxm^t 
 that the ruuJway of forty or liiiy ieci in. ^i-lih wu^ imt 
 a muddy wwa k u ni one line of aivaLiL- aciu^- Ui the 
 other. Tiu ka aa no care for r ! I . von up to the 
 gates of "^T - v ; law tla ]s should she care a hem 
 at a temporaia- a-a^e lil<- 'a- nai- ■ >rxna; " I^r, ^^.likies 
 
 nn-l 
 
 f^;i ri'iML^a-, 
 
 telega 
 
 .1 tn 
 
 "IT'M 1 
 
 -asses, 
 
 ,1 
 
 along 
 
 these trn<-ks, getting through the soft deep soil as well 
 as they could, li casionally a smnll pnrty of Cossnfk^, 
 five or six, in loose order, in their long grey coats 
 and peaked caps, and mounted aloft on their high 
 saddles far above their low wiry horses, went by. 
 Their enormously long lances, with bare steel polished 
 pike-heads, had a most truculent and business-like 
 look. They were small men, fair, an<1 with sharp 
 features, i aese were the police of the fair. As I 
 looked at them, the first T had seen, there rose up be- 
 fore the mind s eye scenes in which these little men 
 had played a fierce and unrelenting part with a a latal 
 
 tat 
 
 FLOATING BRIDGE. 
 
 255 
 
 1.M..7 
 
 i t i ; t 5 i » 
 
 lance — scenes in which the unhappy French, on their 
 retreat from Moscow, had learned to look on them as 
 wolves of the forest, as men who gave no quarter to 
 tlieir crippled foe — and then other scenes, in which 
 Gogol paints them, in '' T ass Boulba," commg up 
 from their Vetch on the Dnieper in thousaal. ai 1 1 
 ing n^ n flestroying spirit of avil a\ri lis 
 burning and i \^astating village uu^l ^irii ; 
 advanced, leaving but a desert beli a ! thon], 
 these wolves of the forest were subdued 
 to act as police at a fair. 
 
 ^^ got into a Iroschky aa] crossed 
 a wooden floating bridge, supported on I 
 in the stream. Wnat a ci a ^ -fii aa 
 bridge seemed to be nearly linlf n mile in length, and 
 the breadth was immense to allow oi li aaaonQina- 
 and multitudinous traffic on it. 1 
 
 \' 
 
 ■ I 1 . I ! 
 
 'Ax. 
 
 i i S V i 
 
 es moo 
 
 d 
 e 
 
 i i 
 
 wny 
 
 ii 
 
 
 across there appeared to be endless establisLni 
 spacious floating houses on the below t idla 
 stretching away far do^vn the stream. Many of these 
 were the tenements of the fishmongers, who kept iai 
 deep capacious wells the royal sturgeon and the lus- 
 cious sterlet, princes among fish, for the luxurious 
 gourmands among the merchants at the fair. 
 
 Driving over the bridge, my companion and I found 
 
"^.^ 
 
 li 
 
 n 
 
 I': ! 
 
 I * ^ 
 
 n 
 
 I yl. 
 
 i 'I 
 
 256 
 
 POSITION OF NIJNI. 
 
 ourselves in an ordinary, ill -paved, dirty town. We 
 soon left the street and mounted the hill, a long steep 
 winding road, to the citadel, and passing this came 
 out on a plateau commanding a noble bit of scenery. 
 The hill sloped down rapidly with an unbroken in- 
 cline to the river. The position is singularly fine, 
 for the town stands at the extremity of a river-en- 
 circled tongue or tract of lofty table-land coming up 
 from the south ; and the citadel on the summit looks 
 over a wide extent of lower country waving or level 
 to the north and east and west beyond the stream. 
 From the plateau the course of the Volga and its 
 junction with the Ocka, and all the far champaign 
 dotted with villages and churches, lay beneath the 
 eye. The plateau was prettily laid out with shaded 
 walks and bosquets, and there were pavilions and 
 restaurants with creature comforts for the practical 
 man. 
 
 Lying off the town both above and below the 
 bridge were a countless number of vessels of all 
 kinds, from the common boat of the native and the 
 huge unwieldy craft laden high with hay and wood, 
 the Russian colours at the mast-head, to the various 
 barges of primitive construction of the dwellers on 
 the banks who had sent their goods on board to the 
 
 r^ 
 
 f 
 
 SACRED BELL OF NIJNI. 
 
 257 
 
 fair, and the neat long flat-sided screw steamers of 
 the many steamboat companies which trade between 
 Nijni and Astracan, the union jack flying at the 
 stern. Here in this far country how companionable 
 and hearty looked the universal flag! Across the 
 bridge and on the tongue of land which is formed by 
 the junction of the Ocka and the Volga, was the fair, 
 its long low lines of bazaars extending far and wi(Je 
 over the intervening space. 
 
 In the earlier times of Russia, in the fourteenth cen- 
 tury, Nijni was the capital of a section of the country, 
 and its fine position on a lofty hill over the Volga 
 must have given it a considerable strength and influ- 
 ence. Situated at the junction of two large rivers it 
 ruled over the people on their banks for a wide dis- 
 tance, and its sovereign held in his hands the t n- 
 of the mighty stream. 
 
 A., w i .-luud there enjoying the fine scenery, the bells 
 from the church tower in the citadel, near the wall of 
 which we were standing, rang out their musicnl ponl. 
 "There is a curious story connected with iliai 
 church," said my companion. "There is one bell 
 in the tower which is the sacred bell of Nijni. I: 
 happened one day that I came up 1 ^ r- \ ' ]. t^o 
 "F^nglish gentlemen to see the citadel. After w ^:- 
 
 
 ;Ah^i. 
 
' 
 
 I' 
 
 '\ 
 
 I 
 
 ; ■» ! 
 
 258 
 
 CURIOUS STORY. 
 
 seen the other buildings we went into the church and 
 up mto the bell-tower. Now here was an ancient 
 wooden clock of curious construction, and one of the 
 gentlemen wishing to examine the works the keeper 
 of the tower set off down the turret to get the key of 
 the clock. \\ hile he was gone one of the gentlemen 
 began to move the clapper of the big bell — the sacred 
 bell, saying, ' I should like to hear the tone of the 
 Kijni bell.' 1\ dint of swinging the great clapper at 
 last he struck the side whh it, and one immense deep 
 
 clani]j boomed out. Mr. P • said he had not been 
 
 attending to wliat his friends were doing, but hearing 
 the stroke lie du^iicl at the rope just in time U^ vvo- 
 vent the counter swing of the clapper. But the mis- 
 chief was done. In a minute the tower-keeper rushed 
 up in haste and exclaimed, ^ Who rung the bell ?' 
 
 Mr. P told liim how it had happened. ' It is a 
 
 misfortune,' said the man — ^ a great misfortune.' 
 Tiier! -nil only the papa appeared breathless in the 
 belfry, all pnlo nnd alarmed — * Who rung the bell? — 
 
 uiiu d.uLd lu ring it?' Mr. V explninrMl liow it 
 
 had occurred. ' Get down quickl},' he exclaimed, 
 ' aT; of you, as fast as you can. h i- a great crime 
 you have committed — the people will be here in a 
 few minutes, and if they find you here you will be in 
 
 
 FORTUNATE ESCAPE. 
 
 259 
 
 danger of your lives— quick ! quick 1' As they ran 
 
 down he explained, 'That bell is never runir 
 
 never, except to warn the town that the church is on 
 fire, or that help is wanted in the citadel for some- 
 tliing political or serious.' So down they hurri 1. 
 found tlie carriage at the door and jumped in. At 
 first there was no one in sight, niHl th* \ <]rny,. .] v.n 
 the hill rapidly; but presently they snn- Tvnpir i-, 
 twos and threes hurrying up; ami lu^n linx w. m 
 slowly to avoid suspicion. As they met the p. upiu 
 they were all in a high state of excitement. ' Vsh^i 
 has happened?' tliey demanded Wli., mn- the 
 
 bell ?' 
 
 and his companioii 
 
 [ j I i 1 1 J ■ ! i I y 
 
 had not heard the bell. 'What bell ^' thnv .do ]. i id 
 the people hurried on. As they descended ihov mr^t 
 crowds, all in a state of amtation, rumn ikm- 
 men and uomen, all highly excite i, ad La.U;in!iu up 
 the hill. Very lucky," said M. ^ P -^^^^ ^ u.u we got 
 away in time; and T w;n uncommonly -did wluii ^^c 
 were in the town and could rattle along will .in 
 creating suspicion. We wrro soon over d^ drid p 
 and out of harm's way ; but I do believe i; tj,, , : ,, | 
 caught us and known we had rung the bod. Im v 
 would liave done us a mischief for daring to luucii 
 their lioly bell. These people are mad- laauu^ .u 
 
 s2 
 
%.- 
 
 Il i 
 
 . I 
 
 il 
 
 M 
 
 
 h 
 
 260 
 
 RUSSIAN FANATICISM. 
 
 their religion, and when they are roused are blind in 
 their rage." 
 
 This accounts, methought, for the Iberian '1 ther 
 sretting such a lot of money at the Iversky H re in 
 
 M ■-'*' «\\'. aipl :i ' 
 
 ' -r the ii!:-p:u-mg 
 
 (' 
 
 1 ^ n 
 
 1^1,1 , ,,--]lt t' > ^'i 1 M'-]a;l Tif tl :*"■ ^"»rii hT---. AvIp's l>;t t]\r- <liniM<"'lVl 
 
 
 V. ■:pl.-r l!:;t' 1!; 
 
 11 \\ 
 
 \ ' 'I I iiifik 
 
 .1 ■ I i 
 
 l;!li.t' I'MMi 
 
 i i 
 
 (ill f 
 
 it. Till 
 
 Hi* 
 
 ! i :a' iKtCiv- liifll !! 
 
 trcaliiifiil 
 
 ui liiL' oiulaii — ill ii]> pi'i >{('( 
 llir Ea.-l. 
 
 la >ii I 'i lia' ( li^i-IuUi^ in 
 
 Oil *»iir ri'turii !<• tla- lair Mr. I*— — ■ pi^ •]»< •.-(•<] iliat 
 we and a voiniir fi'ieial, a h*u>-iaii of LTnod iaiiiil\-, who 
 
 was leamina his bushicss as a riicrchant under him, 
 
 I,. - 
 
 should ixo and dine at the <rrand restaurant ol" th(* 
 
 place. So we went, Mr. 1^ , in the spirit <.)f the 
 
 nuUionnaire Russian merchant, claiming to be our 
 host. Driving through much mud we reached 
 a block of low long buildings beyon<l the precincts of 
 the bazaars. At the door of one ol" these were num- 
 bers of well-dressed men, stan<llng about, or going in 
 and out in groups, as at the entrance of one (»f our 
 Pall Mall Clubs in June abe»ut dinner time. It was 
 four o'clock, the fashionable hour of the fair. The 
 greetings of ^Ir. P and his friends Avere innunier- 
 
 \4 
 
 THE GRAND RESTAURANT. 
 
 261 
 
 able, and all so hearty and cordial ; such clappings on 
 the shoulder, such holdings of hands, such Inndiinu 
 nods an i w aving of arms. 
 
 '" V^Ki here, P -- -■" -a*. < . iii«_' , 
 
 !!ie do-ai.^" ■■ O;, ' ,.i,'y y.-^:. a-day." -Tiiars i 
 
 v\ iicli Uiil \'ull 
 
 { '. > 
 
 
 " . I ' , 
 
 1 1 
 
 aM a]-< 
 
 <-X- 
 
 -diaiLrJiftMl. V( 
 
 r]a]]![-d a!i"tlMa\ ^'.iil riaiit — diaiLTSiitM i. naiareconi- 
 
 •« 1P_^ — rrlvnz H cfront ^pr.aiil." sav^ a 
 
 1 1 
 
 \ i . ! { 
 
 "1 caul U)-da\ — iriLaids. 
 
 ^, 
 
 • ^Vf .aiiiav.l^ I ItM-liiig cdl the lime that I was in 
 
 tilt' \va\ of Mr. P '> taiJMNaim a tia^au witli lii- jovial 
 
 b'i''nd< tmni Mo-euw. In tluj eorride»r and on the 
 staii'rase was an (aidlc-^^ stream of i:enth^men hurr\dnG: 
 in variniis (UiaMiious, all talkinir, all in hiirh spirits. Xo 
 woiidtaa th<'V wei'e all < n 'jarcon at the fair — their wives 
 wrre hit at Moscow, and it was dimier time, — wdiat a 
 combination I 
 
 AA e strnggli'd u|)<tairs, and entered a long room, 
 wlieix^ were small tables laid for dinner in rows, most 
 of them alreadvoccnipled ])V])arties of n[entlemen, threes 
 
 and f )urs, and all deep in dinner. Mr. P w^ent 
 
 oil to ser the master of the house, and to order a par- 
 ticular and /'((7/rvv7^' dinner. In about twentv niin- 
 utes he returned. 
 
I 
 
 i 
 
 I ill 
 
 i! i 
 
 'i' 
 
 
 i ! 
 
 ^r^ 
 
 x 
 
 1 i i i 
 
 R. 
 
 "Ah. -a: i he, a> he ^aiik mtu his chair, i iiavc 
 (lone afboli:;ii LUmg — 1 uave spoilt my dinner." 
 
 M 
 
 ^v ua: iui- iiapj_.Kii^.^'l ;"'' said 1. 
 W:a,\ ih-re is J> _h.h!i- , 
 
 stairs in th. ^ h .^ 
 
 I . j — 
 
 Tvi^.h 
 
 !■■' 
 
 1 -ingerj^ ; 
 
 I I ' ' » < , I 
 
 1 .>•] ti 
 
 i 1 
 
 it. T 
 
 1 1 ^ ♦ 
 
 k^A \i 
 
 \vh^ 1 lie saw me :ni1 
 
 ?]i*M[;c 1 tau mv iiani'"' nii-l iikpI' 
 
 ('■.aiM,^ TV) — -wa 
 
 •■1 
 
 me 
 
 * * a 
 
 1 ! ! > 
 
 
 in via"! a 
 
 W 
 
 I --v, 
 
 1 Sihl 
 
 I iui'i (ruaal 
 ' Fritai'l-- 
 
 i i ' i 
 
 JVIU'J 
 
 Haiti — i J r 
 
 1 ' * 
 
 ■ t a\ ! ■ ! a 1 ! ! a ' ' 1 
 
 I la III all — ^•\\\' \\- liul 
 
 liah ih'iaa. Well ha\r ihr diiiiu-r all *»!! the la!)h' 
 
 aiiaifi. Ilt'i'ta — wahrr — lirrr",- ^fr. P aial lii- fricnils 
 
 coruiiiL!' tn diiic — liavo a iVr-h dinia-r iliriaih ." Itnw- 
 ever, I thiUiLiiit y<>ii W(')liM iioi liko sudi an uproaiMori< 
 alhair, and so I (IccliiKal aial qv>i awnv ; h)Ul n<»t wilh- 
 (Hit (liiukiiig a wholi? tui!il)K-r <<[ cliainpauiu', whirh 
 
 B insisted on ]u\' takinu: — and now \\\\< con- 
 
 fuimdod cliani[)agno has rpiito spoiled inv a[)pcnteh' 
 
 I felt ("luite a reirret lliat Mr. P .-h')ul<l have 
 
 lo^t all this jovialiiA', and >{)Mili hi^ .Jinurr too, nn ]n\' 
 arconnt. 
 
 'vNo, no, I want t<> ^how \a)u oik^ or two thini]"- in 
 the tair. and we -la add novcr havr is^A awa\ iVom the 
 part}' da'wri-tair- ; and Ije.-rle-. wo aio ( juaaler here ; 
 and 1 
 
 lorc^ ct ane- itir >ierioi -' • 
 
 "i'- 
 
 I 4 
 
 r: 
 
 \^ 
 
 \ ^, 
 
 : UECin:K^'n!; eiNvrTj^ 
 
 
 So by the aid of various little ilLu-idL- ivheis, iUv^u 
 as anchovies and lemon, and pickles, and so on. \o; 
 spurred up our appetites, a e A[ P ^ — . \ a re- 
 covered his under this little discipline, anl -'o ai; iil 
 
 iu-tice to :i Pnssian recherche dheicr. 11 ^ - 
 
 i-let 
 
 *^oiri war 
 
 n^ fli-iniorvl 
 
 
 i'ln!i]'a'')1e — -I* I'ita. 1 
 -are ol Li-'Uriaah'! fxa-- — < h, elari.-i 1 lo hu 
 ~i l:a\ • ai r a ii! 1 evaia Iil a ai « ai ! lie 
 
 1 • 1 
 
 uuiy laiLii la i* 
 
 I ai 1 1 i\ " > ' i i 1 "~ 1 i a i 1 \ < ' \\ li I * 1 
 
 •^ ' ■ ,1 la. . 
 
 ■t a M ) I 1 ' • 
 
 Ai->a lia:rt, ^^a-a L^aniL: Ijud 
 
 ■t 'MM I ! 
 
 « ■ ■ 
 
 \\aa'(' t !a ■ ' I ' 
 
 iii„ a 1 aii'i ri^la:^ ■ in i!a\ « 'Ur. \ ari* )iis 
 < aah <a-'-' hial •!« * n > leo-ae 1 ml n< 4 la^- 
 
 a- ea-tinL! inta» -laah' oitlu/r Fel 
 
 inai'Kaha' a- ea-nnL! nitai -laah' satni/r relippe, or 
 iM'ancaloili. ^a" da' I'tMhaihlod " FiTi'o-, " aiad of course 
 chainpaLino and h'tck pla\ed ihoir iair part. From a 
 di>lane(' al int<'rval.- eame np to) u- the notes uidhe T\-- 
 rohain >inL^rrs, and the -liouts oi' the guests ul' '' tliat 
 iolK' old 1) uoinii' it/' 
 
 The dinner over, we ^allied forth. In tlie middle 
 oi'dinner a ])ortl\ man, his faci^ Ixaimiim" with irood- 
 huiriMin-. had (V»me up to inquire of our Avell-doing. 
 dhi< wa- the hov|. from Museow for the no>nee. a 
 lai'L;o uvnial man. Faeh voar he made a little for- 
 inno a.t Xijni. X^ 'W la- \va- told that 1 ^vi-hed to see 
 whoia- ho Isfpi hi- -liu'Lio •!! ari'l -terlot in the riviaa 
 Ihc-e waa'o kci)! undor lock and kiv out on tlie 
 
 1 
 
 4 
 
20i 
 
 FI 
 
 ' T G 
 
 S 
 
 i-LlvLLi A>»D 
 
 
 p. 
 
 iitly h' returncii wah the keys nnri 
 directions, and confided iliu guardians of his treasures 
 
 to Mr. P with many injunctions ; and so we 
 
 drove oif to the great bridge. Arrived at about a 
 third of the way over, we got down from our 
 droschky, and found stairs leading out to what was a 
 floating town. On what a scale it all was ! Here 
 were wooden erections, so extensive and so substan- 
 tial, one might suppose they had been there for a 
 century, and were intended to last another century 
 or two — living rooms and covered decks, passages 
 and galleries, small wells for delicate fish, and large 
 wells for the royal sturgeon and princely sterlet. In 
 various parts of the decks were the sacred cavities, 
 the wells, fastened with massive iron locks and bars. 
 One of the keys of the Moscow landlord opened a 
 monster padlock, and a wide dark pool yawned be- 
 neath the spreading roof-like cover. A man with 
 bare legs and short white linen brogues, with red 
 beard and bare neck, came with a net six feet square, 
 in a frame with a long handle, and plunged this into 
 the pool. Then there was a mighty turmoil below of 
 huge monsters rushing about in the wide space, the 
 water surging up all round, and now a great head 
 half appearing above it, and now a tail fin, the splen- 
 
 Uii. 
 
 
 (lid fish lashing in its descent the boilin<' 
 last the skilful workman secured one in a corner hi 
 bore hiin to the surface— a hundred pounder— a stur- 
 geon — a noble fellow. 
 
 "That's not one of the largest," said the man, 
 quietly; and then he dipped the net, turned it 
 over with a twist of his wrist, released the fish, 
 and struck out for another. Then began again the 
 turmoil amid the seething water. " That's a good 
 one," he exclaimed, as one bigger than the last rose to 
 the surface, and after a savage rush and struggle was 
 captured in the bellying net. " That's about a hun- 
 dred and twenty," said the man, "and in good season 
 too." 
 
 What a splendid fellow he was !— bright and shin- 
 ing, and of beautiful proportions. What play that fish 
 would give one on a good line down stream, me- 
 thought ! It would be an hour or two's work to land 
 him, and here he comes up in his prison in two turns 
 of the wrist. He seemed all too grand for his narrow 
 dungeon. Then we had another well opened, and 
 the delight of gourmands, the sterlet, was fished up 
 in the same way. Of all sizes these were, from five 
 
 and ten pounds up to fifty. Mr. P told us a 
 
 story of a fine sturgeon caught in the Volga some few 
 
266 
 
 LOW SUBURBS OF THE FAIR. 
 
 TEA-STORES. 
 
 267 
 
 years back, on the occasion of the visit of the Crown 
 Prince to Nijni, and presented to him. The Prince 
 requested that he miglit not be killed, but turned 
 back into the river. This was done, a gold ring with 
 an inscription being run through his gill. Three or 
 four years afterwards a peasant caught the fish with 
 the ring in his gill, and the Governor of Nijni, hearing 
 of the capture, sent off to save the fish's life. ^'The 
 Prince had spared his life — no one must kill him." 
 So the Governor decided, and he gave the peasant 
 five hundred roubles for it, added a second ring with 
 a fresh inscription in the gill of the fish, and gave him 
 his liberty. 
 
 " That fish," said Mr. P , ^' has a fair chance of 
 
 dying in his bed of old age, a rare case for a sturgeon 
 within reach of Nijni." 
 
 We drove from thence across the point of land 
 through endless rows of bazaars, till we got beyond 
 the regular buildings. Here were the low suburbs of 
 the fair. Rude cottages, large halls for dancing of 
 the roughest materials and spreading dimensions, so- 
 litary sheds, straggling houses, and tumble-down vodka 
 shops, were scattered irregularly on both sides of the 
 broad, deep, muddy track. We struggled on, for the 
 great tea-stores were in front. At last the roadway 
 
 became so bad, with great holes and heaps of broken 
 brick, long pieces of timber lying about pell-mell, 
 compelling perpetual windings in and out and round 
 about, and much steering between pools and preci- 
 pices, with an occasional forced climb over a rugged 
 Scylla and a dip down into a quagmiry Charybdis, 
 that we were compelled to come to a halt. The 
 track was ceasing to be anytliing but a general slough 
 of despond. However, there were the tea-stores in 
 our front. In long lines and high, fifty yards in length 
 and twenty feet in height, were piles of tea-chests. 
 For the most part these were covered with mattings 
 or sailcloths to keep the rain from them, but some 
 were exposed at the sides, and here we could see the 
 usual yellow tea-chest, about two feet square, handy 
 for moving, so well known in our London shops, 
 sealed with the large black Chinese characters and 
 adorned with the familiar persons of our Celestial 
 friends. There must have been acres of ground 
 covered with these piles of chests ; but as all Russia 
 drinks tea morning, noon, and night, the supply was 
 probably only a portion of what is required. 
 
 But it was getting dark, so we escaped from the 
 quagmire as well as we could, and entering the 
 fair again, were set down at the doorway of the 
 
 H 
 
268 
 
 THE FAIR. 
 
 RETURN TO MOSCOW. 
 
 269 
 
 building where the Governor resides — the centre of 
 the place, and the only considerable and lofty build- 
 ing in it. Below were bazaars and coffee-houses, and 
 above were the dwelling-house and offices of the 
 Governor. This was all lit up, and here along the 
 many and crossing and winding passages of the bazaar, 
 the shops displaying all their gayest colours and most 
 attractive articles, were crowds of people of all coun- 
 tries, lounging away the evening in the essential en- 
 joyments of shopping or doing nothing. Here in the 
 several shops were Armenians, Persians, Turks, men 
 from Bokhara, Tahtars, and Cossacks. A young lad 
 in white and a boy in scarlet trowsers, their whole 
 dress gorgeous with gold lace and glittering arms — 
 sons of some chief of the Caucasus — were barfrainincf 
 for a richly-finished and ornamented revolver. Poor 
 young fellows, methought, there is not much for you 
 to do with a revolver now. You can put it in your 
 gorgeous girdle as an ornament for display, but when 
 you get home to your mountains you must not fire it 
 at any one without permission from some gentleman 
 in a plain green coat in your neighbourhood. 
 
 My two companions bargained with some Persians 
 for some silk for their wives at Moscow. How they 
 fought over it ! Mr. P named his price and steadily 
 
 m 
 
 Stuck to it ; while the Persians tried every calculation 
 and every argument to shew that they must lose 
 money greatly at that price. But the Moscow mer- 
 chant knew better than that. How quiet and dogged 
 the Englishman was, and how the eyes of the Persians 
 gleamed and shot out sparks of fire with the earnest- 
 ness of the combat ! But their manner never lost the 
 smooth polish of supple well-bred men in spite of all 
 their eagerness. Of course the end of the fight was that 
 the silks were folded beautifully by the Persians, and 
 were borne off by the servant of the Briton. The 
 Bokhara men had brought stones, brown and white, 
 from the Bokhara mountains, and bracelets of one of 
 these stones, serdaHk— the penultimate syllable bear- 
 ing the long accent— changed hands, as had done the 
 silks. 
 
 There were men, too, from Tashkend selling smart 
 kerchiefs which would make the eyes of our young 
 ladies dance with their brilliant colouring. 
 
 But the time was arriving for the train back to Mos- 
 cow ; so turning our backs on the men of Bokhara 
 and Tashkend, on the Persians and the boy chieftain 
 from the Caucasus, we drove to the station, and after 
 
 many shakings of the hand of Mr. P and hearty 
 
 thanks, I started again for Moscow. 
 
 Ill 
 
 / 
 
270 
 
 A COMPANION ON THE JOURNEY. 
 
 But I did not travel alone. Besides various persons 
 in my carriage there was a lady, my opposite neigh- 
 bour, who was committed to my care for the journey. 
 She was the wife of the young Russian, the student in 
 
 commercial matters under Mr. P . Both the lady 
 
 and her husband were of high Russian family, but in 
 the transition state of things in that country young 
 members of old families are casting about for a more 
 active and useful existence than the old and idle one 
 of the nobles of the past ; and so this young gentle- 
 man was ardent in the pursuit of commercial know- 
 ledge. He was tall and handsome, witli well-bred 
 manners ; and his young wife was a beautiful person, 
 tall and with delicate features, and a countenance ex- 
 pressive of goodness and amiability. She had gone 
 down for a day to see her husband at Nijni, and as 
 even loving young waives cannot stay there she w^as 
 on her w^ay home again to Moscow. She was pale, 
 thoroughly Russian, with no Tahtar blood in her 
 veins, and she did not smoke. When I parted from 
 her on the following morning at Moscow, and saw her 
 into the hands of her liveried servants and step into 
 her carriage, I thought I had rarely seen or spoken 
 to a more unaffected or more cliarming person. 
 
 A dav or two afterwards, when relating]: to our Con- 
 
 I 
 
 THE TRADE OF NIJNI. 
 
 271 
 
 r 
 
 I 
 
 sul, Mr. R , my visit to Nijni, and all the many 
 
 acts of kindness and hospitality on the part of his 
 friend Mr. P , not the least of which was the sacri- 
 fice of his own time, he said, 
 
 " How glad I am you have seen Nijni as it is, in 
 something of its old splendour, for this will not last 
 very much longer. It was a very convenient position, 
 central and come-at-able, on the two rivers, for trade 
 between east and west under the old tedious modes 
 of communication. People arrived there by water, and 
 this was a matter of great moment, for as there was no 
 kind of convenience in the way of transport for the 
 mass of Eastern goods in this direction, Nijni was a good 
 meeting-place. But now all this is changing. New con- 
 ditions of transport are upsetting all the old arrange- 
 ments. Steam and railway are revolutionising this 
 trade. Merchants of Moscow are beginning to ask 
 why should they go to the goods at Nijni, when 
 the goods can come on as well to Moscow by 
 rail ? Even now some merchants refuse to go, and 
 I hey send down orders to agents. The numbers of 
 the people at the fair are diminishing already, and 
 there are said to be three hundred thousand now in- 
 stead of four and even five hundred thousand a few 
 }'ears back. The trade, too, is taking advantage of 
 
 ; 
 
272 
 
 DECLINE OF NIJNI FAIR. 
 
 273 
 
 other channels, so that in the course of a few more 
 years — ten or twenty — the Nijni fair will dwindle, and 
 by degrees become a thing of the past, except for the 
 commoner and coarser goods." 
 
 As the Egyptian boat song has it, " Everything 
 passes but God." Even the Nijni fair. 
 
 i? 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Profligacy of Russian Nobles ^ExtenuatiDg Circumstances-Benevolence 
 of the Higher Orders-The GaUtzin and Foundling Hospitals-Visit 
 to Hospital founded by the Sheremaytieff Family— The Building 
 Apartments, and Gardens— Noble Endowment-The Dining HaU— 
 Inmates-The Sick, Maimed, and Blind-Friendless Old Men-The 
 Women's Apartments-Anecdotes and Portraits-Apartments for 
 the Sick-General Hospital-The Governor's Room-Distribution 
 of Money to Pensioners— Conversation with the Governor-Sum 
 annually expended by the nos^it^\~-Societe Fraterndle-^oh]e Side 
 of the Russian Character. 
 
 A LTHOUGH there is much said in Russia in blame 
 of the class of noble their extravagances, their 
 gambling, their profligacy, their bad example as land- 
 lords and as rulers over their serfs, yet there is a re- 
 verse side to this picture. I heard it even claimed by 
 some Russians at a dinner-table that in profligacy some 
 members of this class could compare with advantage 
 —an evil advantage— with those of any other country. 
 One. or two of the company stood up manfully for the 
 French nation as possessing tliose who would bear 
 
274 
 
 PROFLIGACY OF RUSSLVN NOBLES. 
 
 away the bell in a contest of profligacy ; but as the 
 argument proceeded opinions wavered, and in the end 
 the dark prize was awarded to Russia. In such a 
 question it is always fair to admit circumstances — ex- 
 tenuating circumstances. In the present case it must 
 be borne in mind that in the Russian blood there is 
 an admixture of the utterly lawless Tahtar, reckless of 
 any result but the gratification of his own passions, 
 inheritor of violence and of absence of all scruple. 
 Moreover, the position of the noble was exceptional ; 
 for not only was he lord of wide domains and almost 
 unlimited wealth, but he was a ruler of serfs — of 
 slaves — with a power tantamount to a power of life 
 and death, a power over their property, a power over 
 their persons ; and there was no law to restrain him 
 but one he virtually administered himself, and could 
 evade at pleasure. What could possibly be expected 
 from such a combination of blood and position ? 
 Wliat but the exercise of every profligacy varnished 
 over with the glitter of civilization. The French 
 nation has no ingredients of tliis kind. Happily for 
 them circumstances are against them in the contest 
 of evil. But as there are in the world only a 
 limited number of very great criminals, so in Russia 
 w^e must consider that there were manv deforces of 
 
 HOSPITALS FOUNDED BY NOBLE FAMILIES. 275 
 
 social criminality in the reckless upper class, and that 
 the principal off'enders were but few. 
 
 But there is a reverse of the picture. In no countrv 
 are there evidences of a higher and purer spirit of 
 benevolence and charity than among those very nobles. 
 In and around Moscow there are many of the most 
 splendid institutions, founded by men of family and 
 flourishing to this hour, that can be found in any 
 capital of Europe. Among these may be cited the 
 Galitzin Hospital on the banks of the Moskwa on the 
 road to the Sparrow Hills, founded and endowed 
 by a Prince Galitzin; the Foundling, endowed by 
 Prince Demidoff"; and others of a similar character. 
 
 Among these was named to me one day by the 
 
 Count L the hospital founded by the Sheremay- 
 
 tieif family. 
 
 '' If you will call on the principal medical man, who 
 lives in the garden, and use my name," said he, 
 '' Dr. C will show you over everything willingly." 
 
 Accordingly I presented myself one day at the 
 doctor's door. He received me cordially, speaking 
 the French language with ease and fluency ; and this 
 day being a committee day, and he occupied with busi- 
 ness, he engaged me to call on him on the morning 
 
 following. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 
 
 THE SHEREMAYTIEFF HOSPITAL. 
 
 PRINCELY DONATION. 
 
 277 
 
 "Are you a doctor?" said he, as we parted. 
 
 '' Not at all," said I, " only a traveller, interested 
 in the details of a noble charity." 
 
 " I think it will please you— you shall see every- 
 thing," said he. 
 
 At the hour named on the subsequent day I found 
 iJi. C ready and smiling. 
 
 1 will first give a short description of the building 
 and circumstances of this remarkable institution before 
 we enter it. The situation is good. It stands on one 
 of the high grounds of Moscow, on the north side of 
 the great Boulevard which runs in a circle through 
 the centre of the city. As it stands a little back from 
 the Boulevard, there is a wide space of perhaps forty 
 yards breadth in front of it to the south and west ; 
 and as on this there is one of the city fountains 
 always pla}dng, and beyond it are the usual low cot- 
 tages with their gardens, while behind it to the north 
 are extensive gardens belonging to the Hospice, no- 
 thing can well be more airy or sunny than the situa- 
 tion. The building is of course low, only one storey 
 in height, and is in the form of a half moon, a deeply 
 embayed crescent. The cord of the arc is about two 
 hundred yards in length, and consists of an open iron 
 railing with gilded spear points, and within this a 
 
 grass plot and garden fill the whole space. Frequent 
 staircases descend from the first floor to the basement, 
 and many doors issue on this sunny and spacious 
 garden. One half of the buildings of this immense 
 half circle are occupied by the apartments of those 
 inmates of the Hospice who are in health, and the 
 other half is set apart for the sick, for baths, for offi- 
 ces, for committee rooms, for oflicer s apartments, and 
 all the general purposes of the establishment. In 
 the centre of the half moon rises the Church, plain in 
 exterior, neat and not gaudy within. 
 
 In this place are maintained by funds left by the 
 Prince Sheremaytieff* — one hundred old men and one 
 hundred old women. One of the family Sheremay- 
 tiefF — one of the highest in the Empire— Prince Mi- 
 chael, some years ago built this Hospice and endowed 
 it with a landed estate producing fifty thousand rou- 
 bles a year, witli villages on it and eight thousand 
 serfs. These estates now, under the altered circum- 
 stances of the country, produce forty-three thousand 
 roubles, equal to about six thousand pounds of our 
 money. This is a princely donation to the impover- 
 ished and the unfortunate and the sick of one's fellow 
 countrymen. Besides this, there is a sum of monev 
 left in Russian funds the interest of which is ten thou- 
 
278 
 
 THE DINING HALL. 
 
 THE MEN S HOOxMS. 
 
 279 
 
 m 
 
 sand roubles a year. Thus, in all, this nobleman has 
 endowed his Hospice with a fortune of fifty-three thou- 
 sand roubles per annum. This and other similar en- 
 dowments are grand acts worthy of all honour, and 
 should redeem in the eyes of those sitting in judgment 
 on Russia many faults and shortcomings. A class which 
 could produce many men of this stamp could not be 
 altogether bad. 
 
 On entering the building we were joined by the 
 manager of the Hospice, a Russian gentleman. He 
 first led us into the dining hall. This was a fine room, 
 eighty feet long by thirty in breadth, and lofty. It ter- 
 minated the edifice at one end of the half moon, the 
 length of it being the depth of the building, eighty 
 feet, while its height was that of the ground floor and 
 the storey above it. A fine full length portrait of the 
 prince, the founder, was at one end of this hall, which 
 was simply but well furnished. In this all the inmates 
 have their meals, ie,, those who are strong enough to 
 walk there. Many are too old and weak for this, and 
 these have their meals taken to them in their rooms 
 by servants of the establishment. Of these servants 
 there are one hundred and two. 
 
 We were then conducted into the rooms of the 
 men, which are on the ground-floor. These were 
 
 
 large, lofty, and airy. Four or five beds were in one 
 room, and six or seven in another — the arrangement 
 being that the rooms were in pairs, one room in the 
 front and one behind, and opening into each other 
 by a wide archway in the centre. Those at the back, 
 to the north, were always the largest, being in the 
 long outer side of the half circle. The walls were of 
 immense thickness, keeping the rooms cool in sum- 
 mer and warm in winter. Against these walls were 
 clothes presses, and chests of drawers, and washing 
 places. Every man had his separate bed, all the 
 component parts of it being of the best, clean thick 
 soft beds, fit for anyone. At each bed head was a 
 neat little low cupboard for the man's tea-things, 
 books, or any small object of aff^ection or fancy. All 
 the men wore a large grey wrapping coat as a kind 
 of uniform. In the first room was a man with a 
 countenance and manners, when spoken to, above the 
 common, and not above sixty years of age. The chief 
 told me that this man was of French extraction, born 
 in Russia. He had been a priest of the Greek Church, 
 but having become unable from illness to do any ser- 
 vice in the church he had fallen into utter destitution. 
 Sometimes this would happen even to a native priest, 
 and this man being a foreigner he had no friends, and 
 
280 
 
 INMATES OP TfTE HOSPICE. 
 
 THE OLD SOLDIER. 
 
 281 
 
 being married he could not enter any convent. The 
 parish priests marry, but the monks do not. This 
 man's wife was in the Hospice too, but as a servant. 
 I asked him about his friends in France, and lie said 
 he had none. Poor fellow!— not a friend in the 
 worid but these kind foreigners. In another room 
 was a thin old man, who had been a schoolmaster 
 with a good middle-class school once. His health 
 had given way, his school fell off, his friends could 
 not keep him, and so he came into the Hospice. 
 What a life of disappointment, and care, and hard stru^r- 
 gle ^Yith circumstances, was summed up in those few 
 words ! One soldierly man in uniform spoke Frencli 
 well. He had attained the rank of major, but ill- 
 health had driven him out of the service ; his family 
 were poor, and he could turn his hand to nothing. I 
 asked him if he had been in the Crimea. 
 
 No, he said, but many of his friends had, and some 
 had been there in the Hospice, but they were all dead. 
 " All dead !" said I— *^ it is not many years ago." 
 '' They had all suffered much," said the doctor ; 
 '' there were five of them— all had been wounded,' 
 and were in weak condition, and they soon died. 
 The men," he continued, '^ die much faster than the 
 women. The women seem to make themselves more 
 
 at home here with their needle-work, and their talk, 
 and their little ways, and they live much longer ; but 
 the men are without any occupation, and they cannot 
 make a life out of nothing as the women do, and so 
 they pine and die soon. Two or three men, on an 
 average, die every week, and sometimes four or five, 
 but there are some weeks when we do not lose one 
 woman." 
 
 As we turned away, and the soldier sat down — for 
 each stood up as he was addressed, if he could, which 
 all could not — and then crawled on to his bed, the 
 manager whispered to me — 
 
 " He is going ; in a day or two he will be removed 
 into another room, and then he will go into the sick 
 ward, and will be dead in a month, perhaps. They 
 soon go when they once give way. They have wine 
 and everything they can want or require, but they 
 have no stamina and soon go." 
 
 In one room the men were nearly all blind. There 
 appeared to be a great consideration for the sick fan- 
 cies of these old men. Some of them were gentle- 
 men, and most of them of decent middle-class. They 
 all had their tobacco, and in all their little cupboards 
 were plates and tea-things, with something to eat or 
 drink in them. 
 
 X 
 
282 
 
 ALONE IN THE WORLD. 
 
 THE WOMEN S APARTMENTS. 
 
 283 
 
 I'l! 
 
 " Many of them," said the manager, " cannot get 
 into the big hall, or they have no appetite at tlie 
 regular hours, and so we give them whatever they 
 like here, and they manage to pick a bit here and 
 there, but they don't eat nmch." 
 
 What struck me as rather odd was that all the 
 men who were ill were at once transferred from the 
 sunny front rooms to the back north ones. I su^- 
 gested that this was likely to tell on them, the room 
 being more dull and the air less healthv: but the 
 doctor only shrugged his shoulders— ^' it was the 
 custom." 
 
 There was an old soldier to each pair of rooms, and 
 by ^Pplyi^g to him any man could go out into the 
 town for three or four hours; and by application to 
 the manager any man could go away for three or four 
 days into the country and see his friends—'' If he had 
 any," observed the manager, in a whisper, ''and 
 many of them have none." No wonder, methought, 
 these poor old men die oif quickly; alone in the 
 world, without a friend, or a hope, or a stinmlus of 
 life, what can a broken and forsaken man do, except 
 what Hezekiah did — turn his face to the wall and 
 die. In one room all the men were very aged and 
 weak, seven or eight, most of them on their beds, or 
 
 in them. It appeared that there were different rooms 
 for stages of debility. When a man became too 
 weakly for a front room, he was moved into the back 
 one. If this weakness went off, which it rarely did, 
 he was restored to the front ; but if it increased he 
 was moved on to another room — the one we were 
 in — and he never went back again. What a death- 
 knell, methought, was this move ! Poor fellows ! 
 what a stillness there was in this room ! They were 
 all slowly dying, not of old age, but of weariness of 
 spirit and vacancy of purpose. Many of them had 
 pulled the coverlet over their heads and faces, and the 
 only thing you saw were the outlines of the form^ be- 
 neath their neat grey bedding, motionless. 
 
 From thence we went upstairs, a broad flight, with 
 easy shallow steps for the old women to get up and 
 down. The apartments upstairs were arranged pre- 
 cisely as those below, and the same order as regarded 
 health and sickness was carried out. These rooms 
 were more light and cheerful than those below, as is 
 generally the case in similar circumstances, and so the 
 ladies had the pleasantest part of the house, as is but 
 right and becoming towards ladies. The only draw- 
 back was the stairs, if any of them wished to go out, 
 and this was a serious set-off in many cases ; but then 
 
 
 L%„ 
 
ii I 
 
 284 
 
 COJroitlON OF THE WOMEN. 
 
 in this life there always mil be some drawback to 
 every advantageous position. The rooms were fur- 
 nished in the same way as those of the men, except 
 that in addition to the small cupboard to each bed, 
 there was a handy little table for needlework, and 
 the small inevitable littery odds and ends which seem 
 everywhere to form an appendage to the female pre- 
 sence—a kind of material atmosphere which enve- 
 lops the woman and woman's arrangements, and in 
 which she lives and moves and has .her being. Here 
 were sometimes two or three women round one table, 
 with needle-work on part of it and tea-cups on 
 another. There was no such small sociable world to 
 be seen in the men's rooms below. In those rooms 
 the man appeared to be a wild animal, solitary and 
 uncouth ; while the woman was the sociable being— 
 the one was dying for want of the outer life, the 
 other made all her life within. No xvonder' the 
 latter lived the longer lives. To each pair of rooms, 
 as among the men, there was a superior to keep order 
 and quiet. 
 
 In the first room was a neat old person. The 
 manager whispered to me that " she was a member 
 of one of the highest families of Russia, bom a prin- 
 cess. She had married a medical man, in spite of the 
 
 ^ 
 
 FEMALE INMATES. 
 
 285 
 
 remonstrances of her relatives, and her family had 
 given her up iu consequence. Misfortunes came, the 
 doctor died, she had no children, and was penniless. 
 Though old she was capable of acting as the superior 
 of the two rooms, and \yas installed in that office." 
 Her face was pale and pleasing, her figure small and 
 slight. The smile and the expression and the manner 
 all told of a different class of person from those around 
 her. In the plain dress of the Hospice she was not re- 
 markable till you spoke to her, and then the pretty 
 manner and quiet unembarrassed demeanour were very 
 engaging. Poor lady ! she must have gone through 
 nmch trouble to make her look so contented and 
 cheerful in her present position. Anyhow it was a 
 rest after a struggle of life in which all pride of blood 
 and all romantic happiness and personal comfort had 
 gone down in the fight and left her a mere waif and 
 stray, a wreck on a barren shore. What a blessing 
 to k^v this Hospice, with its healthy spacious rooms and 
 good food, and, moreover, an office of confidence. In 
 another room was a small delicate person. She too 
 was of the better class, a niece of one of the present 
 imperial ministers at St. Petersburg. When I ex- 
 pressed my surprise at a gentleman so high allowing 
 liis niece to remain tliere, the manager said, " It was 
 
 II 
 
 » 
 
 ill 
 HI 
 
286 
 
 THE GERMAN WIDOW. 
 
 droll ; but," he added, - he is not rich, and if he re- 
 moved this person, and some day lost his appoint- 
 ment, she would be as badly off as ever ; besides, she 
 is well here, and she can go out and see her friends 
 when she likes/^ She had never married. I thought 
 she seemed to feel her situation, for she kept her seat 
 at her little table with her back to us, and never 
 looked up. One woman was a German from Saxony. 
 We talked about her old home near Dresden, a village 
 which I knew, and she was full of reminiscences of 
 the place. She had married a Russian, a tradesman, 
 and settled in Moscow. He had faUed, and left her 
 penniless. When I asked her why she had not gone 
 back to Saxony after losing her husband, " Ah ! no," 
 she said, tearfully, " I could not go away ; my hus- 
 band is buried here, and then my children too— I had 
 four— they are all dead, and they all lie near Moscow 
 —how could I go away and leave them all behind 
 me ? You see I am in the midst of them here !" 
 What a solace to the old affections ! In Saxony she 
 would have been lost— in the Hospice of Moscow she 
 was ^'in the midst of her children." 
 
 In the rooms appropriated to those women who 
 were failing there were fewer than in those of the men, 
 and these did not take to their bed as the latter did! 
 
 THE HOSPITAL. 
 
 287 
 
 They managed to find occupation with their tea and 
 talk, and in small employments suited to their nature, 
 and kept up longer. These small occupations, what a 
 blessing they are to poor humanity, and what a loss 
 it is to men that they have few or none such for their 
 old age or illness ! Happy the man who can turn his 
 mind to small things as well as large ones. The day 
 comes when he finds an interest in the former for 
 his health and enjoyment of life, when his powers of 
 study, of teaching, of mental activity are waning — 
 when liis day of great things is past. How much of 
 simple happiness, I often think, could men find in 
 their old age, if in their youth they were taught some 
 manual work — some small operation requiring care in 
 detail, sucli as carpentering, or book-binding, or shoe- 
 making, or netting! Women have their unfailing 
 needlework — what have men? Smoking! What a 
 stupid resource ! 
 
 Our way from this part of the building led through 
 the church into the hospital half of the establishment. 
 It was empty at that hour, but every morning there 
 is service in it, and all of the old people who can at- 
 tend do so, but there is no compulsion. Very many 
 are not able to hobble so far. 
 
 In the hospital part the doctor was in his own par- 
 
 si 
 
288 
 
 SANITARY ARRANGEMENTS. 
 
 THE GOVERNOR S ROOM. 
 
 289 
 
 ticular element. Here the same order was observed 
 — the men downstairs and the women on the upper 
 floor. The detail of this part of the Hospice was more 
 elaborate than the other, for here every modern re- 
 quisite was supplied in the promotion of cleanliness 
 and comfort for the dymg persons who were re- 
 moved here at the last. Evidently this part of the 
 institution was very carefully looked after, and the 
 bath-rooms were particularly cheerful, as were those 
 in which the poor old people were to end their days. 
 There were nurses moving about with that noiseless 
 step and composed manner so peculiar to the genus, 
 and which tell so clearly of a thorough knowledo-e 
 of their business. In various rooms were small 
 kitchen stoves for the easy and rapid preparation 
 of restoratives of the sinkmg strength of the sick and 
 the dymg. In one room were three or four beds, 
 all occupied by old men too ill to remain in the 
 larger rooms. Here, with the coverlets drawn over 
 their heads, they lay still, awaiting the final hour, and 
 a few days more would see them all carried away to 
 their last home in the cemetery. 
 
 In this part of the building were some apartments 
 used as a general hospital for the sick of the better 
 classes in the city. There were some ladies in the fe- 
 
 male departments ; and in one room for men were 
 three persons in bed, young men, all of them members 
 of noble families of Moscow. The manager whis- 
 pered to me " that there were many noble families 
 
 very poor." After ivhat the Count L had told 
 
 me of the subdivision of property this was not difficult 
 to understand. There w^ere beds for one hundred 
 men, and the same number of women in this general 
 hospital, but there were only a few occupied. 
 
 This happened to be the first day of September^ 
 and this being the day of distribution of money to 
 poor pensioners, I entered the room of the governor 
 of the institution at the moment that this was going 
 on. This was the public and official apartment, one 
 of noble proportions on the ground-floor. Full- 
 length portraits of the Czars Alexander, Nicholas, and 
 the second Alexander, were on the walls ; and the 
 usual long " board of green cloth " stretched down the 
 centre of the room for the uses of the " council of ad- 
 ministration." In a corner was the private table of the 
 Governor of the institution, a fine old man, tall and 
 soldierly — a general officer. He invited me in a cor- 
 dial and frank way to a seat, and we sat and talked 
 over the Hospice, while his secretary at a far-off door 
 received and despatched the claimants of the pensions. 
 
 u 
 
290 
 
 EXPENSES OF THE HOSPICE. 
 
 SOCIETY FRATERNELLE. 
 
 291 
 
 Tliese were principally women, in number about two 
 hundred ; and among them, in the course of the year, 
 is distributed the sum of ten thousand silver roubles — 
 equal to about one thousand five hundred pounds ster- 
 ling. On my asking the Governor wliat were the qua- 
 lifications for entrance into the Hospice as well as for 
 the pension list, he said, 
 
 "• The applications for both are not very numerous, 
 so many people of the decent class being disinclined to 
 tell the tale of their distress. Indeed, we keep a man 
 whose business it is to seek out deserving persons in 
 want, and this man, too, makes all inquiries about 
 those who do apply to us of their own accord. None 
 under a certain age can come into the Hospice, and 
 helplessness and poverty are the principal claims ad- 
 vanced. Of course a certain respectability of charac- 
 ter is requisite ; but," said the General, '' misfortune 
 is the principal qualification for both, and of that we 
 have plenty in oui- country to fill many such institu- 
 tions." 
 
 The general expenses of the Hospice, he said, were 
 about thirty thousand roubles per annum. Tliere 
 was also an expenditure of ten thousand roubles on 
 the pensions, and in addition another fund was pro- 
 vided of ten thousand roubles for marriage portions 
 
 i*"^ 
 
 to meritorious young persons, and for donations to 
 deserving individuals who were impoverished by mis- 
 fortune. Thus the whole sum expended annually 
 through the Hospice Sheremaytieff was about fifty 
 thousand roubles ; and as the estates and funds left 
 for this munificent purpose produced about fifty-three 
 thousand roubles a year there was a sum left over 
 for repairs of buildings. There were about forty mar- 
 riage gifts to girls in each year, of one hundred rou- 
 bles each. 
 
 On my referring to what the general had said of 
 the Hospice keeping a man to search out respectable 
 persons in want, he observed, 
 
 '' There is in Moscow a body of men who may be 
 allied a ' Soci^te Fraternelle,' and who make it their 
 business to search out poor families, and aid them by 
 advice, by money, by medical attendance, by better 
 food. These persons even rent houses in different 
 parts of Moscow, and place in them some of the sick 
 and destitute," and the fine old soldier's eyes gleamed 
 as he related these proofs of the warm-heartedness 
 and the active benevolence of his countrymen. '^ You 
 see," he said, '' out in the country, in wild villages, 
 our common people are not much looked after ; but 
 
 u 2 
 
292 
 
 RUSSIAN BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 293 
 
 in the towns, and especially in Moscow, we try to do 
 something to make up for this." 
 
 I could only offer all my homage of praise to such 
 noble acts of benevolence as that Hospice, and its ad- 
 mirable and considerate detail towards the aged and 
 the helpless, a credit to any people and any country. 
 Muthought, as I walked home, that this Hospice, and 
 what I had seen to-day, and what I had heard of the 
 '* Societe Fraternelle " of Moscow, spoke volumes in 
 favour of the kindly nature of the Russian people, 
 and showed that there is a fine and noble side, as 
 well as a vicious one, to the Russian character. 
 
 P 
 
 I 
 
 \m 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Vifiit to the Convent of Troitsa— Its Foundation, Destruction and Re- 
 establishment — Historical Reminiscences connected with the Convent 
 —Napoleon's Attempt to seize the Building and its Treasures— The 
 Patriarch Philarete's First Railway Journey— The Town, the Valley, 
 and the Convent— Agricultural Labour done by Women— The Col- 
 lege and Churches of Vefania— Residence of the Metropolitan Pla- 
 ton— Old Church— Representation of the Mount of Olives— Valuable 
 Paintings— The Tomb of Platon— The Church of Gethsemane— An 
 Ecclesiastical Diversion or Feint— Appearance of the Metropolitan— 
 A Singular Monastery— Fanaticism in the Russo-Greek Church — 
 Recluses in Underground Cells — Religion and Usefulness. 
 
 "VTO one can go to Moscow without going to Troitsa. 
 This is an imperative duty on a traveller, for 
 Troitsa is a part of Moscow story, as it is the Holy of 
 Holies of religious Russia. It lies at a distance of 
 forty wersts, near thirty miles, due north of the city. 
 This celebrated place is a fortress as well as a con- 
 vent, and has fought its battles, stood its sieges, 
 beaten off its besiegers, and unfurled its flag of 
 victory. It dates from the year 1342, and was found- 
 ed by St. Sergius, as were so many other convents. 
 
 \ 
 
294 
 
 CONVENT OF TROTTSA. 
 
 Sacked in 1408 by the Tahtars, underthe Khan Edigei, 
 it was re-established in 1423, since which time its 
 sacred precincts have been dishonoured by no hostile 
 foot. In 1 608 it was besieged by a force of thirty 
 thousand Poles, but it beat off all attacks for sixteen 
 months, and was then relieved ; and even so late as 
 since the election of the Romanoff foniily to the Im- 
 perial throne Troitsa beat off a body of Poles. On 
 two occasions its strong walls were the refuge and 
 defence of Peter the Great and of his half-brother, 
 John, when boys, and when their sister Sophia, in 
 her intrigues to maintain her influence and her hold 
 on the throne, roused the Pretorian Streltsi in her 
 fiivour ; and here Natalia, the mother of Peter, re- 
 tained him in secret until the ambitious and able So- 
 phia was put down and incapacitated from further mis- 
 chief by imprisonment for her life. In 1812 the Em- 
 peror Napoleon sent out from Moscow on more than 
 one occasion a body of his troops with orders to 
 seize Troitsa and its treasures, but something always 
 prevented the troops from reaching it. The priests 
 and the devotees declare that it was the Virgin and 
 St. Sergius combined who threw obstacles in the way 
 of the expedition, and rendered it futile, before the 
 troops got half way. Of course this is the true ex- 
 
 VISIT TO TROITSA. 
 
 205 
 
 planation of the matter ; but there are some foolish 
 people who say that, as there was a heavy body of 
 Russians placed by the commander-in-chief on the 
 Twer road to the north-west, and another on the Vla- 
 dimir road to the north-east, and as these two joined 
 hands across the Troitsa road, which ran due north 
 half-way between them. Napoleon s men found it not 
 convenient to pass the line of these Russian bodies, as 
 they might not have got back again. So the Troitsa 
 treasures remained untouched. As the convent once 
 possessed over one hundred thousand serfs it may be 
 imagined the treasures were worth an effort on the part 
 of Napoleon ; they are, in fact, something astounding 
 in gold and silver and jewels ; but thirty miles are a 
 long road for weakened and disheartened troops, with 
 the Virgin and St. Sergius very angry in front, and 
 two armies of highly-fed and fierce undaunted sol- 
 diery shaking hands across it. 
 
 One day in conversation with the English Consul 
 he very kindly proposed that his son, a very intelli- 
 gent young man, and a capital Russian scholar, should 
 be my companion to Troitsa for a day. Could any- 
 thing be more well-timed and advantageous? So one 
 morning my young friend and I started by an early 
 train, and at ten o'clock we were at Troitsa. As we 
 
296 
 
 THE PATRIARCH AND THE RAILWAY. 
 
 TROITSA. 
 
 297 
 
 went my companion said that this railway was at first 
 strongly objected to by the Church party, as the Pope 
 at Rome had done at first in the case of his railway • 
 and when it was completed the Patriarch Philarete, an 
 old gentleman imbued with anti-railway ideas, as being 
 anti-Church, and convinced that this iron road was a 
 very levelling invention, had declared he would not 
 travel by it. But at last, finding that the sovereign 
 and nobles travelled by it, and that even priests did 
 so without any open demonstration of displeasure on 
 the part of the Virgin or St. Sergius, he was coaxed 
 into trying it too. A small favoured few went witli 
 him from Moscow to Troitsa ; and when he found 
 how very easy and smooth and swift he moved along 
 through the country, his face, at first serious and 
 troubled, as if he were undertaking a very doubtful 
 matter which might bring on him a judgment and a 
 punishment, gradually relaxed and brightened. After 
 a time one of his companions, observing the effect on 
 him, ventured to ask him what he thought of it ? 
 This wa^ a posing question to a man in a state of 
 mind half way from objection to satisfaction; but 
 being, as he was, a man of ability and not narrowed 
 beyond a certain legitimate point by prejudices, not 
 blind to realities, he shook his head kindly and re- 
 
 plied, *^It is very clever." From this time he tra- 
 velled by it always. 
 
 Troitsa is a large village, or small town. A steep- 
 sided winding valley runs through the country, and 
 on one side of this is the little straggling town, on the 
 other the convent. The valley, with a small stream 
 at the bottom, winds round three sides of a hill, and "^ 
 on this height the lofty walls of the convent, thirty 
 feet high, with many towers, rise grandly and well- 
 defined into the air. The valley forms a natural 
 broad deep ditch to the fortress on the three sides, 
 and on the fourth the ponderous wall runs over an 
 open level space, long and broad. On this open 
 space are many carriages and droschkies for hire, 
 numerous booths of small commodities for sale, and 
 some considerable buildings, consisting of hotels, 
 stables, and a few shops and common houses, the 
 whole dependent on the convent for existence. The 
 convent is the life of the place. 
 
 On arriving at the station we found a considerable 
 collection of people, and heard that by good fortune 
 this was a day of some importance, a day on which a 
 certain church or shrine in the immediate vicinity of 
 the convent was open to the entrance of women — the 
 only day in the whole year on which they were not 
 
 t>¥,. 
 
298 
 
 VEFANIA. 
 
 THE METROPOLITAN PLATON. 
 
 2D9 
 
 excluded. My companion and I agreed that \vc 
 would take a carriage and drive to the unlocked-for- 
 a-day shrine, and also to one or two other sacred spots 
 in the neighbourhood, and finish with the convent. 
 " For," said my companion, " when once we are in 
 the convent we shall never get out again in time for 
 anything else." 
 
 So we drove to a small village called Vefania, in 
 Russian— Bethany, in English. This is about two 
 miles from Troitsa. The country was picturesque 
 with woods and hills, and as we approached Wfania 
 there were long sheets of water in wooded hollows a 
 pretty succession of small lakes. The people in num- 
 bers were in the fields, heavy with the ripe corn ; but 
 I observed that all these labourers were women, 
 reapers and gatherers into slieaves, a sight which 
 wounds the eyes. It is a bad sign of a country and 
 its civilized condition Avhen women do the liard work 
 in the fields, and the men idle in the villages with 
 brandy and tobacco. 
 
 Vefania stood on a high bank, at the extremity of 
 the lakes, and consisted but of a few buildin^rg which 
 might almost be summed up in these— a colleo-o two 
 churches, and a diminutive dwelling-house. The col- 
 lege was a considerable white building, now empty. 
 
 It had been once occupied by students for the 
 church in the days of the former and famous Metro- 
 politan, Platon. Passing this we arrived at a pretty 
 gateway with a quaint tower above it, beyond which, 
 in a grass inclosure, stood the two churches, a new 
 one and an old one, and a dwelling-house. This 
 house was of the most modest dimensions, consisting 
 of but two or three rooms on one storey. What a 
 quiet and retired and pretty spot it was ! The gate- 
 way, the iron railings painted and gilded, the quaint 
 old church, the bright new one, the little house with 
 a fountain in its front — all encircling the grass plot. 
 This had been the favourite place of residence of the 
 once famous Platon. In these few rooms he had 
 lived, in this rural spot, with his books, his windows 
 looking over his small garden to the lakes and the 
 woods and the towers of Troitsa, with his little church 
 beside him and the college which he had built close at 
 hand, and in which the education of young men gave 
 him, the learned man, a daily interest. By the fountain 
 was an inscription to the effect " that here the Emperor 
 Paul," — eccentric and unhappy Paul — '' with his Em- 
 press and children had one day come and paid a visit to 
 Platon, and had dined with him in the room upstairs." 
 How happy and how peaceful seemed the picture, 
 
300 
 
 platon's residence. 
 
 as one imagined the monarch and the bishop talking 
 as men, with the prattle of children aromid then! 
 -the quiet meeting and sociable hour-and then con- 
 trasted it with the troubled life and end full of horror 
 of the erratic and unfortunate Czar, only a man, and 
 not a monarch! We went up into the rooms. They 
 were exquisitely neat and bright and sunny, long and 
 rather narrow, the dra^ving-room within the dining- 
 room. They looked like a pretty French apartment 
 m the suburb of Passy or St. Germain. The carpet 
 and chairs were all of light cottage patterns, the latter 
 with chintz-covered cushions. Water-coloured paint- 
 ings of French scenery by French pencils, in the 
 style of Watteau, were numerous on the walls. The 
 walls were hung with paper, also of cottage patterns. 
 The view from the ^vindows, of wood, and water, and 
 wavy fields, was charming, and the rooms had a feel- 
 ing of home and repose about them which gave one a 
 happy idea of the great Metropolitan, a man of bright 
 and genial mind and refined tastes. To be sure the 
 sleeping-room was a curiously small closet at one end 
 of the drawing-room, just big enough for a pallet bed 
 and a diminutive table and a chair. It looked as if 
 the great ecclesiastic had wished to keep often around 
 him what would remind him of the first and early 
 
 THE OLD CHURCH. 
 
 301 
 
 h 
 
 days of his career, when he was but a simple servitor 
 of the church. At one end of the eating-room was 
 the door into the drawing-room, and at the other was 
 one opening on to a gallery or small corridor looking 
 into the church. The library was a small room from 
 the dining apartment, and here were still his famous 
 theses in Latin on a table. The whole had the air of 
 being only left for a day or two, and Platon expected 
 back. 
 
 The old church within the precincts of Platon's 
 residence was a small quaint building, now rarely 
 used. There was no flight of steps to it. You 
 entered at once on the ground into a corridor rimning 
 all round and enclosing a circular hall, and fully half 
 this hall, right across in front from side to side, was 
 occupied by a fanciful construction representing the 
 Mount of Olives at Jerusalem. This was the Bethany 
 of the place. Here were all the usual and appropri- 
 ate indentations of the ground, small hills and valleys, 
 corn-fields and grass, with olive-trees and shrubs, and 
 over which cattle and sheep were scattered, and 
 shepherds, and a procession of people on a pathway. 
 There were very few figures now remaining, but the 
 priest said that there had once been hundreds, but 
 that people had stolen them one by one, carrying them 
 
302 
 
 THE TOMB OF PLATON. 
 
 off as something sacred. The ''Mount" was full 
 twenty feet long and twelve feet high, rising from the 
 floor to the level of a gallery which ran round the 
 church over the corridor below, and must once have 
 been a very elaborate and clever production of the 
 devout artist. It was done by a Greek monk wlio 
 had been in the convent at Jerusalem. Now the 
 whole thing was faded, dilapidated, and dirty, and 
 the new and larger church hard by, with its fresh 
 gilding and brilliant priests, was taking away all wor- 
 shippers from the old decaying one which was now 
 but a relic of the past. In the corridor below there 
 was a '' Descent from the Cross," by Rubens, presented 
 by a Count Souwaroff; and a ''Holy Family" of 
 Correggio, given by the Prince Potemkin ; but these 
 were scarcely visible in the dingy, ill-lighted passage, 
 and were fading with the rest of the build in <>•. In the 
 crypt at the back of the " Mount of Olives " was the 
 tomb of Platon, his effigy in marble, his robes in cases. 
 The face was declared to be an exact likeness. The 
 head and forehead were fine, broad, and massive, and 
 the mouth full and genial, realizing the man of profound 
 religious theses in the morning in the study, and of 
 easy bright companionship at dinner time in the 
 afternoon in the pretty rooms of St. Germain with 
 
 GETIISEMANE. 
 
 303 
 
 Watteau pictures and chintz cushions. So the name 
 of Bethany remains, but the spirit of the place is 
 <rone, and Platon's tomb and robes are in dust and dirt. 
 
 AVe drove from this to "Gethsemane" — from the past 
 to the present. This is a church founded in 1845 by 
 Philarete, then the Metropolitan of Moscow, and was 
 in all its glor3\ Women are only admitted on one 
 day, the 29th of August, which is dedicated to the 
 ascent of the Virghi into heaven. Now " Bethany " 
 was still and sleeping, and "Gethsemane" was all 
 alive and awake. At the gates of the enclosure were 
 crowds of carriages and people, and a small im- 
 promptu town of vendors of fruit, wine, and kvas, 
 and vodka and tea, formed a small fair for a busy 
 trade. Within the gate was a grass enclosure, with 
 two churches and other pretty buildings and gardens, 
 and these stretched down to a shrubbery and a 
 shaded valley, with fine trees and a stream of water 
 with rustic bridges and seats, a pleasant ecclesiastic 
 retreat from Moscow and Troitsa. Clearly the Geth- 
 semane of to-day was a rival of Bethany of yesterday. 
 The enclosure was filled with people, principally 
 women ; the sex had taken advantage of its one day of 
 admission and mustered strong. 
 
 My companion and I at once went into the church. 
 
304 
 
 INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH. 
 
 A FEINT. 
 
 305 
 
 t 
 
 in which the service was going on. We found it full 
 to overflowing, and could hardly make our way in. 
 It was curiously built. We entered on a raised plat- 
 form, with an exit at either extremity, and from this 
 platform two staircases, of about twenty steps each 
 descended by the walls down into the body of the 
 church below, having its Ikonostas on that lower level. 
 There was a gallery and another Ikonostas above, 
 so that there was in fact a kind of double church— one 
 above, one below. The lower church was now in 
 use. We found all the platform crowded, both stair- 
 cases crammed with people, and also the body of the 
 place below and the gallery above. The gates of the 
 Ikonostas were closed, incense was rising from within 
 it, and the fine deep tones of the priests rose and fell 
 as the service proceeded. Occasionally the body of 
 rich sound ceased, and then a thin, weak, but rather 
 musical voice chanted a few sentences, and was again 
 succeeded by the powerful voices of the priests 
 in a mass of sound like that of an organ. Many of 
 the people had books, and were very attentive. The 
 weak, thin voice— was it that of the Metropolitan 
 Philarefe? my companion inquired; but some said 
 ^^Yes," and some said ^^No." At last the service 
 came to an end, and then commenced a scene of ex- 
 
 traordinary confusion. The moment the gates of the 
 Ikonostas opened, an elderly priest came out, and 
 there was a general movement to kiss his hand. The 
 crush was so great that we thought it better to get out 
 and see the Metropolitan go by out of doors from the 
 one church to the other, as we were informed he 
 would do. So we went out, and in a few minutes 
 he appeared at the head of a procession of priests, the 
 people forming a lane. But as he was not very old, 
 and was rather strong and sturdy, w^e came to the con- 
 clusion that after all this was not the Metropolitan, 
 particularly as we heard a service still going on in the 
 church. So we went back again. 
 
 On our re-entering the church, we found that the 
 Papa and the procession had been only a kind of feint 
 — a diversion of the throng from the Metropolitan. 
 He was still within the Ikonostas, as we were quietly 
 informed by an attendant. Only a few people were 
 in the church, on the platform, on the stairs, and in 
 the galleries. As the time and .occasion seemed 
 propitious, there was now an attempt to get the 
 Metropolitan out. But now commenced a more ex- 
 traordinary scene than the former one. The moment 
 that the gilded doors were opened and the old man 
 with his white hair and thin face appeared, there was 
 
 .L 
 
306 
 
 EXTRAORDINARY SCENE. 
 
 THE METROPOLITAN. 
 
 307 
 
 a rush from all quarters towards him. The smoke of 
 the incense still filled the Ikonostas, and in the midst 
 of this cloud appeared five or six men, the old man in 
 front, erect and noble-looking, clad in white, with a 
 crozier of silver with precious stones projecting from 
 a blue velvet case in his hand, and priests around him. 
 Four men in a rich blue and silver livery now ap- 
 proached, one supporting hira on either side, and two 
 in front to clear the way. But the first step the Me- 
 tropolitan made down into the church was the signal 
 for a fight. The people fairly dashed at the old man 
 to seize his hands and kiss them, and had it not been 
 for the two supporting servants he must have been 
 thrown down in the rush. The two men in front 
 were fairly overpowered and hurled back on the 
 others, and the whole party looked as if they would 
 come in the melee to the ground. Then the two 
 leaders, savage at this discomfiture, caught hold of 
 the people, men and women, indiscriminately, and 
 threw them one on the other, breaking out into loud 
 abuse of these zealous devotees. In the midst of this 
 the old man struggled on, or rather the liveried at- 
 tendants bore him along, passive in their hands, his 
 thin white hands every now and then appearing 
 above the heads of the throng, and rapidly making 
 
 crosses till seized and dragged down again into the 
 crowd of bending heads. When the women had suc- 
 ceeded, in spite of furious men and raging attendants, 
 in kissing the white hands, they fell back in a dis- 
 hevelled condition, caps and garments all awry, and, 
 breathless and happy, went off in knots into cor- 
 ners, put each other to rights, and told of their 
 victories. The men walked grandly off, shook their 
 shock heads, and gave themselves a general convul- 
 sion after the fight, like Newfoundland dogs on 
 emerging from water. How the old man got up the 
 stairs I do not know, for an attendant piteously 
 begged us to go off the platform, and let the Metropo- 
 litan come up and get out. My companion and I of 
 course went out, that is, we suffered ourselves to be 
 carried hither and thither by the swaying mass of 
 outsiders, who had found out what was going on in- 
 side, and were resolved on getting in to share in the 
 blessings their friends were receiving from the aged 
 chiefs hands. We gained with difficulty a corner on 
 a staircase by the outer porch leading up to the colle- 
 giate rooms above, and here we waited until the old 
 man came by. Presently he appeared, a wreck, help- 
 lessly borne along by the two men in livery, surging 
 masses before and behind, while the two attendants 
 
 x2 
 
308 
 
 % CHARACTER OF PHILARETE. 
 
 who cleared the way were by this time red and 
 streaming with perspiration from their exertions, 
 savage with the difficulties they liad to encounter, 
 and utterly reckless of all decorum or considera- 
 tion towards men or women. How they fought !— 
 off the platform, through the porch, down the steps, 
 and out at last into the open air. It was exactly Hke 
 a rouge at football under the playing-fields wall at 
 Eton. The scene at the Simonoff Convent on the 
 day of the fair, when the Superior walked along the 
 paved way from his lodgings to the church, was one 
 of violent devotion strange to witness ; but this scene 
 at '' Gethsemane " left it far in the rear in its fanatical 
 furv. 
 
 Poor old gentleman! this was among his last 
 earthly triumphs— if so it can be called— a triumph 
 of his popularity — an occasion for the ardent ex- 
 pression of the people's love towards hhn. He is 
 now gone to his rest. Philarete was an amiable and 
 an able and devoted man, a good scholar, a man of a 
 liberal tone of thought, given to enjoy the literature 
 of other countries and the conversation of forein-ners 
 Like a patriarch of old he has been gathered to his 
 fathers, full of years and of honours. 
 
 My companion and I took a quiet way across the 
 
 THE FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE OF M^'COW. 309 
 
 grassy enclosure to the shrubby valley, and the mur- 
 muring stream, and the shady fir-trees. How quiet 
 it all was after the savage religious drama enacted in 
 the church ! As we went, we met various little 
 groups of persons sauntering about in the valley and 
 on the lawns, some of them acquaintances of my com- 
 panion. Among the latter was one lady, small, still 
 youthful, neatly dressed, and with a cheerful coun- 
 tenance, pleasing from the expression of goodness on 
 it. As we strolled along I asked him who this lady 
 was. 
 
 ^' That lady," said he, ^' is a very remarkable per- 
 son. She is the Florence Nightingale of Moscow — 
 the life and soul of many of the best charities of 
 the city ; she is always occupied, and whatever she 
 undertakes she does well. She spends her fortune 
 and her time in these things." 
 
 On my expressing a wish to have known her and 
 seen her in Moscow, he said she was only here for a 
 day on a holiday — the Women's Day at Gethsema- 
 ne. I could not help a regret at thus missing an 
 opportunity of being acquainted with a lady so excel- 
 lent and so estimable. In the midst of all the cor- 
 ^ruption and the gambling in high places, and the 
 depravity and fanaticism of the lower classes in 
 
 ■ « 
 
 ! . 
 
310 
 
 UNDERGROUND MONASTERY. 
 
 CELLS OF THE RECLUSES. 
 
 311 
 
 Moscow, it was evident there wa^ also a warm and 
 lofty spirit of benevolence, a refining and large- 
 hearted tenderness for others in the Russian, not 
 surpassed in any people or in cities of more civil- 
 ized countries. There must be a tone of mind wor- 
 thy of a great nation where such things are done, 
 and where such persons live and use their time and 
 means as this lady, and the SheremaytiefF, and the 
 Galitzin, and many others of their class. 
 
 Across the wooded valley was a singular place 
 —a kind of monastery, part of it above ground 
 and part underground. We purchased each of us 
 a taper of a man at the head of a flight of steps, 
 many other persons doing the same, and descended, 
 headed by an attendant, into a cavernous place, re- 
 minding one of the catacombs at Rome on a small 
 scale. In this we followed corridor after corridor, 
 narrow and low, now emerging into a small chapel, 
 then into a cavern with a fountain, and then into 
 a cave where was a well. As we went we passed 
 many a door in the rocky side. These doors were 
 the entrances into small caves or cells inhabited by 
 monks, recluses from the world. Fanaticism is so 
 fostered in the Greek Church that it results in some 
 cases in the production of hermits and anchorites, as 
 
 in the days of St. Anthony. Here, in this nineteenth 
 centurv, were men who had shut themselves up from 
 the world in dark caves underground for years, 
 thinking they were doing God service. They were 
 voluntary recluses. On passing one closed door, the 
 attendant said, 
 
 "The man in there has been shut up for eight 
 
 years without going out." 
 
 On coming to another door, we found it open. 
 
 '' Ah !" said the attendant, '' that man has been in 
 there for thirteen years, but he is gone out to-day to 
 
 the fete:' 
 
 We went in, and found that the place consisted of 
 an outer cell and two inner ones. Both doors were 
 open, and in one of these was nothing but a pallet 
 bedstead and a chair. 
 
 " The man who was in there died," said the at- 
 tendant ; " ho was in there a good many years, and a 
 little time since he died." 
 
 The other cell was furnished. These cells were 
 about ten feet long by eight broad, and six in height. 
 There was a chimney to each and a small stove. 
 The furniture consisted of a wooden pallet bedstead, 
 with a straw mattress and a coverlet. There was a 
 chair, a small stock of wood in a corner, two or three 
 
 ^1 
 
312 
 
 AN UNPRODUCTIVK LIFE. 
 
 313 
 
 eartlienAvare pots for cooking-in one of them some 
 scraps of fish— and a few stained and worn books of 
 prayer on a shelf In a corner was the never-omitted 
 little picture, or image, as it is called in Russia, of the 
 Virgin. What a den for a human being to occupy 
 voluntarily during thirteen years ! What an empty 
 and unproductive life, dragging vacantly on from day 
 to day by the charity of others, and giving back 
 not one single act of usefulness! What is re- 
 ligion, if it be not useful ? What a contrast, me- 
 thought, between this man breathing away his days in 
 ilarkness and idle dreaming, voluntarUy shutting out 
 the bright sun which God has given so beneficently 
 to his creatures, and letting the powers of a Godlike 
 reason and all the wealth of human spnpathies run 
 to waste, and that little lady on the lawn by the 
 church, so abounding in active goodness to the poor 
 and the desolate, so bright an example of the capa- 
 bility which even one fragile but earnest human be- 
 ing possesses of lighting up the hearths and warming 
 the hearts of the unfortunate and the unhappy many" 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A New Investment for the Money of Monks — The Walls of the Monas- 
 tery — Spacious Promenade — Interesting Serving Monk — Interior 
 of the Church — Gaudy Paintings — Restoration of Frescoes by an En- 
 thusiastic ^Merchant — An Ill-advised Monk — Sale of Holy Water — 
 The Day of St. Serge— 'The Baker s Shop— The Cathedral— Sale of 
 Candles, Images, and Oil — Rich Display of Pictures, Gold, Silver, 
 and Precious Stones — The Treasury — Dining Hall of the Monks — 
 Primitive Hospitality— The Hospital— The Dying Monks— The 
 Greek Monk— Differences in Monkish Life— The Bloodstained 
 Tower — A Monk's Cell — Ecclesiastical Academy — ^The Troitsa Con- 
 vent a ^licrocosm. 
 
 MY companion and I drove back to the convent. 
 It is to be feared that the monks of Troitsa are 
 not altogether spiritually-minded, but that a certain 
 amount of worldly leaven has leavened the whole 
 establishment. At all events there are some men 
 among them who possess what are called practical 
 minds. Perhaps great wealth and long-continued 
 prosperity have had their usual effect even on these 
 recluses, and have tarnished a little the purity of their 
 nature. Anyhow there is a large hotel on the broad 
 
 1! 
 
314 
 
 WALLS OF THE MONASTERY. 
 
 AN OLD MONK. 
 
 315 
 
 square or place immediately outside the convent walls 
 which hotel has been built by the monks for the 
 benefit of visitors to Troitsa, and as a good invest- 
 ment of a portion of their abounding treasure. My 
 companion and I found a good native cuisine at the 
 hostelry, and then went to see the interior of this 
 famous monastery. 
 
 The walls have a circuit of one mile, minus only 
 two hundred and sixty yards. These are battle- 
 mented, and are a grand and striking feature of the 
 place. In some places, for instance where they tra- 
 verse the public square, they reach a height of over 
 thirty feet, and with the ditch below, form a noble 
 and warlike barrier. On other sides, where they 
 hang over the narrow, steep valley, their height has 
 a still more imposing effect. On the inside there is a 
 raised covered way, which runs round the entire wall. 
 It is neatly paved with brick, and raised so high 
 that those on it can look out through the openinf^s of 
 the battlements. It is about twenty feet in breadth, 
 and enclosed on its inner side by a low wall, and thus 
 there is always a spacious promenade of nearly one 
 mile in length, protected by its heavy tiled roof from 
 the heats of summer and the snows of winter. 
 There are commanding views from it over all the 
 
 surrounding country ; and beneath it are the many 
 extensive offices for summer and winter stores, sta- 
 bling, and other purposes of the convent. 
 
 A fine arched gateway opens from the public square 
 into the outer courts, and entermg you find yourself 
 in the sacred precincts — large grassy places, shady 
 trees, paved pathways, broad and orderly, churches, 
 offices, halls — a picturesque carelessness of arrange- 
 ment, a rich and beautiful seclusion, a place of repose 
 and rest, of study and meditation. That peculiar 
 charm pervades it which one experiences on entering 
 a cathedral. You feel inclined to sit down and be 
 silent, and let your spirit partake of the beauty and 
 the sentiment of the genius locL 
 
 My companion and I followed a broad paved way 
 leading into the centre of the enclosure, where were 
 scattered about the principal buildings. As we were 
 passing a large church — The Assumption of the Virgin 
 — an old man in a monkish dress stood on the top of 
 a flight of steps beneath the usual projecting porch, in 
 which there was a mixture of Italian and Byzantine 
 styles with a Norman arch, rich, coloured, gilded, bi- 
 zarre. There was something more than usually pleasing 
 in the old man's face, and while we stopped for a 
 moment hesitating whether we should go on at once 
 
 
r. 
 
 316 
 
 A GREEK CATHEDRAL. 
 
 INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH. 
 
 317 
 
 to the churcli of the Trinity— the cathedral— tlie slirine 
 of St. Serge— the place of gold and silver, of diamonds 
 and of jewelled lamps— the old man bowed and ad- 
 dressed us in French. This of course attracted us. In 
 reply to our questions he said he had once been a 
 soldier, and having gone to Paris in 1815 Avith the 
 Russian army and the Czar Alexander, he had while 
 there picked up a few French phrases. On retirincr 
 from the army on account of a wound, lie liad entered 
 Troitsa as a serving monk, and liad been there ever 
 since. Now he took care of this churcli, the largest 
 in the monastery, though not the cathedral. A Greek 
 cathedral is not an imposing structure such as are ours 
 in England, but usually is only a church rather 
 larger than others. No Latin or Teuton would call 
 the cathedral of the Kremlin by that title. The old 
 man was now seventy-five years of age. He was hale, 
 hearty, and genial, and in his limited and broken 
 French voluble about Paris and his military days. 
 Evidently, in spite of his many quiet years of ecclesi- 
 astical life as a monkish servitor in Troitsa, the stir- 
 ring portion of his youth stood out in his memory in 
 strong relief The simple monotony of his latter 
 years seemed to have but little interest for him when 
 I questioned him on them and their occupation, but 
 
 his eyes lighted up with animation and his manner was 
 full of vivacity when the French days and the army 
 were alluded to. As is often the case with elderly 
 persons the long-gone days and their events — and 
 such events too ! — had the strongest hold on him. 
 
 The whole interior of the church was brilliant with 
 Greek painting. Evidently there had been lately a grand 
 restoration and a general re-painting of pictures on 
 a "reat scale, an unusual thing in the Russian churches, 
 wliich, as a rule, it must be said, are dingy and dirty 
 in their interior, though smart enough outside. The 
 liuge and massive square pillars in the centre of the 
 clmrch, wliich supported the cupolas above, were 
 gaudy with masses of strong colour ; but the ex- 
 tremity, the great wall at the end facing the Ikonos- 
 tas, was a marvel. On this lofty, broad, and un- 
 broken face from pavement to roof, and from side to 
 side, were two monstrous pictures, frescoes. A per- 
 pendicular line in the centre divided them. One re- 
 presented Salvation ; and ere were gigantic and im- 
 possible figures of hum an beings, defying all proportions, 
 but intended to express the enjoyment of ease and 
 happiness, and all going upwards to heaven. The other 
 represented Condemnation ; and here were scenes of 
 , torment and woe unutterable, and figures of hapless 
 
 
|S! 
 
 318 
 
 RESTORATION OF TROITSA. 
 
 THE LIBERAL MERCHANT. 
 
 319 
 
 beings all plunging desperately into Hades. But 
 the colouring and the drawing ! The monstrosity of 
 the whole was an outrage on Art. These alarniinfr 
 frescoes are said to be of the seventeenth century. 
 It appeared that a Moscow merchant lately on a visit 
 to Troitsa had remarked the condition of the convent 
 generally, the state of exterior dilapidation of many 
 of its buildings, and the dirty and faded interiors of 
 all. Seized with a religious fervor he declared his 
 intention to spend a large sum of money in the 
 restoration of Troitsa generally ; he would repair- 
 he would paint— he would spend one hundred thou- 
 sand roubles! It was a grand resolution. It was 
 true that the convent, being very rich, enormously 
 wealthy in jewels, and receiving large sums of money 
 every year from devotees, and having, besides, 
 landed estates, might have accomplished these repairs 
 itself, or, indeed, might have prevented the necessity 
 for them ; but the money had gone in other direc- 
 tions, and not in repairs and paint. There were 
 four hundred monks in Troitsa, and these were 
 not fed for nothing. Besides there were whispers 
 that some of the money went at times towards St. 
 Petersburg. After all, why should wealthy devo- 
 
 tees at Moscow be deprived, by such common vir- 
 tues as monkish care and prudence, of a grand oppor- 
 tunity of an act of soul-saving goodness ? The mer- 
 chant set about his work in good earnest. Artists from 
 Moscow were sent down to Troitsa, and this church 
 was repaired and repainted, inside and out, and these 
 two huge frescoes were restored, by the liberality of 
 the merchant and the genius of his artists. The for- 
 mer spent eight thousand five hundred roubles on 
 this church. There was a grand re-opening, and a 
 gorgeous ceremony, and everybody was happy. And 
 now the merchant, in the fulness of his satisfaction, 
 was meditating on a second work of restoration wor- 
 thy of his great intentions, when, lo ! some malevo- 
 lent spirit one night, prompted by Satan, whisper- 
 ed one of the monks to hint to him that what 
 he was doing was admirable — most admirable; but 
 still there was ^' a small something " to be done 
 about the convent which was even more important 
 than the restoration of the churches, if he would 
 allow him just to suggest it. ''A small some- 
 thing !" How very impertinent ! And this to a 
 man ardent with grand ideas! The merchant was 
 very wroth, and took it as a great offence that 
 
 )i 
 
320 
 
 SALE OF HOLY WATER. 
 
 when he was undertaking such a high and neces- 
 sary work a monk should suggest a diversion of liis 
 money to something else; it was an unpardonable 
 interference with his intention, and he would do no 
 more for ungrateful Troitsa. Miserable ill-inspired 
 monk ! By a few words he had brushed awav over 
 ninety thousand roubles. The merchant paid the 
 eight thousand five hundred roubles for the work of 
 the one church, and refused to spend another kopeck 
 on the place. 
 
 Immediately outside this church was a small and 
 graceful buildings like a diminutive chapel. It was 
 circular, of red brick, with white stone framing of the 
 windows, white arches, supported by slender twisted 
 columns, and with fretted ornaments — a composite 
 and fanciful structure. Going round to the door, we 
 found the interior occupied by a monk keeping a little 
 shop. Here were photographs of people and build- 
 ings, crosses, rosaries, pictures of the Virgin, carvings 
 in wood, and other wares of a like kind, all in neat 
 glass cases on two counters. But the chief and prin- 
 cipal stock in trade of the monk was water. This 
 was the cause of all the rest. At the far side of tlie 
 little apartment— the two counters on either hand- 
 there was a well with a three foot wall enclosincr it. 
 
 THE HOLY WATER OF TROITSA. 
 
 321 
 
 and a silver bucket with rope and chain resting on it. 
 The well was only about ten feet deep, and the buck- 
 et would hold about two gallons. This was the holy 
 water of Troitsa. 
 
 The monk was a cheerful talking man, and gave us 
 a smiling welcome as we stepped into his little circu- 
 lar room. He said that people came in every day, 
 and most of these purchased something, either an 
 image, or a photograph, or some beads, or a locket 
 with portraits of two saints — all of which he recom- 
 mended to us in turn with quite an engaging, smiling 
 way, and a turn for business worthy of the Rows in 
 the Kitai Gorod at Moscow, adding in a hearty way, 
 
 '' And then everybody drank some of the water, 
 that they did of course, even if they bought nothing, 
 and some would carry it away in little bottles ; of 
 course the water was free of all charge — and we 
 would drink some, it was so pure, and so healthy." 
 
 And with this he dropped the silver bucket down 
 to the water, and with two or three smooth easy pulls 
 at the rope, hand over hand, he had it up on the wall, 
 full and bright^with its sparkling contents. It cer- 
 tainly was delicious — 2i sweet clear water, and most 
 grateful on that hot summer day. We asked him about 
 the day of St. Serge — that must be a busy day for him. 
 
 Y 
 
322 
 
 THE BAKER S SHOP. 
 
 CHURCH OF ST. SERGE. 
 
 323 
 
 ^' Ah ! yes," he replied, " that is a great day, and 
 they all come here for the water, and it has happened 
 more than once that the well has been drunk dry— 
 every drop used— and the bucket at last only brought 
 up wet mud; but the people would have it, even 
 that." 
 
 We carried off some photographs—" done in the 
 convent," said the monk; "one of our brothers is very 
 clever at it." 
 
 From this we went on to another small picturesque 
 building, " where," said my companion, " the monks 
 sell loaves of a beautifully fine white bread, made 
 from wheat of their own growing and grinding ; lots 
 of people come here almost every day and buy these, 
 and then take them into the church of St. Serge and 
 have them blessed by the priest, who picks off a little 
 scrap as a toll." The baker s shop was neatness itself 
 A long counter ran from end to end of the room, some 
 fourteen or fifteen feet, and beyond this was a high long 
 range of closets, with shelves and drawers. In these 
 were the loaves. Two or three monks were standinir 
 about by the door and the counter, but the seller was 
 a young and handsome lad, scarcely out of his teens, 
 with long glistening hair parted in front and waving 
 and curling down over his shoulders. He had fine 
 
 eyes and a delicate complexion, and in his long plain 
 black dress he looked like a woman, his face was so 
 effeminate, and his throat so round and bare and 
 white. At our request the pretty grave bread-seller 
 produced various small loaves from different drawers 
 in a quick business style, perfect specimens of cottage 
 and, what one might call, toy loaves in shape, col- 
 our, and material. The roundness and proportion 
 of form and delicacy of colouring were as a work of 
 art. The sense of the beautiful was stronger in the 
 baker s shop than in the frescoes of the large church- 
 As we did not look like buyers for a family circle the 
 discerning young monk did not offer us any of the 
 paterfamilias loaves, fair two pounders, and even 
 larger. We were contented with toy specimens. 
 
 Going on from this we arrived at the cathedral — 
 the famous church of the Trinity — the Church of St. 
 Serge. Here were no steps, no twisted Byzantine co- 
 lumns, no projecting canopy, no raised corridor; the 
 entrance was level with the ground. But a long closed 
 portico, with a door at either end, was in front of the 
 
 entrance. 
 
 On entering one of the doors I found to my sur- 
 prise that all along the side of the portico opposite to 
 the entrance into the church was a high broad coun- 
 
 y 2 
 
 I 
 
324 
 
 TRADE IN OIL AND TAPERS. 
 
 A LESSON FOR YOUNG GIRI.S. 
 
 325 
 
 ter, and on this were piles of wax tapers, and jars 
 and cans of oil, while behind it were three or four 
 monks. Here was another shop, and evidently doing 
 a very considerable busmess. Reallv, methou<^ht 
 these Troitsa monks are wise in their generation ; they 
 not only have a large hotel on the Place outside the 
 gate, but they have a number of active trading estab- 
 lishments inside. At the great gateway I now re- 
 membered a notice in black letters on a white board to 
 this effect:— ^^n the Convent are sold candles, 
 images, bread, and oil." There were several small 
 lay traders with their stalls out on the Place oifering 
 the same wares for sale ; and this notice of the monks 
 appeared to be intended as a warning to pilgrims to 
 St. Serge, " Don't buy out there ; all these things are 
 better in our shop inside." It did look a little grasp- 
 ing, and not considerate to the small outsiders. Now 
 in this portico were people coming and going in and 
 out of the church, a perpetual movement, and as they 
 passed through it many of them stopped to buy some- 
 thing, a taper or two, or some oil, which they carried 
 away in little bottles brought for the purpose. The 
 oil-buyers, I observed, were invariably females. 
 There was a brisk trade, for two monks, fine large 
 men, were kept hard at work handing over the goods 
 
 across the counter, and receiving the kopecks in pay- 
 ment, while another had a desk and kept account. 
 The monk who served out the oil was a remarkably 
 fine, tall, and handsome man; but the perpetual 
 going about with a huge can of lamp-oil, filling it 
 from large jars, and then dispensing the contents into 
 numerous small-mouthed bottles, is a service not con- 
 ducive to coolness on a hot summer day, nor to clean- 
 liness of dress and person. The monk was steaming 
 with heat, and glistening with oil over his head and 
 hands and dress. In reply to my inquiry of what the 
 women and girls did with the oil, I was told that 
 they buy it to feed the lamps always burning in the 
 churches and before certain shrines and images ; and 
 that the priests teach their young devotees that it is a 
 very meritorious act to aid in keeping a lamp alight. 
 What a very ingenious little lesson for the youthful 
 female mind !— Thus— my dear little girl, you can do 
 your soul good and please the Virgin by making an 
 offering of holy oil to keep the lamp burning before 
 her image, or the shrine of St. Serge or St. Nicholas, 
 as the case may be. Imagine how many children 
 would grow up with that idea strong in their minds, 
 and how they would treasure up a kopeck or two con- 
 tinually, and spend it in oil in the portico, and go to 
 
 i 
 
326 
 
 TOMB OF ST. SERGE. 
 
 THE TREASURY. 
 
 327 
 
 the priest inside and have it blessed, and then hand 
 over the contents of the little bottle to the oil-keeper 
 with an entire confidence in having done a good ac- 
 tion. What a life-long sentiment or superstition to 
 the child, and what a life-long gain of money to the 
 monk and his fellows I I could not help thinking 
 that one of those oil-jars might be like the widow's 
 cruse, never failing,— for St. Serge must have a quan- 
 tity of oil offered to him which his lamp can never 
 consume, and what so natural as that the superfluity 
 of the morning oil should flow back steadily into that 
 jar in an evening stream ? 
 
 This famous church was, it must be said, very dirty, 
 but very rich in pictures, in gold, in silver, in preci- 
 ous stones, in lamps. What splendid diamonds, real, 
 and of immense size, on the picture of the Vu-gin, and 
 what costly lamps before the tonib of St. Serge ! In 
 front of this latter, which is composed entirely of sil- 
 ver, a chaste and graceful canopied projection from 
 the wall at one end of the Ikonostas, hang in a half- 
 circle a row of lamps. These are of the most fanci- 
 ful, varied, and elegant forms. There are perhaps 
 ten or a dozen, and each is an offering to St. Serge 
 by a personage. There is the lamp of the Emperor 
 Nicholas, and one presented by his Empress, one 
 
 by the Grand Duchess Marie, their daughter, one 
 by the present Emperor, and one by the present Em- 
 press ; then there is one of the little Grand Duke 
 Serge, named after the Saint, and so on. They are 
 suspended from a bow-shaped bar by gold chains, and 
 are of chased gold, set with precious stones, each one 
 an exquisite work of art. One of the most rich and 
 of most delicate workmanship was sent anonymously. 
 No one can guess who was the sender. The church 
 was half full of people. It was small for a cathedral, 
 and, with the exception of the Ikonostas and its 
 riches, the whole interior was one of faded finery and 
 worn-out furniture. The Moscow merchant !— what 
 an opportunity for him, if that foolish monk had but 
 known that unasked-for advice is a device of Satan. 
 We heard part of a service, the noble voices of the 
 priests pealing grandly through the building. 
 
 From this we went to the Treasury. This is a 
 marvellous collection of valuables. Here are many 
 rooms filled with cases of garments, ornaments, 
 arms, curious works of art, stuffs heavy with gold, 
 pearls, or precious stones. These arms and gar- 
 ments have each a story, the wearers of them hav- 
 mg been some Russian sovereign, potent noble, or 
 captured enemy in the olden time. More than one 
 
328 
 
 DINING HALL OF THE MONKS. 
 
 THE OFFICES. 
 
 329 
 
 il 
 
 '1i 
 
 of the cloaks and coats were thick with rows and 
 masses of pearls, and in one case these almost con- 
 cealed the cloth on which they were sewn. This 
 treasury is, however, of course, a modern collection. 
 There is nothing in it that can be correctly termed 
 antique. 
 
 On leaving tlie Treasury, we found a monk idling 
 about in one of the courts, so we enlisted him in our 
 service as explorers of the non-religious life of the 
 convent. Near the Trmity Church there was an ex- 
 tensive building, long and moderately lofty. It might 
 be a large hall, or it might be a fine library. The 
 chief and principal part of it appeared to be a bel 
 piano, first floor, with numerous lofty windows, and 
 without any attic above it. Moreover, it was painted 
 all over on its outside in a most bizarre style, resem- 
 bling nothing so much as the dress of a harlequin or 
 that of the Pope's guard at the Vatican. Mounting a 
 long flight of steps to this we found ourselves in a 
 noble hall— the dining hall of the monks. It was 
 empty now. It wa^ a grand apartment, with painted 
 walls and an arched ceiling, and the far end was 
 fitted up as a chapel, railed off with a low pretty gilt 
 iron railing. The hall could not have been less than 
 eighty feet in length exclusive of the chapel, and its 
 
 breadth about thirty-five. Thre^ long tables with 
 benches extended the entire length. The chapel end 
 was clean and bright with gilding, but the rest of the 
 hall, ceiling, and walls would have benefited much 
 by the roubles of the Moscow merchant. They were 
 thoroughly dirty and faded, a marked contrast with 
 the chapel, and also with the smart and fanciful exte- 
 rior. However, when one considers that some four 
 hundred monks sit down to a steaming dinner on 
 most days in that rather low-ceilinged hall, the condi- 
 tion of the walls is not surprising. In a small square 
 room opening into the hall by a side door, and hav- 
 ing a back staircase, were a few tables and stools. 
 This was the room for late comers to dinner. These 
 were not allowed to disturb those in the great hall 
 when once grace had been sung and the monks were 
 seated. Going down the back staircase, we came to 
 the ofiices — kitchen, bakery, and other places. These 
 were all arranged under the great hall. But it 
 was a pain to see the utter dirt and disorder of all 
 this part. We seemed to be at once carried back to 
 some rude, long-gone time, when Rurik reigned at 
 Moscow and Poles beleaguered Troitsa. The broken 
 stair, the grass-grown courts, the blackened walls, the 
 crumbhng brickwork, the neglect and the ruin, the 
 
330 
 
 PRIMITIVE HOSPITALITY. 
 
 11 
 
 soot-smeared kitchen, black and gloomy, the uncouth 
 and greasy monks, begrimed of face and hands and 
 dress — oh for the Moscow merchant ! 
 
 However, it was evident that the recluses did not 
 live badly. There were huge coppers for the daily 
 soup of fish and vegetables, and there was an exten- 
 sive hot plate, which told a tale of ingenious cookery. 
 Immense circular loaves of rye bread, brown and 
 wholesome, stood in ranges on mighty shelves, two 
 hundred of which were the daily consumption. 
 '' But," said one of the cooks, " there are others of 
 wheat, quite white, for the hospital and the sick.'' It 
 was the employment of eight monks, besides the 
 cooks, every day to make this rye bread for the gene- 
 ral use. Near the kitchen was the bakery, with its 
 vault-like ovens, and beyond this w^as a dark and de- 
 solate place, a rude outhouse. From the centre of it 
 rose substantial and blackened posts, on which, at 
 seven or eight feet from the ground, was placed a 
 rough-hewn platform of wood. Leaning against this 
 was a ladder, the only method of reaching it. The 
 platform was a bed-room. When any way-worn pil- 
 grims arrived at Troitsa, they were invited to sit 
 down on some rude benches by the wall outside of 
 the outhouse, and here, beneath a plain shelter of 
 
 THE HOSPITAL. 
 
 331 
 
 boards, they were furnished with soup and rye bread 
 from the kitchen. If they desired to stay for a night 
 or two to rest, or were unwell, they could climb up 
 the ladder, and pass the night on the platform, where 
 were some sacks. It was a primitive hospitality ; but 
 then beggars must not be choosers. If the pilgrim 
 was really ill, he was put into the hospital. One 
 poor fellow was sitting by the wall, waiting for his 
 soup, and was going to pass the night up on the plat- 
 form. However rough this bedroom might be it was 
 not inferior, methought, to the general and much 
 sought-for bedrooms for the "" casuals " in our Lon- 
 don refuges. Anyhow, at Troitsa the '^ casual " had 
 good food and fresh air. 
 
 A little farther on was the hospital. There were 
 two or three rooms, all clean and fresh, and but few 
 sick in them. As we looked into the lower room, on 
 the ground-floor, the monk said — *' The people here 
 are all dying ; when they get very bad upstairs, and 
 there is nothing more to be done for them, they are 
 brought down here, and they never go out again." 
 
 There were no curtains to the low pallet beds, 
 which were ranged along the wall, clean and tidy. 
 In two or three of these were distinguishable the 
 human forms beneath the grey coverlets, still and 
 
 A 
 
332 
 
 FOUND DEAD. 
 
 THE GREEK MONK. 
 
 333 
 
 f 
 
 III 
 
 composed, the heads covered, preparing for death. 
 The silent chamber, empty of everything except these 
 beds and their voiceless tenants, struck one's mind 
 painfully as the very impersonation of abandonment. 
 Here were no kindly nurses hovering about with 
 cordials, as in the Sheremaytieff Hospice in Moscow. 
 Belonging to no one, without a tie to any of those 
 among whom he had passed his life, the monk, a 
 solitary being, his inner life and its sorrows a secret 
 to all but his Maker, he comes here at last, to this 
 still chamber and this pallet bed, and without one 
 word of sympathy for his ear, without a claim on any 
 one for affection, he shuts out the world, and conceals 
 the eyes which no one cares to close, beneath the 
 coverlet, and passes away. 
 
 " They are often found dead in the morning," said 
 the monk with us. '' A brother comes round at inter- 
 vals and lifts the coverlet during the day, and finds 
 them gone, but they usually die at night." 
 
 We asked to see some of the rooms or cells of the 
 brothers. These appeared to be scattered all over 
 the enclosure in the numerous buildings. Passing 
 the hospital we went up a broad flight of steps on to 
 the paved and covered walk by the outer wall. What 
 a grand promenade it was ! We entered it at an angle. 
 
 and here on one hand it stretched away for two or 
 three hundred yards, level and orderly, and shaded 
 and cool, and then on the other hand was a similar 
 fine and imposing length of way. 
 
 " In the worst winters," said the monk, ^' when the 
 whole country is white and deep in snow, this is al- 
 ways as it is now ; a little snow blows in sometimes 
 through the battlements, but it is soon swept away." 
 
 As we walked along it some windows of buildings 
 beyond the grassy enclosure were open, and in one 
 of these was a canary in a cage. There were books, 
 too, on shelves, and a cheerful coloured paper on the 
 walls. I pointed these out to the monk. 
 
 '' Oh ! yes," he said, '' some of the brethren are fond 
 of having birds, and they furnish their rooms com- 
 fortably if they choose to do so." 
 
 The Greek monk is not devoted to absolute poverty 
 and self-denial. This man, with his books, and his 
 canary, and his Moscow furniture, and with a certain 
 liberty to come and go, no doubt found in this life 
 a charm, as do their Roman brethren, those holy 
 Sybarites, the Benedictines, at La Cava near Naples, 
 in their luxurious monastery. There is a difference 
 in monk life — a difference between the fanatic in his 
 subterranean cell at Gethsemane, two miles off, and 
 
334 
 
 AN OUBLIETTE. 
 
 U 
 
 P 
 
 I 
 
 this man fond of books and the music and companion- 
 ship of a canary. What friends, methought, that man 
 and the bird must be, for between them there can 
 be sympathy and affection. 
 
 There was a tower in the angle of the broad walk. 
 We went up the winding stair and found at the top 
 storey a wide circular space, from the centre of which 
 rose some massive brickwork, the summit of the round 
 tower. 
 
 '* That is closed up now," said the monk, pointing 
 to a door, " it is nailed up ; there is a room in there, 
 and all below it to the bottom is hollow. John the 
 Terrible used to condemn some of those who offended 
 him to be sent to Troitsa, and they were kept here as 
 in a prison. Sometimes one would be brought and 
 put into that room, and the door locked — presently 
 the floor would sink, and then the man went down 
 to his death." 
 
 It was an oubliette. So that Troitsa, the Holy 
 Troitsa, was not sacred in the eyes of the Terrible 
 Ivan. Around this bloodstained central place, this 
 wall, were rooms of the monks, a broad passage run- 
 nmg between the brickwork and the cells. Most of 
 the doors, five or six, were closed; their tenants were 
 in them, and we could not disturb their privacy. But 
 
 THE MONKS ROOM. 
 
 335 
 
 one was ajar, and our guide, peeping in, beckoned us 
 to enter, as the monk was gone out. It was a con- 
 siderable room, perhaps sixteen feet long, but of 
 irregular shape, being narrow at the doorway, and 
 broad by the window, which looked out over the 
 country from a considerable height — a cheerful airy 
 room. The furniture was plain and neat — a pallet 
 bed, a couple of chairs, a picture or two of saints, a 
 table, and some books. It had a homely habitable 
 look. These rooms, however, were not built for 
 telling secrets, for they were, in fact, only thin wooden 
 compartments, occupying the outer side of the large 
 circular platform, and as the wooden partitions were 
 only about eight feet high, there was no lack of circu- 
 lation of air, nor of cold in a Russian winter, while 
 every slightest movement — the rustle of a cloak, 
 the creak of a chair, or the turning of the page of a 
 book — could be heard by the neighbours, through the 
 thin boarding or over the top. Secrets ! Probably 
 every poor monk has a secret — down in his heart — the 
 secret of his life, which he never tells and never 
 wishes to tell to anyone, whether the boundaries of 
 his cell are wooden boards or brick walls. 
 
 We went along the covered walk ; and here and 
 there we met persons — now some solitary papa walk- 
 
336 
 
 THE ECCLESIASTICAL ACADEMY. 
 
 DYING ALONE AND UNCARED FOR. 
 
 337 
 
 n 
 
 i 
 
 M 
 
 ing slowly and absorbed in his book, his long hair 
 curling down over his brown silk dress ; and then a 
 monk, sauntering idly along by the embattled wall, 
 now and then leaning in one of the embrasures 
 and gazing long and fixedly out into the country — 
 perhaps with mind and heart far away. Then we 
 came by the palace, built by Peter, now occupied by 
 the Ecclesiastical Academy, and the principal seat of 
 priestly instruction in Russia. This large and hand- 
 some building stands just within the great wall, and 
 so here were knots of two and three students, young 
 men of the upper classes, in eager conversation as 
 they walked along the shaded way. More than once 
 we came upon a solitary student, doubled up in an 
 embrasure with book in hand — his place of study for 
 the nonce. Then we met little parties of visitors to 
 Troitsa like ourselves, and also monks enjoying, 
 apparently, a. constitutional walk. 
 
 Thus the Troitsa convent is a little world in itself. 
 There are gorgeous buildings and decaying offices ; 
 there are splendours of hoarded wealth and the plain- 
 ness of poverty; imposing ceremonies of religion, and 
 careful money-making ; treasuries and shops ; students 
 and idlers; learning and ignorance; men of grand pre- 
 sence, noble stature, and abounding health, glori- 
 
 ous in youth and beauty ; and there are poor decrepit 
 creatures, without hope or object in this world, dying, 
 alone and uncared for, without a friend to close their 
 eyes. 
 
338 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Administration of Justice -Bribery in some cases Discountenanced— 
 Tlie Bureaucracy— Causes of the Low Morale of Public Officials- 
 Insufficient Salaries— No Public Opinion— Frequenters of the Hotel 
 Dusaux— A Sign of the Times— The Levelling Process— Language 
 of the Upper Classes -Intolerance at the Opera— Native Literature 
 —The Works of Lermontoff, Pouchkine, &c— Growth of National 
 Sentiment— Serfdom and Freedom— New State of Things— Rise of a 
 National History, Drama, Fiction, and Music. 
 
 /^NE day I was sitting at dinner in one of the pub- 
 ^^ lie rooms of my hotel with a party of Russian 
 gentlemen. The subject of conversation was the ad- 
 ministration of justice in the courts of law. I ob- 
 served that I had that day visited the public courts in 
 the Kremlin, but unfortunately had found them closed, 
 as it was holiday-time. One of those present said he 
 should have been glad if I could have witnessed some 
 of their procedure, " for," said he, " we are but be- 
 ginners m anything like law, whereas you English 
 are a people of law. We are but children, and have 
 everything to learn." 
 
 REFUSAL OF BRIBES. 
 
 339 
 
 I said I had heard that there was a great desire on 
 the part of the magistracy at Moscow to act impar- 
 tially in their office, and that one proof was they were 
 refusing all bribes. 
 
 " We are getting on," he said ; '^ some of our new 
 magistrates are really good men ;" and he related a 
 case within his own knowledge where a gentleman, 
 thinking he could bribe the magistrates as in the olden 
 times, had been himself heavily fined for the offence 
 of offering the bribe, and kept under durance till the 
 fine was paid, immensely to his astonishment. 
 
 Another of the party observed on this, that though 
 there were cases where this might be true, they were 
 exceptional ; the old state of things hanging about our 
 people and offices too much yet. And he went on 
 to say, '' My opinion is that if a man were to kill ano- 
 ther here in the open daylight in the middle of this 
 street there would be a tremendous hubbub about it 
 for a time, but if he had a clever lawyer and plenty 
 of money he would escape all punishment." 
 
 On my subsequently mentioning this to an acquaint- 
 ance, his remark was, 
 
 ''I have no doubt he was right, for the bureaucracy 
 of this country are so wretchedly paid by the Go- 
 vernment, that they must get money somehow inde- 
 
 z 2 
 
340 
 
 FREQUENTERS OF THE HOTEL DUSAUX. 
 
 pendently of their office to support their expensive 
 way of living ; and they must be more than men who 
 would refuse a heavy sum to let off any man, what- 
 ever he had done. Besides/' he added, " what pub- 
 lic opinion is there to bear on them? — none; and 
 what public spirit in fovour of real justice and law 
 can there be in a people hitherto corrupted in an ex- 
 treme degree by serfdom, by bribery in all the offices 
 of state, by general profligacy, and the all but irre- 
 sponsible power of the nobles over their serfs ? The 
 spirit, the habits of a people cannot change rapidly 
 from bad to good." 
 
 Presently the subject of conversation changing at 
 the dinner table, I observed two men enter the room 
 and after nmch whispering together and looking 
 round in a timid and hesitating manner, seat them- 
 selves at a neighbouring table. These rooms of the 
 Hotel Dusaux were as a rule frequented only by per- 
 sons of a certain class. They were either officers of 
 the Army, Russian gentlemen and their wives, mer- 
 chants of the upper grades, or foreigners and tra- 
 vellers, but all of them having the air and manners of 
 people of a certain social standing. But these two men 
 were different. They were of spare and tall figure, with 
 thin faces and pointed features, and their dress was 
 
 A SIGN OF THE TIMES. 
 
 341 
 
 that of the Russian native of the smaller shopkeeper 
 class, the long black boots, black waistcoat, and 
 long loose upper coat marking them as of that con- 
 dition. Their manners and appearance were so un- 
 usual in these rooms that I pointed them out to one 
 of my neighbours. 
 
 *' What are those men ?" said I. 
 He turned, looked long and steadily at them, and 
 then said, 
 
 " That is a sign of the times we are living in. This 
 is the first time I have ever seen men of that class in 
 these rooms. A short time ago those men would 
 not have dared to come here, but now the citizen 
 class are pushing themselves up where they never 
 were before ; and it is very natural, for they are free 
 to do as they like, and many of them are rich." 
 
 " You are only beginning to do here," said I, 
 " what we liave been doing for years ; and levelling is 
 going on in all countries rapidly." 
 
 " Well," said Count L , " I think it is all right 
 
 that people should be free ; and though sometimes 
 there are things which are novel and which rather 
 shock one s old habits, yet I am sure this change is all 
 
 for the best." 
 
 I observed that there was one thing which much 
 
342 
 
 LANGUAGE OF THE SALON. 
 
 surprised me, that whereas in England we had 
 learned that in the upper Russian society the lan- 
 guage of the country was rarely if ever spoken among 
 themselves, and that French and German, but princi- 
 pally the former, were the common languages of* the 
 salon, this seemed by no means to be the case, all the 
 Russians, frequenters of these rooms, speaking their 
 native language. 
 
 " It is quite true," he replied, " there is a great 
 change within these few years in this respect. For- 
 merly it was considered fashionable to converse iu 
 French, and people even pretended not to know 
 much of Russian ; it was considered low and com- 
 mon, the language of the serfs ; but now we all talk 
 Russ everywhere — in fact, we are becoming national. 
 Hitherto we have been almost like two peoples, mas- 
 ters and serfs, with different languages, different habits, 
 different ideas ; but now we are becommg one people 
 in all ways, and in some things we are getting to be 
 intensely national." 
 
 I alluded to a new opera being played at the great 
 Moscow theatre, in which much of the action takes 
 place in Poland, and of which the music was Russian, 
 and the performers also natives. 
 
 "Ah ! yes," said he, " a little time ago, when that 
 
 A FURIOUS NATIONALITY. 
 
 343 
 
 piece first came out, the audience were so enraged at 
 the sight of the Polish costumes on the stage that 
 they hissed and shouted and would not allow the 
 opera to go on ; and they positively afterwards in- 
 sisted that the Polish scenes should be omitted, which 
 of course spoiled the whole thing. Now they have 
 become a little more tolerant, and allow it all to be 
 played through ; but a few years ago the whole piece 
 would have been played as a matter of course, the 
 Poles unnoticed. Now there is a new spirit alive." 
 
 I said I thought they avenged themselves for this 
 toleration by their national anthem at the end — five 
 times had the people called for that anthem on the 
 previous night when I had been present. 
 
 '' A furious nationality," said the Count, laughing. 
 
 Another of the party alluded to the native litera- 
 ture, which was beginning to be more appreciated 
 generally in the country. 
 
 " Till lately," he said, " the common reading in 
 families has been of books from France, England, 
 and Germany, and of these there were so many 
 and so good, that few cared to inquire if there was 
 any native literature. If anyone called attention to 
 Gogol or Lermontoff, people would say, ' Oh ! it is 
 only Russian,' — the language and the writers in it 
 
 
344 
 
 NATIVE LITERATURE. 
 
 were equally contemned ; but now we find that there 
 are writers of fiction in Russ besides the historians 
 Karamzin and SoloviefF, that their productions are 
 fully equal, in many respects, in imagination and in 
 power of detail, to those of many French and English 
 writers, though, of course, inferior to your best." 
 
 I said that I had found at a library in the town a 
 number of the works of native authors translated into 
 French — works of considerable ability in the world 
 of fiction, by authors such as Tourgueneff and Pouch- 
 kine, and others. 
 
 '' If you have not read a work by Pouchkine," said 
 one of the party, '' called ^ A Society of Gentlefolks 
 in the Country,' you should get it ; it made quite a 
 sensation in Russian society when it appeared, about 
 five or six years ago. No one knew that we had a 
 writer capable of such a production until it appeared." 
 
 I had not then read the story mentioned. Various 
 other autliors were named — Stcherbina, KrilofF, and 
 Griboyedoif. All this was only further proof of the 
 growing sentiment of nationality among the Russian 
 people — of a growing appreciation of native talent. 
 
 So long as there existed the great division of the 
 nation into master and slave, each body using in a 
 manner a different language, and therefore conveying 
 
 SERFDOM AND FREEDOM. 
 
 345 
 
 along two distinct streams different ideas on life and 
 society, there could grow up no real community of 
 feeling or opinion between these two great bodies. 
 Wliatever some authors may have written with the 
 attempt to show that the Russian serf was not a 
 slave, and that his dependence secured to him 
 more advantages than would his liberty, yet, of 
 course, in the present condition of thought in the 
 world, it is but waste of words to show that all 
 such argument is a fallacy. It is but waste of words 
 to assert that the few small and merely physi- 
 cal advantages to the person under slavery or serf- 
 dom, coupled with degradation of mind, are worth 
 more than all the higher and mental advantages of 
 freedom, with all its inspiring power, its originality of 
 thought, and its energy of action. Again it is but a 
 waste of words to show that a despotic power of man 
 over man is not an injury to the moral nature of 
 the master as of the slave ; for as a limited power 
 obliges the master to balance with himself the 
 question of justice and equity, and so allows these 
 higher sentiments to find entrance into his mind 
 and to purify and strengthen it even by their very 
 presence, so an unlimited power appeals by its na- 
 tural influence to the lower passions, and not to the 
 
346 
 
 NATIONAL PROGRESS. 
 
 higher sentiments — to the passion of fear and the love 
 of dominating, to selfishness and to force, and not to the 
 sentiment of charity, of moderation, and of considera- 
 tion for others. 
 
 But with the new state of things has burst into ac- 
 tion a new appreciation of Russian thought, of Rus- 
 sian ability, of Russian nationality. Thus a national 
 drama and a national music are taking their place as 
 parts of the great social life of the country, and works 
 of history, such as those by Solovieff and Polevoi ; of 
 drama, such as those of Ozeroff ; and of fiction, as by 
 Pouchkine and Lermontoff, are asserting their claim 
 to an honourable place for the Russian language in 
 the literature of Europe. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BT MAGDONALD JLND TUQWELL, BLSK&XIM H0U8X. 
 
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